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!" is a six-part, first-person account of the life-long relationship between the Author and Julia, soul-mate, mother of his children, lover, wife and - by her own admission - slut! And also, his sister! First making sexual contact at the ages of 6 and 4 respectively, for 20 years, nothing else happened. And then BANG!, tempestuous, almost violent sexual abandonment saw them living together as man and wife and raising children, bringing them up in a warm, solid, secular incestuous environment. Not without its own humour, "Consequences!" covers a twenty-five year period of the family's life, revealing its views, opinions and some of the unlikely problems confronting those following a philosophy of incest. Latent within him for many years, the author advances the theory that the seeds of his family's life-style were implanted by his parent's reaction upon discovering sexual contact occurring between their children. And then nurtured by the very society trying to eradicate it! "Consequences!", Chapters 1 to 4, tell of the early days, and the later discovery and realisation of the feelings the brother and sister have for each other, and include moments of near-detection and some of the day- to-day problems peculiar to their circumstances they encounter. These Chapters are freely available through MCG's ARE. Giving detailed accounts of their children's introduction to, and acceptance of incest, the reasons for their daughter's early-teen pregnancy, and the son and daughter's later involvements with each other, together with a controversial opinion of society's future, Chapters 5 and 6 complete the story, the entire book being available at very reasonable cost only by retail sale, either by e-mail or on disk. For a complete list of publications, e-mail `howtoget@bartra.demon.co.uk' (c) Merrill, Castle and Gray (uk) +~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+ CHAPTER THREE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Never has so much been decided so quickly or an agreement sealed so rapturously. Without shame or fear, Julia and I fell to making up for lost years. Completing what, those 20 years before, I'd set out to do to her slim, long clitoris, Julia conducted her own experiments on the taste, look and respective merits of texture and size of her brother's penis, finding them very much to her liking. With attractively large brown aureoles, Julia had the most lovely full, firm and self-supporting tits and the same shade as mine, smoothest, flawless, slightly-brown skin. Sexually, from whom she had learnt what, I never knew and didn't want to, but fucking seemed second nature to her. Following her handling of me the time we'd sealed our agreement, such was the power and variety of her love-making, believing she occasionally received supernatural assistance when she put her mind to it, I developed the greatest respect for her sexual abilities. Of her appetites, they knew no bounds; having happily committed legal and moral hara-kiri, everything and anything went, but even after we'd tried `everything', invented `anything' and shaken hands that all `things' were better than before, Julia could be guaranteed to think up some new combination or variety. As she'd promised, she loved every angle of our life together, and was mother to me, wife, sister and little girl. And slut. Both acutely aware she lusted for me as much as I her; that underneath the sisterly image, there beat a big loving heart which was mine, long legs which were always ready to open, and - capable of making time stand still - the most slipperiest, the most tightest, vagina which engulfed my soul, when we were out and about in the early weeks of our relationship, watching the sensuous swell and erotic sway of those upthrust breasts and gracefully-curved hips, the awareness of knowing they were illicitly and immorally available whenever I wanted them proved the biggest permanent turn-on anyone could imagine. Julia always wet and I, aroused and hard, it was wonderful for both of us: whether the result of `forbidden fruit', `lustful desire', or what we felt for each other - as far as we were concerned, love divine - who really gives a fuck! Being enshrouded in the deep incestuous love we shared served only to make the whole affair - the box of tricks, Julia and I - stronger and double-dynamite sexual, for Julia as well as me. Doubling its potentcy, as she poured love into me, I returned it, to which she added more love, giving it back. This went on all the time, and very rapidly and smoothly, it built up, very, very powerfully, swiftly consuming us. We never `had sex'; this was love