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 !"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER ONE
~~~~~~~~~~~
Many people fantasise about relationships with
sisters. Mine has persuaded me to tell of ours. But
before judging us, remember we might just be the people
living next door!
~~~~~~~~~~~
Probably having seen them before but never noticing,
Julia was four and I was six when I discovered her
private parts!
We lived had a big old house, Mum, Dad, Julia, my big
brother who was seven years older than I, and myself.
Then a good foot shorter than me, with dark hair and
brown-eyes, Julia and I shared a very strong family
resemblance.
As it was war-time, most of the house was shut-down as
too expensive to maintain. The upper floors were
virtually empty of furniture and we kids were usually
sent upstairs to play, our parents considering it too
dangerous to play in the gardens in case Mr. Hitler's
flying-machines flew over and took a dislike to us. Or
we got peppered by shrapnel from the nearby anti-
aircraft guns! Attending a nearby school, having
apparently negotiated a separate peace with Germany, our
elder brother came and went without restraint.
Before it became mandatory for girls to wear jeans or
the terrible Bermuda shorts of today, little girls were
encouraged to look feminine, always dressed in skirt and
blouse or simple dresses. Julia was also wearing little
white socks and brown school-sandals, but I remember
Julia's green dress that day, and always will, the
memory is so engraved on my mind.
In one of the rooms which contained an old settee, one
afternoon, Julia and I were happily playing as kids do,
just the normal `rough-and-tumble' you'd expect from an
older boy and a younger girl.
Somewhere in our play, we both stumbled, Julia
toppling backwards onto the soft settee, her legs
dangling into space over the padded arm, and me falling
to the floor by its side, my head about six inches from
her knees. As I levered myself up, from my vantage-
point, I had a clear and unobstructed view between her
little girl's thighs, up to the `V' where white knickers
started.
Whether it was love of a brotherly kind, or the start
of interest in things female, I cannot say and care even
less, but as Julia lay there, getting her breath back, I
recall kissing both her knees. I looked at her over the
top of them, and whilst she didn't seem brightly happy
with what I'd done, she certainly wasn't making
complaining noises. From there is only a fuzzy memory
until I am aware I had pulled her knickers down and was
kissing her little vulva.
Julia has since confirmed she needed no encouragement;
then, her legs went over my shoulders and before I knew
where I was, I was confronted with the arousing sight -
even at six! - of my sister's splayed labia, her excited
clitoris standing out from its sheath, the first I had
ever seen or even realised existed! Moist, about half-
an-inch long, it had a tiny spherical head which slipped
naturally and nicely between my lips. I stroked it,
licked it and kissed it, to us kids - one tiny step
above being toddlers - the most innocent thing in the
world. Legs wide apart, Julia was very happy in a
peaceful sort of way, willingly giving me free access as
I investigated her vagina, spending a long time sucking
it, putting her clitoris - which was getting bigger and
bigger - right into my mouth, my tongue playing around
with its tip. She seemed to like this.
So content were we, we would have been there still if
it had not been for my big brother, he who will remain
nameless and whom it took years to forgive. Today, I
praise his name for giving me the greatest gift of all.
`Time flies when you are enjoying yourself' is not
just a funny saying, it is fact, and Julia and I were so
enjoying ourselves that time had flown and surviving all
the German nation could throw at him, 13-year-old big
brother had safely returned from school, and sent
upstairs `to play'. On approaching the room where his
little bother and sister were, coming from where there
would normally be issuing great noise, he was struck by
the silence! A rotter, a cad and a bounder, sneaking up
on the open door, big brother viewed the activity
through the crack between door and frame, and seeing
what I was up to with Julia, took it upon himself to
emulate Peter Quisling, then currently making an
unwholesome reputation in Norway, by creeping downstairs
and grassing out Julia and I to our mother.
Good, well-meaning people though they were, this is
where my parents slipped up. At the age Julia and I
were, had the incident been smoothed over, or ignored -
or even the wrongs of what we were doing explained to us
- there stood a good chance the episode would have made
little - if any - impression on either of us and life
would have continued as normal, whatever `normal' was
likely to be!
