Path: not-for-mail
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Title story: "MY SISTER JEAN. Chapter 5-6" Author: INCESTOR 44606261
From: Incestor <familyincest@graffiti.net>
Lines: 429
Message-ID: <sfile.293159$Sq.218568@fe05.news.easynews.com>
X-Complaints-To: abuse@easynews.com
Organization: EasyNews, UseNet made Easy!
X-Complaints-Info: Please be sure to forward a copy of ALL headers otherwise we will be unable to process your complaint properly.
Date: Thu, 26 May 2005 11:17:44 +0000
===================
http://www.incesttabooo.com/stories.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
The largest collection of adult stories on the NET
http://www.incesttabooo.com/stories.html