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Subject: i n c e s t story: "A Midnight Woman Ch. 2" 7233
From: rabinofben@yahoo.com
Date: Wed, 24 May 2006 14:01:27 +0000
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A Midnight Woman Ch. 2
He was an hour late for work, unshaved and he
looked like hell as he made his way through the
maze of desks and cubicles to his corner office.
He closed the door behind him, threw his coat over
a chair and closed the blinds to the outer
offices. He needed time to think about last night,
and he didn't need any interruptions.
He sat down at his desk and gazed out the window
at the surrounding buildings and the traffic, 10
floors below. He wished he could fly. Fly away.
He spun his chair back to his desk and that's when
he saw it. The simple white envelope extending
from his partially closed laptop. He lifted the
screen to the computer and picked up the envelope.
Nothing was written on the outside, but he knew
who it was from.
It was from her. It was from his sister. He opened
it and read the first words, "To my dearest
Brother." A choke caught in his throat.
He laid his head on the back of his chair and
closed his eyes, clasping the letter in his hand.
His mind rushed past the events of last night to
an evening seven years before.
He was twenty one and home for the winter break
before his final semester at college. He and his
sister lived with their father in an affluent
suburb of a large Midwestern city. Their mother
died when he was thirteen and his sister ten. It
had been a brain tumor, and she had suffered
horribly. And so his father had been left to take
care of the boy and girl on his own. The father
was an executive for a major pharmaceutical
company and was away on business a lot, so it was
left to the boy to look after his little sister.
They had grown very close.
This night was his sister's eighteenth birthday,
and her friends had taken her out for her
initiation into the world of adulthood, basically
to buy her a few 'legal' beers. Their father had
been called out of town for a business
appointment, leaving the son alone in the house
with his sister. He did not expect to see her
until bar closing time.
So, he was very surprised when the doorbell rang
at 9:30, and he opened it to see his sister's limp
body splayed across the front porch. He stepped
out into the night chill to see if anyone else was
there, but there was no one. He grabbed her
shoulder and shook it, but she did not respond.
The smell of beer was strong on her breath. She
was passed out.
He slid his arms under her legs and shoulders and
lifted her slight frame to his chest. He pushed
the door open with his foot and carried her into
the house, kicking the door shut behind him. He
slowly carried his unconscious sister up the
stairs to her room.
The room was dark except for the ambient glow from
the hallway lamp. He gently laid her on the bed
and pulled off her fur-lined parka. As he did
this, she groaned and rolled toward him, her soft
blue cashmere sweater riding up, exposing the
smooth skin of her belly. He looked at her
breasts, barely hidden now, as they rose and fell
with her breathing. He could plainly see the
outline of her nipples through the fabric. There
was no bra. He pushed the thought from his mind
and moved to the end of the bed.
He pulled off her loafers and socks and looked up
the length of her legs. He knew he should just
throw the covers over her and let her sleep it
off. But he didn't. Instead, he decided that he
would undress her, put her pajamas on and let her
sleep it off comfortably. She was his sister,
after all. They had taken baths together when they
were little, hadn't they?
He reached for the waistband of her pleated skirt
and undid the top two buttons. He hesitated one
last second and then pulled off the skirt. He was
stunned to see his little sister wearing no
panties. He couldn't believe it. It had to be a
trick her friends had played on her before they
dumped her on the doorstep.
He wanted not to look, but he couldn't help
himself. He pulled her leg toward him spreading
her as he did. He saw her feminine folds open to
his view and noticed that the dark hair had been
neatly trimmed away from the lips. He gasped as he
felt himself harden. His thoughts were turning to
those he knew were wrong, but he wasn't sure he
could stop them.
He moved further up the bed and gently pulled the
sweater over her head. And then he had to stand up
to look at the full length of his sister. She was
more than he could have imagined. Her hair was
long and dark and had fallen over her face. Her
breasts were small but turned up with perfect
brown nipples. Her stomach was flat and her waist
slender. Her legs were long and elegantly shaped.
My God, she was beautiful.
He was rock-hard now, as he sat back down on the
edge of the bed. His mind was reeling, but he
couldn't stop. He placed his hand between her legs
and quietly began to stroke her. She stirred, but
remained asleep. He reached his other hand to feel
the supple firmness of her breasts, taking one
nipple between his fingers, feeling it harden to
his touch. His fingers began to move faster in her
as she became more and more moist. He increased
the pressure on her tiny sensitive button, and she
seemed to respond by moving her hips slightly
against his hand. It was more than he could take.
