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From: Incest Man <incestman@graffiti.net>
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Subject: "Veronica" CHAPTER THREE
Date: Thu, 04 Jan 2007 15:34:30 -0800
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http://www.incesttabooo.com/mar103.html
Veronica
CHAPTER THREE
I saw Marty a couple of more times in the next few weeks
and we tried all sorts of things when we could. I somehow
got the feeling Phil suspected what was going on, but he
didn't say anything to me, and if he said anything to
Marty, Marty didn't tell me.
Then my phantom step-brother came to visit for a week or
so. I purposely bought a new two-piece suit in a size that
fit my waist. In other words, it was far too small for my
bust. Then I made sure I was sunning myself on the picnic
table out behind the kitchen window when he came in from
the airport. He didn't even recognize me at first. Then
he just shook his head and looked away from the window, the
one that looks out on the back yard. He was, let's see, 15
then, and damn! what a fox! But he always behaved
properly toward me -- I could tell he was a little
uncomfortable -- and nothing happened, no matter how much I
tried to provoke it. And I tried.
But my best friend, Lisa, got a terrible crush on him, and
the way he dealt with it was so sweet! He treated her like
a regular grownup person, not like an 11-year-old with a
crush, and very gently steered her away. Hahaha! I
remember when she gave him a present -- a bag of potato
chips. He accepted it and thanked her for her
thoughtfulness, and she jumped up and gave him a little
kiss on the cheek and ran away. He sat there, blushing
like mad, and just opened the bag and offered some to me.
I was laughing at Lisa, and he demanded that I stop.
"Oh, Dan, she's just got a terrible crush on you! It's
puppy love!"
He looked me right in the eye and told me he thought she
was sweet, pretty and nice, and then he said: "Besides,
Marie, do puppies hurt less than grown dogs?"
I stopped laughing.
And that was the thing about him: He understood things you
already knew, and he could remind you of them.
Anyhow, by the time Labor Day rolled around -- the last
weekend of summer -- Marty and I were on the splits. All
there'd ever really been between us was sex, and I'd
figured out he wasn't the only boy I could get. He was
nice enough, but he was, well -- dull. My eleventh
birthday came and went in August.
The problem was that I loved sex, and I'd gotten used to
getting it pretty much when I wanted it. And I was horny
as hell.
On the Friday night of Labor Day weekend, Alexis -- my
sister, she's almost five years older than me -- was out on
a date, and Mom and Dad had taken my two baby brothers with
them out to Genoa, to Uncle Van's, to watch the fireworks
show. I knew they'd be late getting back, so I decided to
treat myself to a hot bath and little Yellow Pages fun --
[That's what I called masturbating. You know: "Let your
fingers do the walking?"]
The only other one in the house was my younger sister,
Jeanne. Jeanne was exactly 11 months younger then me, and
she was a beauty. She was less like me than like Alexis --
who's a natural platinum blonde with a peaches-and-cream
complexion and ripe red lips. Jeanne was sandy blonde and
already had this lovely face and long legs. My phantom
step-brother used to call her the fawn, because she was so
lithe and graceful.
[Right, I was sort of the missing link. Grandma used to
say there'd been a nigger in the woodpile where I was
concerned, because I was so swarthy and built completely
different. I found out years later that there was a reason
I was different, but Grandma had been way off the mark...]
Anyhow.
I had drawn a hot, hot bath and filled it with bubble bath,
this stuff I'd gotten for my birthday from some cousin or
other. I lay in the tub and spent some time just savoring
the heat of the water and the scent of the bubble bath and
then started fooling around. Pretty soon, I was all worked
up. My fingers weren't just walking; they were dancing and
diving. I was rubbing my clitoris like I wanted to rub it
right off, and when I came I made some kind of noise and
sloshed water, because Jeanne banged on the door and asked
was I okay.
I told her I was okay, and she kept wanting to know what I
was doing. Really spoiled it for me. So I got out of the
bath and toweled off and opened the door and stood there
naked in front of my little sister. Jeanne was just
wearing a tee-shirt and panties, and she looked so
pretty...
"Something private," I said and took my towel down the hall
to my room, still naked.
She followed me.
"I know what you were doing."
"What?"
"Playing with yourself."
>From down the hall, I heard the last of the water sucked
down the tub drain.
"That's right, Jeanne." I started to turn away, then
changed my mind. "How did you know?"
"I know you've been doing it for a while, now."
"Do you do it?"
She blushed just a little and shrugged and nodded. "I
guess so."
I noticed that beneath her loose tee-shirt, the little nubs
of her nipples were hardening. "What do you think about
when you do it?"
"...stuff."
"What stuff?"
"Just ... stuff." She was obviously uncomfortable with
this. So I was going to pursue it.
[Yes, I was being a bitch.]
"What do you think about?" she demanded abruptly.
"Doing it with boys."
"Doing wha -- you mean, IT?"
I nodded. "And I like it."
"You've done it with a boy? When? Who? Did it hurt? Did
you like it? What did he do?"
"For one thing, they never made me stand around all wet."
I started to dry myself. She was watching.
"Did they grab your boobs?"
"Sometimes, but I made them stop if they hurt me."
"Did you like it?"
"It can be very nice."
"I wish I had nice boobs like you." She was watching them
bounce and move as I dried myself.
"It's not so much the boobs as the nipples, Jeanne." I
stood and looked down at my breasts, then reached up with
one hand and rubbed the stiff nodule of one nipple. It
swelled even more. I pinched it gently and couldn't help
sighing with pleasure. "Definitely, the nipples," I said.