Upon which event were to turn the most fantastic
circumstances, the first I knew of our sneaky brother's
sly betrayal was hearing a God Almighty roar of thunder
as the door was thrown open with Mum shouting `And what
do you think you are doing!' For a six-year old, what
followed was particularly frightening and gruesome and
rather than ruin someone's day, we'll gloss over the
events of the next few hours, be it sufficient to say,
confined to my bedroom and nursing a sore backside, I
spent them in sickening fear and trepidation awaiting a
second round of grievous harm to my rump upon Dad's
return from his war-work. It was this - the lonely
awaiting of unknown retribution, guaranteed to be worse
than the initial uproar - which did the damage. Still
unaware of what I had done wrong - to a little mind,
handing over my parents to a Gestapo firing-squad
couldn't have been a worse crime - Mum and Dad handled
this affair using somewhat similar methods as that
august body; to me, the middle of the night, somewhere
about 10 o'clock that evening, I was hauled from my
blankets and made to give another account of myself. I
must have failed miserably, because it was another
tanning, accompanied by verbally-violent dire threats to
life and limb in the event of an action-replay of the
incident.
Completely unaware of potential future fall-out, the
repercussive element of the innocent delivery of those
two long-ago done with and forgotten-about wallopings -
to a parent, containing a danger-level of `zero' -
changed the future completely for at least five other
people.
Although it took years to realise, the sum proceeds of
my experiences of that dim-and-distant day were profound
and went very deep. Bristling with Freudian clues and
probably enough to make the average psychiatrist jump
for joy, in the hope people may understand what makes
certain people do certain things, I'll list them. In
essence, they were:
at 6, I learnt to be discreet in all I did, i.e.
artful.
because I never actually learnt exactly what I
had done wrong, but strongly reinforced by the
tumult and nausea `it' created, I realised
whatever `it' was, `it' had to be good,
(otherwise, why was there so much parental
excitement?). Therefore, `it' was certainly
deserving of deeper research.
having discovered Julia's upper thighs, pelvis,
vagina, et al, realising the look, taste, smell,
texture etc. of the entire gubbins were greatly to
my liking,
whenever possible, to add to my research into
said gubbins, and as a later development, get into
pussies and knickers in a big way.
oh yes, and to never ever again trust my brother
(since rescinded).
To the best of my recollection, the event was never -
and I do mean `never' - ever again mentioned in the
household, neither were there repeat performances.
Time passed, and for me the rest of the war-years were
rather boring, there being contact with only one other
young lady. Two years later, with me about 9, Hitler
having by this time shut up shop and gone home, there
lived next-door-but-one, a girl, one `Marcie', of
similar age. Apart from her long, mouse-coloured hair, I
cannot remember much of Marcie, save for her dark-blue
woolly knickers, revealed as her two brothers and I
removed them whilst one day playing over local bomb-
sites.
Today, passing a baton of social-turd to each other
like runners in a self-righteous relay-race, people
wailing about so-called `damage' to children exposed to
any sex - incest or otherwise - in this manner are
talking with their heads up their bottoms; any `damage'
is mainly done by the frenetic sociological moo-ing and
boo-ing following discovery, instilling in the children
the most appalling fear and feelings of betrayal.
Any more than there had been with sister Julia, the
reality of the situation is there was no wickedness
attached to this joyous investigation of Marcie's
interesting bits, we were only copying what we had seen
plenty of soldiers (and local women) do during the days
of `black-out' and visits to air-raid shelters!
That day, all three of us emulated sexual-intercourse
with Marcie, who apparently enjoyed being penetrated by
her two brothers and myself. Immediately afterwards, any
importance attached to `having sex with a girl' paled to
an insignificant nothingness compared to the vastly
heightened stature of her big brother; us small fry
stood in awe of him, who at 13 could `come', whereas his
brother and I couldn't.
But, without exception, everyone was remarkably
fascinated by Marcie's description of what it felt like
being squirted into, and close visual inspection of the
area proved he actually had.
Getting down to cases, Marcie - and for that matter,
that time with little Julia - proves my point; without
any adult flapping and the most frightening consequences
that follow almost by rote, that particular day's
inconsequential fooling-around done with, we kids got on
with the REALLY important business, which - owing to his
enoblement by proving he could `shoot' - was to
unanimously vote Marcie's big brother `Chief' of the
Gang. Conferred with supreme authority when having war-
inspired shoot-outs amongst bombed houses and piles of
brick-rubble, empowered to deem who were to be heroic
`Allies' or if he didn't like you, a component of the
recently-disgraced `Nazi' side - a truly catastrophic
blow to a gang-member's social-standing, telling anyone
of importance you were socially-dead and best advised to
find a train and stand in front of it, (at least until
the following day, when a gift of two toffees could find
you reinstated and promoted, second-in- command of the
storming of rival gang H.Q., better known as `Berlin').