and we spawned, fertilised, reared and bred the stuff! Sometimes, in the dark as Julia walked along the street at night, I swear I could see her glowing! We lived for each other! Above all, in the conspiracy we'd hatched, whilst to others, Julia was my `nice, pretty' sister and I her `quiet brother', as I'd instinctively known beforehand, we were forever sensually and physically aware that to each other, we were the spiritual and sexual reason-for living. Before I moved in with her, when rising from her warm bed in the early hours of the morning, on gazing at the outline of her shapely body under the sheets, hair fluffed out across the pillow and smooth, clear, oval face with its pert nose as she peacefully slept, afraid to move in case I broke the spell and she disappeared, knowing she loved me, I'd go dizzy. To keep the family and neighbours happy, surprising no-one at all, everyone seemingly `could have told her it would happen', we broadcast it that Marcus' - helpfully christened `two-timing rat' by a neighbour - rapid exit had revealed in its wake, unsuspected, hard- boiled, ocean-going problems. Being completely unaware of it and thus catching us by surprise, generating the need of the close-support of her family to `help her through this difficult time', according to our mother, the separation had `utterly devastated' Julia. So as not to disappoint them, and to fulfil everyone's expectations, (and also not to arouse suspicions by singing her little heart out with happiness and glee whilst tap-dancing round the streets), requiring constant nursing, it is sad to report poor Julia's health went into steep decline! Thoughtfully supplying us stereotyped symptoms of unhappiness the marital breakdown had caused Julia, and happily understanding my dropping in straight from work and staying until the early hours was to `help Julia to cope' and `to put Julia's affairs in order', short of building a statue to my honour in the Town square, people could not have been more helpful. As everyone told everyone, this was `Julia's grieving' or (whatever it may be), `the start of the healing-process'. I admit to being totally bemused; smothered in lacerations, bruises and teeth-marks, all by-products of Julia's passions, the only healing required was to my back and shoulders. Slamming me back against the front-door as it closed behind me, grinning happily and dropping to her knees, swallowing semen as she sucked me to climax in her throat without so much as a welcoming kiss or even `hello', Julia `coped' every evening. Her theory that sperm physically-aided breast development appeared to work. Two children and years later, as firm as the first time I chewed them, hers stayed in magnificent condition. (So did our daughter's, but we'll come to that later). Easily committed to memory by any amateur divorce- counsellor, steps to `help little sister through this difficult time' and `restore her confidence' are, even if not actually recommended by the World Health Authority, (although they certainly should be), a matter of routine. Mentioned in fun one day but then as a result of our constantly using the expression, being innocently and cheerfully referred to by our parents and others as an application of `Socially Occupational Fundamental Therapy' and delightfully, but more accurately by Julia as `Sister's Own Fucking Treatment', there are five easy steps, (suitably amended according to patient's relationship to practitioner, of course), viz; as though life depends on it, all the time kissing perfect, juicy lips, continually love sister's tongue with own, then without warning or consent, slyly yank blouse open, firmly grasp breasts, squeezing and kneading until patient's throat, shoulders and neck show red flush of heated arousal. A noticeable parting of sister's legs signifies approaching suitable moment to remove sister's underwear, (if any). This is optional, depending on venue of treatment and time available and in emergency, pushing-aside of gusset of panties is permissible. Then firmly plant her bottom on nearby table, stair or wall, prise apart possibly wilfully- resisting thighs and alternately suck sister's clitoris, gorgeous hard nipples, or wet cunt for either a minimum of 30 minutes or until doctor or patient (or both) achieving orgasm! Experienced practitioners of `S.O.F.T.' should note: If `heart-broken' sister still giggles, displays signs of `sauce' or retaliates, using front teeth, S-L-O-W-L-Y remove occasional strand of pubic hair OR, rapidly removing from dry, draughty, uncomfortable, unnatural trouser-housing, insert penis `A' into wet, warm, comfortable, natural mouth-housing `B', thrust rapidly forward