The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website), contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.




           "CONSEQUENCES!" 
   

  is  a six-part, first-person account of the  life-long 
relationship  between the Author and  Julia,  soul-mate, 
mother  of  his children, lover, wife and - by  her  own 
admission - slut! And also, his sister! 


  First  making  sexual contact at the ages of 6  and  4 
respectively,  for 20 years, nothing else happened.  And 
then   BANG!,   tempestuous,   almost   violent   sexual 
abandonment saw them living together as man and wife and 
raising  children,  bringing them up in a  warm,  solid, 
secular incestuous environment. 


  Not  without its own humour, "Consequences!" covers  a 
twenty-five year period of the family's life,  revealing 
its  views, opinions and some of the  unlikely  problems 
confronting those following a philosophy of incest. 


  Latent within him for many years, the author  advances 
the  theory  that the seeds of his  family's  life-style 
were implanted by his parent's reaction upon discovering 
sexual  contact  occurring between their  children.  And 
then  nurtured by the very society trying  to  eradicate 
it! 


  "Consequences!",  Chapters 1 to 4, tell of  the  early 
days,  and  the later discovery and realisation  of  the 
feelings the brother and sister have for each other, and 
include  moments of near-detection and some of the  day- 
to-day  problems  peculiar to their  circumstances  they 
encounter.  These Chapters are freely available  through 
MCG's ARE. 


  Giving   detailed   accounts   of   their   children's 
introduction  to, and acceptance of incest, the  reasons 
for  their daughter's early-teen pregnancy, and the  son 
and  daughter's  later  involvements  with  each  other, 
together  with  a  controversial  opinion  of  society's 
future, Chapters 5 and 6 complete the story, the  entire 
book  being  available at very reasonable cost  only  by 
retail sale, either by e-mail or on disk. 

  For a complete list of publications, e-mail 
  `howtoget@bartra.demon.co.uk' 

  (c) Merrill, Castle and Gray (uk) 

  +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+ 
   CHAPTER THREE 
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
  Never  has  so  much been decided  so  quickly  or  an 
agreement sealed so rapturously. Without shame or  fear, 
Julia and I fell to making up for lost years. Completing 
what,  those 20 years before, I'd set out to do  to  her 
slim, long clitoris, Julia conducted her own experiments 
on the taste, look and respective merits of texture  and 
size  of her brother's penis, finding them very much  to 
her liking. 

  With attractively large brown aureoles, Julia had  the 
most lovely full, firm and self-supporting tits and  the 
same shade as mine, smoothest, flawless,  slightly-brown 
skin.  Sexually, from whom she had learnt what, I  never 
knew  and  didn't  want to, but  fucking  seemed  second 
nature  to  her. Following her handling of me  the  time 
we'd  sealed  our  agreement, such  was  the  power  and 
variety  of her love-making, believing she  occasionally 
received  supernatural assistance when she put her  mind 
to  it, I developed the greatest respect for her  sexual 
abilities. 

  Of her appetites, they knew no bounds; having  happily 
committed  legal  and moral  hara-kiri,  everything  and 
anything  went, but even after we'd tried  `everything', 
invented  `anything' and shaken hands that all  `things' 
were  better than before, Julia could be  guaranteed  to 
think  up  some  new combination or  variety.  As  she'd 
promised,  she loved every angle of our  life  together, 
and was mother to me, wife, sister and little girl.  And 
slut. 

  Both acutely aware she lusted for me as much as I her; 
that  underneath  the sisterly image, there beat  a  big 
loving heart which was mine, long legs which were always 
ready to open, and - capable of making time stand  still 
- the most slipperiest, the most tightest, vagina  which 
engulfed  my  soul, when we were out and  about  in  the 
early  weeks of our relationship, watching the  sensuous 
swell  and  erotic sway of those  upthrust  breasts  and 
gracefully-curved  hips, the awareness of  knowing  they 
were illicitly and immorally available whenever I wanted 
them  proved the biggest permanent turn-on anyone  could 
imagine.  Julia always wet and I, aroused and  hard,  it 
was  wonderful  for both of us: whether  the  result  of 
`forbidden fruit', `lustful desire', or what we felt for 
each other - as far as we were concerned, love divine  - 
who really gives a fuck! 

