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Subject: Title story: "Sibling Romance 2" Author: INCEST MAN 54110360
From: Family Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Tue, 13 Sep 2005 11:19:23 +0000
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Sibling Romance 2
By Robert
I had a lot of guilt and anxiety about what my sister and I had done.
Especially before we talked in the kitchen that night, I was wracked with
feelings of guilt. Because I had been so drunk the night we made love, I had
some unanswered questions about whether on not I had used any force. I really
felt bad. When we talked in the kitchen, my voice was shaking with remorse and
anxiety and --well, lust. I asked her (trying to get around having to say "Did
I rape you?--Jeeze) "Was there any force used?" and she said, "Well, no--not
exactly. You were very determined, but I didn't say "no." It's my fault too--I
opened my legs for you--you didn't do anything to me that I didn't want you to
do. We were both really drunk." I was very, very relieved. I was also startled
when she took my hand and led me to her room, but of course, in that state of
anxiety and arousal, I would have done anything she wanted. At first, we were
standing there kissing and fondling each other in the dark--I was breathing
ragged breaths like a steam engine, and the fact that I obviously wanted her so
much made her excited, too, and she asked me "Do you want to do it to me that
bad?" and I answered in a hoarse whisper, "Yes. Just once more and we won't do
it again, I promise." She lifted her arms and I pulled her nightgown over her
head and skimmed out of my underwear and we climbed into her old-fashioned
brass bed.
She raised her legs and put her heels on my shoulders. I was as gentle as I
could be, but when I went deep, I went just as deep as my penis would go, and
with each stroke she let out a little "Oh!" noise. After I came, the guilt
washed over me again. My god, what am I doing, she's your sister, what if she
gets pregnant? We lay there breathing hard for a few minutes--listening to the
silence of the dark house. I was straining to hear any sign that my Mom or other
sisters might be awake or had heard us.
I whispered, "I better go to bed," and she whispered back "Be careful on the
stairs, I can hear it when you come down at night to the kitchen." I started to
get up, to pull out of her, and she reached up and took my face in both her
hands and gave me a long, tender kiss of love and whispered "I love you,
brother." I whispered back "I love you too, honey. See you in the morning."
At breakfast, I could not detect a single thing different. She was her usual
bouncy good-natured self. I saw her talking to people at school, or on the phone
with her boyfriend and I was jealous. The brother-sister relationship we had,
which of course included some bickering and arguments, seemed unharmed. I was
grateful. Although we had said that it was the last time, I still thought about
her all the time. I loved her, as a sister, but I was also "in love" with her.
Instead of Playboy models or my girlfriend at school, I fantasized about her
when I masturbated. She had an argument with a boyfriend that she wasn't too
serious about, and broke up with him.
I was trying to console her, and to find out what they argued about, and she
blurted out "Sex! He wanted to have sex again and I said no," she looked up at
me and said "You are the only one in my bed now. You--and you only." I knew
right then that we weren't going to stop. I leaned over to kiss her, and she
threw her arms around my neck and gave me a very deep, long kiss.
And then she whispered, "Promise me. Promise me you will never hate me." I
replied, "Hate you? How could I ever hate you? You're my little sister--I LOVE
you, and I will always love you."
She actually continued to date him, but I stopped being jealous. Whenever she
would go out with him, we had this little game we played, where I would wait up
for her to get in, and she would wink and say "Not to worry!" That meant, "No,
he didn't get any!"
There were plenty of opportunities for us to be alone at home, but she was
worried we would get caught eventually, en flagrante delicto. I was very eager
to make love again, so I suggested we start "dating" so we could get away from
the house together. A few times we just "went to the movies together" and wound
up in the back seat of my mother's station wagon in the parking lot of a nearby
university, but I was really concerned that this was a great deal more dangerous
than just sneaking around at home when everyone was asleep.
Eventually, she found a girl at school who was dating a boy of whom her parents
highly disapproved. Under the guise of "helping them out" we arranged for me to
ask the girl out, and he to ask my sister out, then we would meet and swap
dates. The great part about this idea was that we had a great excuse for being
out on a date, all dressed up, together in public. We did all the things that
teenagers do, walked holding hands at the mall, smooched in the movies, went out
to eat. We lived near the Gulf of Mexico, and used to drive down and spend the
day at the beach, surfing and sunbathing. We used to drive way down the island
to a secluded spot and sunbathe nude in the sand dunes. It was heaven. And, of
course, we had plenty of opportunities to make love.
And then, she missed her period.
She told me, jokingly, "Hey, you're going to be an uncle." "What?" "Yeah, I
might be preggers--I'm a week late." We both laughed. Three weeks later, it
wasn't funny, and she began to get morning sickness. We decided that she should
immediately sleep with her "boyfriend" and claim that the baby was his, then get
an abortion. That's what we did. Abortion was illegal in our state then, but she
and my mother flew to California and she had one there.
I stayed at home, and went out and got roaring drunk. I was mourning--I knew
things would never be the same.
About a week after they returned, I sneaked downstairs at night to talk to her.
She was a little depressed ("I didn't want to have the abortion, really, but I
knew we couldn't have the baby. It was so sad.") We kissed for a while, laying
on her bed, and then she said "My boobs are getting bigger." "What?" "They are.
Look!" She raised her babydoll nightgown, and
I could see that she was right. Shyly, she whispered "Do you want to taste it?"
meaning the milk, and I was just at a peak of lustful anxiety and raggedly
whispered back, "Yes!" She let me nurse for a long time at both breasts. The
milk did not taste sweet, though, it really tasted kind of bitter, because she
was on antibiotics from the abortion. "Did you like it?" she asked, and I
fervently said "Yes--thank you, it was so wonderful."
I was just marveling at the amazing illicitness of it--I was nursing mother's
milk from my OWN SISTER who had been pregnant with MY OWN BABY. I could
practically smell the sulphur fumes from Hell from where I was laying.
"We really have to stop," she said. "I know." "No, really." "I know."
"I have some PhisoHex in my bathroom (this is a type of antibacterial soap no
longer sold.) I can't get pregnant now. If you wash with PhisoHex, we can do it
one last time." I was as concerned as she was about infecting her with
something. I washed with Phisohex, and then, very gently, we made love again. I
started to pull out for coitus interruptus (I normally came inside her) and she
said, "No, don't leave! It's okay. Just this one last time."
So I slid it as deeply and as gently as I could, and came inside of her as we
held each other.
Upstairs in my room, smelling her pussy on me, I cried into my pillow. Life
seemed so fucked up. I loved her, she loved me, why couldn't we just be allowed
to do what seemed so right and so natural?
END
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