From hayden@mindless.com Thu Jun 19 21:22:22 1997
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From: Hayden <hayden@mindless.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: My Sister Jean - 17  (sibling, m/f eroticism)
Date: Thu, 19 Jun 1997 18:22:22 -0700
Organization: Whole Earth Networks News
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 SYNOPSIS: This is a sometimes ponderous account of a young man's
infatuation with his older sister.  Billy and Jean, teenagers,  are
slowly and inexorably  drawn together, clearly sensuous siblings with a
fascination for their slow-as-molasses mutual seduction.  Fascinated but
afraid, concerned with the real and imagined taboos of their society and
their family, they stutter-step along, teasing, enticing and alternately
approaching, then withdrawing.

 Billy, while taking a soak in the hot tub,  inadvertently overhears his
sister Jean confess all to their mother, of her sexual longing for him
and their sexual adventures to date.  To his amazement, their mother
doesn't go ballistic.  Instead, she offers comfort and understanding to
Jean.  Then, in an impulsive moment, Billy discloses himself and
immediately wishes he were on some other planet.  Now he *knows* he's in
deep dodo.  His mother is going to have a talk with him.

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     My mother said something to Jean in a low voice, then nodding her
encouragement, gently pushed her away.  Jean glanced at me, eyebrows
furrowed in a worried expression, then back at Mom.  Our mother, in a
slightly louder voice, said, "It's OK, Jean.  It'll be OK.  Now go on in and
let me talk to Billy."

     I suppose one of the more dreaded expressions I might hear from
my mother would be, "I'd like to talk to you."  I immediately catastrophize,
leaping far into the future, thinking of what bridge I might live under and if
I can really stay alive selling pencils.  If I sank any lower into the hot tub,
my head'd be under water.

     Mom walked over to the tub and and said, "Well, this caught us
both by surprise, didn't it?"

     I made a millisecond eye-contact and numbly nodded.

     "Billy, we have to talk and there'll never be a better moment than
this.  Don't you agree?"

     Again, the acquiescing nod, still not meeting her eyes.

     "Tell you what . . . you get dressed - get warm - and we'll also sit
on the back deck.  It'll be private."

     And then she added with a chuckle, "Unless someone's sitting in
the hot tub."

     After donning sweats, I walked the final mile to the guillotine and
waited for Mom.  How could things have gone so wrong, so fast, I
wondered as I sat there, remembering that a short while ago everything had
been normal?  Or had it?  I suppose not.  My addict's mind wanted to think
that nothing was wrong, but the more-normal kid who lived in my head
suggested otherwise.  

     "For Christ's sake, Billy.  You've been trying to get into Jean's
pants for months - your sister for cripes sake!  And you think that's
normal?  And then Jean tells Mom and *she's* gonna think it's normal? 
Yeah, right."

     My impending suicide was thwarted by Mom sitting next to me and
laying her hand on my arm, saying. "Try to calm down, Billy.  It's going to
be alright.  Believe me."

     Do they tell you to be calm before your exiled?  Gonna be alright under
the goddamn bridge?

     I tried to talk and croaked instead.  "Uh . . . I don't know what to
say . . . I didn't . . ."

     "Didn't plan this?"

     "Plan it?  I couldn't have imagined it!"  Then I looked at her and added,
"I don't know what to say."

     "Try starting with the truth, why don't you?" 

     "The truth?  You KNOW the truth.  Jean told you the truth.  It's
true, what she said.  Except that she took too much responsibility for what
we did.  I was the one that was pushing it all the time."

     "Billy, Billy . . . I'm not sorting out who did what.  And I'm *not*
attempting to apportion blame.  It's not a blame thing . . . at least as far as I
understand it.  But I need to know more.   That's why we're talking."

     I glanced at her.  She gave me a soft smile and squeezed my forearm.  I
still didn't know what to say so I did what I did best.  I just sat there like a
lump.

     "Son, I always knew I'd have these personal talks, these talks about
sexuality with Jean and I suppose I assumed that your dad would do the
same with you.  I know now that that's probably an erroneous assumption. 
Your dad is very smart and he's well educated and quite articulate, but as
you know, there's an unapproachable emotional side that shields him from
things like this.  I'm afraid he'll never get it together to chat with you.  So,
like it or not, you get me." 

     "Mom, you know I can't talk to dad about things like this.  Cripes,
I don't know how I can talk to *you* about it."

     "We'll do OK, Billy.  Let's start with general things.  I gather you
don't disagree with Jean's story, at least not in most ways."

     I mumbled, "No, I agree . . . at least mostly."

     "Do you have anything to add?  Anything that might help me see
things better?"

