Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 (I am the Walrus): New Story, a pair of grieving siblings look to each
other for solace...and find much more (Cons, MF, Rom, Slow, Inc, Erotic,
Rough sex/violence, Cum Swallowing).

   This Story is fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental.

   Whereas I have taken certain liberties with the English language, please
excuse any glaring spelling/grammatical errors found herein.

   This is my first story: Constructive feedback is welcome, abuse is not.

   In Memories We Find the Future Part 1 Chapter One: After the Funeral

   As funerals go, it was a corker.

   Shouldn't really have been surprised, Mum was never one for wallowing in
misery.  "Keep your chin up" was her maxim; so when she passed (spinal
cancer, 4 months from diagnosis to death) we honoured her memory by keeping
the maudlin reflections to a minimum.  Instead we celebrated her life with
a joy and gusto she'd have been proud of.

   Most of the organising was done my sister, Jessica.  She has always been
the consummate organiser, since before she could even say "organise". 
Numerous times throughout her childhood/my teen years she had insisted on
helping me get organised; with homework, clothes, sports practice, even
girlfriends.  Some would've described her as bossy; I myself may have used
that word to describe her on occasion, but always with affection - all
right, mostly with affection.  So when mum died, it was only natural that
she would handle almost all the arrangements for the funeral.

   Jess is nearly 6 years my junior, and has been picture perfect beautiful
since the day she was born - to my eyes anyway.  Dad passed away when she
was just a baby (a massive heart attack whilst on location) so, all of 6
years old, I bravely swallowed my grief appointed myself her official
"protector", long before I understood what that really meant.  Over the
years it became glaringly obvious that Jess and I were chalk and cheese - I
was more of a haphazard thinker, I loved absurd, off the wall ideas - still
do.  But we have always been close; a strong childhood bond welded in place
by the ceaseless efforts of our mother, which eased us into our briefly
overlapping teen years - aided by the occasional over-protective big
brother battle to "rescue" her from the usual teenage woes - and our
respective journeys into adulthood.

   Mum's wake took place at Jess' house; a fine, rather palatial pad in an
expensive part of town.  Jess' ex-husband was a highly successful film
promotor and several years earlier, due to cancelled flights and
overcrowded hotels, she'd returned home unexpectedly to find him in the
hot-tub with - no lie - seven young "Aspiring Actresses", two of whom were
related.  I'm reliably informed that his "excuses" didn't extend beyond two
semi-coherent syllables.  He and Jess reached an amicable settlement in
which he was allowed to keep his underwear.

   For more than three weeks after Mum's death Jess juggled distant
relatives, solicitors, caterers, funeral directors, florists, and nearly 70
years' worth of friends, old contacts, anecdotes and photographs.  The
house was decorated to reflect the changing decades of Mum's life: starting
with the late/post-war era, through the swinging 60's (when she met a
rakishly handsome fashion photographer named Bill, later known to me as
Daddy) to the arrival of both me and Jess and up to the dawn of a new
millennium.  The centre-piece of the decoration was an enlarged photo of
Mum (taken by the seaside in the summer of 1972, the day she found out she
was pregnant with me) on a plinth under the photo was the inscribed legend:
"Hyacinth Taylor: 1943 - 2010".  The wake lasted from the middle of the
afternoon until well into the evening; the booze flowed, old friends
laughed, cried and embraced and at one point one of Mum's friends - Maureen
- took charge of the piano and led the drunken guests in numerous cheery,
teary renditions of 20th century classics - "We'll meet again-don't know
where-don't know when..."

   The day ended; transport and/or accommodation was organised for all, and
Jess and I bid fond farewells to lots of old friends and lots of people we
didn't know ("Such a lovely lady...she's in a better place ...what a
beautiful service...miss her so much...must keep in touch").  After the
last guest had left Jess closed the door, stood with her back against it
and let out a huge sigh.  It was just her & me in the house now with a
mountain of clearing up to do.

   There were a few moments of blissful silence, and then we came together
for a big hug.  We were a bit teary to be sure, but basically relieved that
it was actually over.

   "How are you doing kiddo?"

   She smiled weakly "Exhausted, you?"

   "Well...I'm amazed"

   "At what?"

   "You; how on earth are you still standing?"

   She chuckled "I don't think I will be for much longer.  Oh God, look how
much there is to do" she groaned, eyes roaming around the house.

   "Let's worry about that tomorrow shall we?  I'll be here all day, and
you can take it easy and direct operations, I'll do the running around"

   "You mean it'll be a normal day?" she grinned up at me, arms still
around my waist.

   I chuckled at that "Yes Ma'am.  But you know what I think we should do
right now?"

