Izzy's Library Incest

"Izzy's Library Incest"

by J. D. Savanyu

A cool foggy Halloween night in the trendiest part of Richmond, with lots of kids trick-or-treating, pumpkin smashing and TP'ing. But of course I'm not one of them. I'm a twenty-something redhead English major, sitting in room 303 of Hibbs Hall, gazing across a big rectangular conference table at my identical redhead twin sister Kathy. Professor De Haven's novel writing class is discussing the fifth chapter of her dystopian cyberpunk manuscript about a bunch of human hookers in 2099, fighting against robotic whores who recently became self-aware and violently corrupt.

I can picture someone like Kate Beckinsale playing the lead role in a movie adaptation. Decked out in black form-fitting latex, bullet-timing her way through a high-tech labyrinth and blasting a bunch of busty bots. Kathy's idea is much more Hollywood-friendly than my kinky indie manuscript about a neurotic biker dude who cheats on his milf cowgirl stripper wife with a crazier cowgirl who's young enough to be his daughter.

"So, what do you guys think about Charity's treachery in this chapter?" asks Professor De Haven.

"Wow, I totally didn't see that coming," replies Sarah Sprouse, a cliche pseudo-goth English major. "I was sure she'd stay loyal to the Real Hooker Resistance, and never betray them for 'thirty pieces of silver' from that creepy Big Tech mogul."

"Yeah, that was a really good plot twist," I reply eagerly, tossing my flaming copper bangs and shooting my sexy doppelganger a devious grin. "And she had the gall to do that right after having sex with the leader of the resistance, and saying she was 'truly, madly, deeply' in love with her!"

Kathy looks exactly like me, with the same red hair, pale milky freckled skin, and big emerald eyes. The same perky c-cup tits, flat toned belly, and wide smoothly curved thighs. I still can't believe what happened last night, after Professor Harrison didn't show up for his Edgar Allan Poe seminar in this very same room. I returned two hours early to the apartment I share with my sister, and found her fucking my boyfriend Jake in bondage!

I watched quietly through the barely-open door as she whipped his big dick over and over, with his arms and legs tied to a steel platform. Then she fucked the shit out of him and took a huge cumshot from face to pussy. Getting me so wet under my red tartan skirt. That was crazy enough, but what happened after I kicked Jake out of our apartment was beyond belief. My heated argument with Kathy quickly spiraled into wild kinky incest action; starting a nice taboo lesbian rebound fling.

"I hate Savage Garden," Kathy grunts playfully. "They're the second most overrated band of the 90's, after The Spice Girls."

"Our parents really loved them," I giggle. "They were just as weird as their twin daughters are now."

My sister spreads her legs under the table, and wags them open and shut in my direction, clearly expressing her mutual forbidden lust. I can't wait to get her naked again in our rustic nineteenth-century loft on Harvie Street, and "play rough" for at least an hour (in lieu of going to an actual Halloween party, and socializing with real people instead of our usual fake book characters.)

"Your parents thought sex robots were pure science fiction... but now you can buy one on Amazon for two thousand bucks," Professor De Haven muses. "They're still primitive and clunky, like a porn version of that 1920's Metropolis robot. Or C-3PO, if you're not a silent movie buff."

"Kathy's dystopian future is getting closer and closer. It'll be here a lot sooner than 2099," Lars Freeman muses.

"More like 2039," Virginia Schmitz boldly predicts, with a cute British accent.

"It'll be just like Woody Allen's Sleeper... but not nearly as funny," Montana Jones adds wryly.

The novel writing class ends twenty minutes later. We hustle down two flights of stairs and out to a cool misty All Hallow's Eve in the heart of VCU, in the middle of a big crazy liberal city that was once the capital of the Confederacy. Lots of students are hanging out and skateboarding around the giant brick compass, discussing their wild party plans while wearing tacky store-bought costumes. Sexy zombies? Ewww.

"Trick or treat, sis!" Kathy beams.

"We were always too sophisticated for that shit," I grunt. "They're starting the Halloween season waaay too early now, with plastic tombstones and skeletons going up in front yards in fucking September. Everyone's sick and tired of it by now, except the craziest freaks who will probably put up their Christmas decorations tomorrow!"

"You're waaay too cynical, Izzy."

"Whatever. Let's go home and watch Freddy vs. Jason for the fiftieth time while stuffing our faces with popcorn. A little self-therapy to help me get over Jake." (After you fucking stole him from me,) I add with clear body language.