He removed his hand from her breasts and undid his
belt, hurriedly pulling his pants and underwear
down and over his hips allowing his straining
erection to come free.
As he continued to bury his fingers inside his
sister, he began to pump himself furiously,
knowing he didn't have long. And then he heard a
slight moan escape her throat and he felt her legs
clamp together, trapping his fingers. He continued
stroking himself as he saw her body start to
shudder. It was too much. He felt the eruption
from within him in agonizing spurts, that felt so
good. He saw the semen arc from him onto his
sister belly and breasts. It seemed to keep coming
forever. He wanted it to. He closed his eyes and
stroked the last drops out of himself, just as his
sister's legs relaxed their grip on him. Her hips
slumped back into the bed.
Moments later, as his senses came back to him, he
felt a panic. He pulled her beautiful hair way
from her face but she remained unconscious, her
breathing returning to normal. He looked down at
her body with his white seed covering her and
guilt overcame him.
"What have I done," he thought, "what have I
done?"
He walked into the bathroom they shared across the
hall and ran warm water over a washcloth. He wiped
himself off first and pulled his slacks back up.
He rinsed out the washcloth again and moved back
to her. He cleaned himself off of her. He moved to
her dresser and got out her pajamas. After only a
small struggle, he had her clothed and under the
covers. He looked down at his beautiful little
sister lying there, passed out, and not so little
anymore. He bent over and kissed the top of her
head. And then he left, closing her door behind
him.
He walked back downstairs, put on his parka and
stepped out the back patio doors, into the cold
December night air. He reached into his pocket and
pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one and
leaned back against the house. He knew he had done
wrong. She was his sister and it was forbidden.
But he had been unable to stop and, God help him,
it had felt so good. Thankfully, she had not
awakened. He began to cry.
That was seven years ago, and it was like
yesterday. His sister had awakened the next day
with a gigantic hangover. She had come down into
the kitchen, still in her pajamas. She had asked
him if he had put them on her and he told her yes.
She thanked him, kissed his cheek and then never
said another word. It would remain his secret, his
terrible secret. And it did. Until last night.
He opened his eyes to the present and began to
read the letter his sister had written.
"My dearest Brother,
I believe I know what you are thinking after last
night. You're thinking what we did was wrong. And
me, I don't know what I think about last night.
But I know what I felt, and it didn't feel wrong.
It felt good. It felt very good. I loved your
touch on me and in me. And I loved taking you into
my mouth and feeling you swell and hearing you
groan. And I loved having your tongue taste me. I
have wanted this to happen for a long time now.
Seven years, to be exact. Yes, my brother, I know
what happened that night. I was drunk, but I was
aware. I know you thought I was still passed out,
but your touch brought me awake. I acted asleep
because I knew you would stop and run if you knew
I was awake. Your fingers in me that night made me
cum like no one ever had or has since. I can make
myself wet just thinking about it. And when you
came all over me, well, it was thrilling to have
that effect on you. But, I didn't know what to do
afterward, so I pretended. And then you went back
to school and graduated and got this job so far
away. And, so for the past seven years I have
wondered. All through college, I fucked lots of
boys. I say fucked not made love, because I have
never made love or felt it since that night. And
with you throwing yourself into your writing and
not getting married, well, I just had to know what
it would be like with you for real. And, now I
know. And I loved it. I loved it so much it made
me laugh. And even though you left so quickly, I
know you loved it too. I also know your guilt is
eating away at you. We 'broke the rules' we did
the 'forbidden.' But whose rules? Not mine. And if
you really think about how you felt seven years
ago and how you were last night, I think you know
they are not your rules either. So, I will be
coming to you again soon. I won't tell you when,
but very soon. And we will taste each other again.
Until then, I love you.
He dropped the letter into his lap and just stared
out the window, and thought about what she had
said. Was she right? Were his feelings of guilt
wrong? He didn't know. But he believed he was
about to find out.
He handed the cabbie a twenty and hopped out. He
walked quickly past the doorman, nodding, and into
the lobby. His apartment was on the 14th floor
overlooking the city. He pressed the button for 14
and hoped no one on another floor would stop his
ascent. Since it was after eleven p.m. he thought
his chances were good. He was right.