     I was about ready to admit I didn't have a thing more to say, that
there was nothing I could add to the story.  Instead I began talking. 
"Mom, I can't tell you how much I care for Jean.  I'd do anything for her
and I never wanted to hurt her.  Oh, there's a part of me that thinks of sex
all the time - and Jean's a sexy girl, I can't deny that - but below that, I
care for her too much to ever allow myself to hurt her."

     "I know that, Billy.  I never doubted that."

     "You see, we just became really close, really good friends.  I needed
someone to talk to about . . . about my own feelings.  I knew Jean would
never make fun of me and that when the chips were down, she'd support
me.  As I would her."

     I know that, too."

     "We talked about it and talked about it.  We didn't fit any mold of how
a brother and sister aughta be, at least about sex, but it just happened that
way.  We thought that if we always told each other the truth and if we
always cared for each other, we'd be alright."

     "Go on, Billy."

     "Gee, Mom . . . the rest is about . . . you know . . . sex."

     Smiling, she said, "Yes, I'm getting that."

     "But, I feel funny.  Talking about sex with you, I mean."

     "Billy, you heard me tell Jean that sex is not a dirty subject.  Private,
certainly.  And at times, very intimate.  It's true that we don't talk about it
with just anyone, but not because it's wrong, or bad or dirty.  It's private. 
Well, this conversation is private.  What you say here will stay here.  No
one else will hear what you tell me unless you tell them.  I know kids think
that *they* invented sex, that their parents got off the sexual boat
yesterday . . . and mostly that's not the case.  At least not with me.  I'm a
sexual woman.  I was a sexual girl and not much has changed.  They still
do it the same way last I heard."

     I could feel my face burning.  I didn't look at her and mumbled, "Yeah, I
guess so."

     "Guess so, SHIT!"

     My head shot up and I turned to look into her flashing eyes.

     "Don't patronize me, Billy . . . don't be so damn superior.  I don't know
everything, but I'll bet a nickel I've seen more, imagined more and done a
darn sight more that you've ever thought of.  I'm an intensely erotic
woman and proud of it!  You could do a damn sight worse than talking
with me, dude."

     My mouth fell open.  I stared at her, astonished, open eyed.  I stuttered. 

     "So let's start over, shall we?  I'll respect you.  I expect no less from
you.  OK?"

     Finding me tongue, I stumbled over my words.  "I'm sorry Mom.  I
didn't mean that . . . I never thought . . . Cripes, I don't know what I'm
trying to say.  But I AM sorry for my attitude.  Forgive me, please?"

     "Forgiven.  Now let's get down to plain talk.  Don't beat around the
bush.  Whatever words you'd use with your buddies, with Jean, you can use
with me.  Don't give me any of that penis-vagina crap.  Say it like it is,
OK?"

     Wow.  Where did this woman come from anyway?  I've never seen her
like this.  

How do I talk with her?  I mean, how can I turn around a life-time of
behavior?

     "Well . . . OK, I'll try . . . no . . . I'll DO it.  What were we talking about
anyway.  I forgot."

     "I think you were trying to tell me that you wanted to screw your
sister."

     Gulp.  "I hadn't thought to say it in just those words . . . but yes, I guess
that's about it.  But I didn't!  We never did it.  Honest!"

     Softer, "Yes, I believe you, Billy.  You don't have to convince me. 
What I'm more interested in is how you support each other, about how
caring you are for each other.  I'm far less concerned about conventional
morality than I am about our capacity to love and care for each other.  No
mater what you two have done, if you've done it with honesty and love,
things will be alright.  I just don't want you to sweep it under the rug,
that's all.  So tell me, where do you see this going?"

     "In the long run?  I've no idea, Mom.  It's pretty clear to me, all I can
handle, the only thing I can control, is my actions right now.  I've been told
over and over to do the footwork and let go of the outcome, that there's no
way I can control the outcome of anything.  So, I've no idea where this is
all going.  But I do know this.  I *can* control who I am and what I do
today."

     "And what does that mean to you?  In terms of you and Jean?"

     "Well, it means that I can show up each day and tell the truth.  That I
can think of Jean's welfare more than I think of my own.  That I can be a
man today.  Or at least try to be."

     "You know, kid, I think you may have a chance.  A chance in life that
is.  It may surprise you, but I've been watching you a long time and I think
you're a good guy at heart.  More, you're a good guy in your actions.  So,
tell me, how do you see yourself . . . no, how do you FEEL about yourself
and your sexuality"

     We'd been talking just long enough for the terror of the moment to
have abated in me.  My mouth wasn't as dry and I could breath in and out,
even unconsciously.  I'd slipped into that place where I wasn't considering
what I was saying.  I was just letting it happen.  Of course, had I seen this,
I'd have frozen.

     "Mom, I know I've never received any judgmental stances from you or
from Dad.  You never told me - us - that sex was bad or a moral thing. 
Yet, I've received that message repeatedly from lots of other places.  You
know . . . school, TV, and especially church . . . places like that.  I've never
attempted to weigh you against them, but I suppose I *have* been
influenced by those messages, those shalt nots."

