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From: BillyG <hayden@mindless.com>
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Subject: My Sister Jean XIV (m/f, cons, inc, mast, anal)
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MY SISTER JEAN
By BillyG
Jean's Visit - Chapter 14
The frogs in the pond behind our house were giving up their last
cacophony in the early morning light. Dictated by my biologic clock I
suppose, I was awake early even though Jean and I had spent an intense
little while on the phone with each other late the night before. As was my
custom, I sleep in the nude and often awoke with an unconscious "tent
pole" under the sheets. With my eyes closed and hands clasped behind my
head, I was reviewing the latent imagery of the night before, of the phone
sex I'd had with Jean, luxuriating in the deliciousness of it all.
God, I loved that woman! The feeling washed over me with an
intensity that left me short of breath. I loved her wit and her spontaneity,
her seriousness and gravity, her daffiness and heaven knows, her
sensuousness. Yet I was uncertain. We'd agreed not to "do it," but I
wasn't at all clear just what that meant. Jean spoke repeatedly of "the
incest thing." Just what *was* the incest thing anyway? Was it talking
about sex? I thought not. Then was it touching? Well, we'd certainly
touched on a couple of occasions and neither of us appeared to be
troubled, much less traumatized by the experience, so I thought that wasn't
it.
If she sucked my dick once, was *that* incest? How about when I
fingered her pussy? To climax? Now, was that incest? Shit! I didn't
know and it bothered me, a niggling, unresolved burr of an issue.
I don't know about you, but I've got several voices in my head that
think they know everything. And they're all loud, even strident. Usually
they sit on the head of my bed and start up first thing in the morning. "Oh
good, you're awake. Let me tell you a few things." They're rarely kind
and understanding; mostly they're full of fear and negativity, except those
that are lazy and just want to go to the beach. Sometimes I feel like I'm in
a car pool when I'm all alone. I can argue both sides of any given issue and
worse, I lose nine times out of ten!
Is it solely the emotional fallout of putting my dick in Jean's pussy?
Is that what she's fearful of? Cripes, I've been *there* a hundred times in
my mind. I've screwed that girl so many times in my head, the emotional
fallout is mostly that it's *only* been there . . . in my head! Or is it that
she's afraid she'll get pregnant? Yeah, that'd be tough. I mean, how many
girls get knocked up by their brother? I'll have to ask her about this, I
thought.
In the middle of this intellectual discussion I was having with
myself, I was startled when something soft touched my face! My eyes
snapped open and saw for a second only a hazy light until I scrabbled away
a pair of panties that'd been dropped across my eyes and nose.
Jean laughed, "Wake up, sleepy head. I promised you these
panties." Then looking away in mock embarrassment, she added, "Geez,
they're ripe! Hope you *really* wanted em."
I inhaled deeply, pulling the aromatic essence of her into my head
and simply said, "YES!" She'd kept her promise.
Nodding toward the tent pole, she asked, "Did I cause that?"
Nodding, "Mostly. I wake up with a woodie every morning," and then
looking down at myself in wonder, I added, "but this one is particularly
urgent. And yes, I *was* thinking of you . . . of last night . . . of what we
did. God, I loved it! I just can't believe the power of *phone* sex for cryin'
out loud!"
Jean smiled and nodded, just looking at me. The least I could do
was return the scrutiny. The morning light was soft, filtering through the
giant redwood behind the house to the east of us and it cast a warm,
luminous glow in my room. She was wearing a short wrap-around skirt and
a T-shirt that didn't even begin to disguise her prominent nipples. Once
again, out of character, Jean wasn't wearing a bra.
Again, her eyes dropped to the tented sheet and she gestured with an
open palm as if to ask, "What, pray tell, *is* that?"
Then, remembering a little ditty that Jean had read to me years before, I
recited,
"The tent pole's up, the canvas is spread.
To hell with breakfast, come on back to bed."
She giggled and continued,
"Take the tent pole down, put the canvas away.
Monkey had a hemorrhage; there'll be no circus today."