  Being enshrouded in the deep incestuous love we shared 
served  only  to  make the whole affair  -  the  box  of 
tricks,  Julia  and  I -  stronger  and  double-dynamite 
sexual, for Julia as well as me. Doubling its  potentcy, 
as she poured love into me, I returned it, to which  she 
added  more love, giving it back. This went on  all  the 
time, and very rapidly and smoothly, it built up,  very, 
very  powerfully,  swiftly consuming us. We  never  `had 
sex';  this was love and we spawned, fertilised,  reared 
and  bred  the stuff! Sometimes, in the  dark  as  Julia 
walked  along the street at night, I swear I  could  see 
her glowing! We lived for each other! 

  Above  all, in the conspiracy we'd hatched, whilst  to 
others,  Julia  was my `nice, pretty' sister and  I  her 
`quiet brother', as I'd instinctively known  beforehand, 
we  were forever sensually and physically aware that  to 
each other, we were the spiritual and sexual  reason-for 
living. Before I moved in with her, when rising from her 
warm bed in the early hours of the morning, on gazing at 
the  outline of her shapely body under the sheets,  hair 
fluffed  out across the pillow and smooth,  clear,  oval 
face with its pert nose as she peacefully slept,  afraid 
to  move in case I broke the spell and she  disappeared, 
knowing she loved me, I'd go dizzy. 

  To  keep the family and neighbours  happy,  surprising 
no-one  at all, everyone seemingly `could have told  her 
it  would  happen',  we  broadcast  it  that  Marcus'  - 
helpfully  christened `two-timing rat' by a neighbour  - 
rapid exit had revealed in its wake, unsuspected,  hard- 
boiled, ocean-going problems. 

  Being completely unaware of it and thus catching us by 
surprise,  generating the need of the  close-support  of 
her  family to `help her through this  difficult  time', 
according  to  our mother, the separation  had  `utterly 
devastated' Julia. So as not to disappoint them, and  to 
fulfil everyone's expectations, (and also not to  arouse 
suspicions   by  singing  her  little  heart  out   with 
happiness   and  glee  whilst  tap-dancing   round   the 
streets),  requiring  constant  nursing, it  is  sad  to 
report poor Julia's health went into steep decline! 

  Thoughtfully  supplying  us  stereotyped  symptoms  of 
unhappiness the marital breakdown had caused Julia,  and 
happily understanding my dropping in straight from  work 
and staying until the early hours was to `help Julia  to 
cope'  and `to put Julia's affairs in order',  short  of 
building  a  statue  to my honour in  the  Town  square, 
people  could  not have been more helpful.  As  everyone 
told everyone, this was `Julia's grieving' or  (whatever 
it may be), `the start of the healing-process'. I  admit 
to  being  totally bemused;  smothered  in  lacerations, 
bruises  and  teeth-marks, all  by-products  of  Julia's 
passions,  the only healing required was to my back  and 
shoulders. 

  Slamming  me back against the front-door as it  closed 
behind  me, grinning happily and dropping to her  knees, 
swallowing  semen  as  she sucked me to  climax  in  her 
throat  without  so  much as a welcoming  kiss  or  even 
`hello',  Julia `coped' every evening. Her  theory  that 
sperm  physically-aided breast development  appeared  to 
work. Two children and years later, as firm as the first 
time   I  chewed  them,  hers  stayed   in   magnificent 
condition.  (So  did our daughter's, but we'll  come  to 
that later). 

  Easily  committed  to memory by any  amateur  divorce- 
counsellor,  steps to `help little sister  through  this 
difficult  time' and `restore her confidence' are,  even 
if   not  actually  recommended  by  the  World   Health 
Authority, (although they certainly should be), a matter 
of  routine.  Mentioned  in fun one day but  then  as  a 
result  of  our constantly using the  expression,  being 
innocently and cheerfully referred to by our parents and 
others  as  an  application  of  `Socially  Occupational 
Fundamental   Therapy'   and  delightfully,   but   more 
accurately by Julia as `Sister's Own Fucking Treatment', 
there  are five easy steps, (suitably amended  according 
to  patient's relationship to practitioner, of  course), 
viz; 

     as  though  life  depends on it,  all  the  time 
   kissing  perfect,  juicy  lips,  continually  love 
   sister's tongue with own, then 