   "What"

   "I think we should open that old bottle of single malt and collapse on
the sofa"

   "Oh God Robbie, that is a wonderful idea.  You do the honours, I want to
change my clothes, bloody shoes are killing me".

   She unwound herself from me and started heaving herself up the stairs. I
went to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of Scotland's finest and two
glasses, went to the sofa, kicked off my shoes, pulled off my jacket and
poured two large tots.  Jess joined me minutes later; the black skirt,
white blouse and black jacket were replaced by pink t-shirt, black leggings
and bare feet.  She plonked herself down on the sofa next to me, picked up
her glass and we clinked: "To Mum" we said in unison, and two generous
measures of liquid sunshine disappeared instantly.  I re-charged our
glasses, we flopped back against each other and we started talking.

   It was a conversation neither of us could've had with anyone else, a
tour of old memories and anecdotes, feelings and musings.  We alternated
between the happy and the sad, the melancholy and the ridiculous and as we
talked, the scotch flowed.  At one point, when we were both quite relaxed,
we hit a period of comfortable, reflective silence; she was nestled against
my shoulder, the top of her head under my chin with my arm around her and I
was stroking her upper arm with my fingers.  I felt her head tilt up, I
knew she was looking at me, I looked back.

   We kissed.

   Not a brotherly/sisterly kiss, but a tender, fervent mashing of lips and
dancing of tongues in a manner that befits the greatest of story-book
lovers.  At least, it was that way for about 60 seconds (or maybe a decade)
before we both realised in the same instant exactly what we were doing.

   Our lips separated and our eyes flew open, we both rocketed off the sofa
and stood, fidgeting, squirming at either ends of the room.  I think it was
me who started yammering first "Jess...I'm so sorry, that wasn't supposed
to happen"

   "No...it...it didn't happen.  It was...it was..."

   "...the scotch"

   "Yes, the scotch.  Plus we're both we're both very emotional right now"

   "Yes, and tired...exhausted actually"

   "Yes...and we both...needed to...I mean...we needed..."

   "Yes we...needed..."

   We stood for a moment, trying to get our breathing under control and
waiting for our heartbeats to return to just twice their normal rate.  I
couldn't meet her eyes.  I leaned up against the wall and tried -
unsuccessfully - to think.  She stood by the sofa, hands on hips, obviously
sharing my dilemma.  After an age had passed I said "Look, Jess...maybe
-under the circumstances - I should probably go..." but I was cut off

   "NO...please" without my noticing she'd somehow closed the distance
between us and grabbed my hand.  "Robbie, I'm so sorry...I didn't mean for
that to happen.  But please don't leave, not now, not tonight.  I
need...just...please stay...just...stay.  Please".  I saw her tears before
they were actually there and as her voice cracked, three decades of
programming kicked in and I folded my arms around my little sister, her
arms went around my waist and I held her head against my chest.

   All of a sudden we were children again.  The arctic-cold, granite-hard
reality of the previous few months broke over us like a storm: finding out
about Mum's diagnosis, learning that her chances of survival were virtually
nil, trying to stay positive through her final weeks yet girding ourselves
for the inevitable, shattering, impossible conclusion; then the last few
weeks of frenetic activity without either of us taking so much as a second
to pause and reflect that we were never going to see our Mummy again.  She
was gone!  It was fact.

   I wept as hard and as freely as my sister.  I held her tightly to me as
she pressed her face into my chest, her frame was racked by great cries of
grief and exhaustion, and her hair became wet as I showered the top of her
head with my tears.  Eventually, our crying lessened to a few dull sobs,
but we didn't, couldn't, let go of each other.  We stood there, next to the
wall, holding each other close and as tightly as we could.

   Chapter Two: The Beast Rises - All Hail the Beast

   It is a generally accepted fact that every human being has numerous
different aspects to themselves; there are the faces that we show to the
world, there are facets of ourselves that we keep hidden from all but our
closest acquaintances, and then there other facets we keep hidden from
ourselves.  At that moment the conscious, rational part of my mind was
overwrought with sorrow but trying at the same time to console my little
sister.  There was another part of me that was trying - weakly - to wrestle
with what had passed between Jess and me a few minutes before.  Then, there
was another part of me; one that completely by-passed my rational,
conscious self.  It was that part that realised that I actually had a
beautiful woman in my arms, and - due to the motions of her grief - her
body was trembling against my own.  It was that part that caused the
appallingly timed swelling below my waist.  It was also that part that
forgot to inform my conscious mind of what was happening until it was far
too late for me to even think about disguising or denying it.

