Pretty Sisters Fuck Bro's Big Cock

This Town - 4

When the Town Purrs

Jack watched as his sisters, Kacy and Heather, led him back home. Their hoodies rode high above their waists, just barely covering the flounce of their pretty dresses. Their near-matching black boots hugged the pale skin of their legs, tight against their knees with every step. Kacy carried the pack -- full of liquor, smokes, matches, and expired food. They'd hit the gas station off 3rd Avenue and a diner on the corner of Main and Cherry. Supplies had been running low for days, and with the way the town was changing -- darker, hungrier -- it was time.

The fog was thicker now. It hung like wet fabric, clinging to every surface. Even the trees looked rusted. Beneath the air, machinery groaned -- not near, not far, just under. Pipes pulsed somewhere beneath the pavement. Gears ticked. The town was ramping up, which meant moods would shift, hearts would beat harder, and temptation would win.

They hopped the fence like they had the last three, hands slipping on the moss-slick wood. The yards all looked the same now -- dry grass choked in ash, toys melted to the ground, trees stripped bare like corpses flayed and left to rot.

That sound again.

They paused, listening.

It was directly beneath their feet. Always under. Rumbling. Vibrating so hard, Jack figured if his sisters sat down and pressed their asses to the dirt, they'd get off.

A low mechanical rhythm -- pulsing, grinding. Gears twisting in their sockets. Pipes breathing now, bursting in steady hisses. As if something enormous was waking up below them all. Or maybe it had always been there. Maybe it had just slept before.

They kept walking.

A rusted grill lay sideways in the weeds. Lawn chairs half-sunk into the dirt. Another fence -- this one newer, scorched, cracked. Jack pushed through it.

The fog hugged everything. Heavy. Wet. It clung to his neck like fingers.

He adjusted the bag on his shoulder. They hadn't seen another living thing in--hell, did he even know how long? Just the machines underfoot. Just the town -- humming. Waiting.

The sky above them glowed with a dull, electric hue -- not from the moon, but from something deeper. Stranger. Clouds circled overhead in frantic spirals, too fast, like they were caught in a silent storm. And through the gaps, stars winked -- sharp, white, impossibly bright. Not gentle. Not distant. As if the world was pushing them forward, trying to seduce the last of the living with a beauty it didn't deserve. Like it was setting a stage for something dark to unfold beneath it.

The pavilion. Slanted. Sagging. But still standing.

Strings of paper lanterns hung from its beams, their light barely visible through the haze. A blanket spread on the ground, candles stuttering low. It looked... alive, somehow. Like it didn't belong here.

This was their place.

The three siblings -- all in their twenties -- had talked about the town, their reasons for being here, but it was all just speculation. The answers weren't in their surroundings, their choices, or even their actions... not as far as they could see.

They stepped into the pavilion and sat in a loose circle. Kacy dumped the pack carefully between them, and together they took stock of what they'd gathered. Among the liquor, smokes, and a few cans of nuts and crackers, they pulled out some clean rags, bottles of water, and a handful of candy bars -- the kind that hadn't melted or turned white with age.

A sudden thud slammed beneath them -- like a pump choking on a brick. The vibration ripped up through the concrete, deep and dirty, buzzing against Jack's balls. His dick jumped hard in his pants, thickening fast, like the town had reached up and stroked him from below.

Both girls moaned.

Heather gripped the cement with both hands, like she was trying to brace against the sensation.

Kacy closed her eyes and bit her lip.

Jack couldn't let the moment pass.

"Maybe it's a good thing," he said. "Maybe it's ramping up for the better."

"Mmhmm." Kacy opened her eyes as the vibration faded.

"Maybe we're right where we're meant to be," Heather added with a sigh.

Jack had always noticed his sisters' beauty. But in this moment, he noticed their absolute allure.

They cracked open a bottle of Maker's Mark -- the seal and cork breaking with a soft pop that felt louder than it should have in the fog-heavy silence. Jack took the first swig, let the burn settle in his chest, then handed it off.

He lit three cigarettes with the same match, flame flaring gold between them like a ritual. One for each of them. He passed them out -- Kacy took hers between two fingers without looking at him, and Heather brushed his hand when she grabbed hers.

They sat in a loose triangle, drinking slow, smoking slower, the air thick with heat and breath and tobacco. The fog pressed against the pavilion like a hand on glass, but inside, they were warm. Buzzing.