The elevator doors silently opened onto his
hallway. Each floor had 4 condominium apartments.
His was 1402. It was an expensive place to live,
and truth be known, it was beyond his means. But
he figured that he was a bachelor, he didn't have
a lot of other expenses, the magazine was paying
him decent money and what the hell, he deserved
it.
As he opened his door, he immediately heard,
"Don't turn on the light." And then he saw the
orange glow of her cigarette as she inhaled.
Startled as he was, he knew who it was. He had
been half expecting her. It was the first time he
had seen his sister since that night.
He closed the door behind him and threw his keys
on the foyer table. It had been three days since
they had been together, and he had been able to
think of nothing and no one else.
"Hello, Dee, I guess we need to talk." Her name
was Deanna.
"Yes, Brian, we do," as she took another drag.
"I didn't know you smoked. When did you start?" He
had seen very little of his sister the past seven
years. He left the mid-west and came to New York
immediately following graduation, to take a job
with the magazine. His sister had gone to school
on the west coast and their time together had
dwindled to just the holidays at their father's
home. That is, until his untimely heart attack a
year and a half ago. After that, Deanne had
received her degree in advertising, and decided to
pursue a career California. Since that time, they
had not been together at all until that night.
"I've smoked since high school, just not in front
of Dad or you."
"Really. Give me one, will you?"
"On the table," was her reply. He picked up the
pack and her lighter and lit one for himself,
pulling the smoke deep into his lungs.
"God, this is awful," he coughed.
"Yeah, but I like it." She was silhouetted against
the backdrop of the city skyline, her long hair
pulled up on top of her head and her knees drawn
up into her chest as she leaned back into the
comfort of the overstuffed chair.
"How did you get in here?" he asked.
"I told the doorman I was your sister. I even
showed him my driver's license. He was a pushover.
It's amazing what a little touch on the forearm
and a smile will do to most men. I told him it was
your birthday and I wanted to surprise you by
being here when you got home. I didn't think it
would be so late, though. I drank some of your
scotch. Hope you don't mind."
"Course not." Brian sat down on the sofa opposite
Deanna.
"I've been here since five thirty. I got hungry
and helped myself to your refrigerator. Don't you
ever save anything? Not a damned thing to eat. I
found a can of Campbell's soup. Not great, but at
least it was something. Anyway, I got bored, so I
took a shower and put on some of your clothes.
That's okay, isn't it?"
"Sure," he said, realizing she was wearing an
oversized tee shirt and his sweatpants.
"Dee, the other night, when I left, I didn't mean
. ."
"I know Brian, I understand. I caught you off
guard. I intended to, as a matter of fact. But,
now here we are, so let's talk. I'll start, okay?"
She snuffed out her cigarette.
"Yeah, go ahead."
"Okay. Well, like I said in the letter, ever since
that night up in my bedroom, I haven't been the
same. You see, Brian, you were my big brother. You
were my hero. When you went away for college, I
was devastated. It was just Dad and me then. I was
fifteen and I had no one to talk to. Dad had no
clue. He was wrapped up in work, and I basically
lived my life on my own." Deanna picked up her
glass and sipped at the scotch. Then she
continued, "I'm sure you can remember what it was
like when you were fifteen, can't you?"
Brian nodded, even though he wasn't sure exactly
what she meant.
"Well, I remember when you were fifteen, Bri. I
used to find your Playboy and Penthouse magazines
under your mattress, not to mention the used
Kleenex. I was only twelve, but I understood."
Brian felt a slight flush come over his face.
"So, anyway, you can just imagine what it was like
for me, basically alone in that house most of the
time. And I was becoming sexually aware, and I was
developing needs, just like you did. Do you know
what I mean?"
"Of course I do, Dee, go on."
"Well," she said after a slug of scotch and a drag
on a newly lit cigarette, "I used to play with
myself, you know, masturbate, just like you did.
Only, instead of magazines, oh fuck Brian, how do
I say this? Instead of magazines, I would just
pull out a picture of you and fantasize about
being with you. I would hold your picture in one
hand and fuck myself with the other hand." She
took another long swig of scotch.
"Dee, I had no idea."
