In the weeks since the car journey, my niece had been avoiding me once again. It was like we were back to square one, moving around each other like two repelling poles of a magnet.

Except now the long stretches of silent treatment were broken up by the occasional long night of passion.

"More!"

My skin was slick with sweat from our activities and I let out a sound of approval when my lover obliged, slipping a third finger inside my sopping cunt. Her lips found my chest, kissing and sucking me all over. She left a new hickey to join the others, right in the valley between them.

Admittedly, what happened in the car wasn't the best idea on my part, kissing her before we gave the conversation brewing between us a proper chance. And now, we still weren't talking about what this all actually was, choosing instead to fuck about our feelings.

I didn't need future vision to know this wasn't going to end well.

"More…"

But having that awareness didn't mean I had the strength to stop.

She raised a curious brow at my request but I just whimpered in desperation, bucking my hips against her hand as a final, silent plea. So she added a fourth finger, my pussy stretching perfectly to accommodate her.

"I like when you're this desperate," she commented with a crooked smile. She curled her fingers and pumped them in and out of me, making my back arch.

"More."

I heard a sharp intake of breath and looked to see her eyes comically wide. "Are you sure?"

I had been sure of this since the evening of the day we got caught in that storm. After the car conundrum got sorted out, I was catching up on some reading to try and destress. Little did I know that my seemingly innocent fantasy novel contained a very erotic smut scene where a princess is fisted by her prized warrior. As the words unfolded on the page, my hand had found its way between my legs once again and I imagined myself in place of the princess and (shamefully) my niece in place of her lover. Every time we'd slept together since, I had been too shy to ask, but I knew that I'd never be able to recreate that scene without help and this was my chance.

"Please."

She dragged her tongue down my body until she was between my legs, pressing a kiss on my inner thigh.

"I'll go slow," she promised, her breath hot on my clit. Her fingers pulled back slightly and I whimpered at the brief loss of contact before I sensed her thumb joining the fray. She eased her whole hand into me with a gentle precision, giving me all she had to give while making sure I wasn't overwhelmed. I preened at the stretch, the curve of her knuckles as they were slowly swallowed by my lower lips. There was a squirt of lube applied when her hand reached its widest point, easing the process as she gave me more. She didn't stop until she was comfortably hilted inside me, up to the wrist.

"Fuck!" I choked out when she pumped her hand once, a small movement in itself but enough to make stars dance across my vision.

She regarded me from below, her brow furrowed in concern. "You okay?"

"Yes. Keep going. Don't stop," I moaned, a shudder working its way through my body at the slightest twitch of her fingers. The feeling of fullness was unlike anything I had ever experienced, another soft movement enough to wring an orgasm from me before I even had the chance to think.

My niece hummed her approval, her tongue tracing over my lower lips just adding to all the sensations going on. I feared I wouldn't be able to look any of my neighbours in the face for the next few weeks thanks to the ear-piercing sounds I couldn't stop myself from making.

"Fuck, Mommy," she breathed, eyes glued to where her hand disappeared inside me, trying to commit the image to memory. There was that goddamn word again, bringing a new spike of irritation to the surface. A reminder that no matter what, it was never me she saw writing in front of her. However, those thoughts were quickly wiped from my brain when her lips sealed themselves around my clit, sending me careening into another climax.

"You look so gorgeous when you cum, Mommy."

I was floating so high on a post-orgasmic daze that I didn't even feel any displeasure at the word she called me.

This went on for what felt like hours but realistically couldn't have been more than several minutes. She alternated between tonguing my folds and murmuring filth against my skin. Friction didn't pose a problem anymore, my slickness reaching as far as her elbow. My whole body shook and I clawed helplessly at the sheets, desperate for anything to hold on to. It was somehow too much and not enough at the same time, all things falling away to leave just the heavy pressure of her hand, the fierce and targeted strokes of her tongue. She did some twist of her wrist inside me and I came again, sobbing out with relief as I went numb with pleasure.

