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Subject: [inc] story: "MY SISTER JEAN. Chapter 5-6" 450164
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/taboo.html
MY SISTER JEAN. Chapter 5-6
By Billy G
Chapter 5 -- The Trip Home (continued)
The jazz group Four Play was playing softly over the hum of the big
4X4's tires. Bob James and Lee Rittenour were weaving their usual
seamless and delightfully rich acoustic fabric as the western slope of
the Sierra foothill fell away behind us. We'd fallen silent in the
Scout after loading up our backpacking gear and getting some more ice
for the chest near the exit of the National Forest. I was driving and
Jean was looking out the passenger's window as we sat silently in our
own thoughts. We were used to periods of silence and it wasn't
uncomfortable.
My mind was playing a tape of endless loop. My sister, Jean -- the
sometimes ice maiden -- had, when we were hiking out from Fourth of
July Lake, actually squatted in the middle of the hiking trail and
peed right in front of me...in the most blatant fashion. It was not
accidental and not remotely innocent. Rather, it was considered and
extremely provocative. Most baffling, it had seemingly just happened,
out of nowhere. I was excited and stunned, for it had been the
realization of a longstanding, obsessive fantasy of mine. Now, after
that intense sexual peak of halting interaction, we'd lapsed again
into our usual quiet space of uncertainty.
The grasses and flowers changed as we lost altitude. I reflected on
the events of the last little while. While, in the preceding weeks,
I'd made no secret that I was terribly excited by her and more, that I
was lightheaded with passion for her, I'd never come right out and
asked her if I could look at her nude, much less watch her pee. Not
that the thought hadn't been foremost in my erotic mind for years, I
was simply reticent to disclose myself...to uncover my secret kink,
largely from embarrassment. Oh, I didn't mind so much, particularly
of late, that she knew I masturbated, or that I smelled her panties,
or even that I was crazy about staring up her dress or down her shirt.
Somehow, that was all right...that was manly or at least okay boy
stuff. But peeing? Hmmmm. Sounds sick and perverted...or so my
judgmental mind spoke to me.
My mind spun on. Why had she done that? Why did she suddenly expose
herself to me in such a provocative way? A fleeting glimpse of her
panties or skinny dipping was one thing, but letting me watch her pee
a long stream into the dust of a Sierra back trail...a scarce few feet
from me...that was quite another. Had she known about me . . .about
my kink? Or and I couldn't really believe this -- was she kinky like
me?
No, not the very proper and often prim ice queen. If I had not been
sneaking around for years, listening to her when she was in the
bathroom, I might have supposed that she didn't even pee at all! Jean
was the type who wouldn't say shit if she had a mouth full. If
pressed, she might, in some clinical fashion, allude to micturition or
to (ugh) urine but she'd never utter the word "piss." I imagined that
she might allow, grudgingly, the expression pee-pee if some little kid
had no other way to express it. So how was it, I wondered, had she
moved from that moral high ground to pulling her panties down and
peeing in the middle of the trail while staring into my eyes? Once
again, I was baffled. Girls!
On a long curve, Jean swung around toward me, tucking her bare feet up
on the seat and asked, "So, Billy. What are you thinking?"
She always did that. Well, she did it a lot...opening up her topic by
asking me what *I'm* thinking. Or, if the topic is established, she
tries to get me to commit myself to a position before she discloses
her's.
Making a vague motion with my hand, I replied, "Oh, nothing." Smiling
to myself...If she only knew.
"Come ON, Billy. I know you better than that. You're never thinking
of nothing. What's going through that pointed little head of yours?"
The smile in her voice belied the insult. She leaned back against the
passenger's door, pulling her left foot further onto the seat,
pressing her knee into the back rest. The leg of her shorts gaped a
little. I noted things like that.
I also knew this drill. I'd been through it a thousand times. If I
was stubborn enough, I could simply stonewall it. I'd done that lot
of times, heaven knows. But Jean knows me, and most of the time I
*wanted* to be drawn out. I tried to maneuver it in such a way that
the topic was her's, not mine. This, of course, was old stuff, born
of a sibling's need for protection from being ratted on. The fact of
the matter was that neither Jean nor I had ratted on the other in
years. At root, we acted to protect each other.