Every few minutes, the town throbbed beneath them -- pulses like distant earthquakes, slow and steady, rising through the ground and into their bones. Each one hit a little deeper. Jack could see it in the way Kacy's fingers tightened on the bottle, in the soft shift of Heather's hips.

They didn't speak. They sat there and let the town move through them.

Jack reached over with his cigarette, hand steady despite the cold, and carefully lit the propane heater. It clicked, hissed, then caught with a low roar. The orange glow crawled up the grate, casting flickering light across their faces and sending a wave of heat into the chilled air.

They used it nightly -- not just for warmth, but for sanity. Out here, surrounded by fog and rot, it was the only thing that made the world feel a little less dead.

Kacy scooted closer, her knees drawn up, hands outstretched toward the flame. Heather followed, curling in beside her, the hem of her dress rising just enough to show the pale skin above her thigh. The warmth made their breaths slower, their shoulders drop. Jack moved in too, until all three of them sat within a foot of each other -- close enough to feel body heat, close enough that their thighs brushed every time one of them shifted.

The heater buzzed steady. Their cigarettes burned low. And between them, the air thickened -- heat, smoke, breath, and something else. Something they didn't name.

The bottle circled again. Their limbs were loose now, shoulders uncoiled, cheeks flushed from the liquor and the heater's steady hum. Smoke curled above them like mist made of want. The town pulsed beneath them in long, low waves -- not hard, not sharp. Just constant. Like a heartbeat buried deep in the dirt.

Heather leaned into Jack first, her head against his shoulder, her bare thigh warm where it touched his arm. Kacy followed, pressing into his other side. He didn't move -- just let them rest there, held in place by gravity or something heavier.

Kacy reached behind and pulled the thick blanket toward them. Heather helped, and together the girls stretched it up and over all three of them -- tucking the edges, sealing in the heat. The world outside faded into black. They were just a tangle of breath and warmth now, hidden under the soft cocoon of worn fabric and fading light.

Jack's arms slid around them -- one around each waist. Protective at first. Holding them.

Then he felt it.

The slow roll of Kacy's hips against his side. The way Heather's chest pressed into him a little deeper with each breath. The smell of them -- skin, sweat, smoke, soft perfume clinging to their clothes.

His hands didn't move. But his body did.

He hardened against the weight of them -- slow, undeniable, throbbing thick beneath his jeans. He knew they felt it. Both of them. And neither one pulled away.

Heather's hand found his knee under the blanket. Kacy's breath caught -- just once -- before she let it out through parted lips. Her hand came to rest on his stomach, fingers spreading slowly, tracing the muscle beneath his shirt like she'd done it before, in a different life, a darker dream.

They didn't speak.

The town pulsed again. Slower this time. Waiting.

Jack lay between them, heat rising from every angle. The blanket held it close, sealing them together like breath trapped in a mouth. The heater buzzed just outside, but it was their bodies that made the space feel molten.

Heather was the first to move.

Her lips brushed his jaw, feather-light, like she was testing something forbidden. Her breath was sweet with bourbon, her mouth soft and slow as she kissed just beneath his ear. Jack turned toward her, almost without meaning to. Their lips met -- cautious at first, then deeper. Fuller. The kiss unraveled something between them.

Kacy shifted behind him, pressing closer. Her hand slid across his side and up under his shirt, fingers trailing heat across his ribs. She kissed the back of his neck. Then again. Slower.

Jack moaned softly -- not loud, just enough to say yes, this is happening.

He turned toward Kacy, and their lips met in the dark. Her kiss was different than Heather's -- deeper, hungrier, like she'd waited longer. Her tongue slipped gently against his, tasting him, pulling him into her rhythm.

Then Heather leaned in again.

Their mouths met, the three of them, lips moving from one to the next like a slow ritual. Heather kissed Kacy -- tender, mouth open. Jack kissed Heather again, fingertips sliding into her hair. Then Kacy. Then both.

It wasn't fast. It wasn't frenzied.

It was worship.

Hands moved -- not desperate, not greedy. Kacy's hand slid down Jack's stomach, resting on the hard line beneath his jeans. Heather's fingers slipped under his shirt, nails scratching lightly down his chest.

They kissed.

Again. And again.

Kacy and Heather moaned into each other's mouths as they shared him, shared each other, the three of them breathing the same warm air. It felt sacred. Wrong. Perfect.

Outside, the fog swallowed the world.

But under the blanket, Jack had everything.