"Had enough?"

I gave some gurgled response, my brain too foggy to manage anything else. She just laughed, dotting sweet kisses along the crease of where my thigh met my hip to ease me down from my high while she slowly removed her hand. I whimpered at the ease of the stretch and the gradual loss of contact, my cunt twitching in both protest and relief.

Her kisses continued even once I was empty, moving along my thigh towards my lower lips once again.

"You clearly haven't had enough," I teased once I could find my voice.

"Not my fault you and Mom made me an addict." She raised my legs until they rested over her shoulders and her tongue found my folds once again. The sloppy sounds she made when she ate me out were music to my ears, the world's most taboo song.

I whimpered in oversensitivity but at the same time couldn't stop myself from fisting her hair to keep her in place. She ravished me with her tongue, skirting my outer lips before diving in deep.

"Mommy…" she moaned into me. The word once again got under my skin, and yet I couldn't bring myself to be entirely mad at it when the 'm' sound created the perfect vibrations against my sensitive centre.

Then, my body tensed a little as she began working her way down my pussy and more towards my puckered asshole.

Maybe she was just exploring. We hadn't ventured towards anal territory at all in the time that we'd slept together. Surely…

Her tongue drew a long stroke over my anus. An unpleasant shudder worked its way through my body. Nope, definitely still not a fan of anal. The time elapsed since my more adventurous youth hadn't changed that.

I was still trying to come to grips with the shock of it all, the fact that she hadn't even asked, when her tongue somehow ventured deeper, the thick muscle probing me down below. Finally, finally, my voice found its way to my throat and I cried out.

"Wait, stop. Stop!"

She pulled away panting, looking at me like a problem she was trying to figure out.

"I'm not into anal," I said bluntly, drawing my legs close to me and shuffling back towards the headboard, putting some distance between us. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Her eyes widened. "Sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. It's just that Mom–"

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm not her," I snapped. "We're different goddamn people so you can't just expect me to like everything she was into."

Was. That word settled in my gut like a heavy stone.

There was a visible roll in her throat when she swallowed. "Right. Yeah. Shit, I'm sorry." She blinked rapidly. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna go." I forced my eyes away from the sway of her bare ass when she left, both our clothes lost somewhere in the hall. "Sorry," she mumbled once again before quickly shutting my door.

XXX

The sound of the coffee pot woke me up as it began to whir to life. I stretched on the bed, pleasantly surprised to find no soreness as a remnant from last night. That was strange. I had taken an entire hand inside me, among other things, and yet I felt like a new woman. A small part of my mind remained wary, fully expecting the aches and pains to hit me later.

After throwing on a robe, I was lured to the kitchen by the promise of a fresh hot brew. However, I stumbled over my own feet just as I turned the corner, not at all ready for what I found.

"Jesus fucking christ!"

My sister threw me a sidelong glance, a grin tugging at her lips. "Now I see why Mom gave up trying to get you to go to church."

Ah. Another dream. So that's why I wasn't sore.

"Though I can't say I'm much better," she continued, pouring me a steaming mug of joe. "You know, considering I'm in an incestuous relationship with my daughter and everything."

"Uh huh…" I brought the mug to my lips just to have something to do.

"Speaking of, what did you think? Best ride of your life, right?"

I swallowed despite not even recalling taking an actual sip. "She sure is something."

She shot me a playful wink as she continued working on a batch of pancake batter near the stove. "Taught her everything she knows."

In the early morning light, the dressing gown she wore appeared more sheer. The curvaceous silhouette of her body showed through it clearly. She had been incredibly self-conscious of her body for a long time, especially after pregnancy. I didn't know what that said about how she saw me, seeing as our body types were essentially identical. But I saw no flaws in her. As my eyes glossed over every dip and curve, I once again questioned her postpartum insecurities, my tongue darting out to wet my lips and–

Fuck. No. That was not what this was.