I looked up at her. "You don't have to have big boobs to
enjoy having your nipples kissed and licked...and sucked."
"But if you don't have boobs, they don't pay much attention
to you above the waist."
"Too bad they don't, isn't it? It's really nice ... " I
rubbed the pad of my forefinger across the other nipple.
"Try it," I said.
She misunderstood.
My baby sister -- not little, cause she was about three
inches taller than me -- reached out and brushed her
fingers across my nipple. She caught me by surprise, and
so did the sensation of having someone else touch me like
that. In particular, having a woman touch me like that.
My sister, even.
The tingle that went through me was intense; I was afraid I
was going to have an orgasm -- bang, just like that. As it
was, my knees got a little weak.
"You mean like that?"
I nodded. "Or like this -- " I reached out and lightly
caught one of those little pencil-eraser-size bumps under
her tee-shirt and squeezed it, oh, just ever so lightly,
between my thumb and forefinger. Her eyes half-closed and
her lips, those lush, pouty young lips, parted slightly. I
dropped the towel. Without releasing her nipple, I did the
same with the other nipple and stepped closer to her,
carefully twisting the swollen little buds. Her breath was
shallow, but hot and sweet on my face. Her lips looked so
sweet, I just had to --
So I kissed her, right on the mouth, kissed her the way I
liked to be kissed and apparently, our genes ran true. She
gasped and kissed me back, and after a few moments our
tongues met. She brought her hands up and began caressing
and feeling my breasts. I raised her tee-shirt and found
her tits had just begun the slightest of swellings around
the prominent nozzles of her nipples. I licked her little
mounds and then lavished my tongue on her nipples. Her
knees kept buckling.
I led her to the bed and pulled her tee-shirt off. "I'm
going to show you how nice it can be, sweet Jeanne." She
lay back readily and I bent over her, licking and kissing
her nipples, her budding breasts, her throat and her mouth.
She kept running her hands all over me, but never quite
touched the place that most craved touching.
It wasn't long before we were laying side-by-side on my
bed, kissing and caressing each other passionately.
Finally, when I was on top of her, I leaned to one side and
put my hand between us, on the mound within her wet
panties. I rubbed my fingers carefully around her pudgy
little cunt, and she started bucking her hips up toward me.
I pulled her sodden panties down, exposing her fledgling
pussy in all its perfect, hairless loveliness, and then I
rolled to poise on all fours over her.
"I am going to make you feel wonderful now," I said.
"Okay?"
Her eyes were closed in her flushed face, and she merely
nodded and moaned. Then I twisted on the bed and began
lapping at my sister.
Yes, I ate her. I loved it. Not just the sweet, fresh
taste of her juices or the slick feel of her naked pussy
under my lips and tongue. That wasn't all of it. For one
thing, I loved the way she kept moaning and moving with
pleasure beneath me. For another, I was getting the chance
to lick her in exactly the way I'd wanted to be licked, as
I'd tried -- and failed -- to train Marty to lick me. Best
of all, it was like telling the world, "Fuck you! This is
how sweet and good and beautiful it is at heart -- not the
dirty, secret hurtful thing you make it out to be!"
She came in long, gentle, rolling waves of pleasure, all
clenched and slippery and writhing. She was so beautiful
in her innocent passion!
Finally, I lay back with my face wet with her juices. I
stretched out next to her and pulled her face to me. She
hesitated -- and then we tongue-kissed again. Her mouth
was soft and sweet and seeking, and she seemed determined
to lick all of her own secretions of my mouth. She sat up
and over and began kissing my breasts, pausing to suck my
nipples, and kissed her way down, down, down over my flat
belly and down to my thighs. She kissed the insides of my
thighs for a long time and then --
And then she began licking me. As soon as her tongue
touched my cunt lips, I began cumming, and when she located
and locked in on the fervent bud of my clitoris, the
sensation was exquisite. My cunt clenched wildly. I
reached out and pulled her over me so her legs were
astraddle my head, and then I pulled her precious little
cunt into my mouth, and we began sixty-nining. I begged
her to put her finger in me, and she complied hesitantly --
until she comprehended my response; then she worked that
finger around and around happily, setting off explosions
within me like firecrackers on Chinese New Year.
I didn't even think about what I did next until I was
almost doing it -- and then it was her response that gave
me pause. I had one finger poised at the clamshell-tight
lips of her cunt above me, about to probe within, when she
tensed. I remembered how it had hurt me the first time; I
didn't want to do that to my baby sister -- hurt her, I
mean. So I merely traced my finger around her swollen cunt
lips while my tongue worked busily at her clit.
But after a time -- a minute? Five minutes? I dunno --
she raised her head and wailed, "Dammit, Mar, stop teasing
me! Put it inside!"
Whatever you want, baby sister.
I slipped it in carefully, to the first joint, always ready
to stop and withdraw at the first resistance of hymen.
But my finger slid all the way into that unbelievably tight
little cunt, right to the base, and when my sister came
this time, she was like a madwoman -- and she vented it all
on my cunt.
The two of us bucked and arched and came, over and over
again. When we could finally stop, I pulled her up to me,
and we lay in each other's arms, panting and kissing and
hugging and still tingling.
When I could speak, I told her, "I was afraid to put my
finger in. The first time usually hurts."
"I know," she said simply.
I opened my eyes wide and stared at her. Her eyes were
wide and clear and knowing, inches from mine.
She said nothing. After a moment, I understood -- as she'd
known I would. We had something else in common. We held
each other tightly for a long time, quietly comforting and
bonded in a shared experience.
[No, I don't want to talk about that. Not now.]
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