The kisses turned sharper -- fast, breathless, laced with need. Lips collided in quick bursts, tongues slipping, tasting, claiming. Heather peeled off her hoodie in one smooth motion, the fabric tugging her hair as she bared her shoulders and pressed forward. Her breasts, full and soft beneath the thin fabric of her dress, flattened against Jack's back with a needy sigh.

He moaned into Kacy's mouth as his own shirt was tugged away, their bodies colliding in waves. Kacy's hoodie hit the blanket next, and her dress slipped from one shoulder, the strap dangling loose, like she wanted him to see just enough -- and then more.

His hands were everywhere now -- hungry and rough, then slow and exploring. They slid over thighs, gripped warm, trembling flesh. His palms cupped plump asses through stretched cotton and thin lace, fingers curling beneath the edges of tight panties, feeling the heat beneath. He pushed, pulled, teased. Their hips rolled in response.

Heather's breath spilled against his neck, hot and uneven, as she kissed his skin in short, greedy bursts. Kacy moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tugging at his belt, her hips pressing into his thigh.

And through it all, he tasted them -- the shared sweetness of their lips, the soft tang of bourbon and smoke, the heat of a kiss passed back and forth like a secret.

The blanket around them became a world--soft, dark, sweltering. Jack leaned back, lips parted, breath thick. His shirt was gone, but now his jeans were too, tugged down slowly by careful hands, then peeled away altogether. The cold hit him for a second--just a flicker--before warmth returned in the form of fingers, of thighs, of heat blooming against his bare skin.

The girls moved around him like silk and smoke. Their dresses, light and flowing, brushed over his chest, his thighs, the rigid length of him aching and exposed beneath the soft weave. The fabric was whisper-thin, weightless as it slid across him. One hem dragged over his stomach, cool at first, then warmed by the heat of their bodies. Another fluttered across his knee, then down, teasing the inside of his leg.

Heather straddled him, not sitting--not yet--just kneeling, letting the drape of her dress fall over his hips like a veil. It pooled against his stomach, kissed the base of his cock, then shifted as she leaned forward and kissed his lips again. Long. Lingering. Her breasts pressed to his chest now, bare beneath the fabric, her heartbeat loud enough to feel.

Kacy moved around behind him, her own dress whispering across his back, her hands sliding up his ribs, into his hair. She kissed the edge of his jaw, then lower, her breath warm in his ear. Her thighs cradled his sides as her body leaned into his, draping him in heat, scent, and satin.

He was naked, surrounded, completely consumed by the soft press of dresses and skin. They kissed him in turns, then kissed each other over his chest, across his stomach. Their mouths never stopped moving--soft, slow, almost reverent.

The town pulsed beneath them. But inside that blanket, all Jack could feel was warmth and weight, the slow, sensual worship of bodies bound by something deeper than blood or lust.

The kisses drifted downward, slow and devout. Like they were mapping him--tongues and lips sketching reverent lines across bare skin, tracing the story of his body.

Heather's mouth moved down his chest, her kisses soft at first, then wetter, open-mouthed, tongue slipping against his stomach as her hair spilled over him like ink. She didn't rush. She nuzzled, kissed, inhaled him--like his scent was something sacred. Her lips brushed just above his hip, then the other side. Never quite going lower. Not yet.

Kacy took her time too. Her mouth pressed into his shoulder, then trailed along his collarbone, her hands warm on his chest, her fingers fanning out, grounding him as she kissed the base of his neck. She paused only to taste him again--slow, wet, open-mouthed--before shifting lower, her cheek dragging softly across his ribs, her lips trailing heat behind every slow descent.

Their dresses followed their movement--fabric sliding over his thighs, his stomach, his sides--draping him in heat and scent and softness. Everywhere he looked, he saw them. Felt them. Heather between his legs, her breath growing hotter with each kiss that dipped lower. Kacy curled against his side, her hand now wrapped around the base of him, stroking gently, in rhythm with the town's pulse.

He moaned, low and trembling, as Heather finally kissed the spot just above the root of him--her lips feather-light, lingering, tasting him like a promise.

Then lower.

She kissed the underside of his cock, slow and firm. Another kiss. A third. Her tongue flicked out--soft, teasing the tip. She looked up once, eyes shining in the dim light, then dipped her head further, taking him in.

Jack's fingers curled into the blanket.

Kacy moaned beside him, still touching, still tasting the skin of his chest and neck, her dress flowing over him like another lover, brushing his sides as her lips met his again, swallowing his sounds, letting him drown in them both.

There was no urgency. No guilt. Just the town's steady thrum beneath them, their breath, their bodies, and the slow, devout act of loving each other in the dark.

