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Subject: {ASSM} Eleonora, My Love (teen, cons, incest)
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Date: Sun, 04 Jan 2015 17:10:02 -0500
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Title:        Eleonora, My Love
Author:     MeatBot
Keywords: Teen, cons, incest

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MeatBot/

A young boy becomes sexually enamored of his older sister.

Disclaimer : 

Copyright by the author. Permission is granted to archive, repost, or
publish in no-cost or low-cost archives, periodicals, anthologies of
this type of material if unaltered and attributed to the author. This
is a work of fiction. The author does not condone any sexual activity
among persons under 16 in real life.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to reality is accidental
and would be damn surprising. Be warned that this story may involve
explicit descriptions of sexual activities, including some defined
under law as "Weird Shit". Do not read this story if you believe that
fictional characters should not have fictional sex, or if you are less
than the age of consent in your social or legal group, or if you live
under a repressive, totalitarian regime in an out-of-the-way place
such as the USA. If you like it, I did it. If you hate it, I didn't.
If it offends you, it was a misprint. If you want to sue me, I don't
exist. Sue the internet instead. Nobody's twisting your arm. Leave if
you don't like crap like this. These are just words, people. Just
words. 

Be warned, this is a goofy, infantile, poorly written, disgusting and
depraved story with bad punctuation, bad grammar, and lots of
misspelled words. I am not an English major. Deal with it. No small,
furry animals were harmed in the making of this story. If you don't
like it, read something else. Don't bitch at me. You have been warned.

This story is graded <TAME> compared to some of the shit I've read in
this newsgroup.

This story is what happens when you have too much free time at work.




I was almost thirteen. It was a dark, cold winter night. I huddled up
under the covers in my little twin bed, and tried to stay warm. There
was no heat in my end of the house, and ice formed on the inside of my
windows, at times. It got that cold, at night. 

For some reason, that night, something happened that had never
happened before. Whether it was from touching it or not I don't
remember. But my dick got hard. Really hard. It seemed to have no
desire to go down. I puzzled over it, touching it, feeling pleasure
from the touch. Finally, without any real education in the subject, I
made a donut thing from a second pillow I had, and stuck my dick
inside the center. A little in-and-out motion, and ta-da... I had my
very first orgasm. I was hooked after that, and did it the next
morning in the shower, with soap. That was a mistake, and a few days
later when my dick healed up I began a more cautious exploration of
the wide world of masturbation. I became quite an expert on it. This
carried me well into my teens. 

I had two sisters in the house, a younger and an older. My older
sister was almost two years older than me, and I had loved her since I
was a child. I had lusted after her, long before I knew what lust was.
She was beautiful, long long golden hair, smooth soft skin, features
that would make a sculptor cry. She was beautiful. She tolerated me
well, for a little brother, and I tried to stay out of her way and not
piss her off or anything. I basically worshiped her from a distance.

As my masturbation experiments became more and more involved, I looked
for material of both mental and physical stimulus. The mental stuff
was no problem, I imagined girls at school, and teachers that I found
attractive. Even some of my mom's friends made cameo appearances in my
fantasies. But the most special one, from the start, was my big
sister. I'd been lucky enough to see her occasionally in various
stages of undress, and those memories burned into my mind, never to be
forgotten. We wrestled and played, still, even, and the feel of her
soft skin and softer girl parts had starring roles in my masturbatory
epics.

One Saturday, I was home alone, and I took my dirty clothes to the
clothes hamper. When I opened it, to my absolute shock, there lay a
pair of my older sister's panties. I knew they were hers because my
little sister was way smaller, and I knew my mom wore "granny panties"
like old ladies wore. I reverently fished them out, and ran to my
room, locking the door. With trembling hands I pressed them to my
nose, drinking in the sweet nectar of her fabulous cunt. There were
white streaks, even, where her pussy would have nested. I would lick
those off, later, but for now, I just wanted to smell her. To my
absolute delight, there was a tiny brown streak in the ass end of
them, so I even knew right where her little asshole was. I was so much
in love it hurt, and I masturbated fiercely, with them plastered to my
face. It was the most intense, earthshaking jack-off I'd had so far,
and I knew it was all because of her. I thought about jacking off in
them, but I didn't want to ruin them. The scent lasted for several
days, but I had a fresh pair long before then. I would keep them long
enough for the smells to fade away, then return them to the laundry. I
had it made. I felt familiar with her, absolutely intimate with
her.... I knew what her pussy and asshole smelled like, after all...
it gave me a closeness to her that I treasured.