     without  warning or consent, slyly  yank  blouse 
   open, firmly grasp breasts, squeezing and kneading 
   until  patient's throat, shoulders and  neck  show 
   red flush of heated arousal. A noticeable  parting 
   of  sister's legs signifies  approaching  suitable 
   moment to 

     remove  sister's  underwear, (if any).  This  is 
   optional, depending on venue of treatment and time 
   available  and  in  emergency,  pushing-aside   of 
   gusset of panties is permissible. Then 

     firmly  plant her bottom on nearby table,  stair 
   or wall, prise apart possibly wilfully-  resisting 
   thighs and 

     alternately  suck  sister's  clitoris,  gorgeous 
   hard nipples, or wet cunt for either a minimum  of 
   30  minutes or until doctor or patient  (or  both) 
   achieving orgasm! 

     Experienced  practitioners of `S.O.F.T.'  should 
   note: 

     If `heart-broken' sister still giggles, displays 
   signs of `sauce' or retaliates, using front teeth, 
   S-L-O-W-L-Y remove occasional strand of pubic hair 
   OR,   rapidly   removing   from   dry,   draughty, 
   uncomfortable,  unnatural trouser-housing,  insert 
   penis  `A'  into wet, warm,  comfortable,  natural 
   mouth-housing  `B',  thrust  rapidly  forward  and 
   await  inevitable simultaneous fireworks  display, 
   eclipse  of Sun and Moon,  mini-heart-attack  and, 
   through said implement `A', exquisite  withdrawing 
   of brain - cell by cell! 

     If  done  frequently, the result should  be  one 
   happy sister/matrimonial victim/patient of diverse 
   type. (delete where applicable)! 

  Unqualified  and uneducated in dealing with  emotional 
problems  as I am, this rough-and-ready layman  approach 
was remarkably effective; it worked every time! 

  As  well  as  initiating  healthy  exercise,   another 
exceedingly  efficient  method  of  brightening  Julia's 
`naturally-depressed   outlook'  proved   thus:   having 
delivered  quantity of life-giving fluid,  and  implying 
performance `not up to scratch' or `kid sister is losing 
touch', immediately and smartly vacate area. The ensuing 
energetic chase around all rooms and levels of the house 
-  including on occasions, the loft, outside toilet  and 
garden-shed  -  followed  by much  tickling,  raping  or 
loving did wonders for her morale, blood-circulation and 
complexion! 

  Confirmed by the golden expression on her flushed face 
and  hissing intakes of breath, causing Julia,  who  was 
`living  on her nerves', to tear at my hair and  tightly 
clasp  her  hands  round  the  back  of  my  head,  thus 
producing  air-tight suction by ramming my lips  against 
her  labia  and  tongue  deep  into  her  cunt,   proved 
positively  therapeutic. Also seemingly  helpful,  using 
unsisterly  swear-words and, employing  most  unladylike 
sexual-expressions,  calling  her  brother  names   were 
optional extras, unequivocally assisting happy  buckings 
and noisy sighs as she climaxed over my mouth and nose. 

  Not being the `injured party', and thus not qualifying 
for `being devastated' treatment, but certain I must  at 
least  have one undiscovered emotional problem, or  just 
in  case  I felt left out of  things,  as  occupational- 
therapy, Julia decided to `counsel' me. For hours, night 
after night, and often during the day, we counselled the 
Billy Bejasus out of each other. 

  For  someone  undergoing `grief-counselling'  -  being 
fucked  in  every position, raped in every room  of  the 
house and happily subjected to every conceivable  method 
of  getting  sperm  in  her  -  anyone  hearing  Julia's 
laughter  would  certainly  have  complimented   Julia's 
brother for doing an excellent job of `cheering her up'. 

  Through  hungry, large brown-eyes, watching  brother's 
jerking shaft throb with excitement, Julia was even more 
`comforted' as it jetted glistening chandeliers of sperm 
over  her brown nipples. Of the problems confronting  my 
suffering  `emotionally shattered' baby-sister,  by  far 
the biggest was deciding if to lick her brother's  sperm 
from  her breasts, or scooping it in her hand,  suck  it 
from her fingers or trickle it over the open lips of her 
vagina! 