"In a little while, ginger. I need to do a little research at the library, and then we'll go party. Hard," she utters naughtily, emphasizing the incestuous double entendre by winking her big green left eye.

"Whatever," I mutter playfully. "I need to dive deeper into Raymond Carver, to make my novel more authentically trailer-trashy."

I follow her across the quad and into the Branch Cabell library, an imposing brutalist 1970's edifice. Halloween fell on a Friday this year, so we're literally the only people here.

"Damn. This place is emptier than a shopping mall in Somalia," Kathy giggles.

"Everyone is out getting drunk and stoned shitless, dressed like Count Dracula and Slutty Sailor Moon."

"They'll have some nasty undead hangovers tomorrow, and we'll have the gym all to ourselves."

We take an elevator up to the fourth floor, with all the weird obscure books we love. I pick out a collection of critical essays about Carver's What We Talk About When We Talk About Love and Ultramarine. The VCU library has the best collection of comic books and graphic novels in the world, thanks to Tom De Haven's "geek culture" obsession. Kathy makes a bee-line toward that department and grabs a bunch of cyberpunk epics. Hard Boiled, Tokyo Ghost, 2020 Visions, and Transmetropolitan.

We sit down at a table next to the dusty microfiche machines, flipping through pages and taking notes in eerie silence. I'm half-expecting a masked homicidal lunatic to creep out of the shadowy shelves (after watching too many stupid slasher flicks with Kathy, to cleanse our palate after reading all those boring depressing English major books.) My mind drifts toward a kinky sex scene in the third chapter of my manuscript. Jerry the biker ties up Lucy the cowgirl against an old wooden fence in her horse pasture, thirty miles west of Cheyenne, Wyoming. He whips her like a wild mustang, far from his unsuspecting stripper wife in their pathetic little trailer home. My debut novel is an awkward attempt at existential rural BDSM, inspired by Fargo, Killer Joe and Nymphomaniac, Volume 1 & 2. The polar opposite of my sister's trippy sci-fi boobs-and-blood schlockfest, like a cross between John Wick and Battle Angel Alita / Ghost in the Shell / whatever.

My eyes drift upward, admiring Kathy's beautiful pale freckled face and big perky tits. It's like looking in a mirror. She has a much more flirty personality than me, so guys literally trip over each other for a chance to fuck her. Hopefully they'll never find out that I fucked her, exactly twenty-four hours ago. My pussy buzzes with arousal just thinking about the way I whipped her naked breasts and vagina; still splattered with Jake's cum. I punished her viciously for stealing my boyfriend, and then I ordered her to fuck me hard with a foot-long strap-on dildo. I can't wait to get another good plastic pussypounding from that bombshell ginger.

Her green eyes drift up to my green eyes, and she grins naughtily. Ten seconds later, I feel something warm touching my leg. I soon realize it's my sister's bare foot. I giggle incredulously as she slowly glides that little piggie upward, underneath my cute matching tartan skirt. When her big toe hits my pussy, I drop that Carver book on the table and moan softly with perverted arousal. Kathy works my clit through my pink panties with her purple-painted toenails, sinking my mind into dirty porn mode in a prestigious college library.

This reminds me of the blowjob/spanking scene in Debbie Does Dallas. I first saw that "classic" skin flick when I was 18, after raiding my parent's secret DVD porn stash behind their nightstand. I've always fantasized about getting kinky in the cavernous depths of a college library. Just like Debbie the cheerleader, deep in the heart of Texas. No better time than now to "Make it Real," according to VCU's annoying slogan.

"Hey Kathy, I want to show you something on the other end of this floor."

"Really? What?" she replies seductively, still giving my lady bits a great pedi massage.

"Something really... interesting. Come on, you naughty fucking redhead."

I take her by the hand and lead her through a maze of tall metal shelves, buzzing intensely between my legs. We go from PA 2001 to PM 8995 in the Library of Congress classification system. We soon reach the end of the line; a secluded nook in the northeast corner full of dusty old books about "artificial languages." I've never seen anyone here, even during the busiest times around final exams.

"Esperanto?" Kathy chortles. "A fake language nobody ever gave a shit about?"

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," I grunt, getting back into my dominatrix character from last night. I grab her pale slender arms and shove her big tits against a bunch of hardcovers. "You're under arrest."

"On what charge, ginger?"

"Public incest, ginger. Welcome to cyberpunk 'utopia,' a lot earlier than you predicted. I'm your judge, jury, and executioner."

