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Tales of Incest Gaara Temari
By : c0p13r
Category: Naruto > General
Views: 878 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I dont own NARUTO and make non profit off this story.
Chapter List
- 1-Gaara Temari
- 1
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            It started with a kiss, but it was the sake and the uneventful but intimate reunion of brother and sister in his office that led to it. None of the alcohol touched his lips. For whatever reason, he abstained – perhaps haunted by fears of what he was capable of if he were to be intoxicated – but he had poured for her. She had suggested Sari or Matsuri to attend them – “They’re very fond of you still,” she jibed with elder sister mockery – but he declined and said that they should retire for the night; he wanted the work completed. With Temari there, helping him focus, Gaara felt that the stockpile of scrolls could be finished – as Kankuro was of no help.
            As expected, his sister kept him on task and was very helpful, though a bit hardnosed when it came to leniencies for foreign Villages; Iwagakure in particular, she didn’t try to be kindly toward, with a Tsuchikage who ran her mouth and attitude like an authoritarian. “If she is not willing to negotiate,” Temari said after reading the uncompromising demands of Ohnoki’s granddaughter, “then neither should we!” Gaara cracked a small but amused smile and reminded his sister that she was of Konoha now. She had flushed, taken by surprise at her solemn brother’s jest, and ascertained that she was of Sunagakure first. “And I have to watch out for my helpless little brothers.” She said this with affection buried beneath her harsh tone.
            It was getting late by the time the end was in sight; the easier forms of bartering with Konoha and the fresh and friendly Seventh Hokage. Gaara kept professional, but Temari noticed the unmistakable look of joy and pride on her brother’s face, happy that his friend joined him in the ranks of the Kage after so long. It was then that she stretched and said that a hot, productive evening called for some sake. Rather than have an aide grab some, Gaara surprised her with a stash of his own; he told her it was a gift from the former Mizukage, and though he might not have picked up on it, Temari could guess that the aging Mei had become keen to the young Kazekage’s looks. A shame he didn’t pursue the chance, but he wasn’t a womanizer and seemed to have little interest in offspring of his own.
            Little interest in alcohol as well; he took out only one tiny clay cup and gave it to her sister. “How do you expect me to drink by myself?” she asked rhetorically, but nonetheless held out the cup for him to fill and refill.
            A doting little brother wasn’t so bad, she pondered as her mind began to swim. She could still help with the forms, but really, what did Naruto expect for Sunagakure that was unreasonable? Nothing. One form even was asking for a deliverance of special spices with the post script ‘For Ichiraku! My treat next time you visit!’ Bumbling fool, Temari thought as she looked at it, imagining Shikamaru’s boss’s beaming face, treating official documents like passing notes in class!
            “Tch!” She wasn’t really drunk, but her mouth was looser than usual. “It should have been Shikamaru considered for Seventh Hokage. Naruto wasn’t ready.”
            “He’s doing a fine job keeping the peace,” said Gaara, filling out forms acquiescing to Naruto’s requests with reasonable tariffs and writing a more formal reply in the return scroll.
            “Easy to do when we’re no longer at war with each other,” Temari rebuked softly as if pouting. She held out the cup. “Another.” She’d never get Shikamaru to pour at home, and this was good drink.
            She didn’t go too far into the bottle; less than half when she decided to call it quits, but she did slump an elbow against the armrest of the couch and touched her fevered head. The documents were done, but she’d engaged her brother in personal conversation. Her complaints about married life; Shikamaru was a fine husband, of course, but lacked in romance, which she didn’t need to be a good wife, but he could try to surprise her every now and then. And Shikadai was a handful of aloof disinterest with a videogame in his hand. “Not to mention all the softies,” she grumbled most to herself, thinking of how Konoha women labored mostly at the market rather than keeping their skills up to par.
            She looked at her little brother, him looking back at her, listening well after cleaning the table and returning the stopper to the bottle. She smiled slyly at him beneath her swept bangs, teeth showing at one side of her mouth. “If you do get a girl, Gaara,” she told him, and then sat up, inclining towards him. “Make sure she’s from the Suna.”
            She wondered if her unsocial little brother misinterpreted what she meant, for he didn’t back away and instead closed the gap between them to rub his lips into hers. He was so sure of it that she felt she must be to blame somehow, giving off the wrong signals that Gaara – whose aptitude with relationships was poor – to convince him that that was what she wanted.
            She froze up momentarily, but gained her wits to pulled back, though their unlocking lips made a small smacking sound. She blushed tenderly and cowed like she was suddenly a schoolgirl who had an Uchiha speak to her. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt overwhelmed by emotion from a boy; maybe the start of her relationship with Shikamaru when it was new and exciting.