  I had my own problem! The constant love and  happiness 
reflected   in   Julia's  healthily-glowing   face   and 
sparkling  eyes often tore me apart. I could either  put 
up  with  it, whimper with the happy pain of it  all  or 
roar  with delight. Or, as my compassionate  Julia  told 
me,  `suffer  from all three, take it or leave  it.  But 
things sure ain't gonna change!' 

  Done to keep chins from wagging, after a month or  so, 
leaving Julia's bed, mouth, breasts and juiced-up libido 
at some reasonable hour became tedious, so partly to put 
their minds at rest and partly to include them in  their 
children's lives, seeking their wisdom, Julia and I  put 
our heads together and took the problem to Mum and Dad. 

  Mind  you, it wasn't presented quite like  that.  Meat 
and drink to our mother, things sounded more like `Julia 
is  in difficulty with mortgage payments on  the  house, 
paying  all household bills, has iniquitous legal  bills 
over  Marcus to contend with, doesn't know which way  to 
turn' and so on. As we hoped, after an acceptable ration 
of `well, I don't know what to suggest' and `what do you 
think,  George',  our parents inevitably  suggested  the 
required answer. Julia should take in a lodger! 

  But  who?  Batting-about  ideas  for  fifteen  minutes 
produced  the answer. To our ever-lasting surprise,  who 
better  to help than steady, helpful brother, who -  not 
having  to pay rent on his own flat -  could  contribute 
financially,  conveniently  look after  his  sister  and 
protect her if gruesome Marcus stopped-by, or - `because 
in this day and age, one can't be too careful' - someone 
broke in to rape her! 

  Only  turning  it  into a  violent  sneezing-fit  with 
difficulty, as this was said, Julia nearly gave the game 
away  by  choking  with laughter. Closer  than  two  wet 
cigarette-papers,  something  thinner than  a  layer  of 
perspiration  experiencing trouble getting  between  our 
bodies,  there was some fat chance of her  being  raped! 
The  `occupied' sign hanging on any worthwhile place  to 
park his cock, any hopeful molester would well-and-truly 
find himself in Mother Hubbard Land! 

  An organisational gleam in her eye, Mum now got  going 
on  one  of her  marathon  `my-will-be-done'  campaigns. 
Mentally  jogging-along  to keep her company,  but  with 
difficulty staring poker-faced over her shoulder as  she 
talked,  out of sight of Dad, revealing  kissable  white 
thighs,  I watched Julia mischievously raise the hem  of 
her skirt. 

Heading  round the first turn,  as that tantalising  `V' 
of slinky, burnt-gold bikini-briefs came into view,  Mum 
`was  making  sense  and helping  Julia'.  Up  the  back 
straight,  Mum's younger son `ought to putting  yourself 
out   and  giving  up  your  flat'  (I  had   difficulty 
remembering  where it was) and whilst Mum was  `sleeping 
easier knowing someone was keeping an eye on Julia', her 
daughter's  knicker-waistband  slid down  a  beautifully 
curved  abdomen.  Coming  round the  final  turn,  Mum's 
`would  do  it  if you had a thought in  your  head  for 
anyone  else' and `you ought to be happy to do  it'  was 
accompanied  by the appearance of a curly-haired  black-
bush. 

  Breathlessly into the mad-sprint of the final  hundred 
words,  as  behind her, re-arranging her  clothing,  her 
daughter rocked with silent laughter, to Mother's piece-
de-la-resistance,  `a brother ought to take care of  his 
sister', with an erection resembling Cleopatra's Needle, 
her son thoroughly wanted to! 

  Being  a good, loving son, wanting to make my  parents 
happy, and happy to help my sister over a tough spot,  a 
complete   waste   of  time,  after   deliberating   the 
proposition  for  about five minutes, four  minutes  and 
fifty-nine  point nine seconds of which were  spent  for 
effect,  bowing my head and succumbing to logic and  the 
wisdom  of  age, I gave up procrastinating  and  agreed. 
Having  thought of the scheme herself  and  successfully 
talking  me into it, a happy and infinitely pleased  Mum 
(and  just  wanting to watch the television,  a  greatly 
relieved  Dad), could let the neighbours know  just  how 
wise Julia was being and how helpful her son was. 

  Never because, wedged against the living-room wall, my 
sister's long legs had been wrapped round me as my penis 
banged  her  womb, from now on, in Mum's eyes  (and  any 
nosey  neighbour's),  any  eagerness,  satisfaction   or 
happiness in Julia's demeanour could be only the  result 
of my doing such a good job for her. 