and await inevitable simultaneous fireworks display, eclipse of Sun and Moon, mini-heart-attack and, through said implement `A', exquisite withdrawing of brain - cell by cell! If done frequently, the result should be one happy sister/matrimonial victim/patient of diverse type. (delete where applicable)! Unqualified and uneducated in dealing with emotional problems as I am, this rough-and-ready layman approach was remarkably effective; it worked every time! As well as initiating healthy exercise, another exceedingly efficient method of brightening Julia's `naturally-depressed outlook' proved thus: having delivered quantity of life-giving fluid, and implying performance `not up to scratch' or `kid sister is losing touch', immediately and smartly vacate area. The ensuing energetic chase around all rooms and levels of the house - including on occasions, the loft, outside toilet and garden-shed - followed by much tickling, raping or loving did wonders for her morale, blood-circulation and complexion! Confirmed by the golden expression on her flushed face and hissing intakes of breath, causing Julia, who was `living on her nerves', to tear at my hair and tightly clasp her hands round the back of my head, thus producing air-tight suction by ramming my lips against her labia and tongue deep into her cunt, proved positively therapeutic. Also seemingly helpful, using unsisterly swear-words and, employing most unladylike sexual-expressions, calling her brother names were optional extras, unequivocally assisting happy buckings and noisy sighs as she climaxed over my mouth and nose. Not being the `injured party', and thus not qualifying for `being devastated' treatment, but certain I must at least have one undiscovered emotional problem, or just in case I felt left out of things, as occupational- therapy, Julia decided to `counsel' me. For hours, night after night, and often during the day, we counselled the Billy Bejasus out of each other. For someone undergoing `grief-counselling' - being fucked in every position, raped in every room of the house and happily subjected to every conceivable method of getting sperm in her - anyone hearing Julia's laughter would certainly have complimented Julia's brother for doing an excellent job of `cheering her up'. Through hungry, large brown-eyes, watching brother's jerking shaft throb with excitement, Julia was even more `comforted' as it jetted glistening chandeliers of sperm over her brown nipples. Of the problems confronting my suffering `emotionally shattered' baby-sister, by far the biggest was deciding if to lick her brother's sperm from her breasts, or scooping it in her hand, suck it from her fingers or trickle it over the open lips of her vagina! I had my own problem! The constant love and happiness reflected in Julia's healthily-glowing face and sparkling eyes often tore me apart. I could either put up with it, whimper with the happy pain of it all or roar with delight. Or, as my compassionate Julia told me, `suffer from all three, take it or leave it. But things sure ain't gonna change!' Done to keep chins from wagging, after a month or so, leaving Julia's bed, mouth, breasts and juiced-up libido at some reasonable hour became tedious, so partly to put their minds at rest and partly to include them in their children's lives, seeking their wisdom, Julia and I put our heads together and took the problem to Mum and Dad. Mind you, it wasn't presented quite like that. Meat and drink to our mother, things sounded more like `Julia is in difficulty with mortgage payments on the house, paying all household bills, has iniquitous legal bills over Marcus to contend with, doesn't know which way to turn' and so on. As we hoped, after an acceptable ration of `well, I don't know what to suggest' and `what do you think, George', our parents inevitably suggested the required answer. Julia should take in a lodger! But who? Batting-about ideas for fifteen minutes produced the answer. To our ever-lasting surprise, who better to help than steady, helpful brother, who - not having to pay rent on his own flat - could contribute financially, conveniently look after his sister and protect her if gruesome Marcus stopped-by, or - `because in this day and age, one can't be too careful' - someone broke in to rape her! Only turning it into a violent sneezing-fit with difficulty, as this was said, Julia nearly gave the game away by choking with laughter. Closer than two wet cigarette-papers, something thinner than a layer of perspiration experiencing trouble getting between our bodies, there was some fat chance of her being raped! The `occupied' sign hanging on any worthwhile place to park his cock, any