"At this rate, I'll be charging you for looking," she called almost flirtatiously over her shoulder.

I blushed, hiding behind my mug like it was a shield.

She chuckled, putting the bowl aside and circling the counter, stepping up to me. "Sis, that mug's been empty like four gulps ago."

My cheeks somehow reddened further. "Right." I set it down.

"Heh. You look cute when you blush," she commented, a finger poking my cheek.

"Shut up." I brushed her off, biting back my smile. I was reminded of when we were young, always poking and prodding at each other with no intentions other than innocent ones.

This, however, for some reason seemed to be edging further and further away from 'innocent' territory.

"You know I'm only complimenting myself," she said with a wink, and dear Lord, why did that make my knees tremble? Did last night not satisfy me enough?

"Let me have a taste?" I asked, a frivolous attempt to slip back into our old dynamic and keep my mind away from any lustful thoughts that may appear if I didn't.

"It's pancake batter," she deadpanned.

"Yes, and?"

She laughed, and God, I'd missed that sound. Her loud, full-belly laugh accompanied with the occasional snort if she really lost herself in her joy. "Nothing, I just don't know what you find so attractive about the combination of flour, butter, raw eggs and sugar."

"The sugar."

That earned me an eye roll but she still dipped her finger in the mixture all the same, dabbing some across my lips. I could feel her rough calluses even from the brief touch. As I licked my lips clean, I inspected her closely. "Were you flirting with me just now?"

"Is that an invitation?" Her fingers returned to my lips before her thumb dipped between them, tugging slightly. I released a shaky exhale, needing to catch myself on the edge of the kitchen island in case my knees betrayed me. "I mean, you were clearly checking me out just now so I feel like any flirting is justified."

A corner of her lip curved smugly upwards, that look I recognised so clearly from when we were young.

The look where she knew she was about to get exactly what she wanted.

My brain must have shorted out for a second, because one moment we were still a couple inches away from each other with me practically, pathetically sucking on her thumb, and then the next the distance had closed and I felt a new heat on my lips.

Her lips tasted like nothing and felt like air, another glaring reminder that this was all a dream.

She pulled away when I did without question. "Shit," I muttered under my breath, taking a step back. "No. No, that's not what this is."

"Then what is?" She asked this evenly, clearly not expecting anything from before to continue. I took a quiet moment to appreciate that, otherwise I didn't know how much debauchery I could take.

"I don't know! Your daughter already sees me as you when she's fucking me and I don't have the capacity to unpack whatever the hell my brain is trying to tell me with this–" I gestured wildly between her and me "–now too."

My sister blinked, then refilled my mug of coffee. I took a massive gulp despite knowing full well that it wouldn't do shit for me. "You're having the best sex of your life right now. You shouldn't be stressed."

"Don't tell me you weren't stressed when you first started hooking up with your daughter," I reasoned. "We run on anxiety. It's in our blood." I let out a long exhale, deflating as all the air left my body. The coffee swished in my mug.

She offered me a small smile as she plopped herself down on the barstool across the kitchen counter. "Did I ever tell you how it all started?"

I raised my brow and gave her a look as if to say 'seriously?', but she continued, undeterred. "When my ex and I broke things off, or I should say when she left, I took things pretty hard. Threw myself into work as a distraction, ignored everything else. Dating, working out, eating well. I even ignored my own daughter for a while, though I'm ashamed to admit it. Then she, bless her heart, wanted to help me get back on my feet. Back to my old self. She arranged a bunch of dates for me. They started out tame, you know, women our age, but as they went on, my partners started getting younger and younger, and a couple even have the same equipment–" She glanced downwards. "–that she has."

I snorted. "The fucking minx."

"A trouble maker in trade, But she knew exactly what she was doing. Testing the waters, I suppose."

"For?"

She just smiled. "You can fill that in yourself."

It took a moment for logic to return to me. "No, no, no." I shook my head, as if that would shake away all the senseless thoughts. "I'm making this up. This is all a dream. None of it's even real."