   Jess actually noticed before I did that my erection was rubbing against
her crotch.  I thought she was still crying, and when I realised what was
happening my mind clouded with guilt and shame over what I was,
unintentionally, doing to my sister.  I tried, as gently as I could, to
pull away ("How am I going to explain this") but to my shock, Jess actually
grabbed my waist and pulled me back as tight to her body as possible.  She
still had her face buried in my chest, and I could feel her breath against
me, but I soon realised that her breaths were not sobs.  She had stopped
crying and her trembling was no longer a product of her grief.

   Holding me by my waist, she slowly started rocking her body against me,
just small, subtle pressures around where our mid-sections met.  Then her
breathing started to get faster and deeper, and just few moments later
reached a quiet, but very noticeable crescendo.  She took several very
deep, ragged breaths, but apart from that she made no sound.  Also, she did
not take her head off my chest, not for a second.  My mind was in nine
states of confusion.  I wasn't just "out of my comfort zone", I had
discovered an entirely new "comfort zone" and was busy setting up shop
there.  My sister, my baby sister, had just had an orgasm whilst in my
arms. My-sister-had-an-orgasm!  Because of me, because of my penis!

   My mind had stopped working.  I did not know what to do next.  I
whispered "Jess, I think..." but she cut me off again.

   "Shhh!  Please...Robbie...don't...just don't" she whispered "If...if you
love me please don't say anything, just hold me".  Of course I loved her,
so I followed orders and kept quiet, and I held her.

   I thought that things couldn't possibly get any stranger, but what
happened next proved me more wrong than I had ever been.  Instead of
pulling away from me, Jess tightened her grip on my waist and, with small
shuffling steps, parted her legs slightly.  My turgid prick was now pressed
firmly between her legs and lined up exactly with the narrow channel at the
apex of her thighs.  She started her rocking again.  This time there was a
more deliberate urgency to her motions; she moved her hips and pelvis in
long, smooth strokes up and down the length of my erection, slow at first
but she soon sped up, and as she did she also increased the pressure of her
crotch against mine.  I realised, with panicked certainty, that she was not
wearing anything under her thin leggings and I could feel outline of her
slit as it rubbed along the length of my shaft.

   I was losing control of myself rapidly, I knew that I was going to need
release very soon, my body demanded it, and if it wasn't going to be freely
offered, I would not be able to stop myself from taking it; even if that
meant indulging in the most forbidden liberties with my sister's body.  Yet
her stroking continued, and mere moments later her body started trembling
again, and this time, as the spasms rocked her, she let out a series of
tiny squeaks, shrieks and squeals.  I felt the unmistakable sensation of
sudden sticky wetness on the front of my trousers, soaking my crotch and
starting to seep down my legs.  All this time, through two orgasms, her
head remained pressed firmly against my chest, I could feel her hot,
laboured breathing through my shirt.

   This was turning into an evening of "Firsts"; First time I'd ever
brought a woman to orgasm twice in such quick succession.  First time a
woman has squirted on me whilst both of us were fully clothed, and
definitely the first time I'd had sexual contact with a woman who was my
closest living relative.  There really is only so much a man can take. 
With the treatment I was receiving my rational, responsible self was being
trampled into the ground, and the hormone fuelled Beast within was rising
up to claim his place as king.  What little control I thought I still
possessed was crushed beyond salvation when Jess, still with her face
against my chest, spoke - no - commanded:
"Robbie: close your eyes"

   "I..."

   "CLOSE THEM!"

   This no longer even sounded like my sister; the same Beast that was
working its way through my system had already taken control of Jess.  I did
as I was ordered.  With my eyes closed, not daring to open them, I felt
Jess pull away from me, and felt her duck down for brief moment.  I heard a
shuffling noise and then came the sensation that I was simultaneously
desperate for and dreading.  It was the feeling of my zipper being undone,
and a soft, quivering hand reaching into my underwear and pulling out my
excruciatingly hard prick.

   "Ruh...Robbie!" my sister's voice was raspy and shaking with an
overpowering lust.

   I opened my eyes; she was looking straight at me.  Her cheeks were
flushed red, her brow was bathed in sweat, in her eyes swam a maelstrom of
emotions; a knowledge that what was happening was dangerous, exciting, so
incredibly WRONG and yet utterly impossible to resist.  I looked down at my
sister; her t-shirt was also soaked with perspiration and her fingers were
working their way all over my erect cock.  She was also naked from the
waist down.

   "Fuck me Robbie" she hissed "Right here, right now.  Shove your cock
into my cunt and fuck me.  Fuck me hard.  Make me hurt".

   The Beast crowed his victory.