  With  this development behind us, if possible,  things 
got  better! Freedom from Marcus's boorish  and  ominous 
presence set light to a hitherto unrealised sense of fun 
in  Julia. She became a `free spirit' and the more  love 
she got, the bigger the spirit became. 

  During the night, she would masturbate me awake,  wear 
little  or nothing around the house as the  mood  suited 
her - her favourite was a graceful sarong draped  around 
her  curved-hips and a skimpy, fully-laden `bra full  of 
brotherly  love' - which from the amount of me  she  was 
swallowing,  was  very likely - and  because  she  would 
`like it by the litre', Julia often expressed a wish  to 
bottle my semen! Infecting me with the same happiness, I 
had no complaints at all and amazing the both of us, the 
more  sperm  my sister demanded, the more  I  seemed  to 
produce. 

  At times, painful and difficult for both of us to live 
with, and occasionally physically involving near-rape by 
either  side,  merely  in anticipation  of  seeing  each 
other,  burning-hot  sexual heat  could  instantaneously 
arise within us. Sometimes almost uncannily  telepathic, 
Julia  might meet me from work, and dragging each  other 
into  the dark of the underground car-park, before  even 
saying `hello', it was a rapid, gasping shimmy against a 
concrete pillar. 

  Concerned  our relationship - and time - was  occupied 
by  sex,  or we had become unnaturally-obsessed  by  it, 
Julia   and   I   had   many   note-comparing   in-depth 
discussions, but agreed this not to be the case. 

  Later,   we  came  to  understand  we  were   becoming 
inundated,  experiencing  the  `thrill  absolute',   the 
`energy' created by incest. Having awoken latent, filial 
sexual-desire, continuing sexual activity, (every  word, 
deed   and  even  thought),  develops  it;  in   itself, 
`fucking'  becomes, and maintains itself as an  intense, 
never-waning,  ever-elevating, limitless delight.  Ever- 
happier, giving rise to the `we keep trying to stop  but 
can't'  syndrome, never in a million years  would  those 
involved want it to end. Making heroin resemble washing- 
powder, it's the incestual narcotic-effect! 

  A  normal want and need for each other, the desire  to 
`give' and never count the cost, if love now enters  the 
equation  -  `loving' incest - its  influence  increases 
near-vertically, resulting in an extreme,  passionately- 
potent combination of all that is good and wonderful  in 
people and the world, a raging all-consuming fire,  only 
temporarily quenchable by the spirit of only one  unique 
person.  What  was  created at the very  moment  of  our 
heart-felt   and   sincere  joining  was   an   eternal, 
powerfully-heady  addictive  aphrodisiac,  compared   to 
which,   the  `high'  effects  of  any  combination   of 
narcotics are almost non-existent!. And for the  `user', 
no unhappy side-effects whatsoever! 

  Fulfilling itself in sexual connection, flourishing in 
the   secrecy  of  the  unique   air-tight   environment 
separating `incestors' from other people,  loving-incest 
breeds   a  fantastically-erotic  energy,  DRIVING   its 
participants  ever-onward. The basis of  all  incestuous 
fantasy and in those who can `sense' it, the  subliminal 
envy  of  the populace which does not, could  not  -  or 
refuses  to - understand it, moth-to-the-flame,  like  a 
fantastically-huge  asteroid  travelling  the  universe, 
THERE IS NO POWER ON EARTH THAT CAN STOP IT! 

  Each in their own time, at a very early age and to our 
eternal  happiness  and delight, the  energy  manifested 
itself in our children. In the always-present atmosphere 
of loving sexual-tension and desire between Julia and I, 
they  sensed  it, saw it and very happily  enjoying  it, 
naturally reached-out for it. Producing the  unbreakable 
`cycle  of  incest' which so frightens the life  out  of 
society,  magnetically drawn to the energy, and then  by 
it, to their parents and each other, sexual contact  was 
inevitable and welcome. 

  Naively  unappreciating the influence of the power  of 
loving-incest,  before  understanding  came  and  having 
decided  its effect on us was, under the  circumstances, 
normal  and very enjoyable, Julia and I  surrendered  to 
it, living love to the fullest. 