I experimented with my little sister's panties, but they were not
nearly as juicy or aromatic as my big sister's. More than once I snuck
out after everyone had gone to bed, and snagged a pair less than an
hour off her sweet ass. My high point was a pair with an honest-to-god
wet spot, and I cursed the thief of time that would dry it out. Her
smells were unreal to me, just incredible. I now knew what pussy
smelled like, I told myself. I knew intimately what hers smelled like.

During this time I experimented masturbatorily with a friend of mine,
and we eventually snared a willing and wanton young lady for our
perverted desires, but that is another story. The story of my big
sister and me is on a little longer time scale.

I suppose she knew, or suspected, that I lusted after her. Once that
summer, when the three of us were swimming in the creek, and I let my
balls hang of my shorts, where she could not fail to see them. She was
just wearing a wet white t-shirt, and her ample bosom was exposed
almost as well as if she was naked. Her fat nipples gave me an
erection that wouldn't quit, and I wanted to let it hang out too, but
I wasn't that brave. I was convinced she was showing off for me,
sadly, looking back, she probably wasn't... but anyway she had to know
I was interested in her body, at least. Of course I was, I was a
teen-aged boy. Anything made my dick hard. Anything remotely female.
She had to realize that.

That next winter was memorable. She started something, innocent at
first, that led to an inescapable conclusion. I had gotten in trouble
with my dad over some little something, and I had felt aggrieved. She
snuck into my bedroom, to let me know that she agreed with me; it
wasn't really my fault. I appreciated that to no end, but what I
really appreciated was her soft warm body snuggling up underneath the
blankets against me as we talked. Her hot breath tickled my ear, and
her lips literally touched me, at times. My cock was harder than a
steel bar, and I swear I could feel her soft breast pressing into my
upper arm.

Two nights later, she came again, for reasons I cannot remember. We
lay, casually touching, but I was on fire everywhere her body pressed
against mine. My hand the furthest away from her slowly snuck into my
pajama bottoms, and I jacked my cock as she breathed in my face. The
sensuality of this cannot be adequately described with the English
language, or any spoken or written word, for that matter. She was
barely gone thirty seconds when I came with a loud groan, and sprayed
semen all down the front of my pajamas. She turned me on like nothing
else in the world had.

Once or twice a week she snuck into my bed. We talked, and sometimes
she just laid there. She was going through an unhappy time, and I
think she just enjoyed the sympathetic company. I made her laugh, and
I like to think I gave her as much pleasure as she gave me. I was big
for my age, and I don't think she viewed me as a little kid, I think
she saw me as more like an equal, at this stage. I'd like to think I
was a little more mature than the typical teenager, too.

The second step happened one night, as we sat in the parlor, and our
dad read from the bible to us, a nightly occurrence. I was sitting
facing her, and she was facing ninety degrees away from me. As I tried
to stay awake, I looked down at the side of her nightshirt. To my
amazement, I saw that it was torn, and the whole tip of her breast lay
open for my perusal. I couldn't even breathe for a minute or two, as I
stared into heaven. She had fat puffy pink nipples, a dark shade of
pink. Her breast was full, but not to excess. Her nipple pointed up,
maybe because her arms were resting on her upraised knees. I was
actually looking under her arm, and even seeing her bare underarm
turned me on. But nothing like seeing her bare breast.

That moment stands as one of the high points of my entire life,
weirdly. Not so weird, it was intensely sexual. But not as sexual as
what happened next. She turned her head a few degrees and met my eyes.
Well, she would have met my eyes, my eyes were glued to her marvelous
tit. I slowly raised them, knowing full well I'd been made. She just
gave me a little smile, and turned her head back. I realized that she
knew full well what I was doing, and she knew her tit was exposed. We
sat there another five minutes and my eyes never strayed from her
body. She never looked at me again.

