The Wedding Present

  • Posted on December 29, 2019 at 5:28 pm

by Right There

Reworked for Juicy Secrets by JetBoy

{ This story was originally posted at Literotica in February 2006 }


“You’re a beautiful, beautiful bride, sweetheart,” my father said as he admired me in the mirror, a hand resting on my shoulder.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Then I added as I hugged him, “But you’d say that no matter what I looked like.”

He didn’t try to hide his smile as he said, “So sue me. That’s a father’s job. I’m really happy for you, Nell. Mark’s a terrific guy.”

“He is, Daddy. I’m sure this is the right thing.” I was sure now, but five years ago if you had told me I would end up here, marrying Mr. Dependable, I would have laughed in your face.

“Well. I’d better get going, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a few minutes — at the aisle.”

As he stepped through the door to my dressing room, he remembered something.

“By the way, you’ll never guess who showed up — Bobbi! I guess she decided she couldn’t miss seeing her baby sister get married after all.” He chuckled to himself, not noticing the blood draining from my face. As he turned to leave, he said, “She wanted to see you before the ceremony. I’ll send her in.” And he closed the door, leaving me alone… and reeling.

Bobbi? Damn it! What was she doing here? I couldn’t deal with seeing her now!

But deal with it I would have to, as the door swung open and she stepped in.

“Don’t close the…”

Too late. The door clicked shut, and I was alone with my big sister. I felt trapped already, and the world outside the door was fading away.

She was dressed up, for her, in black honest-to-god slacks, a white shirt, and a black jacket. With her close-cropped hair, she looked like a more feminine version of K.D. Lang. At least the way she was dressed covered most of her tattoos. God, how could my father not know she was a dyke? Maybe he didn’t want to.

My eyes traveled down without my thinking about it, as they had a thousand times before. Shit! She was packing! Who else had noticed? Who knew that I was alone in here with a lesbian wearing a strap-on cock?

I could feel myself breathing harder. Gotta get myself under control.

There was a time when I would have crawled across the floor for that cock. Would have begged. A time when I had done all of those things, plus things I didn’t let myself think about any more. My sister had held that kind of power over me. Gotta get myself under control, gotta get myself under control. I’m marrying Mark today.

“Hello, baby sister.”

“Bobbi… what the fuck–”

“What am I doing here?” She crossed the small room, closing the space between us as she spoke. “Well, I couldn’t let my baby sister get married and not see her before it happens, could I?”

“Bobbi, please. Don’t.”

“Don’t? Don’t what? Don’t come to send you on your way with best wishes?” She was only inches from me now, but I couldn’t seem to get myself to back away. She firmly grasped my shoulders and turned me to face the full-length mirror.

Standing behind me, looking over my shoulder, she said, “Let’s see how my baby sister dressed for her big day.”

“Bobbi, please. I’m twenty-three. I’m not your baby sister any more.”

She ignored that, as I had known she would. “Mmm. Very pretty. I don’t think you ever dressed this pretty for me when we lived together.”

“I dressed the way you wanted me to, and you know it. Like an ultra-femme slut. Bobbi, don’t do this. You’ve got to go.”

“Now, now, baby sister.” She had been steadily pushing me closer to the mirror; now it was within arm’s reach. “I couldn’t come all this way to see how you dressed up for your wedding and not get a good look at what your new hubby’s going to see later, could I?” She started pulling up my dress, but that wasn’t easy; there was a lot of it.

“Bobbi, please. Please don’t.” But I couldn’t make myself stop her.

Finally she had an armful of wedding gown bunched around my waist. “Well. Very, very nice. I see you still have some of the things you used to wear for me after all.”

“This isn’t something I ever wore for you.” But it might as well have been. White heels and white stockings, held up by a garter belt that matched my skimpy thong. I still felt a little awkward, dressing like this, but knew Mark would love seeing me in it later. He deserved that, damn it! I was marrying him in a few minutes, and he deserved to see me walking to our bed in my heels and sexy lingerie. He deserved a wife who was only thinking about showing off for him, not for her dyke sister… her sexy, desirable dyke sister.