"Well, actually I was thinking of our relationship, Sis." There!
That covered a multitude of sins.
"Hmmmm, what about our relationship?"
We both knew the dance so well that the opening steps were done
without effort or thought. Actually, we were both thinking way ahead
of this conversational chafe.
"Come on, dude. Open up. What about it...what about our
relationship?"
Looking pointedly at her, I asked, "Do you *really* want to know?"
This was a well-established signal that one of us would cut through
the fog of protective words if we were serious or impatient and wanted
to get on with something pressing. On the other hand, if it were the
usual verbal game, we'd parry that offer with some gratuitous insult
or another.
"Uh, yeah, Billy. I really *do* wanna know. What're ya thinkin'?"
The last question was a little muffled as she pulled her sweat shirt
over her head, partially pulling up her T-shirt and momentarily
uncovering the bottom of her bare breasts. Without hurry, she pulled
her T-shirt back down, molding the front against her nipples.
Jean almost never spoke in contractions or idiom. Her diction was
usually precise and her demeanor was oh-so-correct. So when she said
"Uh, yeah" and "I wanna," I recognized her
I-want-to-be-one-of-the-guys gambits. She was letting down her
goody-two-shoes protective distance. Jean was telling me it was okay
to be frank and, in light of our most recent adventure, it was clear
that she wasn't interested in my opinion of the men's basketball
team... or their locker room. She was letting me know that it was
okay to talk about what had happened on the trail.
Chapter 6 -- My Confession
It's ironic. The things I want the most see never to go the way I
want. I scheme and plan and try to manipulate people, places and
things to get my way. It rarely works. Nevertheless, I keep trying.
I think of it as adding to the keenness of my anticipation. And it
does. I've learned not to take myself too seriously when I don't get
what I want. Most of the time, what I eventually get is better than I
might have planned and often better than what I might have imagined.
That's the way it was working out with my sister, Jean. Yet, I didn't
really see it happening. I'd become increasingly aware of her as a
sexy girl. Actually that's an understatement. What I should admit is
that I'd grown infatuated with her. I'd always cared for her deeply
and we were both aware of a spiritual connection. Neither of us was
completely at ease with our own sensuality. Sex remained a
titillating and excitingly naughty topic. That discomfort, however,
was rapidly changing.
Our sibling connection was tender and loving. At base, that tender
connection was always operative, even when we were at odds. Clearly,
we cared deeply for each other, but because she was so proper and
reserved, I'd assumed that she had no sexual feelings at all. But in
the past weeks, I'd come to know that wasn't the case. Not even
close.
For example, not long previously, I'd humped myself to orgasm on the
edge of the laundry room table just looking down the front of her
shirt. While I had planned to confront her with her soiled panties my
"clever" way of introducing the topic of sex I'd not planned on
rubbing myself of on the hard edge of the table. And despite the fact
that she *knew* what I was doing. Or was it *because* she was knew
that made it so exciting?
A little later, in a sexual heat, we'd exposed ourselves to each other
on the living room couch as we were "talking dirty." We shared a
mutual culpability for our couch incident, but again, it was not my
intention to masturbate myself and her by slapping her clit with my
hard cock. It'd just happened in a spontaneous fashion, both of us
caught up in the compelling sexual heat both surprised, turned-on and
both, completely helpless. Swept along by a current whose strength
tossed us about in a sexual typhoon, we had both come together. And
again, frightened by the ferocity of it all, we'd retreated to the
familiar safety of silence.
And most recently, this morning unexpected and unplanned, out of
nowhere she'd fulfilled a long fantasy of mine by letting me watch her
pee.
For months and months I'd been trying to get her to "talk dirty" with
me...to share her own sexual stuff with me. Yet, I'd had limited
success until today, until we were riding home from our back-packing
weekend. Now the established reserves had been broached. To say the
cat was out of the bag hardly lent it sufficient impact. More
accurately, we both knew that old barriers were down and they'd not be
erected again. Still, we were uncertain how to move with comfort into
this newly open intimacy.