"Not true."

"You're dead!" I cried. "You died before I had a chance to talk to you one last time. Before you could even tell me about you and your daughter. I have no idea how it started so of course all of this that's happening right now is complete and total bullshit!"

My sister wasn't thrown off by my outburst. If anything, she was more drawn to me, reaching out to give my hand a comforting squeeze. "We still spoke on the phone all the time, even if we didn't see each other as often as we would have liked. You knew that I was down bad for my last ex and my new girlfriend helped me get over her. And we were going strong until the end, so it had to have been my daughter. You pieced together the story from what I've told you and landed at the truth. The brain is funny that way."

I couldn't pin down the heavy feeling in my chest, rendering me silent.

"Talk to me then," she prompted, giving my hand another squeeze. "What's stressing you out?"

A dry laugh bubbled up from my throat. "I'll only ever be you to her."

"And that's a problem?"

"Yes!" I shook my head. "No? I don't know…"

She said nothing, waiting patiently for me to piece together my thoughts. "I know she's just using me to get over you," I began cautiously. "Like you used her to get over your ex. But surely that wasn't all it was between you two? I'm sure you called her by the right name instead of having her just be a replacement."

A wave of guilt washed over me, that voice in my head telling me that a replacement was all I was meant to be. Then I looked at my sister who shared my face, who knew me inside and out even when we were apart, and told the voice in my head to shut the fuck up.

"I want to be there for her. Really, I do. I just hate feeling like I'm second best, knowing that in her head, I'll always be another woman." I buried my head in my hands. "No offence."

"None taken," she replied earnestly. "You know what I'm gonna say, don't you?"

I peeked at her from between the gaps in my fingers.

"Talk to her."

"Noooo," I whined, half-serious. "Why is that always the solution?"

"Because ninety nine times out of a hundred, it solves the problem?" she suggested wryly.

"We're not good at talking," I said pointedly. "We always just end up fucking."

"Oh believe me, I know the struggle," she agreed with a laugh. "But how else do you expect to go on?"

"What we have is good–"

"Is it?"

"Yes," I tried to insist, though the quiver in my voice betrayed me.

There was the scrape of the barstool against the floor before I was wrapped up in her comforting arms. "Look, sis. These are the facts. You two clearly aren't going to stop going at each other like rabbits and while I have no doubt it feels incredible, it's also making you miserable. And don't you dare try to argue otherwise. Before you keep going though, you need to be honest with her. You can't keep tearing yourself apart like this."

I nodded numbly into her shoulder. "But what if we talk and she just finds someone to replace me? Someone who's fine with her calling them Mommy without freezing up every time?"

"Then shame on me for not raising her right." I found myself staring into eyes like mine. "You might not have seen much of her while she was growing up, but you've spent so much time together in the last year. Surely by now you know her to be kind and caring and gracious, enough to trust that she wouldn't drop you for something so trivial." She leaned forward so our foreheads were touching. "You deserve to be treated like your own person, not just like an extension of me. Talk to her, and I know she'll understand."

XXX

I woke up to an empty apartment, no sister in sight, and couldn't help the pang of disappointment that hit me right in the chest. Over a year had passed since she died and I had accepted the fact that she was gone. But still, dreaming of her was always a comfort that left me feeling extra hollow when I returned to the land of the living.

If she wasn't here, the least I could do was take her advice to heart.

I would talk to my niece, and no matter what the outcome, I hoped that it would at least make my sister proud.

A/N - Hello dear reader! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Fisting scenes have always intrigued me so I figured why not try it out myself. For those wondering, the fantasy novel referenced is She Who Became The Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan which is a sapphic Mulan retelling, and it does include an incredible lesbian fisting scene. As always, let me know what you think and until next time, stay safe.

This story is also available on AO3. I also have a Twitter where I post behind the scenes content, polls, writing updates and more. I also have a Tumblr! All of them are under the same username kalesalad003 and the links are in my bio!