            Her green eyes shimmered nervously. She also hadn’t been uncomfortable around Gaara for a good many years. Since his encounter with Naruto, he had become predictable and safe. This was entirely new and entirely unexpected. She felt her heart running in her chest. The alcohol was strong in her system which turned on warnings in her kunoichi senses.
            “Gaara,” she gasped, resisting the urge to touch her tingling lips. Her hands tucked into her lap; she felt her arms brushing against her front, stimulating her nipples unintentionally. They tickled and hardened in her kimono, but that was not as much of a concern as the warmth that started to mount in her lap. Yes, she had to blame the alcohol for this, for she’d surely not respond so readily and in this way if she had her wits about her. “You… You shouldn’t have done that.” Her voice lowered like they were in a public place.
            He turned halfway away, observing the desk. “Sorry” was his only response, though he didn’t sound like he meant it.
            Silence between them for a while, Temari trying to collect herself and Gaara waiting for her as well. She didn’t want him to feel bad for the impulse. Maybe they could brush it off and laugh about it. “We hardly spend any time together these days, so it was a kiss of gladness,” she wished they could say. She fumbled her fingers together and chewed her bottom lip, looking at the floor like it would give her an answer. It did not, and her lack of admonishing started to let invasive thoughts in her head. Was that his first kiss? Did he want a woman? Did he reject Sari and Matsuri because he wanted his elder sister instead? He always had shown her more respect than anyone else in his less predictable, more hostile years. With Shikamaru, he was cordial, but not familial like Kankuro was.
            It concerned her.
            It concerned her more when Gaar finally went into movement again, sweeping towards her, and she held still and allowed his clumsy lips to latch to hers again. Her own want was surfacing, the feminine need to be desired and loved. She decided to melt into the kiss this time, sighing in resignation. Just a kiss, she thought as she closed her eyes and brushed her fingertips over his pale cheeks.
            They broke for breath and did not say anything to each other, but held close to resume. Temari this time, kissing her brother’s cheeks, chin, nose, eyelids, and then mouth again. Shikamaru was not fond of tongue kissing – and she didn’t like how his mouth tasted like tobacco – but Gaara was submissively receptive to it, and he tasted like fresh tea.
            “Mm!” moaned the sister, asserting herself, letting him feel her body press against his, particularly the fullness of her acquired breasts. Bigger than they were before, but still youthful. She wanted to show them off, though Shikamaru preferred her to remain modest while rarely showing appreciation for them.
            Thinking of Shikamaru made her stomach twist. This was betrayal, but this was also family. She didn’t know where incest fit into the violations of marital life, and as a kunoichi, she had to be practiced to handle men in more ways than combat. The sensation scoured her insides and thrilled her at the same time. Shikamaru hadn’t even bed her the night before she left for her home Village. He only cuddled, but the erection against her backside was troublesome morning wood; he even apologized for it in the morning and dashed her hopes that she’d leave home satisfied and longing.
            She took Gaara’s stationary hand. Most definitely, he was a virgin, or else he would have had them on her chest by now, prying through the folds of her kimono to get to her bounded breasts. Instead, she took him on a tour up the skirts of her outfit, finding his way through the folds, up her creamy thighs. She parted them, and he felt cotton fabric wet and hot at her groin. He pulled his mouth off of hers with a subtle gasp – The look of surprise on his face was well worth it, she thought with a cocky smirk – and looked to where his hand was buried.
            The panties moved aside by her thumb before she coaxed him to her slit. The moment he felt the slickness of her womanhood, they locked eyes. Temari had rarely showed such intensity, but she had also rarely felt fingers upon her down there. Shikamaru’s efforts to analyze her body had long been forgone when he thought that just pumping was enough for her. They had their kids; sex was a bother when he had to make sure someone else was satisfied when it was harder than satisfying himself.
            Gaara carefully inserted his fingertip, and just held there.
            “Do you want to?” she asked quietly. Not once did either of them think that someone could come in through the door, seeking an audience with the late-working Kazekage.
            The late-working Kazekage nodded once.
            Temari didn’t object. She knew she should sternly refuse and correct her brother’s thinking, but she was drunk (her analysis/excuse) and severely aroused. She reached over, moving aside the flap of his shirt to inspect his pants. He might not have looked it – He wasn’t even blushing – but his body reacted as it should with an ardent lump rearing in his pants. No provocation needed like Shikamaru; his was primed.