From the silence of our mutual protection, we'd broken out of years of
restriction and restraint. This wasn't the naughty, snickery type of
you-show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine conversation that I'd angled
for. This was dealing with real stuff. I was dazzled.
Jean had shared with me some of her "deep dark secrets" and I'd shared
similarly...or started to. And she wanted more. She knew of my
peeing fetish and she'd admitted she had one too. It was plain that
we'd only continue in a step-wise manner with each of us validating
the other with our honesty. If I wanted Jean's truth, I'd have to
give her mine.
"Jean, I love this. I love being able to be so open with you."
"Yes. It's like when we were on the couch...only more so...remember?
Just talking with you like that...I got so hot then I didn't know what
I was doing."
When we'd parked at the Rest Stop, she'd taken her hands out of her
pants, looking around, surprised that we had stopped. Seeing that no
one was even close to us, she relaxed again, leaning back.
"Where are we? Why'd we stop?"
I explained, "It was getting too difficult for me to keep my eyes on
the road. Between listening to you talk about peeing, and watching
your hands in your pants, I had little attention for driving. We've
got all the time we want. I'd much rather stop and talk. This way I
can give you all my attention. I can see your eyes...and," I added
with a leer, "your hands."
"Then look at me, you lecher. I can't believe my kid brother makes me
so horny, just by talking to me. You're doing the couch thing all
over again, you little devil."
"Are you complaining?" I asked, while laying my left ankle over her
right leg in front of the center console.
"Nope. Just letting you know that you have that effect on me. Hope
you enjoy it, lecher."
"You know I do, you harlot. And speaking of harlots, where were we?
Oh, yes. We were talking about peeing and I was..."
Interrupting, "You were going to tell me your most secret fantasies,
Billy. You were saying you wanted me to pee on you. Remember?"
"Jean, it's more than just that. I think of other things
situations...having to do with peeing...or needing to pee... and you
can't. That excites me. Know what I mean?"
"No-o-o..." She *sounded* more uncertain than she really was, I
think. "No, I don't know. Tell me what you mean."
Her right hand was slipping into the top of her open shorts, the
fingers under the waistband of her panties.
"Two can play that game," I countered, as I slowly began to unbutton
my jeans.
Impatiently, "Yeah, yeah, yeah...but I *still* want to hear those
secrets. 'Specially if they're about peeing. And what do you mean
'needing to pee, and can't'?"
I loved it when she kept after me, *making* me tell her my kinky
stuff.
"Oh *you* remember, Sis...how could you forget? Think back to the
trip that you and me and mom made to the Farm. Remember, we'd been
driving for several hours after downing a couple of Cokes . . .
remember how hot it was? You all kid me about my micro bladder, so I
never gave it a thought when I had to get out and take a leak and you
all didn't. Peeing along the road's no big deal for a guy."
With a throaty laugh, she said, "Sure I do. Mom and I just looked at
each other when we heard you peeing on the road. We had to go then,
but we couldn't say anything...or at least I couldn't. I don't think
it embarrasses Mom at all."
"I remember smiling back at Mom when she said to me, 'You lucky
stiff.' It was about then that I caught on that you two guys were
starting to feel your full bladders. And it was then that I decided
to play a little game. I was going to make you guys wait and wait to
pee."
"I sure remember that trip, but I didn't know you were playing a game.
What'd you do?"
Smugly, "You never pay much attention to roads or which way we go, or
where things are. You just ride along and enjoy yourself. Mom's the
same way. So I decided to not only take a longer way, but to take the
route with no rest stops or gas stations."
"Why you little shit, you! I just thought we had bad luck. That you
got to take a leak and we needed to go, and there were just no places
to go. I thought it was an accident. You mean...?"
"Yep. That's what I mean, girl. I wanted to see you two women squirm
a little. You're always kidding me that I can't wait so I wanted to
see how well you could wait. Besides, I think it's sexy... seeing
you and Mom squirm around, and then cross your legs."
