Aries’ Horn

tagIncest/TabooAries' Horn

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Aries' Horn
Free use sister for a day
Copyright 2021
TheCyprisDoctrine
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I naturally assumed I had committed some horrible sin in a previous life when my father introduced me to his new girlfriend. Rose was somewhere between half his age and twice mine, and she was so fucking hot. A perfect body with all the best kinds of curves in all the right places and a smile below a pair of soft blue eyes and dark-rooted blonde hair that almost made me cream my pants; more than once.
My first introduction to Rose was just a quick hello at the front door before dad took her on a date. Several more similarly quick meetings followed by private masturbatory sessions where I imagined myself fucking her well-aged but not mature body. Things only got worse when Dad invited Rose over to share dinner with us one night.
The week before, it was apparent he was nervous about the upcoming event. Going so far as to hire a cleaning crew to take care of the entire house. He also used every possible moment we had together to tell me how wonderful she was and how much she reminded him of my mother and was so different at the same time. It seems Rose was a friend of my mother's, and the three of them hung out quite often before mom got pregnant with me. After dad proposed to my mom, the three of them went their separate ways.
Hey, I get it, he was in love again with an old friend that reminded him of my mom, and I was in lust for the same woman.
Eventually, the dinner I was dreading arrived, and, after following my father's insistent demands, I waited behind him at the front door, showered, shaved, and with freshly brushed teeth.
After a very timid knock on the door, dad greeted Rose with a tender kiss, then introduced me to Rose's daughter, Laila, hiding behind my dad's girlfriend just beyond the front door.
Laila was my age, and I would later learn at dinner that night, we shared the same birthday and were born in the same city. Laila's hair and skin were darker than her mother's; something I assumed was her father's legacy. Laila had the same killer body as her mom, just younger. Her blue eyes seemed even more intense, standing out against her tanned face and jet-black hair. Her face was a work of art, perfectly sculpted thick dark eyebrows and full but not puffy lips that made my stomach clench with hunger. Then Laila smiled at me, and my insides melted. Whatever lust I held for Rose was instantly supplanted by my desire to mate with her daughter, over and over, endlessly until one of us died in the throes of passion.
Dad's nervousness seemed to grow exponentially after Rose and Laila arrived. He was stumbling over himself, trying to make everything perfect, including pushing Laila and me to engage in conversation, ignoring the fact we had just met and that neither of us knew the other existed until meeting for the first time at the front door.
Dad's pathetically uncomfortable dinner ended in the worst possible way for me and the best possible way for dad when Rose found the engagement ring he had hidden in her desert.
Laila and I silently cleared the table as Rose and dad excitedly talked about our collective futures without bothering to consider the impact it would have on their children. Laila and I had no other choice but to engage in the small talk dad had tried to force us to start earlier while we washed the dishes, knowing we would soon have to take on the roles of step-brother and step-sister.
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Ok, so, a year or so later, both Rose and Laila settled into living with dad and me. Laila graduated from High School the week after I did, and we ended up attended each other's ceremonies. Publicly appearing as step-bother and step-sister for the first time after being co-ring bearers at Rose's and dad's wedding. Dad and Rose left Laila and me alone in the house the week they honeymooned, but Laila and I didn't interact too much. We would agree on what food we wanted for dinner, and we did end up watching a movie one night, but neither of us said too much to each other beyond what was necessary to share a Jack and Jill bathroom, the kitchen, and the big screen TV in the family room.
After Rose and Laila moved in, I found myself being extra cautious and quiet when I masturbated to one of many fantasies where I fucked both my new step-sister and her mother… my father's new wife… sometimes both at the same time. Clearing my room of cum infused tissue became an OCD as I worried Laila might smell my spent sex via our shared bathroom, or Rose would recognize the lingering scent on the rare occasion she entered my space.
Masturbation to thoughts of my step-sister and step-mother became a five to six times a day thing over that summer, especially since both of them seemed only to wear bikinis or other skimpy sunbathing attire around the house.