That night, she came to me. She crawled in my bed, under the thick
comforter. The room was icy, I swear at times you could see your
breath in the air. She snuggled up next to me, and I just melted. Just
the touch of her arm against mine was enough to almost make me
ejaculate. I loved her, by then, to an extreme that I cannot begin to
describe. She was my whole life, every moment of the day almost I
thought of her, every second I was away I yearned for her. As goofy as
it sounds, I was desperately in love with her. I knew it was pointless
and stupid, but I loved her more than I could almost bear.

I was also intensely aware that her nightgown was torn, and her breast
was right there... right there, just begging to be touched. If only,
if only. Somehow I withstood the temptation.

She whispered silly things to me, and all I could feel was her breath
in my ear. I almost cried, at times, I loved her so much. I finally
just put my face down against the side of her face, and lay there. She
was finally quiet, and we lay there, communing on some lofty spiritual
plane that I've never reached since. I could almost feel the tether of
love that bound us, as a physical thing. I slowly reached out, pursing
my lips, and kissed her gently on the side of the cheek.

Nothing happened for a few moments. Then, with a rustle of bedclothes
that sounded like a cannon shot in the silence of the night, she sat
up and crushed her face to mine. We met, almost violently, and I
tasted her saliva and felt the sweetness of her lips against mine. My
heart pounded and pounded, maybe ten beats, maybe more... and then she
was gone. Back through the darkness, back to her room. I lay there, in
shock, her spit drying on my cheek and lip. I was in love.

She didn't come for a few nights, after that. I moped, afraid she was
embarrassed at what we'd done. I wanted to hold her so bad I couldn't
stand it. I masturbated morosely, holding a fresh pair of her panties
to my face, thinking of her and only her. She was my life.

Finally, she came. Wraith-like, out of the icy darkness, she appeared
and crawled into bed with me. I waited, my heart pounding. It just
took a moment. She rolled, half over my body, and our lips smashed
together again. She breathed into my mouth, and I treasured that
breath. We kissed in a holy union that still to this day resounds
inside me. We kissed beautifully, sensually... it was just incredible.
Finally, gasping for breath, she pulled away from me. I could still
feel her hot breath on my saliva-smeared lips. 

"I've..." she whispered, "I've never kissed a boy before." I have no
idea why she thought she had to tell me that.

"I've never kissed a girl," I whispered back. We both giggled. I could
barely see her, in the darkness. I could two sparks where her eyes
were, mostly. Her face drifted closer and closer. The next kiss was
much gentler, and way longer. I felt her mouth open further and
further, and opened mine equally. We stopped again, both of us panting
for breath. Why it hadn't occurred to us to breathe through our noses,
I'm not sure. The third kiss was the tie-breaker. I felt her tongue
touch my lips. Immediately my tongue was in her mouth.

I had been acutely aware, this whole time, that her body just lay
inches from my diamond-tipped penis. Her leg was inside my two legs,
and her thigh was literally an inch or two from my hard cock. I knew
she'd feel it, if she moved slightly. I wanted her to, but I was
afraid she would, at the same time. I have no idea why I was afraid,
but I was. Mostly, at this stage, I was afraid of anything that would
make her flee back to her room.

We kissed, again and again. I drank her sweetness like a man dying of
thirst in the desert. I inhaled her, I tried to make her part of me.
My mind probably wasn't capable of coherent thought at this stage... I
can't remember.

Suddenly, as before, she was gone. No goodbyes, no see you laters, she
just disappeared. My hand flew inbetween my mattress to my panty
collection, and I soon had another massive orgasm. It occurred to me
to wonder if she masturbated... and what she thought of when she did. 

I'm still not sure, after all these years, why she did these things
with me. She was young and smart and beautiful, she could have had her
pick of many of the young men she went to school with... and one or
two might have even met with my parent's approval. Who knows. She was
a late bloomer, I knew for a fact she'd never had a boyfriend... and
she'd admitted to me that she'd never kissed a boy. Maybe it was just
chance, or opportunity. Maybe I was just available. I know she liked
me, probably even loved me, though of course not like I loved her...
no one could match that, I knew.

This went on most of the winter. For a while she came every night, and
I was as intensely happy as I could be. More than once we almost got
caught, and once she literally hid beneath the blankets as my dad
passed my room, mumbling his goodnights to us kids. 