            She could give him fellatio, explore the methods of pleasure likely foreign to him, but neither could wait. She did not trust that the feeling would be sustained and that she would sober up soon. Best to skip to the main event before she could have second thoughts. She grabbed her brother’s hand, bringing him up. The couch was too small, his room too far, but his work desk was right there and perfect. No papers or sundry items; she faced him, kissed him, and then scooted atop the surface, sitting on the edge of the table to help Gaara – whose face was finally showing life and anxiety – relieve himself of his trousers. The belt was unfastened and buttons unclasped; the waist loosened and dropped to his knees so that he could hem down his boxers and free his shaft. He could be longer than Shikamaru, though it was a slight margin, but he was certainly thicker and gave Temari a start with excitement when her gaze beheld it.
            With her direction, he waddled between her gaping thighs as she parted her kimono, showing him her purple panties now and working them aside – No room to pull them down. His composure was lost, his mouth open and his eyes trained to her mound, his cock throbbing appreciatively and impatiently with a dollop of precum at his tip. Temari hadn’t been ogled like this in a long time, and it boosted her self esteem even if it was her brother.
            “Here,” she whispered, reaching down and latching her fingers on his thick shaft, stroking it a little as she led him inward. The tip felt the tickle of her sparse blonde pubic hair, kempt to a broad triangle above her snatch, matted by the abundance of her leaking arousal under her soaked panties. Both siblings held their breath when she laid him against her folds, listening to the soft sounds of flesh slipping against flesh. She applied him to her entrance, and feeling her yield, Gaara gave a small push forward. The passage was narrow, but deep; carefully, he climbed onto his desk, over his sister, wedging his way up into her as she reclined in joyful submission.
            It felt good. She hadn’t resorted to toys – yet – in her near-sexless marriage, and her fingers weren’t a suitable substitute. She shuffled her hips as his girth moved in, her body snug against the contours of his welcomed cock. What a scandal this was; Kazekage mounting his married sister in the office. The idea itself nearly made her cum. “Ah,” she moaned, her breath hitching as he reached deeper spots inside of her. The head was applied heavily to the back of her vagina, denting the cervix under his insistence. She could tolerate it, grunting softly as she adjusted herself around him. Her walls quivered and flexed and bathed him in her arousal. He’d successfully implanted himself all the way inside her. She could feel his tight, loaded balls underneath her. Poor things were probably close to bursting if she was right about him not having had a woman before.
            She was right, and Gaara was more than satisfied that he had waited to spend his first time with his dear sister. In his maniacal youth, his true feelings for her were not much different – if not horrid in approach. He’d kept her close and envisioned what it’d be like to claw her clothes off with his sand and slake his lust on her. Before he ever succumbed to those demon desires, he was changed by Naruto. For the best… He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he'd hurt her.
            So, accommodating to the sensation, the channel stretched open and his erection thoroughly lubed, Gaara began to scoot inside her; carefully extracting to gauge her reaction, and then back in, suppressing urges that he thought might be challenging or vicious. But Temari seemed to enjoy it, even when he got bolder and eased through her. “Faster,” she instructed him when his caution had become unbearable. Wordlessly, he obeyed, quickening the unsteady thrusts of his hips, rebounding off her cervical wall with a thick grunt from her. Her legs came up from dangling off the edge of the desk to encouragingly fasten around his waist. It wasn’t the best sex of her life, but after so long of impassive sex that was run simply to completion, the emotion of Gaara’s, the loud huffs of his breath and the look in his eyes, transferred to Temari’s bosom. She latched her arms around him, burying her face into his neck, muffling her moans against his chest.
            Shikamaru would be betrayed, Shikadai would lose respect for her, but she didn’t care. She was taking care of her little brother, and he was doing the same for her. She whimpered for more, kissing against his reverberating throat when he tried to give her just that. Atop his desk, he made love to his sister, trying to meet her every desire. And though her abundance of wetness had coated his balls and run down the crease of her backside, he couldn’t bring her to completion. He was able to stave off his release for three more beats, but he was finished. With a strangled cry of her name, he pushed in and swelled.
            Temari’s fingers dug into his clothes, fearful of her choice; her choice not to extract him. Warm fluid filled her almost at once in strong heaps. Throughout her pussy, the warmth spread, burying even deeper in her to swirl within and heat her womb. She clenched up tighter than before, hiding her face in shame as she accepted her brother’s load completely until it began to wash out of her.
            Above her, Gaara trembled, his voice a prolonged drone as he experienced an excellent orgasm. Normally, they’d only happen in his dreams and he’d have to change the sheets. Now, fully aware and fully committed, he drenched the insides of his sister unreservedly. Even if he wanted to pull out, he could not with her feet locked beneath him, hitching him to her until they were both finished.