"Billy, I don't know whether to laugh or get mad. At the time, I
would have given anything to squat and take a good pee. My back teeth
were floating. And you kept saying that it'd just be a little
further. You rat!"
"I *loved* it, Sis. You were squirming around in the front seat and
Mom was shifting back and forth right behind us. At least she was
able to ask me to look out for a gas station, that she had to pee
something bad. You just pretended that everything was okay...at least
for a little while. Sis, you are *so* hip, slick and cool! Then it
began to really get to you, and I enjoyed thinking of you, needing to
pee. Don't understand it, my dear sister, but there's something
terribly erotic about that. I mean, I got hard just thinking about
you and Mom."
"More is coming back to me. I remember how *bad* I had to go. I
remember two things, actually. One was the fear that I'd lose it,
that I'd leak into my panties. The second was the burning sensation
in my...well, in my pussy...kinda good actually. Actually, kinda
erotic."
"Well, I guess I can confess now, Sis. My fantasy was that you'd not
be able to hold it. I could see you in my mind's eye, dribbling a
little pee into your panties, whimpering, bent over, hugging yourself
with your legs crossed. You know how fantasies are...I was right
there...I mean my eyes were inches from your pussy and I could see you
clench your cheeks trying to hold it in...and I could see the pee
dribble out, wetting your pussy hair and your panties."
You mean you *wanted* me to pee in my panties?" She sounded
incredulous, but she didn't look it, as she smiled at me, one eyebrow
arched.
"Not really...well, yes...really. My fantasies don't always make
sense, but the idea of you peeing in your panties, seeing it run down
your legs, just jolts me. I'd like to stand in front of you as you
were losing it, and then run my hand up under your dress and cup the
crotch of your panties and feel your hot pee running over my palm...
those kinds of images. Kinky, huh?"
"Kinky, yes. But now that I know...well, I like it too. It sure got
to mom and me that day. I don't know how she feels about it, but do
you recall what happened when we finally got to the Farm?"
"Probably more than you know." I paused, recalling the scene. "You
and mom both jumped out of the car and raced for the house. I knew
there was only one bathroom in that old house and I didn't know what
you were gonna do...who'd have to wait. You two were too panicked to
notice, but I followed right behind you...right to the bathroom."
"Oh, God. I remember. I'd beaten Mom to the toilet, but as I was
pushing my shorts and panties down, she said, 'I'm your mother! I go
first,' and she just pushed me right out of the way! There I was,
dying to pee, standing in front of Mom like some little girl, waiting
for her to finish...and afraid I was going to lose it."
As she was recalling the memory, I'd slipped my cock out of my jeans
and was sitting back, holding it and covering it at the same time as I
slowly stroked it up and down.
Nodding toward my hand, Jean said, "That gets me hot, bro."
Not acknowledging her reference to my masturbation, continued, "When
the two of you dashed in there, you slammed the door, but it didn't
shut all the way...musta bounced or somthin'. I couldn't see you but
I sure could hear you. I heard Mom's pee hissing and you whimpering,
'Hurry...hurry...I gotta go too.'"
"God what a rat you are! I can't believe you...you pervert. You
sadist. And your own mother too! They've got a name for guys like
you, bro."
"You asked for it," I defended myself. "'Sides, you're just as bad as
me."
"I know. I *am* and it surprises me, but it feels too good to stop."
Then she added, "If you were right outside the door, you must have
known what happened, huh?"
"I think so. It sounded like Mom finished and you bumped into her or
something like that...trying to get to the toilet. And then I heard
you cry out, 'Oh...I can't hold it.' And Mom laughed and then you
almost cried, 'It's not *funny*, Mom!' In my imagination, I thought
that you'd peed on yourself or something like that."
"That's exactly what happened. I was just dying. Mom took for-EVER.
