Serafina went from asleep to awake like a light turning on. One moment, she was dreaming; the next, her eyes were open and she was staring at the ceiling. It had always been this way, for as long as she could remember: greeting each day like a new surprise, with her arms and legs itching to get up and move.
It had taken a long time, after she hit that teenage height growth, for her to train herself not to wake up with a sitting motion. Many were the mornings that her brother Pyotr had been awoken by the thump of Sera’s skull hitting the ceiling and her little cry of shocked pain. She had eventually learned to suppress the initial spring to action, and this morning her eyes were the only part of her that moved for the first full minute.
The sun was up, and birds were chirping. That meant it was well into the morning. Considering the day in her head, she found she had no obligations beyond spending a little time with her family, and that only really had to happen around mealtimes; any longer than that and her mother would doubtless put her to work with some mundane chore. Saturdays were for Adventures, not chores.
She could hear Pyotr’s slow, peaceful breaths coming from the bunk below. Sera smiled, happy to know that he had returned during the night. He had been very quiet on the way out of their room before, but Sera’s ears were much better than she liked to tell anyone.
In fact, Serafina had a lot of little secrets about herself. Pyotr knew most of them. He knew that she could speak perfect, unaccented English, but preferred not to. He knew that she had a stash of candy and beefcake magazines hidden in a ceiling panel above the bed. He even knew about her secret crush on her best friend, a girl who was so straight that if Sera ever revealed that she was attracted to her the friendship would almost surely be killed by the awkwardness. It was difficult hiding things from your twin brother, so Sera didn’t bother. She just diluted the really good secrets with a thousand meaningless ones.
She rolled off the bunk, shooting an arm out and catching a slat underneath it to swing herself down and beneath. Her knees took most of the force of landing, hitting the bed on either side of her brother’s sleeping form, but enough of the fall was broken by his hips that Pyotr woke up immediately.
“Sera, what the fuck,” he groaned, putting an arm over his eyes. “What time is it?”
“It is morning!” She quipped, thickening her accent enough to pronounce it “mornink.” “Time to get up and face a breakfast with our family.”
“I knew there was a reason that I moved out to go to school,” Pyotr complained. “Go and eat, I will be there soon.”
Something wasn’t quite right. Pyotr was crankier than usual this morning. She wriggled a little and felt pretty clearly through the sheets and his clothing that he was hard, a sure sign that his bladder was full. And the groan he made sounded almost like he was sick. A wide grin spread across her face.
“You’re hungover!” she exclaimed.
Pyotr groaned again, rubbing his temples with his eyes closed. “Could you say it a little louder? I think I still have some feeling left in my head. And get off of me.”
Serafina smirked down at her twin brother. “Nine months we cuddled up and now you are wanting me off your lap. Some gratitude this is.”
“Gratitude for what?”
“For not telling anyone that you snuck out in the middle of the night to get, how you say, smashed.”
“‘How you say’? You know how things are said. You were straight A’s in English.”
“It is part of our culture! Embrace who you are, brother.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I get that a lot.”
“Anyway,” Pyotr said dryly, “you won’t be ‘tellink’ anyone anything this morning.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because if you do, dear sister, I would have to tell them about how excited sitting on my lap has you. Or is it cold in here?”
Sera looked curiously at her brother. “I’m not-”
The statement was interrupted by a tingling blast up her spine. She gasped and pulled an arm across her nipples, which were suddenly throbbing and pressing hard against the thin fabric of her nightshirt. Her hips ground down a little, and she had to actively stop herself from dry-humping her brother.
Pyotr chuckled. “What is the matter, sister? Cat got your tongue?”
“How did you-?”
“I did nothing. You saw me. Perhaps you just are in need of a boyfriend.”
“Pah!” Serafina complained, sliding back to sit on Pyotr’s ankles and pouting. “I blame you. I’m so awesome that even my own brother can’t keep it down.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Pyotr replied, pulling his feet up and freeing himself. “I am going to take a shower before breakfast. Try to contain yourself.”
Sera watched as Pyotr hefted off the bunk and started toward the bathroom. From the swagger in his step, he actually looked to still be a little drunk. She started to say something witty about it, but only got as far as the first syllable before she found herself suddenly laying on the bed, trying hard to stifle a moan as an unexpected orgasm steamrolled her senses. Her hands were under her clothing, one groping her breast while the other rubbed between her legs, although she definitely didn’t remember putting them there. She heard the bathroom door close just as she was shakily sitting up again, cutting her off from whatever it was she was about to say.
-*-*-
Pyotr laid his back on the door, sliding down until he was sitting on the cool tile of the bathroom floor. He clenched both hands tight, trying to keep from laughing loud enough to be heard.