hopeful molester would well-and-truly find himself in Mother Hubbard Land! An organisational gleam in her eye, Mum now got going on one of her marathon `my-will-be-done' campaigns. Mentally jogging-along to keep her company, but with difficulty staring poker-faced over her shoulder as she talked, out of sight of Dad, revealing kissable white thighs, I watched Julia mischievously raise the hem of her skirt. Heading round the first turn, as that tantalising `V' of slinky, burnt-gold bikini-briefs came into view, Mum `was making sense and helping Julia'. Up the back straight, Mum's younger son `ought to putting yourself out and giving up your flat' (I had difficulty remembering where it was) and whilst Mum was `sleeping easier knowing someone was keeping an eye on Julia', her daughter's knicker-waistband slid down a beautifully curved abdomen. Coming round the final turn, Mum's `would do it if you had a thought in your head for anyone else' and `you ought to be happy to do it' was accompanied by the appearance of a curly-haired black- bush. Breathlessly into the mad-sprint of the final hundred words, as behind her, re-arranging her clothing, her daughter rocked with silent laughter, to Mother's piece- de-la-resistance, `a brother ought to take care of his sister', with an erection resembling Cleopatra's Needle, her son thoroughly wanted to! Being a good, loving son, wanting to make my parents happy, and happy to help my sister over a tough spot, a complete waste of time, after deliberating the proposition for about five minutes, four minutes and fifty-nine point nine seconds of which were spent for effect, bowing my head and succumbing to logic and the wisdom of age, I gave up procrastinating and agreed. Having thought of the scheme herself and successfully talking me into it, a happy and infinitely pleased Mum (and just wanting to watch the television, a greatly relieved Dad), could let the neighbours know just how wise Julia was being and how helpful her son was. Never because, wedged against the living-room wall, my sister's long legs had been wrapped round me as my penis banged her womb, from now on, in Mum's eyes (and any nosey neighbour's), any eagerness, satisfaction or happiness in Julia's demeanour could be only the result of my doing such a good job for her. With this development behind us, if possible, things got better! Freedom from Marcus's boorish and ominous presence set light to a hitherto unrealised sense of fun in Julia. She became a `free spirit' and the more love she got, the bigger the spirit became. During the night, she would masturbate me awake, wear little or nothing around the house as the mood suited her - her favourite was a graceful sarong draped around her curved-hips and a skimpy, fully-laden `bra full of brotherly love' - which from the amount of me she was swallowing, was very likely - and because she would `like it by the litre', Julia often expressed a wish to bottle my semen! Infecting me with the same happiness, I had no complaints at all and amazing the both of us, the more sperm my sister demanded, the more I seemed to produce. At times, painful and difficult for both of us to live with, and occasionally physically involving near-rape by either side, merely in anticipation of seeing each other, burning-hot sexual heat could instantaneously arise within us. Sometimes almost uncannily telepathic, Julia might meet me from work, and dragging each other into the dark of the underground car-park, before even saying `hello', it was a rapid, gasping shimmy against a concrete pillar. Concerned our relationship - and time - was occupied by sex, or we had become unnaturally-obsessed by it, Julia and I had many note-comparing in-depth discussions, but agreed this not to be the case. Later, we came to understand we were becoming inundated, experiencing the `thrill absolute', the `energy' created by incest. Having awoken latent, filial sexual-desire, continuing sexual activity, (every word, deed and even thought), develops it; in itself, `fucking' becomes, and maintains itself as an intense, never-waning, ever-elevating, limitless delight. Ever- happier, giving rise to the `we keep trying to stop but can't' syndrome, never in a million years would those involved want it to end. Making heroin resemble washing- powder, it's the incestual narcotic-effect! A normal want and need for each other, the desire to `give' and never count the cost, if love now enters the equation - `loving' incest - its influence increases near-vertically, resulting in an extreme, passionately- potent combination of all that is good and wonderful in people and the world, a raging all-consuming fire, only temporarily