Why she even wanted to wipe herself! The sound of her going just
loosened me up. Like running the faucet for a little kid. My muscles
weren't working anymore. I knew I was relaxing and that I was gonna
pee on myself and there wasn't anything I could do about it. I kept
bumping into Mom trying to get to the toilet. Cripes, it was a
Chinese fire drill. She moved one way and I moved the same way, back
and forth, back and forth. My darn shorts and panties were down
around my knees and I couldn't take a big step. Mom bumped into me
again by then she was laughing at me and I just lost it. I started to
pee right there, bent over, stumbling for the john. Billy, it was
awful . . . and at the same time, it was wonderful. I peed all
over my panties and all over my legs and the floor and the toilet
seat, frantically trying to plop my fanny down. Then it really opened
up. I think I peed a gallon. I remember sitting there, knees
together, looking at my wet panties and legs and then looking at Mom
as I peed and peed. I was so embarrassed. Did you hear her when she
said something like, 'Feels good, huh?'"
"Yeah. I think she said, 'Jean, I *know* how good that feels.'"
"Whatever...but I think she liked it too. Although she never said
anything."
"All this talk of peeing...and I haven't gone since this morning. How
about you?"
"I *knew* you were working up to this. Yeah, I need to pee, now more
than ever...but I'll hold it just a little longer. How 'bout you?"
"Me too. Then when you *have* to go, I'll be there to help you."
"Billy, I just know what kind of help you have in mind... the same
kind I do."
"Let me tell you what I'm thinking, girl. We *could* go into the rest
rooms, but what a waste. I've got another idea."
Jean slipped her hand out of her shorts, leaned over and ran her wet
finger under my nose. She stared right into my eyes and again ran the
wet tip of her tongue over her partially open lips. The same
intoxicating odor of her pussy filled my senses. I closed my eyes and
slowly sniffed in, making a moaning sound of appreciation.
"Lecher!" she accused, and then asked, "What's your idea... if I
dare ask?"
"I was thinking. How about if we walk over to those picnic benches
and you straddle my lap? No one's around. Don't tell me when you're
gonna start, but surprise me...just let it go...pee right through your
panties and through your shorts and into my lap? I really love that."
"Brother dear, you've just been reading my mind. Right this minute
I'm hotter than can be and I've got a full bladder and the idea of
peeing my panties, right into your lap actually all over your cock
that just get's me wet. Yes, let's do it...and right now!"
Jean, when suddenly moved to action, is nothing if not decisive. Not
waiting for further discussion, she slipped out of the Scout,
buttoning her pants and walking off. I followed her out the other
door, frantically trying to jam my hard dick back into my tight jeans
"Don't start without me!" I shouted after her.
"Getcher buns over here, guy and sit right down...right here,"
gesturing to a picnic bench facing away from the parking area.
I sat with my butt on the edge of the picnicbench. Jean looked around
one more time before swinging her leg over mine and squatted on my
thighs, facing me. Her eyes were sparkling as she gave me a wicked
grin.
"There're some people right over there, Billy. Do ya suppose they
know what we're doin'?"
Without looking, I said, "Yes. They know *exactly* what you're doing,
Jean. They know you're a naughty little girl with a full bladder who
can't make it to the toilet and who's gonna pee on her brother's
lap...don't they?"
"Christ, you're a tease, guy. I pity your girl friend... *when* you
get one."
She hadn't waited long. I could see the change in her eyes, the
relaxation in her face. (Some surprise.) She fell silent and looked
into my eyes as long as she could, then dropped her head into the
corner of my neck and shoulder. Her hips seemed to settle as she gave
a soft moan. I could feel the heat and the wetness spreading, at
first right in my crotch and then spreading. It was happening! My
sister was peeing on me, right through her panties. I held her ass
around her hips as she peed.
My mind was dizzy...drunk with passion. My wonderful, sweet sister
Jean was sitting on my lap, straddling me, in the open and peeing all
over herself and all over me...all over my cock. I could feel my
heart pounding in my chest and, at the same time, my heart beat in my
turgid dick. It swelled and I felt a pulling passion within the core
of my being.
With a groan of passion, I pulled her crotch right into my belly and
said, "God, Sis, I really wanna fuck you."
Continued Tomorrow - Page 5
Dark family relations: http://www.incesttabooo.com/taboo.html