“And do you still shave that adorable pussy of yours?”

“No! I mean, I leave a little hair above it. And that’s none of your business any more, Bobbi.” God, my legs were trembling.

“Why, baby sister, there was a time when you would have lifted up that pretty dress yourself and shown me everything you had… anywhere I asked you to. In fact, here. Hold your dress up for me.”

I wanted to hit her, to kick her, to scream, call her a sadistic bitch. But instead I took my dress from her and held it up.

This allowed her to lower her hands, to run them over my hips, my bottom. “So tell me — does Mark ever fuck you in the ass?”

I should’ve known that was coming. I was crimson with anger. First, at Bobbi for doing this to me. Second, at myself, because my sister was turning me on. “You know he doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t? But baby sister, all men want to fuck their girl in the ass sooner or later. What do you tell him?” She ground herself against my back as she spoke. I could feel that latex cock through her pants now, the length of it pressed firmly between my cheeks.

“I just tell him that I c-can’t, that it freaks me out.”

“But that’s not the real reason, is it?”

She’d run her fingers under the waistband of my thong, then suddenly gave it a violent yank to the side, tearing the bit of lace that ran over my hip and connected the front to the back. She effortlessly tugged the thong away, completely baring my bottom.

“That’s not the real reason,” she repeated, louder this time, “is it?”


“What is the real reason?” As she talked she was inserting a leg between mine, gradually spreading my thighs further and further apart.

“It’s because… because of… you know, how we used to — you know.”

“It’s because your ass belongs to me, isn’t that it? To your big sister?”

A pause, then I mumbled, “Yes.”

“Because other people can have your cunt, but your ass is for me alone. Is that why?”


As she talked she backed away from me a little, and I let myself believe that maybe she was done with me. Until I heard her zipper.

“Oh, God… Mommy, please don’t.”

“There. I was afraid you weren’t going to call me Mommy again.”

She fished in a pocket, then brought her hand around in front of me, where I could see it. She had a small bottle of lubricant in one hand, and she unscrewed the top and poured some onto her fingers.

“Please, Mommy. Please!”

“Shhh, now. We don’t want Mark to hear you. Imagine if he saw you like this? Holding your wedding dress up so your queer sister can fuck your ass. Of course he hasn’t. So let’s just be quiet so this stays our little secret, baby girl.”

She was behind me again, and I could hear her lubed hand sliding over her cock. Then she began to spread lubrication around the crack of my ass. My breath caught at her touch. I was on fire, I hated her, I wanted her. I wanted her to go away, to fuck off out of my life. And I wanted that finger inside me.

She put one hand back on my hip and the other on the back of my neck, pushing me over at the waist. She pressed my legs further and further apart until I was completely open for my sister. My cunt was dripping.

She draped my dress up over my back, which freed me to brace myself on the wall on either side of the mirror. Then I got what I most dreaded — and craved.

One finger slowly slid inside me, right up to the third knuckle. It probed around loosening my rectum for more, then was joined by another finger. I hadn’t felt this pressure, this warm, wonderful pressure, for four years — and it was stealing my breath away, causing my pussy to overflow.

She bent a bit at the knees, lowering the head of her girl-cock to my star. “I always loved you in heels like that. They put you at just the right height.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Please, Mommy,” I whimpered. But she knew perfectly well that it no longer meant please don’t.

The tip of her cock was pressing against my opening, the pressure slowly increasing in tiny steps. “Please what, baby girl? Please stop?”

I loved and hated that she was always so gentle about taking me. “No, Mommy.”

“What then, baby girl?” As we spoke, the tip slowly, ever so slowly, entered me.

“Please don’t stop, Mommy. Please… take me. Fuck me.”

As I said this, she gradually straightened at the knees and slid deeper and deeper.