Things finally changed when Laila and I started college. We didn't attend the same schools, but our first semesters were the same kind of repeat classes from our last high school year. We finally found common ground. Eventually, we grew close enough she let me help her through a nasty breakup. That's when I discovered there was hell worse than the "Friend-Zone"… being a step-brother.
I also discovered my step-sister was a slut. She seemed to always be after the biggest dick, in more ways than one; even the guy who broke her heart was named Richard. This new knowledge only added to my frustrations and my desire to use her body to release my pent-up sexual desires.
The most beautiful woman in the world lived, slept, and… existed in the bedroom just on the other side of our shared bathroom. A woman so far out of my league, the doors we shared might as well have been Stargates between galaxies. Part of me knew and accepted, Laila (and her mother) would always be torturously close and untouchable at the same time. But, some inextinguishable spark deep inside never let me give up hope that a miracle might happen. Something that would bring at least Laila and I together as more than brother and sister, more than the casually comfortable friends we had become… I wanted to be her lover. I wanted to explore her body, invade her sex and make Laila scream endlessly from the repeated orgasms I gave her.
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Moving on… so, you know those junk mails you get about everything from free products, erection pills, and girls that want to fuck for free. We all get them, but I kept getting some from some Gypsy named Mistress Alla-i. The subject lines were always different or different enough, and they looked and read like spam mail, but I could never seem to get my spam filters to clear out of my inbox. No matter what I did, they always reappeared in my primary inbox. To figure out why I opened one. Inside was a note that seemed oddly specific to me. It wasn't one of those generic {insert name here} kind of scripts… the email knew my full name, address, private email address (the one I only share with friends and family), and my step-sister's name. This Mistress Alla-i seemed to be offering me a love potion of some kind that would make Laila, called out by name, let me have sex with her whenever I wanted, as often as I wanted.
I know I should have known better, but that targeted email was so direct and so specific and would not filter from my inbox no matter what I did. All that, plus that annoying spark of hope in my lust-filled heart, wouldn't stop nagging me until I did something about it. Eventually, I found myself driving past Mistress Alla-i's address after one of my classes got out early.
Hidden behind a white farm-like fence in the middle of a small tree-grove stood a restored Victorian-era house that hosted several small businesses. None of the discrete, era-appropriate signages referenced a Gypsy or Mistress Alla-i.
I parked then climbed the short gray painted steps, checking out the interior through one of the beveled edged glass windows before opening one of the double doors into the foyer. An eager real estate agent greeted me within moments of the bell at the top of the door announcing my entrance. I explained who I was looking for, and he told me he had never heard of Mistress Alla-i or any Gypsy or fortune teller having ever occupied the former Victorian home.
"Could you check with your co-workers?" that confounded spark of hope made me ask.
A few moments later, a college-aged woman joined me in the foyer. In her hands was an ornate gold-inlaid wooden box.
"Mistress Alla-i left this box with me several months ago," expressing a flirting smirk as she continued, "She said a young man would arrive unannounced asking for her. She didn't know when you would show up, just that you would. It's been so long since she was here I completely forgot about it until the new guy came and asking about Mistress Alla-i."
We talked briefly, casually flirting with each other until her ringing office phone took her away. I had probed for more details about this Mistress Alla-i, but the young woman appeared to know nothing more than what she had already told me, that and providing docent's lecture on the house's history.
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Safe and alone in my car, I opened the unlocked box. Inside, the lid had the same ornate gold-inlaid decoration as the top of the box. Burgundy felt covered the bottom of the wooden box. Sliding around on the cloth interior, I found a small black ring box and an envelope. I opened the ring box first, finding and studying a pendant made of two merged ram's horns pressed side by side, forming a Y; one horn smooth, and the other with carved concentric rings flowing across the top of the upside-down cornucopia. The Y's conjoined bottom tapered off to a smooth point that appeared sharp enough to penetrate soft flesh, but not the thicker skin of my fingers.