Jack tilted back his head as he felt Heather devour and suck the tip of his cock into her mouth and down her throat. His moan interrupted by Kacy's tongue and lips. He kissed his younger sister, deeply, then guided Heather down onto him further. His dick stretching into her, feeling her soft inner cheeks as she swirled around the head and traced the shaft.

Kacy gripped him at the base of his cock while Heather worked her mouth over it, into it, her tongue nearly dividing him.

Jack's lips parted, lost in the overwhelming flood of sensation. It wasn't just arousal--it was connection. The kind that burned slow and deep, that curled around his spine and pulled him under. Heather moved with devotion, her every motion a confession, a vow whispered through touch alone. And Kacy kissed him like she had known him in every life, her lips soft but hungry, her hands tangled in his hair, guiding him, grounding him. Their bodies pressed close, warm skin and flowing dresses molding around him, wrapping him in a kind of worship that defied language. There were no lines here. Just the kind of raw, aching love that could only exist at the end of the world.

Kacy tossed the blanket off them and stood, pulling away from Jack's embrace. She removed her underwear and straddled his face, smearing her soft flavor, pretty folds of silk skin and her loving essence across his mouth. Heather ran her fingers down Kacy's thick ass and thighs, holding her at her calves while she sucked her brother's cock deep and low.

Jack tasted ... Heaven. The heavenly smack of forbidden pussy, her flavor rich, creamy--sharp. He ate Kacy, delicate and strong, his muscles stretching up to her, beaming, ripped. She held his strong hands as she moaned at his tongue as it poked at her vagina, working to devour and enter her tight hole.

It wasn't just lust. It was something older. Something carved into bone and blood long before they'd ever touched. The way they came together wasn't frantic--it was fated, like gravity had always meant to pull them inward, into one breath, one body, one blinding rhythm. Every kiss, every brush of skin, every whispered moan felt like a prayer spoken through flesh. Passion poured through them, thick and slow, not just to taste pleasure but to merge. To be seen, consumed, and known completely. The lines between them blurred until there was no beginning, no end--just heat, motion, and the holy ache of becoming one.

The town watched. Not with eyes, but with breath beneath the soil, with pulses through rusted pipes and low, throbbing hums in the air. It didn't just allow their union--it summoned it. Every vibration beneath the pavilion, every hiss of steam, every curl of fog was a coaxing hand, guiding them closer, deeper. It wanted this. Needed it. Their heat fed something buried, and in return, the town fed them back--stoking their lust, darkening their love, making it burn hotter, redder, more raw. It whispered without words, more, more, until they moved like extensions of its will--bound not just by blood, but by the hunger it poured into their bones. They weren't just lost in each other. They were being forged. Melded by the town's fire, melted into one flame, one offering, one beautiful collapse.

Heather crawled onto Jack's throbbing dick and used her weight to push him deep, deeper than she'd ever been taken. Her walls gripped him, opened, stretched around his girth. The sensation of her strength tore through Jack as she bounced, grinding his tip hard against her cervix.

When Heather leaned in and licked her sister's asshole--burying her face between perky cheeks, a simultaneous flood of triple orgasms bore out, matching the energetic pulse of the town's vibrations. Jack exploded inside Heather; Heather squirted down his giant pumping rod; Kacy shook against Jacks mouth, cumming hard as she held his face in her cold hands.

And when it came--when the first wave of climax crashed through them, all three at once--it was like the town held its breath. Their bodies arched in unison, cries muffled beneath the enveloping fog, lost to the sounds outside. It felt divine. Cosmic. As if something ancient had been waiting for that precise harmony of flesh and will. But beneath the pleasure, beneath the shaking and the heat and the pulse of raw joy, something shifted. Deep in the town's underbelly, gears locked into place. A curse sealed. Their shared release wasn't freedom--it was a binding. A rite.

The cold returned slowly, like a punishment. The dark bit first--gnawing at the edges of the pavilion, sneaking around the posts like it was reclaiming its hold. Then came the chill, creeping in like smoke from the ground up, wrapping around their bare skin, stinging the sweat they hadn't yet dried. The fog pressed closer, thicker than before, as if the town itself wanted to watch them shiver. So they hunkered back under the blanket--limbs tangled, hearts still racing, bodies raw and open. It was warmer there. Deeper. A pocket of breath and heat sealed against the world. They curled into one another, slow and quiet, seeking the same rhythm they'd just broken open. Jack had them both, their bodies, hearts, desires and their will ... all through the night.