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Subject: {ASSM} TOUCHING MEGAN (m/f, inc, nosex, questions)
Date: Sun, 12 Oct 2003 15:10:05 -0400
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TOUCHING MEGAN (m/f, inc, nosex, questions)

Five months ago, on my forty-sixth birthday, my sister Megan and
I became lovers.

There is nothing in the world like shooting deep into the loins
of the woman you love, but if you think the incest taboo adds an
extra frisson to the perfect fuck, I can tell you, it doesn't.
It's a nuisance. Megan could move in tomorrow, bring her
children, if she were not my sister.

We had waited thirty years since the day we both knew there was
something special between us. We had tried to turn our backs on
it - we hadn't spoken in twenty years. Despite all the pain and
wrong turns on the way, we did need to wait, to be absolutely
sure. There are a thousand good reasons for the incest taboo, and
only one reason for breaking it - that just now and again, a
brother and a sister can get as close to the perfect relationship
as it is possible for two people to get.

It was such a joyous occasion that I wrote "Morris Dancing" to
celebrate it, recently posted on ASSTR. This is the background to
that story - I would really appreciate feedback on this on:

z.beeblebrox@virgin.net

Please put 'Touching Megan in the 'subject' line so I know it's
not junk mail. Also, if you have any experience of 'inappropriate
touching' with a sibling, I would be interested to know how far
it went. Most of the incest stories I have read are totally
convincing up to the point the guy or the girl gets tempted, and
from that point on, it just turns into standard issue bonk-porn.
Usually the sort written by a guy who has read all the manuals,
seen all the videos, but never actually done it. Also it's almost
all about teenagers - and let's face it, if life's lottery
decides that the person you are meant to love happens to be a
sibling, then the love can become physical at any age.

I am curious to know what people do, and why they don't do more.
Surveys are usually bollocks, so they shouldn't be taken too
seriously, but one showed that something like 25% of people have
had some form of sexual contact (i.e. peeping, flashing and
groping) with siblings, but less than 2% go the whole way. These
surveys also show, often to the surprise of the authors, that
except where there is an age difference of 5 years or more, all
the contacts were consensual and have been remembered as a
positive experience. Only about 25% (for girls) and 45% (for
boys) of first sexual contacts with non-siblings are remembered
as being both consensual and positive

*

To sum up our experience, all through our teens Megan and I did a
fair bit of peeping, groping and flashing, and a devil of a lot
of fantasising, but hardly any skin to skin touching, no kissing,
and certainly no sex. Four times out of five, she instigated the
contact, and I backed off before it went any further. On the few
occasions I started it, Megan backed off. There were several
occasions when we (well mainly Megan) talked or joked about
having sex, and on one occasion she asked me straight out. She
had been humiliatingly dumped and was at rock bottom. I just got
up and made coffee, and that's what started the twenty year
separation.

I rejected her. When she needed love, physical love. Suppose I
had taken her by the hand and led her up to my bed and made
passionate love to her. And it had all ended up in tears. And I
had ended up feeling I had used her when she was vulnerable. Or
she had said I had used her... Did I do the right thing?
Comments, please!

*

I guess it's a high risk strategy for a girl to ask a guy to have
sex with her. I mean, it's the guy who's expected to ask, and if
he doesn't ask, then maybe he doesn't want to. And whatever
happens, there is no going back to being just friends. Either
they become full blown lovers (and let's face it, most lovers,
unlike most friends either fall out or get married) or she gets
rejected. If the guy is her brother, what are the possible
outcomes? We're trying to work that one out.

*

Just in case you haven't read "Morris Dancing", let me say a bit
about us. I did a degree in fine art, specialising in jewellery,
but turned my back on it for twenty years, working in video
production. After being made redundant, I now design intimate and
body piercing jewellery, working in partnership with the father
of an ex girlfriend. I live in the south of England. Megan is
based in Canada and has teenage children there, and where she has
filed a divorce against her husband because of his long term
adultery.

Megan comes over every few weeks and stays with me. I miss her
dreadfully when she goes, and not only for the sex. Being with
her is so wonderful, it is hard to believe what has happened to
us. She models all my jewellery, of the public as well as the
private sort, and each time she comes back, I have something new
for some part or other of her. Everything in fact, except nipple
rings, because she fears that might interfere with her ability to
suckle our child.

She's trying to persuade me to have nipple rings - trouble is, it
can put half an inch on your bustline, and I don't want to look
too much of a freak. But she'd had all the hair off my balls,
which makes it much nicer for her when she's nibbling them and
tickling them with her tongue... I'm not at all sure about the
child thing, but Megan says she wants it more than anything else
in the world. But then she knows more about all that than I do,
and in her usual meticulous way, she has traced more than sixty
of our relatives and found no evidence of any inherited diseases,
and also a rare penchant for first cousin marriages and widowed
sisters living with their bachelor brothers, and vice versa.