It wasn't until the warmer weather was upon us that I was able to
escalate things a bit. We had a comfortable routine, she showed up, we
kissed for twenty or thirty minutes, and then she disappeared. I
hungered for more, for more of her sweetness. I was intimately
familiar with her mouth by now, and I wanted to know the rest of her
as well. I was such a country hick that I had yet to hear of many of
the stages of sex, but I wanted to touch her as badly as I needed air
to breathe. I wanted to seize her breasts, and squeeze them until she
begged for mercy. I wanted to rub her between her legs, in her most
secret of spots. I wanted to do it all. At that stage, the thought of
pressing my mouth to her cunt would send me into an almost immediate
orgasm. It was out of this world how much just thinking of her turned
me on.

When she entered my room, she would gently close the door almost all
the way, careful though not to click the latch. We were safe from
prying eyes, at least, though we feared that her absence from her room
might be noticed. I trusted that she shut her own door, when she left
her room. My parents would knock, at least, we knew that. We had a
little safety.

After it warmed up, I just slept under a sheet. That seemed like some
protection, as the comforter had been also. I started enacting a plan
I'd hatched. She usually lay on top of me, halfway over my body. I
began to place my hands on her waist, even the hand that she lay on. I
slowly, over the course of several nights, came to be holding her. She
seemed not to mind a bit, and once, she even moved my hands around on
her body. I rose higher and higher, until I was even with her breasts,
holding her under her arms. 

Something to mention here. We lived on a farm. We worked, even though
we were kids. We didn't take baths every night, usually just every
other night, if that. Her smells were just incredible, to me. Forget
that anti-antiperspirant shit. She smelled like an honest, hard
working... girl. I could often smell her sweat, and her underarms, and
it turned me on like nothing else. To this day the smell of girl sweat
gives me a boner, because of this. She smelled like heaven to me,
never bad, never stinky... just incredibly sexy. Some of my strongest
memories are olfactoral. Call me weird.

Anyway, that night. The night was ordinary, like any other. I can't
remember if she'd come to me the night before or not. She came in,
appearing from the hall, and slid beneath the sheet next to me. I took
her almost immediately, and held her to me. Our lips touched. As we
kissed, I pressed my hands into the sides of her soft breasts. She
seemed to have no reservations at all. I slowly caressed her, rubbing
further and further to the front of her body, and at last I felt the
hardness of her nipple beneath my hand. I squeezed, not trying to be
intrusive, not wanting her to shoo my hand away. Apparently it was not
an issue. She never said or did anything to discourage me. Twenty
minutes later I was squeezing and pinching her fat nipples, in heaven.
She stayed and stayed that night, and I know she loved it as much as I
did. She sighed and positively moaned a few times, even. My dick had
oozed so much pre-cum my pajamas were soaked. When she finally slid
out of my bed and disappeared, I just lay there a while, smiling. I
had literally felt her off. I had literally felt my big sister's tits.
My cock did not get much sleep that night.

That was the routine, that quickly. For a week or two, we did that,
she let me play with her breasts. Once again, I escalated things by
pulling up her nightgown, and sliding my hands along her bare skin.
The feeling of her bare breasts beneath my hands was electrifying,
just incredible. Her smooth, cool skin... her fat, puffy nipples...
once again, words fail.

As we kissed, one night, I let my hands slide off her breasts and
down, down... past her stomach and waist... until I cupped her sweet
ass in my hands. She didn't mind. I squeezed and kneaded her fullness,
falling in love all over again. From here, the ball was rolling. The
exponential slope had begun.

Less than a week later my finger was down the back of her panties, and
I was rubbing her sweaty asshole. Her puckered sweetness made me
positively insane with love and lust, and I just almost thought I was
going to go crazy. I could feel her pubic hair, around her asshole and
on her perineum, and it just blew my mind. When she finally left, I
raised my finger to my nose and drank in her sweet scent... god, it
just killed me. It just blew me away. I tasted it. I didn't care if it
was her asshole, I put that finger in my mouth, when I'd sniffed it
for a while. I knew that the scent would disappear, but I had to taste
her. I had to know. And it was good.

About this time I graduated to pulling my pajama bottoms down, and
letting my cock stand free. I know she could see the sheet tenting up,
in the dim light. More than once her leg and even arm bumped it, to my
great pleasure, but she didn't take the hint right away.

