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 (Conc, MF, Rom, Slow, Inc, Erotic,
Cum Swallowing, Preg).

   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 3 Five: The Colours of My Love

   One weekend in mid-August Jess informed me that she had the following
Friday off work (she was in the freight logistics business; she didn't need
to work - hubby's shenanigans saw to that - but she relished the
organisational challenge), she asked if I could arrange the same so we
could enjoy a longer weekend together.  I managed to end my working day at
lunchtime that Friday, and as I was walking towards the station a
particular shop window caught my eye.  I stopped and pondered for a moment;
then I had a rather delicious - and slightly evil - idea.

   When I arrived at Jess' house I left my newly purchased "Supplies" in
the car boot, I didn't want to give the game away.  It was another
beautiful hot day and Jess was in the garden.  When I joined her there she
immediately ran over, gave me a huge kiss and started undoing my trousers.
I stopped her.  She looked at me, a bit puzzled; I'd never done that before
and she must've thought all was not well.  "I thought we'd do something a
bit different this weekend" I said in my best mysterious voice.

   She eyed me suspiciously "Did you?"

   "Yep: Firstly, there will be no sex for you this evening.  SECONDLY" I
cut off the complaint that I saw coming "Tonight you will put on something
amazing and we will go out to dinner".  A big smile this time; we'd never
actually been on a proper "Date".  "Thirdly, tomorrow we're going to do
something a bit special, it'll take several hours and for it to work you
will have to do exactly as I tell you.  Do you think you can do that?" This
last question earned me a playful slap and a mockingly reproachful glare.
"But I always do as you say Wobbie".  She said in her best "Ickle girl"

voice.

   "Of course you do.  Go start getting ready; the table's booked and we
don't want to be late".  Off she went to prepare.

   Jess followed my instructions that evening - she looked amazing: she
wore an ankle-length, figure hugging, deep burgundy evening gown with
generous décolletage and a split that ran to the middle of her thighs.  It
was complimented with black, strappy heels, a string of pearls around her
neck and a pair of tiny sparkling diamond & ruby earrings.  It was simple,
sexy, elegant and incredibly beautiful.  The evening was wonderfully
romantic.  We ate at an old-fashioned, softly lit Italian restaurant where
we talked, laughed and teased our way through several courses and drank
just enough wine to relax without becoming too silly or rambunctious.  When
our meal was over we walked home, hand in hand, along the riverside
promising each other that we'd do it again soon.

   All through dinner she kept on trying to trick/threaten/blackmail/tease
me into giving her a hint of what I was planning to do with her tomorrow. I
did not cave, didn't even give her a hint, even with a bottle of wine
inside me.  Even when she leaned across the table and whispered to me that
she had "forgotten" to put her underwear on that evening, and that if I
gave her just a teeny weeny little clue I could have a little peek and a
little poke, I remained resolute.

   That night, as were going to bed (sex was one thing but the thought of
not sharing a bed was ludicrous) she tried very hard to make me change my
mind about my "conditions" for the weekend.  She lay on the bed with her
legs spread - didn't work.  She caressed me with her fingertips - no luck.
She lay next to me and whispered in my ear all the things she wanted to do
to me - close, but no cigar.  Grinning painfully -I knew it wouldn't be
easy for me either- I lay in her arms (again, not going to sleep in each
other's arms was unthinkable) and tried hard to suspend my own excitement
and get some sleep.  A few times through the night I had to prise her hands
away from our genitals; a couple of those times she was asleep, and I
almost caved when she moaned out her frustration and disappointment, but I
didn't give in.