Nobody suspects a thing, except perhaps our mother - she is the
only person who know that we have made up our differences. Megan
tells her children and her husband that says she stays with an
old friend - none of them seem to be very interested who that
'friend' might be. And I don't have to answer to, or explain
anything, to anyone. But it isn't that simple...

Let's face it, there is nothing unusual about two people, who in
their youth had a vague and unconsummated sexual interest in each
other, coming together in their forties and realising that life
has dealt them matching cards. And finding lasting happiness. But
it isn't that simple...

We were two among six children, in a very happy home in the
country. Four boys, two girls. I was about three years older than
Megan, who from quite an early age, sort of attached herself to
me, mainly because I took her side when she fought with her other
brothers, and when her little sister told tales. I used to give
her piggy-back rides until, when she was about twelve she hit
puberty and started growing in all directions like there was no
tomorrow. She was a big girl now, and she stopped asking for
rides, and I stopped offering. Somehow it didn't seem right any
more.

One way or another, there were loads of girls I did take a sexual
interest in, but they didn't include Megan. When I was fifteen,
going on sixteen, I lusted after Carol, the married, 19-year-old
blonde, miniskirt-wearing receptionist in the bathroom showroom
where my father was the manager. She must have liked me lusting
after her because we used to have lunch together in the park,
sitting cross-legged opposite each other on a picnic rug. And the
sun shone on the golden hairs beneath the thin white knickers
that hid virtually nothing, and she looked with satisfaction upon
my erection... One day, instead of a miniskirt she wore a long
loose dress. I was annoyed at first, but then I noticed how it
showed her bust off. Instead of sitting cross-legged, she lay
with her head in my groin. I put my hand towards her cleavage,
and being a well brought up boy, I asked her if I could put it
inside.

"You're such a romantic," she said. "Nobody's ever asked before."
Before I had worked out it was a definite yes, someone we knew
turned up and we had to look as if we had just met by chance.

Then there was the heart-stoppingly beautiful Indian girl who
walked the same route to school. I don't know what it is about
dark, short, young, heavy legs in a miniskirt, but the look of
her just drove me to ecstasy. I will never forget the moment when
I was late, in a hurry, and maybe she tried to catch up with me
or something and tripped on a kerbstone. I looked back, and there
she was on the ground. We had shared a thousand amorous glances,
but never said a word. I gave her my arm to help her stand. She
stood. She started crying and I kissed her, and ran away. I was a
good boy really, and I was late. I often wonder now who she was,
and who she is now. I cannot think of any way of finding out...

And Carol and the Indian girl were just for starters. There was a
totally delicious girl called Tina Turner, and every time I
turned the radio on, I heard her name - a fine lot of good it did
me...

*

I think I can honestly say that my only concessions to Megan's
growing sexuality were the long discussions we used to have about
people we fancied and what we were going to do about it - usually
without coming to any helpful conclusions.

Then one day it all changed. I had built a crude punt out of
secondhand plywood, and I was trying it out on the stream at the
bottom of the garden. Actually, I was going to take it downstream
so I could have a good eyeful of the woman next door sunbathing
in the nude. Megan gave me a playful shove. I overbalanced, fell
into the punt and put my foot through the bottom. I was in
shorts, and my leg was lacerated up to the knee. I had also
sprained my ankle quite badly, and had problems walking.

"Give you a piggy back," she said, as I hobbled towards the
house.

I held onto her shoulders and she took my legs in her arms. She's
got a good sturdy undercarriage, Megan has, and she had no
difficulty carrying me.

"Hands a bit lower," she said. "Lower still... That's better."

I had never touched a breast before. She didn't have a bra on,
and I explored every amazing detail. And my erection thrust into
her buttocks. When she unloaded me, she gave me an odd little
smile, and got a bowl of water to clean me up...

My skin was full of splinters where my leg had gone through the
plywood. When Megan had cleaned me up, I went to the bathroom to
get some tweezers to pull the splinters out. "Let me do it," she
said, sitting opposite me in a chair and taking my leg in her
arms. She pulled the easy ones out, but some had gone right in.
Letting her skirt ride up, she put my foot on her fanny. I felt
heat and dampness, and thinking this was not what she had
intended, I pulled away.

"Keep still," she said.

She moved my foot pretty quickly when one of our brothers sounded
like he was coming into the room.

Actually, when I come to think of it, this was not the first time
something happened. A couple of years before, I had been lying on
the ground reading by the radiator on the landing. Megan came out
of the bathroom. As she approached me, she pulled open the front
of her dressing gown. She gave me an odd sort of smile as she saw
I saw her pretty new breasts, and the pink tongue of her fanny.
Then several times she pushed her soft, hardly-there breasts
against me. I suppose I must have flipped a bit because one
morning, I took her breakfast in bed. She had said she wasn't
feeling well, but she looked good enough to me.