Finally, I could stand it no longer. One night I took her hand, and
guided it to my cock. She pulled away, but within a minute I felt her
tentative touch on my dick. The ball was rolling downhill fast, by
now. Three nights later she jacked me off for the first time, sending
a fountain of semen spraying over the lower half of the bed,
surprising us both. That was the first and last time that happened,
the next night she positively shocked the hell out of my by leaning
down and taking the very end of my cock in her mouth, when it because
obvious I was fixing to cum. She gulped and slurped my sperm down, and
turned me on beyond belief. Where she learned this was even an option
I have no idea, Cosmo, who knows. That she had nerve or desire to do
it is a surprise, even after all these years. I could have cum again,
I'm sure, and again after that. She plastered her mouth against mine,
and, for the first time, I tasted my own sperm in a girl's mouth. My
dick even stayed hard afterwards, I was so turned on. And that's all
the encouragement I needed, the next night, as soon as she showed up,
I wrestled her legs apart and nestled inbetween them. The thing I
wanted most in the world was within my grasp.

Her pussy was beyond my wildest dreams. It was sexy, off the scale. I
bent closer and closer to her, smelling her wonderful smell. Her pussy
gleamed in the dim light, her pubic hair black and silky, her little
lips peeking out of the nest of hair. When my tongue finally touched
her, I almost shot my wad. My nose was full of her scent as my tongue
licked her clit, and she squirmed beneath me. I hoped she was enjoying
it as much as I was. On a scale of one to ten, I was in the eighteens,
at least. Never in my life had I craved something so much, and finally
gotten it. Never was I so happy.

To my great pleasure, I licked her to an orgasm, the first time. I
could feel every muscle in her body tense and tighten, and her
breathing became labored and ragged. She sighed, and breathed deeply,
and then hiccuped a few times when it was over. I just kept on
licking. I could have gone until morning. I wanted to.

I'd like to think she came again, but I couldn't tell. She finally
heard a noise in the hall, and leapt up and pulled her nightgown down.
She stood at the door for a while, and then silently slipped out. I
lay back, happier than I'd ever been in my life. I felt like we'd
turned a corner, or something. We had taken more steps, along that
road that we followed. Where it would lead, I had no idea, but I was
loving the journey.

I ate her pussy three more glorious nights, after that. The high point
of my whole life is laying there, on my belly, lapping her sweet cunt
and asshole. Her tastes are forever burned into my mind, although I
wish I could have a refresher, after all these years. What a bastard
of a thief time is.

One night, she didn't come. I accepted that, maybe our parents had
spooked her, or something. I missed her greatly, I missed her tastes,
and the softness of her thighs on my cheeks. But I didn't panic.

I did panic, the next night. Was it over? What was wrong? Had I gone
too far? The next day I stared at her at the table, begging her with
my eyes, imploring her, to let me know what was wrong. I could not
live without her, without my daily dose of her. I just could not go
on.

The third night was the worst. I got up, half a dozen times, to go get
her, to go see her and ask her why she'd stopped coming. How could I
live without her? How could I go that far with her, and then just
stop? I was almost angry, angry and hurt. But I held some hope, some
hope for the fourth night.

I was down at the barn, cleaning out a grainary, when I looked up.
There she stood, a light jacket on. Her long silky hair fluttered in
the slight breeze. She wore no makeup, she needed none. She looked
fabulously beautiful to me, so alive, so perfect. I wanted her more
that moment than I ever had. I just wanted to feel her, in my arms.
She just stood and stared at me. I stopped, and dropped my gloves. I
slowly made my way to her, a million things to ask her on my mind. Is
this it? I thought. Is this when she tells me it's over?

"Hi, Rusty..." she finally said, and I think she was puzzled at my
intense expression.

"Ellie..." I said, feeling tears in my voice. I could only whisper
after that. "What's wrong... where have you been..."

She laughed. She just then seemed to realize how much her absence had
affected me. "Rusty... you doofus... do you not know anything about
girls?"

"What do you mean," I asked, getting kind of defensive.

"I'm having my period, you dork," she was talking so loud I was sure
that if anybody was close they could hear. I shushed her. She grinned
again.

"I knew if I came you'd wanna lick me, so I stayed away... gimme
another night or two..."