Still chuckling, she said, "Just kidding, just kidding," and sat on the edge
of the bed facing me, with one leg bent on the bed and the other on the
floor, partly opening her thighs. Of course, my eyes darted right to the
darkened space under her short skirt, hoping to see . . . well, anything.
"You never give up, do you? What are expecting to see?"
"Not expecting . . . just hoping."
"Billy, you've seen my legs hundreds and hundreds of times.
What's the attraction?"
"Don't really understand it, girl, but it's strong. You thrill me.
More and more, you thrill me. I'm just taken with you. You know that!"
Jean placed her hand on the sheet on top of my thigh and said softly,
"Yes, Billy, I *do* know that and I want to tell you again, I feel the same
way. And I'll tell you this again . . . usually, it's very scary!"
"Yeah . . . I've been thinking about that. About why it's scary for you, I
mean," letting my hand fall to her left knee. Her skirt had pulled up and
open a little and I could see the fine, blond hairs on her thigh.
She glanced at my hand, smiled and asked, "Tell me, buster. What do
you know that I don't? Most of my feelings are just that . . . feelings. Not
based on my intellect, just on my gut."
Trailing my finger tips over the inside of her knee, I looked up
at her and continued, "Well, I've been trying to define "incest" in the last
little while -- an operational definition if you will -- and I've decided that
for us, it's not "talking" and it's not "touching" and it's not "sucking."
Know what I mean?"
Jean, looking puzzled, slid onto the side of the bed another few inches,
opening up her thighs a little more. I looked again. Still too dark, but now
more inner thigh visible..
"If you mean that we've done those things and we're still OK, then I
*do* know what you mean." And then stubbornly, "But I'm still afraid."
Still trailing my fingertips on the inside of her thigh, I continued,
"Yeah. But I think it's not so much what we've done. I don't think it --
incest that is -- has a lot to do with putting my dick in your pussy."
Jean's eyes widened and her pupils dilated with that phrase. She sucked
in her breath but didn't speak. For all her candidness, she remained
unaccustomed to such specific and graphic talk.
Again, nudging her thigh to keep her attention, I went on, "No.
For us . . . for you . . . incest isn't about fucking." Again, the little gasp.
In a softer voice I added, "I think your fear of incest is about getting
pregnant," and then fell silent.
She exploded, "Cripes, Billy! Pregnant! By you? Where in heck did
*that* notion come from? That's silly. That's goofy, you know that?" She
barked a nervous laugh and moved her leg again. This time I caught a
fleeting glimpse of the crotch of her dark panties. The scent of her used
panties was fresh in my mind and I again experienced a strong urge to bury
my head between her legs.
"OK, I know it's goofy, but stay with me a minute. Tell me, IF we
actually did it . . . if we actually, you know, fucked . . . how would you
feel? Inside, I mean. How'd you feel?"
"Scared. I told you that," she answered, nervously plucking at her
skirt, picking it up and then dropping it. I kept my eyes on hers.
"OK, sure," I agreed, "scared but not turned off. Stay with me a little
longer. How'd you feel if you got pregnant? By me?" I added pointlessly.
"Devastated. Just devastated . . . I'd simply just die." Then she added
with a wry smile, "Aside from that, just fine. Where is this going, anyway?"
"Wanna have kids someday, Jean?"
"You know I do, Billy. SOMEday."
I wiggled down in the bed a little, both to give me a better view
under her skirt and that I might be able to reach farther up on her thigh.
"Well, *that's* what I think is going on. It's not us screwing that scares
you. It's getting pregnant. One part of you wants to get pregnant . . .
someday, and another part of you is frightened, scared witless that it would
be ME that did it."
"Let me get this straight . . . let me tell you what I think you've said.
You think that it's not the actual, uh . . . doin' it, that I'm afraid of?" she
asked, skeptically. Her expression was one of those "oh yeah, right!" ones.
"Right," I assured her, touching the inside of her thigh, well up
under her skirt. I wondered if she, like me, had two thoughts running at
the same time, one on the topic and the other on touching her?
"That it's getting pregnant by you that I'm really afraid of?"
"Yeah, exactly, Sis. Hell, we've done almost everything and
haven't suffered any psychological consequences. Actually, we're closer
than ever. We really love and CARE for each other, more now than ever."