  Expected  to visit our parents at least once  a  week, 
judging  herself temporarily safe from instant,  freeze-
dried,  canned  incestuous-fucking,  slyly  and  sexily, 
Julia constantly teased, at which she excelled. Going to 
any  extreme - legs on view, pants flashed, (and  before 
it  became a badge of feminism, very often wearing  none 
at  all), deliberately flaunting breasts,  running  pink 
tongue  across  teeth  whilst pointedly  staring  at  my 
groin, exaggerated skirt-rearrangement, rubbing  against 
me  in  passing  - she'd run  through  an  ever-changing 
repertoire  and  for much of the visit,  estimating  how 
long it would be before I could push her legs apart  and 
fuck what I knew would be a soaking-wet vagina,  equally 
petrified  our parents would notice,  whilst  thoroughly 
enjoying  my sister oozing exciting, illegal sex at  me, 
I'd nurse a bruising erection. 

  It  wasn't all one-sided though. To  satiate  bubbling 
passion,  we ran some appalling risks of  one-upmanship. 
One  Saturday  evening, as the family  sat  together  in 
front  of the interminable TV, only minutes after  she'd 
left  to go to the toilet and unnoticed by Mum and  Dad, 
to  call  Julia's  bluff and remind her I  was  still  a 
player in the game, I quietly slid out of the room. 

  Having  the  fright of her life, on  coming  from  the 
bathroom, unsuspecting Julia happily squealed as she was 
grabbed!  Knickers around her slim ankles,  one  nyloned 
leg hooked round my waist, the other on tip-toe, flowery 
dress hoiked around her hips, with Julia happily  biting 
their   son's  ears  and  laughingly  whispering   crude 
obscenities,  as  their  children `tore a  bit  off'  in 
double-quick  time,  if  leaving  the  drawing-room  and 
glancing up the stairs, Mum or Dad would have had heart-
failure! Even above the noise from the television,  that 
they  didn't hear the gasping groan of passion as  Julia 
felt brotherly sperm washing her cervix was the  miracle 
that night! 

  We timed it afterwards. Sedately sitting in the family 
drawing-room,  where every now and again, making a  show 
of  wriggling for comfort, Julia purposely  flashed  the 
strip  of  semen-soaked green  fabric  nestling  tightly 
between her legs, as innocent as two lambs, within  five 
minutes,  the children were back with their parents.  It 
was pure sexy fun and we loved every minute of it. 

  When  in front of neighbours and `locals',  preserving 
the   brother/sister   illusion  was  given   care   and 
attention, and still we had hair-raising shocks.  During 
a  day-out  at a far-away, `safe' seaside resort,  in  a 
shady shop doorway, Julia and I enjoyed a discreet, very 
passionate  and romantic, clinging kiss, her  cool  hand 
gripping my erection through my open-fly, scratching  my 
glans with her little finger, and slipping into the heat 
between her thighs, my hand under her dress. 

  Smoothing  clothing, hair, etc., upon coming  unstuck, 
knowing us since war-time kids, the first person we  saw 
was  the lady who worked in our local bakery. With  much 
`how's your mother?' and `did you know Mrs.  Whatsername 
has left her husband', ten heart-stopping minutes passed 
waiting for a pointed comment. 

  To date, it was the nearest we had ever been to  being 
caught. Somewhat sobered, adjourning to a nearby coffee-
shop  to recover ourselves, we talked of going a  little 
easier, but then felt frustration; why should we? If  we 
could  tolerate other people's ridiculous  tribal  laws, 
why  couldn't  they tolerate us? But  back  home  again, 
after  that encounter, we walked on egg-shells for  days 
until it became clear the woman had noticed nothing. 

  Providing  it  was  not  actually  in  front  of   the 
television  set,  Dad  would not have  noticed  his  son 
screwing  his  daughter and/or his wife at one  and  the 
same  time,  but, a little later,  something  told  both 
Julia  and  I  that  Mum had her  own  thoughts  on  our 
relationship.  Of  course,  never  the  family   policy, 
nothing   was   said  in  actual  words,   but   usually 
accompanied  with  a  half-smile as though  she  knew  a 
secret,  just  an occasional `be careful what  you  do'. 
Dear old Mum, how we loved her. 