Demonstrating the unimportance and irrelevance to pre-
teen-agers of pre-teen sex at such times, in the face of
the call of such keen competition and vitally-important
responsibilities, with legs wide-apart, ten Marcies laid
in a row wouldn't seduce a Member from observance of his
sacred gang-oath to defend H.Q., and other gang-members
in the ensuing glorious punch-up!
As a result of recent bad manners between countries,
the `Gang' had accumulated sufficient ammunition to
permit an immediate and spectacular start to World War
Three, only appreciated by parents when an illicit hand-
grenade blew off the hand of some fool of a part-time
gang-member living up the road. Naturally, this was much
more vitally-interesting than seeing, or entering,
Marcie's fanny. Graphic descriptions of a severed,
bloody and mangled hand hurtling through the air,
(depending on who was telling the story, holding the
safety-pin, a lollipop or making the `V'-sign), made
accounts of quivering sisters awaiting a screwing sound
very corny indeed!
Anyway, back to my sister!
Throughout the adolescent years, Julia and I continued
an absolutely normal brother-sister relationship, the
sole thing of note being, whether related to that early
incident, or of being brought up to care for our kin, or
having it born in us, we always `cared' for each other
and were good friends.
In those times, parents never spoke about sex and
related topics, let alone in front of their siblings,
and if I saw Julia growing-up, it was as a brother
without noticing it as a male. Often skipping between
bathroom and bedroom with little - if any - clothing on,
that she went `in-and-out' in the right places was
observed without being seen, and it took a friend of
mine to remark what a good-looking, laughing and active
girl of 16 she was for me to really start being proud of
her as a sister. But never as a `girl'.
For my part, as I've steadfastly maintained, my
parent's reaction to the Julia incident changed the
direction of my destiny as well as causing inordinate
interest in screwing to multiply within me. One day it
was model cars, the next it was females!
Because of continued research, as a growing
adolescent, upon discovering I had genitals, I went for
fucking as though scared it might be banned overnight.
Rather than teeter towards women and sex, covering far
more territory in a far shorter time than other kids of
my age, at nearly 15, I had a short - but very active -
affair with a married woman, but although she gave me a
thorough course in the geography of the female form, its
like and loves, despite romantic dreams and long-term
expectancies, she was interested in me for one thing
only, and it wasn't my emotional maturity,
Developing from the `never mind the quality, feel the
width' days of early adolescence, by 18, I had fucked
myself out and having nothing to prove to anyone else or
myself, by 26, I had become downright choosy. Rather
than continue the boring, repetitive, mating-routine of
select, stalk and conquer - a polite expression for
`chasing tail' - I abandoned the hobby and became
myself, letting things go their own way. Rather than for
the groove between their legs, now interested in woman
for themselves, I'd say now I'd grown-up.
So an extra by-product of that one incident with Julia
was my becoming so choosy that I chose my way right out
of the silly game of chasing girls! Surprising me at
that age, I seemed to do even better for women than
before, but in the long run, it only produced more
dissatisfaction. Letting sex turn up in its own time if
it wanted to, getting to a point where I was happier to
be `mates' with a woman, by and large, whatever there
was on offer, either the local women didn't want to buy
or I didn't want to know. Good personalities, loving
hearts, excellent looks, talented, there were really
marvellous girls, they all had something, and I `loved
them all', but none in particular or for very long. That
`ziz', the `pzaz' that singled one out as the woman
amongst women I wanted to keep happy for the rest of my
days was missing; when realising love was on the wane, I
wouldn't want to waste their time and we'd part. My love
life was periods of being on my own tied together with
girl-friends.
Meanwhile, Julia was socially popular and with
monotonous regularity, boy-friends with muscles, big
cars, big mouths, moustaches, beer-cans, halitosis,
guitars and what-have-you came to our front-door. And
went!
Taller than I, with sleeked-back fair hair and
disorganised front teeth he was forever displaying,
Julia's `big' romance was Marcus, a real pallid-looking
`smoothie' whom I disliked on sight. Not for anything
would I have upset my `friend' Julia by letting it be
known, and continuing even after he and Julia announced
their engagement, eventually to marry, the dislike was
hidden but there was something about dear `Lancelot', a
`Narcissus complex', a love of himself, which all the
family noticed. Had it been the family's custom to talk
about awkward subjects, who knows if it would have
prevented marital unhappiness, and everything stemming
from it, but it was never openly mentioned! Everyone
kept quiet and moved over to make room for him, even
though Marcus treated Julia like dirt and merely towed
her wherever he wanted to go. If she was happy, so were
we and even when the evidence was clear he was not
averse to slapping her to get his own way, like idiots,
we still kept silent!