Jean smiled and said, "Well, you *may* have something there. It
"feels" all right. At least it doesn't feel *bad*. Not right now anyhow."
"Just sit with it, Sis. You don't have to buy it right now . . . or
ever. Just let it percolate. We'll talk about it later, OK?"
"Whew! Yes, later," she answered, visibly relaxing. Then, as if
noticing for the first time, she stared at the lump of my hand beneath her
skirt, creeping toward her body. "Yes?" she asked, lifting one eyebrow.
Reaching down with my free hand, I covered hers, still on my
thigh, almost touching my cock, and reasoned, "Your fault," nodding to her
hand so close to my hardon.
Surprised, she yanked her hand back and exclaimed, "Yikes!"
And then, almost as quickly, laughed and ran the palm of her hand up my
thigh, again brushing against my erect cock murmuring something like,
"Geez, you are *always* horny, aren't you?"
That rhetorical question didn't need an answer. The lawyers have
an expression for it, something like "res ipsa loquitur" or "the thing speaks
for itself." Instead, I turned my body slightly into her leg, pushing my
hard cock to her hand and, at the same time, running my hand up to her
crotch. What? No panties! I touched the fur of her sex between the warm
softness of her inner thighs, not the crotch of her panties as I'd anticipated.
A thrill shot through me.
Jean suddenly beamed, "That's right, big boy. No panties. I gave them
to you. Just *me* there," and she leaned forward, laying her head on my
chest, now blatantly holding my cock through the sheet.
"Lie beside me for a moment, won't you Jean?" I asked, making
room for her on the bed. I smiled to myself, thinking of the expression that
promised, "I'll only put it in a little way."
"Only a moment," she whispered, turning her body and sliding
down beside me, one leg thrown over my thigh, opening her crotch to my
hand.
I cupped her furry mons softly in one hand while cradling her head with
my other, whispering, "Jean, thanks for last night. It was awesome. I can't
believe how hot it was, being sexual with you . . . even at long distance."
She ran her hand down my forearm, I thought perhaps to pull my
hand from her crotch, but she surprised me. She curved her hand around
mine and with her index finger, pushed my middle finger into the pulpy
wetness of her pussy slit, arching her pelvis into my hand. Her pussy was
sopping and swollen and once again, I experienced the extraordinary thrill
of feeling my finger slide into the heat of my sister's cunt.
"Yes, Billy . . . yes. Touch me. Feel me. Feel my wetness." Wiggling
closer to me, she continued, "I'm melting inside. This is *so* sweet."
As I slid my finger slowly in and out of her pussy, she rocked her
hips against me, still pushing my hand against her sex, now grunting a
little with each thrust.
"I wanted this so much last night, Billy. After we hung up, I
masturbated . . . it seemed like hours. I came and then came again. I kept
coming until . . . I guess I just passed out. God I was horny!"
"Was?"
"*Am*, you jerk! Am horny." And then she murmured something
so soft I couldn't make it out.
"What? What'd you say, girl? Can't hear you."
She murmured again, slightly louder but all I could hear was
"finger . . . " something or another.
Running my tongue into her ear, I again whispered, "What babe?
What'd you say? Tell me what you want. Say it out loud."
Then, as if we were in a crowded room and she wanted only me to
hear, she cupped her hand to her cheek and whispered in my ear, "Finger . .
. finger fuck me, Billy. Please, I need it."
"Yes-s-s," I hissed, cupping her sex in the palm of my hand, my
middle finger curling up under her pelvic bone, searching for her G-spot.
As she grunted her pleasure, she began writhing on the bed,
hunching against my hand, rubbing her body against mine. I could feel the
fullness of her breasts as her torso twisted against me. Pulling back to free
myself from her leg, I threw my right leg over her body as she turned, first
into me and then prone, continuing to hunch against the sheets.
I ran my hand down over her buttocks, catching the hem of her skirt
and pulling it up to her waist as she lifted up, freeing the front of it. I
palmed her butt in my hand and whispered, "Christ Jean, I love feeling your
ass."
"Oh, Billy! Don't stop touching me. I'm so itchy in there. I *need* you
there."
