Your Sister's Ass
YOUR SISTER'S ASS
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DUTCH BROADSTREET
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SHABBY STREET
NEW YORK
© 2026 Dutch Broadstreet
All Rights Reserved
First Edition, 2026
Shabby Street Books
No portion of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
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The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this publication are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by Nimble Fingers
Table of Contents
A Preview of What's to Come
Angelo's sister touched her toes as he ate her asshole, then she swatted him away with the sole of her foot and looked over her shoulder, her eyes like the slits of a satisfied cat.
“Fuck my shithole in Jesus's name!” she purred.
She didn't need to tell him twice. Angelo's sword was already standing at attention. He entered Fiammetta's searing leather cheerio without anything more than sheer will, inching his way deeper and deeper into her cavity until he could feel her guts. Then he forked the inside of her cunt with two fingers and felt his own cock as it plunged the very depths of her white hot fundament.
“Ah, holy roasting fuck,” Angelo exclaimed. “Ah, shit! Ah, shit!”
“Give me all of it,” Fiammetta murmured. “Fill me till my cup runneth over.”
“Gah!”
Angelo busted inside her as he worked her cooze into gentle spasms.
Fiammetta choked her brother off and he slid out, but she held tight to his seed as she rose up and came to stand over him.
“Give it back to me,” he moaned.
And Fiammetta did what her brother asked, working her sphincter muscle until Angelo's cum drizzled out into his eager mouth. She shook the last drop off and collapsed on his chest, her lips going for his as he deposited his cum on her tongue. She gurgled blissfully, then swallowed.
“Good God,” Angelo sighed.
“Good goddess,” Fiammetta corrected.
Meengya! The chorus of complaints that escaped the parishioners as they filed out of Our Lady of Impossible Feats. But I'll tell ya what: not a one of them compared to the sounds that escaped that sacristy shitter when Angelo was praying at the altar of his sister's poodle.
1
Your skin can break apart in an assisted living facility, it can break apart like tissue paper and fill with this stuff called slough. It's this moist, stringy tissue that forms in the deep craters of broken skin when the cunts in pink scrubs leave you sitting too long in a heap of your own shit in some wheelchair somewhere.
They're called pressure ulcers and besides the rashes and infections you can get from being left for hours in a pile of your own mess, they are the most dangerous thing that can be done to you in one of those places. Cuz when the skin at the base of your spine or on your hip or in your armpit tears apart, you can get these blood-filled blisters that fill with pus and if they ain't drained right, you get this thing called eschar, which is this black dead tissue that feels like shoe leather.
And lemme tell ya, when eschar ain't treated, you're as good as fucked. Take it from someone who knows. Necrotic tissue ain't no joke. I know cuz I seen it happen to Angelo Spadavecchia, the Big Sword. Not so big anymore ya ask me, but don't let him hear you say that, capeesh?
Oh, how the mighty have fallen, ya might say. Cuz the thing is, no man could take Angelo down, but biology's a funny thing, you know? Like how parasitic infections can cause even the biggest, strongest, meanest bravaccio to lose control of his bowels, say, or double over in abdominal pain. Even some seven-foot-tall giamoke can get himself got by acute enteric infections like Shigellosis.
That's why I wouldn't tell my worst enemy to eat shit. Cuz I know what it does.
But nobody was telling Angelo nothing. Cuz Angelo was the scariest wop to ever stomp around Brooklyn, with blood pouring from...