I slammed into her body, and gripped her tightly. I did cry, some, in
relief. It wasn't over, not yet. I understood. I still wanted her,
period or no period, but I understood. I just stood there, and held
her.

"You can come," I said. "I'll leave you alone. But please come."

"Rusty," she said, getting serious. "Do you have any idea how much
trouble we'll be in if we ever get caught?"

I did, but I tried to ignore things of that magnitude. We made a few
plans, that day, and tried to think of some things we could do to
lessen the risk. There wasn't much, sadly. She was a little more
careful than me, what I was getting from her was worth any risk, to
me. 

That night, to my joy, she came. She brought some school books with
her, and placed them on my desk. Her idea was, if either of my parents
knocked, she could pretend that she hadn't been able to sleep and I
was helping her with her homework. We just had to remember to make
sure the door was locked, each time. And be ready to get dressed in a
hurry.





That was about the shape of things, for the rest of that summer. I
realize now, though, that she'd already started weaning me off her. As
I seemed to get more and more, she came less and less. Our times
together became more intense and involved, but happened less often. I
understood the trade-off, I thought. I accepted it. 

We never fucked. Sadly, we never fucked. We talked about it, one
afternoon, down at the pond, we threw rocks in the water... and talked
about fucking. I didn't pressure her... I'm sure she knew how badly I
wanted it, how badly I wanted to try. She was, understandably, afraid
of getting pregnant... and I think she had some old-fashioned ideas,
in spite of the things we'd done, of being a virgin on her wedding
night. I accepted that, the things I was getting from her were sweet
enough that I could live without it, for now... although, in my mind,
I thought, someday... someday, she will be mine. I had some crazy
ideas about us growing up, and being together... even going to college
and rooming together... I didn't see how, after going this far, we
could fail to someday eventually go all the way.

But, we never did. I understand, now. She knew better than I, at that
time, how it just had to be. I still wonder, sometimes, if, in an
alternate universe, I could have spent the rest of my days with her.
There's always a way, I'd like to think. I guess, in the end, I just
wasn't enough for her. I was just her brother. That sounds
self-pitying and pathetic, I know. 

Within a year, it was over. I still held her, at times, but there was
no more kissing. No more nocturnal visitations, and certainly no more
pussy licking. I survived, somehow. She had a real boyfriend by then,
and I had a girlfriend, although I certainly didn't get as much from
her. Well, I did, we fucked, on rare occasions, but the intimacy that
I shared with Ellie, the intimacy that I craved,  was absent. I don't
know about her, about Ellie, but I know that I've never, in all my
fifty five years, touched the level of intense intimacy that I reached
with her. My soul was stripped bare, it lay naked before her likewise
naked soul. I hope she has, I have no idea. She has had two failed
marriages, while I've had one... I'd still like to think that we could
have made it, as a couple... I know I could have, I know she was
enough for me, and there, at the beginning... the intensity I felt
from her... I'd like to think that she felt it, too.

In one of the few times I've ever talked about this to someone, I
explained it was as though our souls fucked. Our bodies never did, but
on some fantastic level of existence, our souls fucked. Or maybe they
made love, that sounds a bit more holy, more spiritual, which, in
spite of my base, earthly thoughts, is what this whole thing felt like
to me. In spite of the things we did, she was as pure as driven snow
to me. She was a goddess, and angel come to earth. And our souls
touched, for a few moments. 

I still think that she was the one for me. Maybe I was just not the
one for her. Something got mixed up, some cosmic connection, and she
just happened to be my sister, at the same time. What an ugly, yet
ultimately meaningless word "incest" is, in the face of the love we
shared. What we had deserves a way more beautiful name. 

I don't really know where to go from here, with this. The story is
told. I could fill a few more pages with regrets and speculations, but
I won't bore you any further. Maybe I just read way too much into a
little episode of a couple of kids playing around.

I still see Ellie, ever chance I get. I still feel a rush. She has
aged well. She is still beautiful. Two or three times a year I get to
hold her in my arms and just stand there, and squeeze. We have never
since, in all these years, talked about the things we did. I
understand. I will die with her name on my lips. I was, for a brief
time, all those years ago, happier than any human has a right to be.
But nothing lasts forever.





http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MeatBot/

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