"Of course not, big brothers never know. But I
think a lot of girls fantasize about their older
brothers. Anyway, I sure did. Oh my God, did I!"
"But what about other boys?" Brian asked.
"Oh there were plenty of them. I know I'm good
looking. I also know what that means when it comes
to power over men and boys. I went out with a lot
of different boys in high school."
"Any of them get serious?"
"Maybe, but I didn't. I guess you might say I was
sort of a cockteaser. I loved to get them all
heated up; it made me feel good and powerful.
Sometimes, I even gave them a feel, but just of my
breasts and just through the sweater. Somehow,
even though my body was screaming out to be
touched, I couldn't let them. My mind kept going
back to my big brother. Something made me stop and
wait for you, even though I had no idea anything
like that night would ever happen."
"Dee, about that night, you know I never meant to
do it. It just happened. Afterward I felt so
guilty."
"I'm sure you did, Brian. But you see, it was what
I had been fantasizing about all the time you were
away at college. I'm not sure when it started.
Maybe it was when Mom died, and with Dad away so
much, you just took care of me. You became my
protector, my world. I needed you."
"That's completely natural, for brothers and
sister, Dee."
"Sure it is, I know that, but somewhere along the
line, it became more for me. And I think for you
too."
Brian took a drag on his cigarette and dropped his
chin to his chest.
"Remember how our bathroom door had the air-vent
in the bottom of it, Bri?"
"Sure, I remember."
"Well, I used to sit on the steps below the door
and look up through the vent at night. I would see
you in there reading those magazines, or at least
looking at the pictures," she teased.
Brian smiled.
"And I would be fascinated as you would start to
beat off, and how big your cock would get. And
then I would watch your face and I would see how
your eyes would shut when you came. And it used to
seem to me that you would come forever, as I
watched. And I would touch my clit as I watched
you. I didn't really even know what I was doing,
but as time went on, I knew I loved how it felt. I
could see you loved it too."
"And then, your senior year in high school, I was
sleeping over at Sherry's house and I realized I
had forgotten to bring any clean underwear so I
ran home to get some. And, I remember Dad was out
of town. And I came in the back door and the house
was dark, but I heard music. I knew you had a date
with that blonde bitch I hated, what's her name."
"Paula Perrault?"
"Right, Paula. Anyway, I figured you must have
been making out, so I was real quiet. I snuck into
the family room, and the only light was the
fireplace burning, and I saw you two. And she was
giving you a blowjob. And you know what Bri? I
wasn't shocked, I was jealous. I just wished that
it was me and not her. I wished I could have been
sucking on your cock. I don't know why. I mean, I
could have had plenty of boys, even at fifteen.
But it was you I wanted. It always was. It always
has been." Dee lit another from the burning but of
her last cigarette.
"Dee, there is nothing wrong with a girl having a
crush on her older brother, especially as close as
we were, given our circumstances." Brian poured
himself a scotch. A tall one.
"Brian, get serious here, that was no crush. I
didn't wish we could kiss and cuddle. I wanted to
make love with you. But of course, I knew that was
never going to happen. I knew it was 'forbidden'
for a brother to fuck his sister."
Her use of the words surprised Brian, although he
found himself getting aroused.
"So, then when you were home for Christmas that
time, I'm not sure exactly what happened, but when
I came to, and you were feeling me, it was like,
well, like my dream come true. When you started
fucking me with your fingers, and playing with my
tits, I almost couldn't stay still. But I didn't
want you to stop, and I though maybe you would
take it all the way, and if you did, then I would
go with you. But, I guess something stopped you,
but what did happen was thrilling to me. I almost
yelled when you made me come. And when I felt your
hot sperm landing on my tits, it was almost more
than I could take."
Brian was staring intently at his sister now,
unable to speak, not wanting her to stop.
"So, I won't bore you with the details since then,
Bri, I'm sure you can imagine the life of college
girls. But I will tell you this: Every cock I
sucked, I imagined it was your's; every guy I
fucked had your face; and every time I came, I was
back in my bedroom with your fingers in me." With
that, Dee put down her glass and cigarette and got
up out of the chair. She walked around the coffee
table and knelt in front of Brian.
"So, what do you think, Bri, is your baby sister
depraved? Am I wrong to feel the way I do about
you?"
Brian was still speechless, but managed to shake
his head from side to side, letting Dee know that
it was okay.
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