   Saturday morning: I'd slept better than I expected to, Jess had not.  So
I got up early, got dressed, and whilst Jess slept I went to make breakfast
and prepare another part of the house for my scheme of the day.  I later
brought Jess a light breakfast in bed, and as she ate I prepared her a
bath. I waited outside her own en-suite bathroom whilst she took care of
her own morning ablutions, then I lead her to the main bathroom and guided
her into the tub.  I then spent about an hour washing her down, top to toe,
very slowly with fragrant liquid soap and a soft sponge.  I wanted her
clean, relaxed and ready.  Afterwards I helped her out of the tub and,
again very slowly, dried her off completely with the softest towel I could
find; as I did I couldn't resist planting a few soft kisses on select parts
of her body.  She moaned and wriggled under my touch, by the time I was
finished she was shaking and her pussy was already leaking juice.  But I
hadn't even begun.

   Once clean and dry I led her, still naked, down to the conservatory
where I had begun my preparations by draping a large, thick white sheet
over a large, back-less, arm less, generously upholstered, short legged
wooden bench, next to which was a digital camera, mounted on a tripod and
already programed to take pictures at 5 minute intervals.  She raised her
eyebrows in question, I said nothing.  I had her sit down: "Stay there a
moment, I'll be back" I promised "No diddling with yourself while I'm gone,
I will be checking".  She glared at me; she was almost bursting with
suspense and pent-up sexual tension.

   "Bloody hurry up" she snapped.

   I grinned; I went out to my car, grabbed my box of supplies and went
back to her.  First thing I did, as promised, was take her hands and sniff
her fingers, they were clean "Good girl" I praised her.  Then I took all my
clothes off.  I then spent a bit of time positioning Jess exactly as I
wanted her: I had her lay face down along the bench, her arms resting on
the seat above her head, her legs slightly parted with her toes just
touching the edges of the seat.  I then got a cushion and, raising her up
slightly, I placed it under her, just below her belly button, so that her
bottom poked up like a beautifully obscene hillock.  This also allowed her
legs to part a little more without forcing them off the seat.

   All this time Jess was trembling, she complained and wheedled, trying
all her usual tricks; begging, promising, and pleading me to tell her what
I was going to do, but I said nothing, I just moved her into my desired
position.  That done I reached into my bag and placed into her hands two
soft sponge balls "You might find these useful" I hinted.

   "Oh you bastard" she spat at me with an agonised grin.  Then I was just
about ready.  I dragged the box over to where her head rested so that she
could look inside, she gasped out her sudden understanding, and her face
cracked another grin.

   I've always loved painting, ever since I was a toddler.  I'm no Van Gogh
to be sure, but all the same I can't remember a time when I didn't love
having a brush in my hand.  Around Jess' house are numerous pictures I've
created for her over the years, including one I did for her on her first
birthday (a 7 year-old's interpretation of his baby sister).  On this day I
was to attempt my masterpiece and Jess was to be my canvas.

   Before I started, as a final touch, I told Jess to close her eyes as it
would "Enhance the experience"; by this time she was almost breathless with
anticipation.  "Just relax and enjoy" I whispered.  Then I began.

   With a wide variety of soft brushes I slowly turned my sisters' body
into a work of art.  I started out in the middle of her back, but it was
never my intention to start in one place and just spread out from there.  I
regularly shifted my position so that I could paint different parts of her
body at different times: maybe a bit of ankle, a bit of shoulder, a few
lines across the back of her thighs, then maybe move up to paint a few
intricate circles over her wrist.  I was using a wide assortment of
high-end edible body paint that I'd bought from the shop that'd given me
the idea.  But the key ingredients, the ones that would make this a truly
special painting were the ones that Jess and I would be able to create
naturally as we went along, namely pre-cum and pussy juice.

   Every few minutes I would dip my brush between my sister's legs and
gather some of her secretions (to bind the paint you know) and transfer
them to another part of her body.  My sister, already a taut wire from the
last day of painful anticipation and unfulfilled lust, squirmed and writhed
under the fleeting attentions of my paintbrushes on her pussy (the sponge
balls were subjected to much abuse).  But I would not let her come.  This
was the "evil" part of my idea.  I wanted to finish before I would let her
"finish" so I would use her pussy-paint-pot sparingly, and only for seconds
at a time.