A square meal being a square meal, when `unattached',
family and friends saw a great deal of me and having
brought the usual minuscule house on a housing-estate
the size of Texas with Marcus, Julia was always happy to
feed me. Particularly in the evenings, Marcus was out
`on business' a lot, and although I was pretty certain
he was knocking around with other women, the same as all
the other questionable points, this topic never
surfaced.
Scarcely representing a male presence of the
threatening kind, knowing Julia had company, Marcus was
usually happy when her brother turned up of an evening,
for even if returning home at two in the morning, he
could be fairly certain I'd still be there.
With my brother-in-law, I was prepared for most
things, but no-one was prepared for the day Marcus
unexpectedly arrived home and packing his clothing, told
Julia he was leaving her to live with his girl-friend,
by whom he'd had a baby son. There was no big scene; he
arrived, packed, told her, went - if it took ten
minutes, I'd be surprised!
No matter what she is like to live with, every woman
deserves better than that and above most others, Julia
wasn't difficult. Keeping herself trim and neat, she
still managed to laugh a lot, and make a fuss of him
whenever Marcus was about, which wasn't often.
After the Demon King had departed, telephoning me at
work, Mum let me know `our Julia' was in trouble, and
sliding away without anyone noticing, I headed straight
to Julia's to cheer her up.
In trying to be what Marcus wanted, more and more
subjecting her own personality to make things fit, and
really trying to make the marriage work, her whole life
and future suddenly blowing up in her face, she couldn't
understand why she'd lost everything. Not because she
was still madly in love with scroat Marcus, but through
shock and seeing her efforts to be the good wife go for
nothing, poor Sis was heart-broken.
Dressed in simple fawn jumper and brown summer skirt,
poor Julia's pale, oval face lit up as I walked through
the door, then saying the useless things people say to
each other at such times, as I patted her on the back,
sobbing on my shoulder, as all the suppressed emotional
bumps, grazes, disappointments and hurts she'd
accumulated during the marriage surfaced, the unhappy
little love burst into really heart-broken tears.
After a while crying herself out, the torrent very
gradually subsiding, when all I was hearing was
occasional sniffs, about to tell her everything would be
all right, lifting her beautiful, tear-streaked face
towards mine, I put a gentle finger under her chin. As
we caught each other's gaze, in a dynamic, searing
split-second, a crackling thunderbolt of vivid lightning
instantly bridged 20 years.
Then it happened!
Of a single thought, we were kissing each other hard,
mashing into each other. As Julia's soft belly and
thighs ground against mine, my hand dragging at her
jumper, wrenching away her brassiere, I captured her
small nipple, squeezing and rolling it as we sucked lips
and delved tongues into mouths, her hands clawing my
back, mine pulling her ever closer, racing up and down
her spine. Kissing her for sweet life, my hands clasping
her head, mewling sound came from her throat as her hand
caressed around my groin.
Growing instantly, heat rising between us, the energy
was enormous and getting stronger, until, with a choking
gasp, Julia tore herself away. Dazedly staring at her,
half-shocked, half-ecstatic, I fell against the wall.
Panting, her long, dark hair spilling over her face,
my sister stared at the floor. Suddenly grasping the
stair-rail and putting a foot on the first stair, with a
look of daring from under lowered-lashes, Julia's eyes
flicked up at me, her nostrils flaring.
That was it!
Shucking off her jumper as, two steps at a time, we
raced up to her bedroom, yanking her skirt to her waist,
Julia threw herself back onto the bed. Staring at the
dark, soft triangle of pussy-hair nestling between her
legs, that her vagina was open and wet was obvious as
she tore off black panties. With her legs spread wide
with expectancy, slowly laying back, her abdomen heaved
as she stared intently as I struggled with my clothes.
Devoid of any thought or feeling for anything except for
Julia, I couldn't wait to get into her.
Catching her shoulders, with the hardest erection I
had ever known, Julia's long sleek legs reached to lock
round me as I hunched a grotesquely-swollen cock into
warm, smooth wetness. Fiercely pummelling her sucking
sheath, her heels convulsively thumping my back, Julia's
finger-nails gouged at my shoulders and neck, urging me
deeper as transfixed, eyes bulging, my arched back
strained to penetrate her being, Sis yelling excitement
as a constant, hosing deluge of sperm drowned her
cervix. Gasping and heaving, kissing and biting and
stroking her, pumping every drop of sperm into her,
teeth buried in her neck, tasting her salty blood on my
tongue, eventually I slumped across her body.
It only took seconds from start to finish!