“Of course I’ll fuck you, baby girl.” She began a soft pumping. “You knew I would fuck you.”


“You knew it when I showed up.”

“Yes, Mommy. Oh, yes. God, yes.”




“That’s my baby girl.”


“You love it when Mommy…”


“…fucks you…”


“…don’t you?”



“When Mommy…”


“…does you…”


“…in the ass.”


“Yes, Mommy. Ungh. Ungh. Please don’t, ungh, stop, Mommy. Oh. OH!”


“Oh, God.”


“Oh, God!”

She had me. She had me and she knew it, and I loved and hated that she knew it. Knew it like nobody else had ever known it, or ever would. Had known it, ever since Bobbi first seduced me when I was sixteen.

I was close to coming, and she knew exactly how close. She would draw my climax out of me as precisely as if she were performing brain surgery — pulling it out, but exactly how and when she wanted it. She was a master at the art of anal love.

I could still remember the first time my sister had done me that way. We’d been lovers for three months by then, starting when she coaxed me into bed one night. I was intoxicated by Bobbi, loved to spend hours with her, pleasuring each other the way only two girls can. Her kisses were sweet as wine, the taste of her cunt ambrosia. I didn’t care that she was a girl, or even that she was my sister — she made me feel so special, so loved.

Bobbi had already taken my virginity with her strap-on, so I was ready for more of the same that night when she fastened that silicone cock around her waist. But my big sister had other plans for me. She kissed me hungrily, then gazed deep into my eyes. “Nellie,” she crooned, “I want to introduce you to a new pleasure tonight. A new and… very special pleasure.”

She had me lie on a pillow, my hips elevated. I moaned as her hot, wet tongue trailed its way through the crack of my ass. Then I felt her fingers rubbing something slippery into my anal cleft. And suddenly my heart was throbbing as Bobbi placed the tip of her cock against the tight ring.

She was so tender, so gentle at first… slowly filling me with her easy strokes. But I soon hungered for more from her. Before long my sexy lesbian sister was really fucking my ass, pumping in and out at a faster and faster pace, pushing herself deeper inside me, driving me absolutely wild.

Those were the times when I called her “Mommy,” and she called me “baby girl.” Only when she fucked my ass. Our lovemaking was wonderful, but the anal sex we shared was beyond description — holy, even. Me, down on her bed on all fours, and Bobbi, her pelvis pressed against my butt, her cock deep in my asshole. Her cock inside me, moving deliciously in and out. Just like it was now, on my wedding day.

Her lips brushed my ear.

“Do you…”





“…to come for me…”


“baby girl?”




“Yes, oh, Mommy. Mmmm… Please, Mommy. Please let me come. Oh, Mommy.”

Her timing shifted. She was no longer rushing me to my orgasm. Don’t ask me how she did it, but she could always take me to within a few steps of the cliff, hold me there, and then carry me through those last few steps painfully slowly, a millimeter at a time.

But when I fell off… Oh, God, when I fell off. Stars, rockets, explosions – none of it could begin to describe where my sister could take me when she ass-fucked me.

Bobbi had me on the knife-edge, and was holding me there, suspended in… ecstasy.

“Baby girl, look at me.”

I opened my eyes and found hers in the mirror. She ever so slowly pulled out until only the tip of her cock was still in me… then ever so slowly, my sister entered me again, exactly — exactly! — enough to take me over the edge.

It started deep inside, and slowly grew until it was everywhere, until nothing existed but her cock, my mind, and my orgasm. I was in two places at once. I was racing off that cliff, accelerating as if rocket-propelled, yet completely aware of my surroundings, of her. I felt absolute abandon — yet felt it objectively, like an observer. My sister’s eyes were speaking to me as clearly as though they were carving her thoughts in stone, but I couldn’t tell what the words meant; they were in another language.

Legs shaking, heart pounding fit to burst, this long-lost friend of an orgasm churns on and on — grows, builds.

“That’s it, baby girl. Give it to me.”