   I used many different brushes in many different ways: I'd use a wide
flat brush to paint long wavy lines across her back and down her bottom,
and then I'd brush it across her clitoris a few times before moving it to
her waist.  I'd then grab one of my tiny little round brushes to paint an
intricate pattern on the side of one of her breasts, and then use it to
make small circles just inside her pussy lips, then withdraw it and repeat
the exercise across the top of one of her butt cheeks.  In this way I kept
her hanging on by the flimsiest of threads for over 4 hours.

   I chose the conservatory for the natural light, and I watched with
increasing pleasure as my sister's body became a blaze of different
colours. It wasn't a painting of anything in particular; I never intended
it to be, it was really just a crazy mixture of patterns, swirls, lines and
shapes.  But what I did intend was to allow the brushes to follow the
beautiful contours of Jess' form.  The aroma of her juicy, dripping-wet
pussy and body heat was an aphrodisiac and an inspiration to me.  And as
the time wore on I became more and more aroused as the shapes I created
moulded and bent with the undulating patterns of my sister's body under the
pressure of my brushwork and her excitement.  Every time she breathed,
gasped, yelped or moaned there would be a subtle shift in the way her body
behaved, and every subtle shift added something exciting and new to the
painting.

   As for Jess: Whilst this was going on she experienced the most
exquisite, most intense prolonged torture session of her life.  Even my
stunt with the handcuffs couldn't have prepared her for this.  She was
already painfully aroused to start with; her breath was already heavy and
laboured.  But with every brush stroke, every caress of the soft fine hairs
across her body and between her legs she moved one agonising micrometre
closer to nirvana, but could not quite get there.  The sponge balls in her
hands were getting the treatment I hoped they would, she squeezed them hard
as I drew out her torment.  Over time her voice hit every available octave,
pitch and decibel; and her vocabulary shifted from the pleading ("Oh please
God Robbie...pleasepleasepleaseplease...let me please...Oh
God...pleeeease") through the abusive ("Oh Fuck Robbie...you fucking
fuck...fuck you, you fucking cunt-sucking fuck...ohhhh FUCK") to the
unintelligible ("Ahhh...Ruhhh...yeeeehh...maaaahhh...  ggnnnnnnnn... 
fuuuhhh...  cmmmmmm").

   At one point, as I was nearing completion, I moved around in front of
Jess' head, and she was actually crying, not just a shedding a few tears of
quiet expectation but in full-on floods.  I felt a moment's pang of guilt
and inquired if she wanted me to stop; "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE" was the
succinct reply, great art does indeed demand great sacrifice.  Her pussy
was a dripping tap for the whole experience, except for the few occasions
when I used it to saturate my bigger brushes, then it stopped dripping for
maybe half a second.  But I still would not let her come.  On occasion I
would mix my pre-cum with her juices (it gives a more interesting texture
you know) and the painting was even given its own unique smell.

   Eventually, as we moved towards mid-afternoon, I was just about done,
Jess was a quivering wreck and there was no uncovered space anywhere on the
back or sides of her body, except one; a tiny little gap about an inch
either side of her puckered brown bottom-hole, this was to be the centre
piece of my creation.  I put down my brushes and eased myself up behind
her. By this time her cunt was a delightful mess of paint and juice.  I
gently pushed the head of my prick just inside her pussy
("OOH...FUCK...GOD...ROBBIE"), but only for a second (any longer and she
would've exploded, and I wasn't yet ready to allow her that).  Then I
withdrew, brought my cock head up and started rubbing it in tiny circles
around the empty space on her butt and across her tiny puckered hole.  Then
I did it again, and again, and again as I transferred paint, mixed in with
her cunt juice, from one hole to the other.  I did this until the little
gap I'd left was completely covered by a delicious mixture of paint, my own
pre-cum and Jess' pussy juice.  Then I was done.