Serafina was perhaps his favorite person in the world. He would never do a thing to hurt her. But playing a joke on her was another matter entirely. She had long annoyed him with her perky morning attitude, and making her lose control had been a sweet revenge.
And she was beautiful, he thought, one hand sliding down to idly rub the bulge in the front of his shorts. It was always good to start your day by looking at the body of a beautiful woman. Even if he had no intention of doing anything with her, certainly nothing like when he had punished and rewarded Anna, it was still nice to touch and feel and enjoy her a little. A truly victimless crime.
-*-*-
“Great pancakes, mother,” Pyotr said, cutting another wedge off one of the perfectly-round stack of syrup and happiness. “Just like when we were little.”
“Yeah,” Serafina agreed. “Really good.”
Sera was a little subdued since Pyotr’s little prank. She seemed to be waiting to see if it would happen again. Pyotr decided to leave her alone; it would be a shame to upset her more than he needed to.
Annushka, on the other hand, was being a bit too nice. “More syrup, brother?” she asked, offering him the bottle.
“No, it is more than enough,” he replied.
“Sure, okay. Hey, do you have time to help me with some more homework later? I think I really got the stuff you showed me about physi- uh, about thermodynamics.
Pyotr chuckled. “Perhaps later. I need to go on a walk this morning.”
Anna’s face fell, but she nodded. “Later, then,” she agreed.
Pyotr’s walks were well known to his family. It was how he got his best ideas: walking without direction, letting his mind wander where it would. And despite how happy and relaxed he felt among his family, Pyotr definitely still had much to think about.
“Morning,” Zarya said, walking into the dining room and yawning. “Do I smell pancakes?”
“Of course, dear,” their mother said, putting a plate on the table for her.
Zarya smiled her thanks down at the older woman and sat. Most things for her involved looking down; Zarya was considerably taller than anyone else in the family. She wore her dark blonde hair short, almost military in style, and generally wore light tees or tanks to show off her hard-earned muscular physique. This morning, she was wearing a comically fuzzy pink bathrobe, cinched tight at the waist but straining enough to cover her shoulders that Pyotr could see a large part of her black sports bra. It was a functional garment, covering almost up to her collarbones. “Cleavage” was not a thing that Zarya had ever desired for herself.
Many people wondered how she could maintain that kind of body after her third child. Pyotr’s theory was that she was some sort of genetic anomaly, and only slept once every month. Serafina believed that she had eaten her young, and replaced them with robots or actors.
Pyotr stopped time and walked around the table to her. “Pardon me, sister,” he said, lifting her out of her chair, “but there are certain things I have long wondered.”
Repositioning her to stand next to the table, Pyotr untied her robe and slid it off her shoulders.
He’d of course seen her in workout or swim gear before. Her shape was nothing new. Still, it was quite the contrast to compare touching the shoulder and arm of a body like Zarya’s to Anna or one of the girls in the bar the night before.
Pyotr thought back to that night, remembering the way Leah’s hips had felt in his hands as he thrust into her, and how tight she’d gripped his cock when Jeremy woke her up in the middle of their encounter. The hard-on he’d been carrying around all morning pulsed in his pants, making him reach down to reposition it.
He pushed the robe aside, revealing the rest of Zarya’s body. Her simple white panties were stretched tight over her well-defined hips and ass. Sitting as she’d been, most of her body was relaxed, and she still had an impressively flat stomach. And her legs were somehow in a mystical zone between shapely and muscular that achieved the best of both without seeming too much of either.
Before he could even register the idea, Pyotr found himself kneeling down to pull off Zarya’s panties. He moved them almost without touching her legs at all, then stepped back to admire her.
Zarya had shaved only where a bikini would not cover her. Her panties had hid a soft brown patch of fur that Pyotr couldn’t help but run his fingers over. Her ass looked like it had come from a marble statue, and in Pyotr’s palm it felt warm and firm.
The part of him that intellectually knew that all of this was wrong was getting smaller and quieter. With the exception of Sera’s earlier shock, none of his sisters had yet suffered in any meaningful way for his pranks and curiosity. In fact, Anna’s attitude had vastly improved. And Zarya was always so very tense, complaining of being tired or sore. Pyotr slowly rubbed her long, powerful thighs, pressing in to leave shallow trenches in the soft layer of skin over her muscles. He idly wondered if extratemporal massage was a science worth pursuing.
He had never found Zarya’s body type particularly exciting, preferring girls who were less capable of cracking him in two, but nonetheless she was quite lovely to behold. He wondered if giving birth had truly made her less pleasurable to a man, as teen boys seemed to believe, but decided not to experiment with her, not wanting to make a scene at the breakfast table.