I closed the ring box, returning it to the wooded box, then extracted the envelope. Inside I found a poem;
On the tenth day of Aries
A kiss from the horn of the faeries
Will grant you the stealth of Hades
Your blade of love will be felt but unseen
Make sure it's clean
A new age of Aquarius begins after the Moon moves into Sagittarius
Unrequited love becomes burglarious
Until the Moon is in opposition to Mars
Your ignored avatar will take you far
Be loose, and use lots of juice
Warning! – free-use can lead to abuse
Three times your lover must peak before you complete
Say nothing, don't speak
Mystic porn ricocheted
Love born the same day will always find a way
I replayed that odd poem in my head over and over again as I drove home. I then studied it, trying to understand what it meant. It took a lot of research as I'm not into Astrology, but the best I can determine from all the strange websites I visited, Aries' horn was an aphrodisiac. Love potion number 69 on one of the lists I saw, and if I poked Laila's skin with the sharp tip of the pendant, I could fuck my sister as often as I wanted, and she wouldn't see me… and more importantly, she couldn't stop me or resist what I was doing to her. She'd feel what I was doing to her as if I were an intense daydream. I could also make her cum as often as I wanted to, provided I remained silent, never speaking aloud or inflicting any pain (the latter appearing on most, but not all of the sites I reviewed). The astrological references narrowed my window of opportunity to 12:03 am the first of April until 4:47 am the following morning, which was perfect as Dad and Rose would be gone the entire weekend. The last line was an apparent reference to Laila and I being born on the same day.
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Saturday, the first of April, 2017, was just a few days away, and I spent most of that time watching my step-sister sunbathe while masturbating or enjoying pictures I had taken of Laila showering… and masturbating to those. Between my self-satisfaction sessions, I mentally fought a battle between rationality and that tiny spark that had morphed into a roaring flame of unrealistic hope. I continued my research, hoping to find even one believable thread of evidence that Aries' Horn was real. All I could find were insinuations, inferences, and stories of stories about friends of a friend with no first-person experiences to validate my need for the myth to be true.
I found myself speaking to and looking directly at her, even less than usual at dinner the last night of March or during family TV time afterward. As what had become our custom, Dad and Rose shared one of the sofas, and Laila sat next to me. Dad and Rosa's hungered need to share their sexual affections almost became a public display about halfway through the movie. I think Dad was the one that stopped things before they went too far. They said their "good-nights" and reminded me they were departing early before I usually woke up. Then they left me alone with Laila sleeping on my shoulder.
My step-sister's sleeping deep cleavage was calling to my eyes and making the persistently eager erection in my shorts harder and more leaker. I gently woke her when the movie credits started to roll, then followed her to our adjoining rooms. Even after several more masturbatory sessions, trying to purge the feeling of her body next to mine, and the way her bosoms called to me, sleep did not visit me for very long… several times that night.
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The first day of April arrived, and I was awake early. I heard Rose and dad drive off while I stared at the ceiling, rubbing and stroking myself. Not too long after, I heard Laila in our shared bathroom. In nothing but my gray cotton sleep shorts and the Aries' Horn dangling around my neck, I crept toward the bathroom's pocket door. Dad had replaced the swing doors on both sides of the bathroom before mom died, but he's no carpenter. The door on my side was never able to fully close, which is how I could secretly watch and take pictures of Laila when she showered.
I already knew every part of her magnificent body as well, if not better than she did. One of my favorite spots being the three moles on her back that aligned to in such a way one's eyes naturally followed them to the curve of her spine, past the dimpled cleft above her ass-crack, then onward into the valley between her two tanned moons.
Her breasts were somewhere between the size of softballs and small melons. Not too large to be cumbersome but large enough that even the smallest bikinis she wore created a slit of cleavage that my face longed to suffocate between the same way an ostrich buries its head in the sand. Her naturally tan skin was the same all over except for the half-shade lighter sun-induced shadows that outlined her bosoms, and tight V'd pubic mound. Her dark nipples were thick even when not hard, standing out above chocolate-colored milk bottle cap-sized areolas.
All of that magnificent beauty hid behind a thin, almost transparent, long nightshirt when I pretended to stagger sleepily into the bathroom. Laila's intense blue eyes smiled a morning greeting at me before returning her attention to her reflection, resuming the brushing of her long straight, raven-shimmering hair. I mumbled a morning greeting, then disappeared into the water closet.