   I stood up and surveyed my handy work.  I was proud of my creation, and
I took a couple of quick photos before bending down to whisper in Jess' ear
"All done now my love.  You look incredible, now I shall give you what you
crave".  Jess just whimpered as I rose, pressed "Record" on the camera and
went to the middle of the seat.  Bending down, I gently removed the cushion
from under her belly, then, lying back with my face upturned I replaced the
cushion with my head.  I was looking directly up at my sister's cunt; I
savoured the sight of the colour and the wetness for a brief moment, I felt
her drip onto my tongue.  Then, without warning I closed my lips over her
clit and started sucking, and at the same moment I pushed three fingers
into her and wiggled them around.

   It took less than 20 seconds.

   She was ready to burst, she'd been dancing at the edge of the precipice
for hours, and as soon as my fingers entered her, she took a short run up
and she leapt.  With her forearms supporting her, her back arched, her head
rose up and she screamed out her ecstasy.  The noise that escaped her was a
mix of operatic aria, steam engine whistle and bellowing stag.  "OH... 
UH...  UHHH...  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH".  I was
amazed we didn't hear the tinkle of breaking glass, or receive a concerned
visit from the neighbours.  After the first scream, she took a breath then
let out another one, then another, and another...

   If what was coming from her lungs was impressive, then what was let
loose at the other end was nothing short of biblical, but I was ready.  As
soon as I felt the tell-tale tremors begin, I removed my fingers from her
and opened my mouth wide so that it covered the entire length of her gaping
slit.  As each of her gargantuan screams left her mouth I was rewarded with
an accompanying, high-pressure torrent of juice from her cunt: It shot out
of her and straight into my open, sucking, eager mouth.  I tried my best to
swallow it all but there was simply too much, and much of it hit my nose,
my forehead and my chin where it bounced off and made its way down my neck
and across my shoulders.  When she had passed the apex of her orgasm and
was starting to wind down, my fingers disappeared back into her cunt and I
re-fastened my lips onto her clit.

   This time it took a bit longer, almost a full minute before her
screaming started up again: This time her cries were a bit coarser, tinged
with the harsh bark of a hungry fox.  The jets of fluid from her cunt,
however, were every bit as forceful as before; and once again I opened my
mouth and they hit the back of my throat, my tongue and teeth as well as my
hair, neck, shoulders and chest.  Also, because of my slightly inclined
position her juices ran down my body and soaked my abdomen, waist, belly
button and crotch.  "Once more for luck" I decided after she had begun her
second climb-down, and once more my fingers went inside and I sucked her
clit into my mouth.

   This time (after nearly three whole minutes) her orgasmic screams were
much raspier, and her ejaculations had dropped to a moderate spray that I
was easily able to swallow.  Also, after her third cluster of orgasms she
tried to inform me that she was done, but she had passed way beyond the
realms of mortal language, so all I heard was a croaky "Ruhi plers ster".
But I could tell from the shuddering of her body that she'd had enough, and
it was with a twinge of regret that I prised my head from underneath my
sister and stood up.  I heard her body flop down onto the seat.

   What a sight: There she was, covered from head to toe in a haphazard
maze of colours, legs spread obscenely (one of her legs had left the seat
and her toes rested on the floor) lying, whimpering and juddering
uncontrollably in a lake of her own juices.  Her body's spasms and ripples
caused the painting to shimmer in the afternoon sun.  I bent down next to
her head: her eyes were glazed and unfocused (I waved briefly in front of
them, no response) her face bore the unmistakable residue of tears, and her
hair was soaked with perspiration.

   I sat on a chair a few feet from Jess and watched her for a short time.
My cock was still painfully hard, but I didn't care, plenty of time to take
care of that later.  To my memory, watching my lover lying there; writhing
and twitching in exhausted ecstasy is the most erotic thing I've ever seen,
and the camera recorded it all.  I still watch the video from time to time.
I stood up after a while and went back to crouch by her head, her eyes were
still half lidded but this time she seemed to be aware that I was there, I
leant over and planted a few soft kisses on her forehead, cheeks and nose.