   I grabbed Jess by her thighs, swung her round and slammed her back into
the wall.  I lifted her, forced her thighs apart and rammed my thick cock
as hard and as far as I could into my little sister's cunt.  She welcomed
my invasion with a mixture of pain, lust and fury, and I felt her cunt
squeeze and contract over my full, pulsating length.  Then, with all my
pent-up, desperate passions I began my full assault on my little sister's
pussy.  My thrusts were hard and brutal, I was actually determined to grant
her wish, and to go beyond, I wanted to hurt her, to cause her pain and
injury.  I had been swinging dangerously close the edge of a cliff for what
seemed a long while, and it did not take long for me to stumble and fall,
but I was aggressive enough to drag Jess off the edge with me.

   This time her orgasm was not quiet, neither was mine.  With our lips
almost touching, we roared out our passions together.  I shoved deep inside
her and let go a torrent of sperm into her hot, moist cunt.  I felt her
juices course from within her as they coated my pumping shaft and saturated
the front of my trousers.  I stood there, panting, pressing my sister
against the wall, my cock buried in her.  Bizarrely, despite having just
pumped a full load into Jess, the feeling in my loins told me that my
erection was not going away any time soon, if anything I was getting
harder. The Beast was still ravenous; my sister was to be his feast, and
he'd only just started his first course.

   I pressed my lips to her ear: "Bed...Now" I growled.

   "Ruh..." she croaked.

   "NOW"!  I thundered into her ear.  I pulled my hands up to her chest,
grabbed her breasts through her t-shirt and I crushed them.  She screamed.

   I don't remember much about our journey to her bedroom.  Our remaining
clothes were shredded, torn from our bodies and left in a trail up the
stairs.  When we entered her room - naked with each other for the first
time in nearly 30 years - I grabbed her, hurled her onto the bed and
punched the door closed.

   Over the next few hours we lost ourselves in the most utterly sordid,
painful, aggressive and brutal sex either of us have ever had.  In each
other we found willing targets; outlets for several months' worth of grief,
frustration and rage:

   I held her down and thrust into her again.  Her fingernails raked my
shoulders.  I twisted and squashed her nipples.  She slapped me HARD across
the face ("FUCK ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT YOU PATHETIC LITTLE PRICK").  I bit the
flesh of her shoulders, arms, stomach and tits.  She rose up and bit my
neck.  I pulled out and covered her belly with cum.  I was STILL hard.  I
went in her AGAIN ("I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR LITTLE CUNT IN HALF BITCH") I
used my fingers on her clit, twisted and pinched it.  She punched my chest.
I flipped her over and twisted her arm behind her back.  In her AGAIN; I
pistoned into her from behind whilst forcing her face into the bed.  She
kicked out at my knees and thighs as she came.  She screamed, I bellowed. I
straddled her shoulders and held her by the neck as I forced my cock into
her mouth ("CHOKE, CUNT").  She wrapped her thighs around my head and
ground her pussy onto my face ("FUCKING DROWN IN MY CUNT JUICE").  I bit
the inside of her thighs, her clit, her soaking wet labia.  She bit into my
legs, ribs and belly.  I crushed her waist, thighs and arms with my hands.
She screamed and dug her nails into the soft flesh at the top of my legs. I
roared and smashed her tits with my fist.  She spat at me, a bitter-sweet
mix of saliva, semen and blood.  I spat back, blood and pussy juice spewed
into her mouth, across her face and into her hair.  She bestrode my back
and bit my ear as her fingers clawed at my skin.  I punch-fucked her pussy
as my fingers forced their way into her arsehole.  She slurped at my
cockhead as her own fingers stretched my own anal sphincter.  She bit down
on my nipples.  I forced as much of her tit flesh into my mouth as I could
and I chewed.  She sawed her nails down and across my torso, right to the
top of my crotch.  I bit her legs, drew more blood.  Her nails cleaved
their way from the top of my head to my shins.  I pressed my thumbs under
her tits and gouged them upwards.  She took my cock deep into her throat, I
held her there until she gagged.  She squeezed and hammered my cock, milked
all the spunk from me then used her fingers to thrust it up my arse.  I
backhanded her as I put another load of cum into her sopping cunt; then she
punched my ribs repeatedly as I put another load into her mouth and then I
held her nose, forcing her to swallow.  She squirted rivers of woman-cum
over my face, down my throat, across my body, over my cock and into my
arsehole.  My first orgasm didn't slow me down, nor did the next one, nor
the next, nor the next, nor...

   ...we were so lost in our desperate hunger that night that may well have
gone on to fuck each other into intensive care, or even beyond.  But our
exhaustion was our salvation.  Very suddenly, and almost at the same
instant, our bodies waved the white flag, the Beast retreated and we were
claimed by that benevolent master called oblivion.