Still, the throbbing in his pants was something Pyotr couldn’t ignore. He had been dreaming of something very exciting when Serafina woke him up, although he didn’t remember what; all he could recall was pale skin and pink nipples. He had been able to laugh off her accusations about his morning excitement, but the truth was that such things were caused by a swollen bladder, and Pyotr had gone to bed thirsty after relieving himself of such pressures. What he was feeling now what entirely due to his own libido.
He considered Zarya’s only remaining garment, the black sports bra. It was stretched tight over her chest, tight enough that he could see two little bumps where her nipples strained against the thick fabric. He softly rubbed a fingertip across one, then gave the bottom of the bra a little tug upward.
The elastic was pulled tight against his sister’s skin, and sliding it up over her breasts proved impossible. Carefully, Pyotr hooked his fingers into the band and pulled it outward, stretching the elastic and creating a gap under Zarya’s breasts. Once the bra was flaring out far enough, he pulled the bottom of it up to her collarbones.
Her breasts were pressed tight against her body, but with some gently outward strokes, Pyotr moved them into a more natural shape. They were surprisingly pliant and larger than he expected; it occurred to him that Zarya pretty much bound them down all the time. Her nipples were dark pink fountains, still perky despite having spent so many recent years in service to the demands of infants. Pyotr ran a finger around one and wondered if there was any way for a nipple not to be exciting.
Pyotr glanced back at the table, then smiled. Speaking of exciting breasts, Annushka had been entirely less bitchy this morning. Perhaps she deserved some sort of reward for such good behavior.
More importantly, he deserved some sort of reward himself for so often walking around with his cock tucked in his pant leg while surrounded by such beautiful females. This morning was no exception.
Of course, first he had to restore Zarya to her seat. He slid her panties up and over her hips, then tugged the bra down, but neither one fit like they ought to. The elastics, stretched to fit over the widest parts of her breasts and hips, refused to contract without time to drive their elasticity.
“Fuck,” Pyotr muttered. He had no desire to see Zarya’s anger at having her bra snapped by the Invisible Man. Cupping his hands, he pressed her breasts back to roughly where they had been under the bra, tucking the elastic underneath them. He folded it like a sine wave, hoping that it would wind up creating many small tugs instead of one large, painful one. The panties were a little easier, not being as far-stretched or as strong of a band, but he still worried that she would know something had happened.
On the other hand, it didn’t matter what she knew; sitting as he was between Sera and Anna, there was no way he could even reach her across the breakfast table.
He was pretty sure the robe slid back on where it had been, and with it tied and her back in her chair, there was nothing to indicate what he had done.
The quiet thump of elastic on skin that came with time’s resumption echoed in Pyotr’s ears. He tried not to look directly at Zarya as she flinched and drew in a hissing breath.
“Something wrong, Zar?” Sera asked.
“No, it is this shitty bra,” Zarya replied. She opened he robe and tugged the garment left and right, adjusting the fit over her breasts with no apparent concern for Pyotr’s view. “I think I broke an elastic.”
Anna giggled. “Perhaps you lifted too many overturned cars.”
Zarya shrugged. “Derailed freight trains, actually,” she said, flexing an arm. “And you were glad of it when that boy at school gave you trouble.”
“That was six years ago,” Anna complained. “He’s hot now and he’s terrified of me!”
“Perhaps you should have considered that when you asked me to make him leave you alone forever.”
Pyotr smiled. One thing his sisters had never been was vulnerable. Zarya was terrifying. Sera had half the world convinced she was as unpredictable as a cat with its tail tied to a vial of nitroglycerin. And Anna had the other half wrapped around her dainty little finger. As brothers go, Pyotr had things easy. He’d never needed to fight battles for any of them.
“Why are you smiling?” Sera asked, poking his ribs.
“It’s just nice to have everyone together,” Pyotr replied.
“I think so too,” Anna said, touching his arm.
That moment of contact was as good a time as any for Pyotr to stop time. He stood, pushing back his chair, and started unbuttoning the fleece pajama shirt that Anna was wearing.
“I enjoy the way you have been acting this morning,” he said, pulling the shirt open and sliding his hands across the skin of her breasts. “Let us make sure it continues.”
Kneeling down and lifting Anna’s breasts, Pyotr began gently sucking at her nipples. First one and then the other was drawn outward, peaking at the tip of her breasts’ generous swell. He rolled his tongue around them in slow circles and squeezed her breasts in his hands, shifting a little as his cock awoke in his pants and started straining toward her.
Pyotr stood, unzipping and pushing down his pants. Sitting as she was, Anna was at just the right level for him to rest his cock between her breasts, squeezing them gently inwards with both hands. He slid himself back and forth slowly, savoring the sensation of her flesh closing around him and his pulse throbbing against her skin.