   "Was that all right then?" I asked.

   She mumbled out a brief, drowsy laugh "That was...I...I don't know what
that was.  I can't move".

   She was actually seeing me now, and her eyes roamed up and down my body
down (her head stayed still) "You're soaked!" She was correct "And you
didn't come!" she exclaimed softly.

   "Shhh" I soothed, stroking her hair "Do not worry about that, I have
enjoyed myself immensely".

   "I love you so much Robbie" she breathed, the Ritual observed.  "Give me
your hand".

   I put my hand in hers as the sponge balls (she did find them useful)
dropped onto the floor.  "I love you too Jess", I replied and I stroked her
hair gently as sleep claimed her.
Six: Full of Surprises
Summer was already a distant memory; October had rolled in and was
already rolling its way out again.  It was already full dark when I started
making my weekly pilgrimage to Jess' house.  Our passions were still strong
for each other and we'd even managed to get away together for a week in the
mountains.  We'd walked, talked, swum, enjoyed the beautiful scenery and,

of course, had a tremendous amount of sex.

   On this particular weekend Jess had a surprise in store for me, nothing
unusual about that right?  Wrong!  This time Jess was to drop the biggest
surprise of my life upon me.

   I let myself in and she was waiting for me by the front door.  "Hi" she
said as I took my coat off (I had long since dispensed with the overnight
bag and had moved a lot of my stuff into Jess' house.  There was, after
all, plenty of room).

   "Hi yourself" I replied as I wrapped her in my arms.

   "Come with me" she demanded as she took me by the hand.  There was
something different about her this weekend but I couldn't place it straight
away.  She smiled at me, biting her bottom lip as she led me into our
bedroom.  "Take your clothes off and lie down" she ordered, I obeyed.  She
took off her shoes and her blouse, then she climbed on the bed and
straddled me, her skirt billowed out over me and, I noticed, she wasn't
wearing underwear.  She sat there, a black, lacy bra concealing her
magnificent breasts with my cock gently rubbing against the entrance to her
pussy.  She looked down at me.

   "Robbie; I've got things I want to tell you, but before I start I want
you to promise me that you won't speak until I've finished" with a slight
feeling of trepidation I nodded.  "I need to hear you promise me Robbie, do
not interrupt me".

   "I promise I won't interrupt you".

   "Thank you".  She took a deep breath and she spoke:

   "Robbie, this month I missed my period" a finger came down across my
lips to stem the flood of questions that were about to escape from me, she
leaned down and whispered in my ear "You promised, remember?" I nodded and
she sat up and continued.

   Another deep breath: "I want children Robbie, more than that, I want a
family.  I once thought, I dreamt, that by the time I got to my current age
I would already have given birth at least once, but, as you know, my
husband turned out to be a faithless jerk, so I put my dreams on the shelf
and they've been sitting there for half a decade.  I've reflected on my
dreams for a long time now and I was beginning to despair that they would
never come true.  I have looked for potential suitors, I have considered
committing deplorable acts of deception with unsuspecting strangers and I
have pondered myriad other possibilities.  I have even seriously considered
alternative methods of conception in a clinic or a laboratory.  But, after
much soul searching, I realised that I don't just want a man to be a donor,
or even just a father.  I want a man who wants to be a Daddy, someone who I
know will love me and my children unconditionally, someone we can always
rely on, someone who will always be there for us and who will never let us
down.

   "For a long while I thought that I would never find that man, that he
didn't actually exist, that I was setting my sights on an impossible target
or even that my dreams were only ever the stuff of fairy tales.  But over
the last few months I've realised that I was blind, and that the man I was
looking for, the man I was dreaming of, was there in front of me the whole
time and had loved me, cherished me and protected me throughout my entire
life.