I heard her say something about making omelets for breakfast from the other side of the closed door as I urinated into the toilet and massaged the gold pendant around my neck between my fingers.
I still couldn't make myself look at her, even her reflection, exited the water closet, or when I moved up next to her to wash my hands. She leaned over her sink, plucking at her perfect eyebrows with a tweezer, restating, "I was going to make myself an omelet this morning with the leftovers from last night. Would you like me to make one for you too?" Her painfully attractive blue eyes were scanning my naked chest in the mirror as she verbalized one of the house rules, "I'll cook if you clean."
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I finally looked up at Laila's heartbreakingly perfect reflection, feeling the cold heavy metal of Aries' Horn pulling at my neck. I silently held my wet hands up like a surgeon, moving toward the towel rack behind Laila. I dried my hands, then reached up to feel the curved pointy miracle (or massive mistake) choking me. I turned around, pinching Aries' Horn between my fingers, faking a sleepy stumble just before I poked her exposed neckline with my tiny sword of inextinguishable hope.
She didn't react, and I wasn't sure I had made skin contact until she ripped an offending hair out by the root. Then her eyes looked up at my face still hovering behind her shoulder. An unexpected expression of confusion washed over her face before she looked back at her mirror image, raising her voice, demanding, "Hey! Where'd you go?" Then calling out, "What do you want in your omelet?"
From behind her, I watched as her head turned to face my room. She raised her voice, repeating her demand before turning back to the impossible to improve perfection that was her face. I watched from her and my unmoving self in the mirror as Laila forcefully evicted another hair from her flawlessly sculpted eyebrows. She studied the now homeless hair as she muttered, "I was thinking about watching a movie… want to join me?"
Returning the tweezers to the catch-all between the sinks, then extracting a cotton-swab before she seemed to look right through my reflection as she Q-Tip'd her ear. Raising her voice again, while looking right at me, Laila called out, "I want some of that sausage we had last night in my omelet. How about you?" before turning back to dispose of the small cotton-tipped stick.
Shrugging her shoulders after not hearing a response from me, Laila leaned forward to prepare her toothbrush. I tested my existence by caressing her marvelous nightshirt-covered lower back and butt, going so far as to run my finger through her ass-crack, something I would never have done to her on purpose.
She didn't move.
Not until she reached back to pull at the bottom of her nightshirt, freeing the wedgie I pushed between her cheeks. I grew a little bolder, reaching down to the back of her exposed thigh, caressing my hand up and under her nightshirt, cupping and caressing one of her butt cheeks. Once again, she didn't react to my unauthorized invasion and exploration, not moving except to lean forward when she started to brush her teeth.
My heart raced, and a nervous excitement tingled under my skin as I pushed the envelope, stepping behind her, using the tips of two pairs of pinched fingers to carefully raise the bottom of her nightshirt up and over her glorious backside. Her hips wiggled, making the most amazing ass I'd ever seen, even in porn or a magazine, tick-tock above her thighs as she hummed a song to herself while shifting the toothbrush to the other side of her mouth.
My finger reached out seemingly on its own, gently landing in the center of her three lower back moles, then tenderly followed the directions they laid out to the divot at the bottom of her spine. My finger circled that flawless crater before continuing to drive right down the center of her ass-crack.
I then dropped to my knees, following my leading finger as it curved under and around to the magnificent twin mounds of her outer labia. Both sides of her dark, but not black, puffy macaroons pinching and holding in place the soft mouthwatering glistening treat that was her inner lips. Her inner labia were not too long, although I do like long flowering inner lips; Laila's were just the right length, size to extend a little beyond her outer lips, and both were sparkingly with a glossy coating of feminine lubricant.
I knelt behind her exposed butt, resting on my knees, looking up in prayer at her fantastic ass, perfect pussy, and marvelous mammaries sloshing below her chest farther up the nightshirt draped over her back as she swayed to the song in her head.

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