Pulling myself up a bit, I ran my hand between her legs from the back,
feeling the swollen and partially open pussy lips. She moaned and pushed
her hips back to meet me as I slipped the thumb of my right hand into her
pussy, cupping her mons and clit with my fingers, slowly rocking.
"Yes! Right there. Right *there*!" she exclaimed with an explosive
deep, grunting voice, thick with passion.
Pulling her forearms under her, she pushed her chest off the bed as she
pulled her knees under her pelvis, assuming a stance of supplication. Now
her backside was completely bared, her skirt up over her back and her ass
arched high in the air. I kneeled beside her, still holding her cunt in my
hand, still fucking her with my thumb.
Her head was down on the sheet, turned toward me but mostly
obscured by her hair. She was groaning and murmuring incoherently. I
enjoyed the power of making her voice her desires out loud. "What Jean?
What do you want? Say the words."
Barely louder and still incoherent, she continued an entreaty in a
near sing-song voice, still rocking back against my hand.
"Say it Jean. I want to hear the words."
Throwing her head to toss her hair out of her eyes, she looked at
me with eyes almost crazed in passion and said quite distinctly and slowly,
"Fuck - me - with - your - hand. Fuck - me - Billy." Then, dropping her
forehead to the bed again, she groaned, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK
ME."
Driven by my own lust and given approval by the force of her
thrusts back against my hand, I picked up the speed and depth of my thumb
fucking. With her knees pulled up beside her chest and her back arched,
her ass cheeks were full open, exposing her pink bung hole to my stare.
God! Her ass hole, exposed, open and vulnerable to me! The place
I'd dreamed about and had glimpsed just a few times before. I placed the
tip of my left index finger right below her anus and then as I continued to
thrust my right thumb into her cunt, I ran my left fingertip around the edge
of her ass hole with a feather-light touch, teasing.
Again she groaned, "Billy . . . Billy . . . what are you *doing*?"
Pushing the pulp of my finger tip against her puckered anus, I said,
"I'm fucking you, Jean. I'm fucking you and touching your ass hole. Can
you feel me?"
She gasped, "I can't believe this. I just can't believe what's
happening. I don't even know what I'm feeling, but it's incredible, it's
wonderful. Oh, I want it, I* want* it!"
Dropping a dollop of my saliva on her ass hole, I again pushed my
finger tip against her sphincter muscle. It resisted for just a little while and
then began to soften. My finger tip dilated her ass hole a fraction. Again,
she pushed back against my hand, against my finger.
"Yes, yes, yes . . . whatever you're doing . . . yes!" she chanted into
the bed as I fucked her with my fingers, humping myself against her hip. I
lost sense of time. The sensations went on an on, building, cresting,
overflowing and then she shrieked. No words. Just an explosive shriek.
Then she suddenly became still save the shuddering of her body and with
another eruptive grunt, she screamed, "Coming . . . coming . . . God, God,
God . . . oh shit, shit, shit . . . I'm coming!"
Jean had once told me how hypersensitive her pussy feels after she's had
an orgasm, so I had presence of mind to slow down, then stop, but leaving
my thumb buried deep in her cunt with my fingertip just nudging into her
ass hole. We stayed frozen there, suddenly silent save our gasping for long
minutes.
I was aware. In *that* moment, right there, right then, I was aware. I
had a startling clarity of us and the NOW. I could feel our breathing and
our sweaty bodies. I could smell the heady scent of Jean filling the room
and my head with her essence. I felt my cock, still hard, pressing against
her thigh and the coolness of the morning breeze drying the wetness of our
bodies. Me naked, Jean with her skirt pulled up, nude from the waist down
and my fingers in her.
Then, I slowly pulled my thumb from her and she gasped, "Oh, no."
Pulling her down with her back to me, I curled around her, holding her
tight against my chest, by hips against her ass and my legs curled into the
crook of her legs. I petted her and I crooned into her hair, Oh, baby . . .
that was . . . that was indescribable. I have no words. I simply can't tell
you . . . I was just blown away. I love you, babes. I love you more than I
can say . . . more than you can possibly know."
End of Chapter 14
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