   "The last few months have been the most beautiful adventure Robbie, and
I've fallen in love with life in a way that I only thought possible in
stories.  And it's all because of you, my wonderful, precious darling
brother".  She paused.  "I'm ready my love, I now want to give myself to
you completely; mind, body, heart and soul.  I love you so much Robbie; and
there are times, when you're not here, that I close my eyes and think of
you and I start crying, and sometimes I don't stop for hours.  I've never
met a man who comes close to making me feel the way I feel when I'm with
you, and I know I never will.  Now I want our adventure to continue Robbie,
I want us go forward and discover new places together.

   "I'm pregnant with your child Robbie, with our baby.  So now I'm asking
you, beseeching you; please say you'll stay with me and keep being the man
of my dreams.  Say that you'll come with me as we continue on our journey.
Be there to join with me when I laugh and hold me when I cry.  Please can
we be an "Us" from now on, not just you and me, brother and sister, weekend
lovers, Jessica and Robert; but "Us", a couple, a new family.  Please
Robbie, Please; will you be a Daddy to our children?"

   There was a pause, during which I heard a feather clang as it hit the
carpet: "OK, I've finished" Jess breathlessly informed me.
I will say this: she had me at a disadvantage.  Firstly, I was naked and
pinned to the bed beneath her.  Secondly, her ample cleavage was mere
inches from my face and my penis was nestled against her currently
concealed but undeniably naked vagina.  But lastly, and most significantly,
her words had moved me in the most profound way imaginable.  I was a long
way past speechless, and was desperately fighting back tears.  I can't say
for certain whether she had actually rehearsed her speech, but she had
definitely taken a lot of trouble to think about what she had wanted to say
to me.  But still, I saw the effort it had cost her and I felt her body
shake with anguish and exhaustion.  I was unable to think clearly, and in
order to give myself a fighting chance, I inhaled deeply and closed my

eyes.

   Thoughts exploded through my head like a supernova.  Countless trillions
of "Hows...", "Buts...", and "What ifs..." all fought like crazy to assert
their right to be the one to be addressed first.  "How did this
happen...you know the answer to that you fool...  but I thought it...you
didn't think at all...what if I'm not ready...but I love her...she knew
what she was doing...I can't say no to her...our baby...but we're
siblings...does that matter...what about other people...fuck other people,
what about you..." The internal maelstrom was endless, and I had no answers
to any of them.

   Except; I did.

   A memory forced its way to the front of the queue.  It was the memory of
a garbled, 30 second conversation that had taken place some months before:
a conversation that had ended with the softest of kisses and the whispered
words "Don't worry about it", and I suddenly realised, with blissful
certainty, that I wasn't.  Not even a little bit.  I was with the woman I
loved and she was pregnant with my - our - child, there would be plenty of
opportunities for worry later.  I opened my eyes.

   I looked up at Jess and saw the love shining in her eyes, but I also saw
the violently conflicting factions of the most fervent hope and the most
painful fear.  My lover's happiness hung upon my answer, and I realised
that I needed to say exactly the right thing.  I cast my eyes down as I
softly placed my hand on her belly.

   "Jennifer" I said.

   "Jennifer?" She repeated a little puzzled.

   "I've always liked the name.  If it's a girl I think we should call her
Jennifer".

   Her hands flew to her mouth and tears of joy immediately started falling
from her eyes.  "You mean...Yes?"

   "Of course yes" and my face broke into the biggest smile of my life.  "I
love you...Mummy"

   She started bawling uncontrollably as she crumpled on top of me and
threw her arms around me.  My own arms went around her, and once again I
held my little sister tightly to me as she soaked my chest with her tears.
But this time, I reflected, was much nicer than the last.

   Epilogue

   A fierce battle raged across the galaxy.  Diminutive superheroine Jen
was locked in a desperate struggle to save the Earth, her friends and her
little baby brother from the dastardly machinations of the dark, evil lord
somebody-or-other.  She had gained the upper hand, and was moving in for
the kill with a devastating combo of tickles, hugs, pokes and - worst of
all - diabolical cute giggling.