He thought back to the video on her phone, the way she’d moaned while getting herself off, and felt a bead of liquid leaking onto her, smearing along the tight passage he’d created for himself. “Ah, we don’t want to move too quickly,” he said, then chuckled. “Of course, it is not like time is a concern, is it, my dear sister?”
Pyotr gently lifted Anna to her feet, sliding the pants off her legs and stroking them with his fingers. Lifting her a few inches into the air, he slid his aching cock into the gap between her upper thighs, pressing his shaft up against her warm slit. Too warm, he thought, and pulled back a little, looking down.
A thin layer of liquid shone on his skin. “Annushka, you naughty girl,” he said, sliding forward again, rubbing against her opening. “Getting all excited at the breakfast table, in front of your family. What would mother say?”
Anna didn’t respond, so Pyotr grasped her by her plump, firm ass, stroking back and forward more quickly. “I wonder how little I could do to make you cum,” he mused. “Perhaps you were planning to later, hm? Well, why wait?”
Anna’s pussy had spread open a little, and Pyotr drew back another inch, prodding at her entrance. She opened like a flower around him, easily letting him slide inside her. He pulled her hips in, spreading her legs and watching as her hungry pussy swallowed every last inch of him.
Pyotr turned and pressed his sister’s back to the wall, rubbing over her clit with his thumb while his palm pressed on her pelvis. His other hand held her waist, steadying her while he began to thrust in and out, slowly and smoothly.
Anna’s pussy was hot and slick with her excitement, and despite the pressure from his hand, she soon became too open for Pyotr to truly enjoy. Pulling back, he slipped out and left her there against the wall, turning to walk toward a storage closet.
A minute later, he was testing the knot on a blindfold he’d made for her out of an old scarf. Removing his own clothing and pulling her off the wall, he sat in his chair and dragged Anna down onto his lap. He slid easily back inside of her, then wrapped her arms and legs around himself and pulled her close against himself.
Carefully, aiming his glove directly at Anna, Pyotr pulled her out of time.
“What-” Anna’s words were cut off by a gasp as she felt the pleasure from all Pyotr’s previous contact at the same time. Her legs tightened on his waist, pulling their hips together and making her moan into his shoulder.
Pyotr slid his hands down to Anna’s hips, holding tight and dragging her back and forth in his lap. He stifled a moan, feeling an intense wave of pleasure as his sister’s pussy contracted, conforming perfectly to every inch of him, stroking everything with hop, moist flesh as he slid against her.
Anna’s hands tightened on Pyotr’s back, crushing her breasts against his skin. She bit down on his shoulder, making him draw a sharp breath, and started helping him move her, using her stomach and thighs to pull their hips closer and grinding against him.
Even muffled by his shoulder, Anna’s moans were loud, much louder than on her old video. Pyotr strained not to add his voice to hers, not wanting to be recognized. His hands slid down to her ass and squeezed greedily.
“Oh fuck,” she breathed, “fuck me!”
Pyotr lifted Annushka, keeping deep inside her as he slid out of the chair and bore her to the floor. Her grip on him tightened and she shivered as her back pressed to the cold tile, but her cries only grew louder when he started thrusting down into her.
Anna bit his shoulder again, groaning at each thrust. Her voice got higher and louder, and Pyotr picked up speed.
He was pumping into her hard enough to start sliding across the floor when she came around him, squeezing his cock impossibly tight and bucking her hips up into his thrusts. The sensation overwhelmed him and Pyotr groaned, driving down hard and erupting deep inside of Anna’s still-spasming pussy.
They laid together panting for a moment. Annushka swallowed and took a breath. “Who-”
Pyotr kissed her cheek and leaned down, brushing his lips against her earlobe. “Physics,” he whispered, a split second before he once more froze Anna in time.
He stayed there awhile longer, savoring Anna’s soft body beneath and around him. Finally, feeling himself start to soften and relax, he lifted up and gently disengaged from her.
Once Anna’s clothing was back on, Pyotr returned her to her chair. Sitting and placing her hand on his arm where it had been, he restarted time.
Anna gasped, no doubt shocked by the sudden emptiness and the sensation of her vagina swiftly closing. Pyotr smiled and patted her hand, amused by the perplexed look on her face, then stood up and picked up his plate. “I am going out,” he announced. “I will be back… later on.”
On his way toward the door, he caught a glimpse of Annushka in the hallway mirror. She was biting her bottom lip and staring at him with her eyes half-lidded, shifting one leg against the other. Pyotr chuckled and kept walking, feeling less stressed than he had in years.