"Yes sir, Judge Dredd," she giggles.

"Your sentence is torture."

I reach into my purse, pull out a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs, and bind her hands together behind her back, right next to Co‐Occurrence, Extension, and Social Salience: The Emergence of Indexicality in an Artificial Language.

"My library books are way overdue. You better punish me, Officer Bookman."

"Shut the fuck up, you smart-ass cunt!"

I hike up her red Scottish skirt, yank down her pink Victoria's Secret panties, and spank her nice heart-shaped ass, making her yelp in masochistic delight.

"I better gag that big pretty sass mouth," I grunt, getting even wetter beneath my matching skirt. I pull a rubber ball gag out of my purse, jam it through her pearly whites, and fasten the black strap firmly around her flaming hair. "There you go. A red ball gag for a punk-ass ginger."

"Huuh-hoo," she growls through the ball.

"What did you say, bitch?"

"Huuh-hoo!"

"Fuck you?"

"Uh-huh," she nods with a snarl.

"Not yet. I'm gonna turn that pale white ass red, before I tap it."

I smack her ass ten more times, five for each cheek. She groans harshly, muffled by a red rubber ball. This is even crazier than last night. I'm surging with adrenalin, drawing on all my darkest fantasies. My leatherhead ex-boyfriend really woke me up to the dark world of BDSM, and now my sister is revving my kinky motorcycle up to 130 MPH. I almost want to get caught by one of those inept Paul Blart library cops, and get spanked over his knee just like dirty little Debbie.

"You love getting spanked, eh cyberpunk?"

"Uh-huh," Kathy groans delightfully.

"Let's see how much you like it on your big fucking tits."

I yank those delicious DDD-cups right out of her low-cut blouse, sighing in admiration at her pointy pink nipples.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"Hooowuuuuguuuuuphh!" she roars ecstatically, with drool oozing out between her tightly stretched lips. She thrusts her bare ass back and forth against Foucault's Interlinguistic Paradigm: A Sociocultural Approach.

"You're getting what you voted for, bitch. Cancel culture and DEI kicked out all the best and brightest, and now the lunatics are running the asylum."

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"I love torturing those titties, sis. I bet you wish I was a manly man like Jake, so I could hit 'em harder."

"Uh-huh."

"You stole my hot boyfriend while I was at that Edgar Allan Poe seminar, and now I'm getting my sweet revenge. Like Montressor on Fortunato."

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WH- - -

My right hand is stopped in mid-swing by the distant squeaking of a library circulation cart, getting closer and closer. I shove Kathy flat against the shelves and pull out Carnap, Esperanto, and Language Engineering. I shield my bound-and-gagged sister from view with my body while pretending to read a book that probably hasn't been touched by anyone since the VCU library opened fifty years ago. An ugly flat-chested brunette librarian passes by, giving me a friendly oblivious smile and proceeding eastward toward the European non-english literature section. Her squeaking cart disappears around a white cinder block wall, and we both breathe a loud sigh of relief.

"All right, bitch. I better punish you somewhere more... private."

I grab the metal chain between her pink fuzzy cuffs and lead her into a small "gender inclusive" restroom.

"All those trannies are out partying in stupid RuPaul costumes... but we're having our own little 'drag ball' right here."

I lock the door behind me and strip bare, with goose bumps rising all over my pale milky freckled flesh. I unlock Kathy's cuffs and rip off her schoolgirlish blouse and skirt, admiring her porn star-caliber body.

"Damn, girl. You're so fucking hot, all nekked in a public bathroom."

"Huh-huh-huh," Kathy laughs through her latex gag.

"I'm gonna wipe that shit-eating grin off your face."

I shove her against the white tiles next to a urinal, and chain her wrists high up against a pipe that juts out of the wall. She laughs yet again, so I slap her once on each cheek, sending ropes of spittle flying down on a pink urinal cake.

"I'm still fucking pissed at the way you stole my boyfriend. You whipped his dick like a psycho dominatrix, and fucked him like Teagan Presley on kink. com. One round of revenge ain't enough."

I grab a portable telescoping riding crop from my purse, and whip her twat like a racehorse, driving her even crazier. I masturbate slowly with my free hand while delivering sweet pain to my sister's snatch. This reminds me of another awesome fetish porn video I found in my parent's stash, with Bonnie Rotten getting dominated in a public bathroom by a punk hunk with a Sex Pistols mohawk. Like all those superficial leatherheads who used to hang out at night clubs like Nanci Raygun's on West Grace Street, before that whole area got corporatized to hell.

