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She was feeling faint.

They always let her do it. She gently pulled every last bit of juice she could out of him.

"Mark honey," Mindy slid from his softness and started kissing his hips and thighs, "I said to come on Mommy's breasts, not in my mouth. I should punish you."

What punishment was worse than this Mark wondered. His body couldn't stop shaking. It was partly from pleasure and mostly from fear. What was happening to him? How could she be doing these things to him. She was his sister, it wasn't right. Why was he letting her? He gulped. I've made myself one big mess, he thought to himself. Two big messes.

Mark didn't yet know how big those messes were going to turn out to be.

Mindy made a point of always being home when they were. She stopped working nights and mirrored her brother's schedule. She would make sure that they never had a chance to be alone.

For the next few weeks she kept him busy. Constantly playing mommy games with her breasts. Giving him nearly unfettered access to them to keep him busy. She loved it, she thought, he was like a reluctant puppy dog. Shy at first then ready for play. She also knew she was making him crazy.

"Don't you ever work anymore?" Mark asked her one day, "I mean it seems like all of a sudden you're always home."

Mindy looked at him. She could see the agony on his face. He wanted to be alone with mom but he couldn't tell her that. He had a secret to keep and she knew what it was. It was almost unfair. She lifted up her shirt to reveal her bare chest.

"Honey," she smiled, "Mommy just wanted to spend some quality time with her favorite boy."

Mark couldn't help it. He wanted to help it but he couldn't. He walked over to her and bent down, pulling a breast into his mouth, he felt his cock harden. He wanted most in the world to be with his mother, and his sister was playing a sort of evil surrogate.

At first Tammi was excited that her daughter was home. She wouldn't have to be concerned about her son's advances if she was there. She wanted to talk to him, but there never seemed to be a good time. She feared seeing him alone and never returned to his bedroom after that night. She was afraid of the man that she woke up.

After a few weeks passed she started to feel sick. She didn't know how to tell him. She knew. She could feel it in her stomach in the morning. What was she going to do? How had this happened? She wanted to press rewind on her life. To somehow have mustered the courage to stop this evil before it happened. It was too late.

"Breakfast?" Mark looked at his mother. She looked like she was sick, her face a pale white. He longed for her. Even though she looked sick all he could think about was her breasts. The games Mindy was tormenting with only making him want her more.

"I'm not feeling well," she sat down, "I'll just have some crackers."

For the first time in over a month she was alone with her son. What was he going to do? She didn't have the energy to fend him off. It didn't matter anyway. Whatever shred of dignity she had was stripped away by the growing baby inside her.

No she had to have a talk with him but not the talk she had wanted to before. She had to tell him about what he had done. The terrible mistake that he had made.

"Mark," she looked up at him, "we really need to talk about what happened. It's like you're avoiding talking to me."

Mark looked at her. Her face was ashen. What was she going to say? How she must be aching as much as he was. He felt it that last time. He felt her press against him, pulling him to her. He felt her warm embrace that he reluctantly had to leave. He wanted to hold her close again. To feel her skin against his, her breast upon his lips.

He turned off the burner and left his breakfast undone. This was the first time he had been alone with his mother in over a month. It wasn't time for talking. He turned to her, squeezed her arms and pulled her close. His lips descended upon her, opening her mouth and exploring it's warmth. How he missed her warmth.

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