I put the tray down on the bedside table and pulled the covers
back off her. She was wearing a night gown, but it wasn't
buttoned up. I pulled it to one side to expose her little pink
nipple. She was proud of her nipple - it was a beautiful little
nipple, and I kissed it. I tasted her. I smelled her. With my
lips I felt the ribs through the soft, hardly-there, little
girl's breast.

Then she got scared. She says now that she was scared because she
was enjoying it so much, she hadn't any idea before of what
sexual feelings were like. "Leave me alone," she said. Except it
came out like 'Leemilone'.

I felt desperately ashamed, like I had raped her or something,
and scuttled off out of the room. Scuttled sideways like some
sort of crab because I was sporting a massive erection...

That evening, in her totally inexpert way, she tried to seduce
me. Sat on the bed, lifted back the quilt, moved her legs into
bed, and showed me her fanny. She reached for my hand... and I
ran away. I felt bad running away. She looked at me with that
'men are so fucking stupid' look that I have seen many times
since, and probably will see many times again. But she had made
the point, I didn't need to feel bad about kissing her tit, and
afterwards I always said 'leemilone' when I groped her or goosed
her.

I suppose I lost interest in my gorgeous little sister with all
the other women around. It was during the long summer holidays
that I noticed her in a sexual way again. When I wasn't at school
it was really quite difficult to find excuses to spend time with
Carol, and as for the Indian girl, I didn't even know where to
start looking for her.

Megan actually helped me to make the punt. Correction, she did
not actually help, but she stuck around when I was building it,
and whenever I had my hand on something, e.g. waiting for the
glue to dry, and when my hand was out of my direct line of sight,
Megan was there, rubbing her gorgeous tits on my hand. Beautiful
and soft and delicious, a little surprise when I was least
expecting it....

*

I suppose the groping and the peeping and the flashing went on
for some ten years after that, one or other of us making an
advance, the other responding for a bit, and then backing off.
Megan sometimes said the weirdest things. For example, one day
when we were walking back from a night out in town, she said 'why
don't I drag you into the bushes and rape you?' Another time I
fondled her buttock and she gave me about the strongest come-on
look I have ever had in my life.

But one or other of us always backed off. Why? For me, it was
very much a smell thing. Something about the milky freshness of
her body scent brought back childhood, and shut off the
sexuality. There was a lovely girl I once worked with who had
almost exactly the same scent to her, and again, it shut off my
libido. Another thing is that although we were the best of best
friends, we weren't in any way in love. Much as I delighted in
Megan's body, mostly when there was no one else around, I wasn't
really that interested. And though she doesn't admit it now, I
certainly got the feeling that in those days she felt the same.
Above all, I didn't want to hurt her, or get hurt.

What about the taboos and all that? Just remember, this was in
those 'whatever turns you on' days of the seventies and early
eighties. I can think of at least three occasions when men, who
had seen us together, made crude remarks about fucking my sister.
I was so completely unfazed about it I could simply ignore them,
or say something totally cool like, 'who are you fucking then?'
knowing full well that it was nobody.

One time Megan and I went shopping together. I can't remember
what we were buying - it was nothing of importance - but a woman
in a shop said to Megan 'what does your husband think?'. Megan
looked at me with a look like all her wishes had come true. I had
to dash off to the public toilets because her look had given me
such a massive erection.

*

But, in the end, I liked her, I loved her, I sunned myself in her
love, but I didn't fancy Megan that much. Well, unless you're
Gregory Peck or someone, you don't always get to fuck a woman you
fancy something rotten. And most blokes - well most people -
consider themselves lucky if they get to fuck someone they can
bear the sight of when they are sober. So what changed? Well,
something in me, for a start. When I was forty, I met another
girl with that same delicious milky freshness, but this time it
was a massive turn-on. Nothing happened with the girl, because
she was devoted to her boyfriend, and I was in the last, ghastly
stages of a marriage going wrong. Also, the proportions of
Megan's face changed, so I didn't see my tabooed kid sister when
I looked at her. But her gorgeous come-hither eyes had not
changed one little bit...

*

I guess the bigotry brigade would say that our little gropes etc.
were 'inappropriate touching'. Well, they can go fuck themselves.
I love Megan. I adore her. I am totally content in her company.
In our twenties, being together was like going nowhere. In our
forties, it's like coming home. It's like finding the one place
in the world where you are really wanted.

When I look back on my first three women, one was married, one
was Indian (and our parents would have gone apeshit if they had
known) and one was my sister. Prejudice comes in all forms, and I
for one don't hold with married women seducing 15 year old boys.
At least I don't hold with it now I'm 45...

*
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