"Fucking take it, bitch! I'm paying back karma on your slutty red cunt!"

"Huuwaaah!" Kathy shrieks, thrusting her ass back and forth against the white tile wall. I grab her head with both hands and hawk a big loogie right on her face. Making her feel the humiliation I felt last night, when she turned Jake Stanley into her kinky fuck doll.

"I got one more cool toy in my purse, sis. Guess what it is?"

"Huuurrrrrrph!" she groans desperately, knowing exactly what it is. A six-inch pink dildo with a dozen massaging beads along the thick shaft. I shove it all the way up her tight twat, making her squeal and shudder like hell. Jerking that fake dick back and forth in a blur of pink plastic, lost in a delirious perverted haze. Long disgusting ropes of spittle ooze down on her big whip-raw tits. I squeeze those glistening boobs real hard with my free hand, loving how soft and supple they are.

"Fuck yeah, sis. I wish we were back home so I could strap on that foot-long number and pound your pussy doggy-style. Just like you did to me last night."

"Hoo guhh, ahhgoooa hummm!"

"What was that? Stop mumbling!"

She tilts her head back toward the recessed overhead lighting, growling fiercely and squirting spectacularly. Soaking the floor in front of the urinal.

"Holy shit," I giggle proudly. "You squirt harder than Bonnie Rotten. But you're way better than that emo poseur porn bitch."

She sinks back against the tile wall in total ecstasy, huffing and puffing awkwardly through the gag. I stroke her shiny red bangs with a sweet grin, then I slowly remove her handcuffs and unfasten the black strap on the back of her head, slowly sliding the ball out of her mouth.

"Oh fuuuck Izzy, that was awesome," she groans gutturally.

"You better return the favor, slave sister."

"Yes ma'am, Judge Dredd. Your sentence is cunnilingus," she utters like Sylvester Stallone. She drops right down on the jizz-soaked tile floor and buries her face in my fire crotch. Aggressively licking, slurping, nibbling every millimeter of my sensitive pink folds, making me feel so fucking good. I grab her red hair with both hands and grind her face harder against my pussy, moaning in a steady high-pitch tone. This lesbian rebound fling is getting better every minute, feeling more alive than ever.

"Just like that, ginger! Fucking eat my twat!"

She jams her tongue deep in my vagina, rocking her head back and forth, hitting my g-spot so good.

"Oh god yeah, keep face-fucking your twin sister! Who needs a fucking dildo?"

She laughs awkwardly with her tongue chin-deep up my honey-hole. I grab her head with both hands and face-fuck her at full speed. Just like Jake always did to me with his big fucking cock, with my hands tied behind my back or against a metal bondage rack. That reminder of my alpha male ex unleashes a strong wave of kinky energy, pushing me quickly over the edge. I tilt my own head way back and blast her face just as hard, soaking the floor even more. Surging with incredible pleasure, literally seeing stars on the white ceiling panels. My body tips forward involuntarily, nearly fainting with orgasmic rapture. I grab the metal urinal handle to brace myself, flushing it with a triumphant growl.

"Trick or treat, bitch!" Kathy snickers.

"That was fucking insane," I groan gutturally.

"A nice perverted sci-fi vibe, like those crazy call girls in the Real Hooker Resistance."

"Best library bondage bang I ever had. Well, technically it's the only library bondage bang I ever had, bu-"

She cuts my sentence short by kissing me passionately, smooshing her d-cups against my matching honkers. She pulls back twenty seconds later with a goofy giggle.

"Our Sapphic sibling rivalry finally reached an epic climax," she muses. "I'll miss this so much after we graduate and hit the real world. No more library kink, just library work."

"I'll miss you even more, baby-doll. Your novel will be a smash hit, but my novel will win a Pulitzer."

"A Pulitzer Prize for a Killer Joe / Fargo ripoff? Dream on, girl," she snickers. I sigh pleasantly and slide my pink panties back up my milky freckled legs, reeling in a heavy postcoital afterglow.

"We gotta stop screwing around like hillbilly dykes. Let's get some real jobs, and real men to settle down with."

"The latter is much easier to find with a worthless English degree."

"Whatever, Izzy-biz," she sighs pleasantly. "Now it's time to go home and watch Freddy vs. Jason for the fiftieth time."