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!