  Some  things proved a `no-win' situation.  Notoriously 
narrow-minded about brothers and sisters dossing-down in 
the  same  bed for a fortnight, struck by  the  `family- 
resemblance',  many  hotel-managers,  guests,  camp-site 
inmates,  caravan-parkers etc. not unreasonably  assumed 
we were brother and sister, often shocked into secretive 
tete-a-tetes  when, tallying with our booking-forms,  we 
were  obliged  to say we were  `man-and-wife'.  Although 
adding  spice and excitement to life, apart  from  being 
irksome,  it  being  only a matter  of  time  before  an 
arriving holiday-maker turned out to be someone we knew, 
we acknowledged the stupidity of running so close to the 
wind. Foreign holidays cut odds to a bald minimum. 

  Because of Julia's love, socially, I felt the man with 
the   ultimate   Rolls-Royce.  Built  to   the   highest 
standards,  hinting  of untold  performance,  of  superb 
design  and  superior  craftsmanship,  the  ultimate  of 
comfort all subtlely hidden beneath tasteful trim,  deep 
polish, beautiful lines and fantastic finish, always the 
centre  of  attraction, and - to me  -  of  immeasurable 
value, any male meeting Julia felt all she needed was  a 
turn  of  the  key, a press of the button,  and  with  a 
graceful,  feminine  swish, permitting  being  lovingly- 
seduced or, as wild as the driver wished, fucked with  a 
lusty  roar, she would purr into bed. But amid  numerous 
admirers  and disregarded by lusters for  ownership  and 
those  possessed of only a  never-to-be-fulfilled  dream 
wish  of  a  test-drive, stood her  brother,   the  most 
unlikely possessor of the sole ignition-key. 

  Side-products  to attending parties gave us a  lot  of 
innocent  merriment. To keep up appearances and  without 
any qualms, we `freed' each other, and knowing Julia was 
living apart - and later - divorced from Marcus, as  she 
mingled  and danced with everyone, asking me if she  was 
`free',  `seeing someone' or `available',   the  players 
would strut their stuff. 

  Either simultaneously or one after the other and  very 
probably to their ever-lasting physical detriment, aware 
my lithesome beauty could gracefully cater for them  all 
without so much as spilling her drink, and knowing  full 
well her heart and bed were occupied, to those  offering 
me a drink, and even money, for putting in a good word - 
and there were many - cruelly, I'd suggest trying  their 
luck and dancing with her. 

  As they vainly reached for her emotions, hormones  and 
body,  over  their  shoulder, Julia  would  flash  me  a 
twinkle-eyed  look of `thanks for nothing, you sod',  or 
amuse  herself by making revolting faces at me  as  with 
kind-hearted,  gentle but firm refusals, she  fended  of 
all-comers. 

  Foolish, but fun! 

  Life  was kept fresh and interesting, we worked at  it 
and no-one more than Julia. One night, driving her  home 
from one of these bashes,  for no reason at all of which 
I was aware, and sitting in silence for the remainder of 
the  journey, she calmly informed me she was cross  with 
me. 

  By this time, we'd been together long enough for me to 
be  wary;  one  could  never  be  too  sure  from  which 
direction Julia would launch her next sexual-assault  on 
me,  so whilst not particularly concerned  and  checking 
she was still giving off the musk of love and  goodwill, 
I planned ahead. 

  Nose-in-the-air,  immediately on reaching home,  Julia 
haughtily went for a shower. Amiably giving her as  long 
as required to leisurely take my clothes off, led by  my 
erection, I stormed the stairs. Goggling at pink  labia-
lips nestling amongst black-hair curls set between wide-
apart  legs,  bursting  through  the  bathroom-door,   I 
stopped  dead  as  she said,  "What  kept  you,  sister- 
fucker!" 

  Bent  forward, hands braced against the  water-cistern 
and  eyeing my wavering shaft over her  shoulder,  Julia 
grinned  wickedly.  Naked apart from  party-going  high-
heels  and  stockings, she wriggled  a  perfectly-curved 
bottom  at me. "You'll have to be quick! The police  and 
fire-brigade  are  on  their way  and  they  want  their 
share!" Enjoying my stunned expression, she added with a 
gurgle, "Well, don't just stand there, waving your  cock 
at me! Make up your mind! You either suck it, fuck it or 
strike a match on it!   It's all yours, brother! 
  
  "And it always will be!" 

