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Subject: incest story: "Sibling Romance 2" {Mff, inc} 867613
From: INCEST MAN <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Tue, 21 Apr 2009 14:20:02 +0000
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/
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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