            And even after…
            He was squeezed of every last drop before falling on Temari and panting like he’d forgotten to breathe for the past minute. Temari didn’t mind his weight, stroking his hair soothingly, now with his face tucked to the crook of her neck. She stayed clinging to him, not even letting him roll off and let his seed flow freely from her gaping hole. She was preparing for the sense of shame and guilt to take over in her sobriety. What she – and she alone – had done was wrong. She was the moral compass for her wayward brother, always correcting his path and setting him straight. She knew she should have scolded him for that kiss, not subject him to this.
            His penis was wilting in her and soon couldn’t sustain against the contraction of her muscles. He spilled out of her, followed by a heavy rush of seed. She would have a lot to clean up before leaving this office. Even more to clean up in her mind…
            Shikamaru. Shikadai…
            She would apologize if she could.
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            Temari couldn’t remember the last time she had such a sound rest. She would have stayed asleep had her nose not picked up the smell of fresh tea. Her eyes ached to open, but they did, surveying the ceiling, realizing it was not her home, remembering that she was in the Kazekage mansion and that there was a reason she was on the office couch and under the ceremonial Kazekage gown. Underneath – and she checked swiftly – she was fully clothed, her robes ruffled only from sleep.
            It wasn’t a dream. She at least knew that. Her core was pulsating from a raw pounding and her lower belly was stoked with the heat of insemination. She sat up, placing a hand on that part of her, stiffening her lips and holding her face as firmly as she could when she wanted to break down and shout.
            What had she done?
            She then looked to the table in front of the couch where the mug of steaming tea waited. Beyond that, at his desk, Gaara was already tucked in for a day of renewed paperwork and business. He did not say good morning until she looked at him; she did not say it back and just watched him. He went on as usual, treating the morning like any other. Of course… His mental faculties needed to stay focused and calm and orderly.
            She pursed her lips, blushing a little, somewhat offended that he remained casual while his seed was probably still nuzzling around for an egg inside her. Did he think that Konoha’s superior medical jutsu was going to prevent their sin from taking root? Admittedly, she could rely on their staff more than Sunagakure’s.
            But beyond her annoyance of his complacency, she was blushing as she remembered those lips of his intimately. The night wasn’t over after that first round. She’d had a chance to go further than her husband had allowed in a long time, and she would not waste the opportunity. And Gaara implemented a willingness to try things that surprised even her, not least of which being when he upended her and put his mouth on her quim.
            Her pussy throbbed in remembrance.
            “Gaara,” she uttered, knowing that they had to discuss it, yet not knowing where to begin. It shouldn’t have happened! It was absolutely wrong!
            “Gaara!” The office door was thrown open, and in stamped the middle child of the desert siblings. “Temari wasn’t in her room! She didn’t leave yet, did she? She forgot her…!” He stopped, realizing that the couch was occupied by his older sister, who’d turned to him with a look of irritation to his loud voice so early in the morning. He blinked several times, and then smiled against the awkward sweat at his temple. “Oh, there you are. I was worried!”
            “Worried for what?” As dismissive as she was discrete, she pushed Gaara’s gown off of her and stood up, smoothing out her kimono and checking her hair; needed brushing after sleeping in ponytails, but otherwise fine. “I’m just having some tea here.”
            “Well, you weren’t in your room, even last night,” chuckled Kankuro, placing his hands on his hips. “I was worried that you might have been staying somewhere else”—He winked suggestively—“and Shikamaru should be concerned.”
            “Idiot,” she called him, and veered away from the subject. Gaara simply opened his itinerary and checked the schedule for the day. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary to Kankuro, as Gaara always stayed out of this day-to-day chatter and Temari would often insult him. At the same time, it seemed too deliberate. He couldn’t say why, but something in the air seemed off between the oldest and the youngest siblings.
            “I should get my things together.” Temari rounded the couch briskly, moving at such a strong pace that Kankuro stumbled frantically out of her way. “I don’t want to have a late start.” She paused as she grabbed the doorknob. “I will be back next month.” And then she was out.
            “Of course,” Gaara acknowledged, staying on task.
            That was… quick. Kankuro stared at the door even after Temari had left. Should she really leave on such aloof terms? “Jeez, she hasn’t gotten better after getting married and staying in Konoha,” griped the puppet master, meandering around the couch himself and spotting Temari’s teacup. “Hm? It doesn’t look like she had any at all.”
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Tales of Incest Gaara Temari	By : c0p13r Category: Naruto > General Views: 878 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I dont own NARUTO and make non profit off this story.

Tales of Incest Gaara Temari