Each breath a conscious decision. Peaking? No. Still rising. Barely able to stand, I want to fall against the mirror, but I can’t let go of Bobbi’s eyes.

A tear, stained with mascara, slides down my cheek and drops onto my dress. My beautiful, white wedding dress. Then another.

I’m shaking. I would fall down if I didn’t have her cock in my ass. Another tear. And another. They’re falling faster now. I’m falling faster now.

I rush forward into blackness.

When I came to, the only thing holding me up was her arms. That and her cock, still buried in my rectum.

She slowly withdrew from me, then lowered me into a chair. I couldn’t control my legs yet. They were splayed wide, my pussy still fully exposed.

Bobbi knelt before me and kissed my cunt, pressing her face between my thighs, her tongue plunging into my vagina. Then she pulls away, taking me in her arms, her mouth claiming mine.

My sister kissed me gently at first, then her tongue slid between my lips. The taste of my cunt on Bobbi’s lips has my head spinning. I responded in kind, kissing my sister as hotly as I used to do.

My God, how I adore her. It’s like she never left, and I’m still her devoted sex toy. I’m already plunging headfirst into madness, throbbing with desire, wondering if I have enough time to go down on Bobbi before the ceremony begins.

Finally pulling away, she reached out and rested her hand against my cheek.

“I have to go, Nellie.”

A still, calm pause.

“I know,” I whisper.

A longer pause.

“I want you to be happy with Mark, you know.”

“I know.”

“But I’ll still come back someday, and fuck you again. I’ll have to.”

“Yes. You will.”

“I’ll have to.”

“I know that.”

She looked into the mirror, checking God knows what. Her hair is too short to get messed up, and she doesn’t wear makeup. She crossed to the door and opened it. She hesitated, then turned back, hesitated again, and finally said, “I love you, baby sister. I always will.”

“I know. I love you too.”

The door closes, and she is gone.

The End


17 Comments on The Wedding Present

  1. Arianna says:

    OMG I can so relate to this story although not married but do have someone special that is the same way for me as them

  2. Nathan Riches says:

    Honestly, I wasnt sure about this one, but it was a pleasant surprise. At the start I thought it was going to go in one direction, but it actually went in a different, better one. Interesting story

  3. Tim says:

    Another great story Jetboy. Sure I have read it before, but another one that well deserves a second reading – a second coming, one might almost say!!!. Thanks for posting, and a Happy New Year to you all there at JS. Tim

  4. Euphorsyne, Thalia & Aglia says:

    Oh Yes! so hot! sisterly love that goes way, way beyond the pale…but, it works so well here.
    Loved the way Nellie reverted to calling her big sister Bobbi, ‘Mommy’…so yummy.
    And, all the pushing between…




    bit of…


    their heated conversation, left me breathless! no wonder Nellie’s derriere really did belong to ‘Mommy’…

    Awesome story Author Unknown, and superb reworking by JetBoy!


  5. admatt says:

    loveful story. Thanks for posting.

  6. Steve says:

    That was great!
    Thank you!

  7. argos says:

    this story was on another story site . 2-16-06 and was titled The Wedding Present. Author was Right There. Except for some slight differences this story was plagiarized. thought you’d like to know

  8. sapphmore says:

    Whenever finding a story is required, I always check my extensive archive and argos is indeed correct, it was “The Wedding Present by RightThere” and I saved it as a text file on 23rd May 2019.
    I must have found it on Literotica as it’s still there, posted on 16th Feb 2006 as stated.
    Jetboy would have likely found the Author Unknown version elsewhere and decided it was worthy of his masterful reworking.
    Whether author unknown copied RightThere or vice versa is not certain.

  9. Euphrosyne, Thalia & Aglaia says:

    Hey Sapphmore!

    “Prolific”, adjective; Producing or characterized by abundant works or results,…
    synonym: Sapphmore…. 🙂


  10. Donald says:

    Absolutely love this. Incredibly hot.

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