     "Yeah, it's impossible not to hear them.  They're there and on all levels. 
You OK with it now or are there still demons to be reckoned with?"

     "Mostly I think I'm OK.  At least, I'm not aware of any really deep
issues.  I suppose there are the superficial, social-shame issues.  You know,
the fear of ridicule or rejection if I break social taboos.  I'd be red-faced if I
left my fly open, but I wouldn't be emotionally crushed and wouldn't think
I was a bad or evil person."

     "Boy, your mind floats away, doesn't it?  At times, you're so darn
cerebral, Billy.  Let me ask this.  How do you feel when you spring a
woodie around Jean?  Or when you have a wet dream?"

     "It's still difficult to forget you're my mother.  I keep forming phrases in
my mind that I hope won't be too offensive.  I'll try to be real, Mom.  How
do I feel about a woodie?  When it's Jean?  At first I was embarrassed. 
Then I came to accept it.  More, to enjoy it.  I began to look forward to the
sexy feelings I'd get around Jean.  I was always trying to look up her dress
or catch a glimpse of her breasts . . . er, tits."

     "Sounds pretty normal to me."

     "Anyway, whatever it is, I was stuck with it.  Jean told you.  We sorta
drifted into being more open and even a little sexual with each other.  I felt
wonderful.  For the first time in my life I could be honest with another 
person about my sexual feelings.  I loved it."

     "And you wanted to jump her bones?"

     Yeah.  Something like that.  I admitted to her right away that I wanted
to . . . you know."

     "Fuck her?"

     "I think that's the expression I used, yes."

     "And she didn't want to?"

     "No.  She wanted to.  And I wanted to.  But both of us were scared. 
She more than me.  I told her that I supported her all the way, but that I
was so terminally horny, that if she ever gave in, I'd give in.  It was kinda a
threat, huh?"

     "Or a promise."

     "Hmmm, hadn't thought of it that way.  Whatever.  We've played
bathroom games.  I love watching her.  I know she told you.  We've had
oral sex - once for her and once for me.  And, oh yes, we dry humped once
in the grass on the hill above the house.  We both seem to enjoy the thrill of
seduction, of almost doing it.  That make sense?"

     "Billy, you don't have to tell me every little detail, although I must admit
that I enjoy hearing about it.  Brings back memories.  Really what I wanted
to do is gauge how open and honest you kids were with each other.  To get
an idea if you might hurt yourselves or each other."

     "And what do you think, Mom?  We a danger?"

     Laughing, "Probably are, but I must say, you're both psychologically
more healthy than most adults I know.  Certainly better adjusted that I was
at your age.  I'm impressed with you.  Still, I'm concerned for both of you. 
This is dangerous stuff.  You know that, don't you?"

     "Intellectually I do, but emotionally somehow I think I'm OK.  I'm not
trying to argue with you.  Just trying to tell you how I feel."

     "Yeah, I can see that.  So what I'm going to do for the moment is
nothing.  I still think there's the potential for harm here, but I'm not going
to fall back on some shame-based sanctions.  I love you two guys and I
trust you.  Trust that you'll try to act honorably.  But please understand,
I'm not telling you that everything's alright, that there's no problem, no
worry.  What I am telling you is that I understand what you're feeling and
what you're facing.  I want you to continue to show caring respect for Jean,
and she for you.  I know you have no control over you sexual feelings. 
They're just there."

     She put her hand on my arm, I guess for emphasis.  "Around me, you
two guys can be yourselves.  You don't have to hide your affection.  My
brother Jim is cool.  I'll talk to him.  He'll understand.  It's your dad I'm less
certain about.  So prudent judgement would suggest that you stay
underground around him, at least about the sexual stuff between you and
Jean.  OK?"

     I sat there, more dazed than not.  I couldn't believe how we'd gone from
some place of utter fear to rational communication.  About sex.  With my
Mom!  

     "Mom, right now I'm so confused.  It's clear, I need help.  I'll do
whatever you tell me to do.  I'll do it your way."

     "Thanks for the vote of confidence, guy.  How about a compromise. 
Let's do it *our* way.  And for that to happen, we've got to keep avenues
of communication open.  You've got to be able to talk to me and I've got
to be able to talk to you, each of us without apprehension.  This can't be
the last talk we have on the subject.  Do you agree with that?"

     "Agree, but I know if I wait until the moment *seems* right, I may
wait forever.  Let's make a date.  Right now, for later.  Tomorrow say? 
Even if it's just a brief check in, I'll feel better if I know I have a date to
talk with you . . . about sex.  OK?"

     "Boy, a date with my son!"

     "I'm not gonna bring flowers or anything."

     







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