   I was rescued from my terrible fate by Jen's mummy: "All right young
lady, it's time to let daddy go, it's past your bedtime and you haven't
even had your bath yet."

   "Oh mummy, I've nearly won" Jennifer whined as she straddled the back of
my neck, pinning me face down in the grass.

   "I surrender; you have triumphed Oh Mighty Jennifer-Queen of the Galaxy"
I proclaimed, getting a mouthful of grass for my trouble.

   We'd been enjoying the summer evening sun; the garden (and house) is
even bigger than the one at Jess' old place.  Soon after Jen was conceived,
Jess quit her job, decided to sell up - gotten a staggering price - and
move closer to where I work (now as creative director no less) and we have
been officially co-habiting for most of Jen's life.  We both felt that a
change of city would be more practical, and would raise fewer questions, if
we were to start a family together.

   Jen cheered as she bestrode me: "Yaaay.  I'm the stwongest", she
gloated.

   "Of course you are" Jess concurred "and everybody knows that all the
strongest young ladies get even stronger when they've had a bath and are
tucked up in bed".

   Jen pondered this for a moment then leapt off me and allowed me to
stand. I stood, gave a huge, fake yawn and stretched rather theatrically.
"Mummy's right you know Squeak" (my pet name for her) It's getting late,
and it's definitely time for bed" as I said this, my eyes just caught Jess'
and she immediately looked away, grinning as a blush suffused her cheeks.
"Besides" I said to Jen "It's a big day tomorrow, and you don't want to be
too tired to enjoy it, do you?" Again she pondered, and then she shook her
head in agreement.

   The "big day" in question is her fifth birthday.  We're going to play
host to a dozen small children, all of whom will be under the strictest of
orders to make as much noise, have as much fun and consume as much
sugar-laden junk food as possible (who said healthy eating?) Jess, as
usual, has become an organising monster during the run up to Jen's party,
and the rest of us are starting to feel organised to within an inch of our
lives.  Even little Michael, all of two years old, has begun to feel the
pressure of mummy's ruthless organisational skills.  It wouldn't do for
anyone to be too tired to appreciate them.

   I scooped up Jen and, tickling her mercilessly, carried her into the
house: Jess' condition makes scooping and carrying impractical for her, and
she yelled after us "Don't you dare wake up your brother Jennifer; it took
him ages to get to sleep tonight".
"OK mummy" Jen giggled back as I instantly stopped my tickle attack.  I
discretely looked back at Jess and gave a wink; she smiled back and
followed as I carried our daughter up the stairs, bathed her and settled
her down with a story.  Once her bedclothes had started to rise and fall in
the steady rhythm of sleep, I leaned over and gave her a tender kiss on her

forehead.

   "Goodnight Squeak" I whispered as I left her room.

   Jess and I lie in our own bed (an item of furniture that survived the
move from the old house, a lot of great memories in this bed) and she
smiles contentedly, spooning up against me with a trickle of sperm oozing
out of her pussy and slowly working its way down her thigh.  My lips nuzzle
her ear, and my hand wanders over the beautiful - and by now very large -
swelling of her belly.  I breathe in the scent of her and I ask "Any more
thoughts?"

   Her brow furrows for a moment before she replies "No, I don't think so.
I was toying with the idea of Maria or Hannah, but I like your idea" she
swivels her head so she can look into my eyes and she grins "I've always
liked your ideas".

   I grin back: "I know" a pause, then "I love you Jess" I whisper, the
Ritual is still observed.

   "I love you too Robbie" she whispers back.

   As we kiss I bask in the presence of the miracles that surrounded me: I
hold in my arms the woman who is the absolute love of my life, has been
since the day she was born, in the next room sleeps our tiny little son,
Michael, and in the room opposite sleeps Jennifer, our beautiful young
daughter.  In a few short weeks they will both be saying hello to their new
baby sister: Wendelin Hyacinth Taylor.  It's true you know: In memories we
find the future.