quenchable by the spirit of only one unique person. What was created at the very moment of our heart-felt and sincere joining was an eternal, powerfully-heady addictive aphrodisiac, compared to which, the `high' effects of any combination of narcotics are almost non-existent!. And for the `user', no unhappy side-effects whatsoever! Fulfilling itself in sexual connection, flourishing in the secrecy of the unique air-tight environment separating `incestors' from other people, loving-incest breeds a fantastically-erotic energy, DRIVING its participants ever-onward. The basis of all incestuous fantasy and in those who can `sense' it, the subliminal envy of the populace which does not, could not - or refuses to - understand it, moth-to-the-flame, like a fantastically-huge asteroid travelling the universe, THERE IS NO POWER ON EARTH THAT CAN STOP IT! Each in their own time, at a very early age and to our eternal happiness and delight, the energy manifested itself in our children. In the always-present atmosphere of loving sexual-tension and desire between Julia and I, they sensed it, saw it and very happily enjoying it, naturally reached-out for it. Producing the unbreakable `cycle of incest' which so frightens the life out of society, magnetically drawn to the energy, and then by it, to their parents and each other, sexual contact was inevitable and welcome. Naively unappreciating the influence of the power of loving-incest, before understanding came and having decided its effect on us was, under the circumstances, normal and very enjoyable, Julia and I surrendered to it, living love to the fullest. Expected to visit our parents at least once a week, judging herself temporarily safe from instant, freeze- dried, canned incestuous-fucking, slyly and sexily, Julia constantly teased, at which she excelled. Going to any extreme - legs on view, pants flashed, (and before it became a badge of feminism, very often wearing none at all), deliberately flaunting breasts, running pink tongue across teeth whilst pointedly staring at my groin, exaggerated skirt-rearrangement, rubbing against me in passing - she'd run through an ever-changing repertoire and for much of the visit, estimating how long it would be before I could push her legs apart and fuck what I knew would be a soaking-wet vagina, equally petrified our parents would notice, whilst thoroughly enjoying my sister oozing exciting, illegal sex at me, I'd nurse a bruising erection. It wasn't all one-sided though. To satiate bubbling passion, we ran some appalling risks of one-upmanship. One Saturday evening, as the family sat together in front of the interminable TV, only minutes after she'd left to go to the toilet and unnoticed by Mum and Dad, to call Julia's bluff and remind her I was still a player in the game, I quietly slid out of the room. Having the fright of her life, on coming from the bathroom, unsuspecting Julia happily squealed as she was grabbed! Knickers around her slim ankles, one nyloned leg hooked round my waist, the other on tip-toe, flowery dress hoiked around her hips, with Julia happily biting their son's ears and laughingly whispering crude obscenities, as their children `tore a bit off' in double-quick time, if leaving the drawing-room and glancing up the stairs, Mum or Dad would have had heart- failure! Even above the noise from the television, that they didn't hear the gasping groan of passion as Julia felt brotherly sperm washing her cervix was the miracle that night! We timed it afterwards. Sedately sitting in the family drawing-room, where every now and again, making a show of wriggling for comfort, Julia purposely flashed the strip of semen-soaked green fabric nestling tightly between her legs, as innocent as two lambs, within five minutes, the children were back with their parents. It was pure sexy fun and we loved every minute of it. When in front of neighbours and `locals', preserving the brother/sister illusion was given care and attention, and still we had hair-raising shocks. During a day-out at a far-away, `safe' seaside resort, in a shady shop doorway, Julia and I enjoyed a discreet, very passionate and romantic, clinging kiss, her cool hand gripping my erection through my open-fly, scratching my glans with her little finger, and slipping into the heat between her thighs, my hand under her dress. Smoothing clothing, hair, etc., upon coming unstuck, knowing us since war-time kids, the first person we saw was the lady who worked in our local bakery. With much `how's your mother?' and `did you know Mrs. Whatsername has left her husband', ten heart-stopping minutes passed waiting for a pointed comment. To date, it was the nearest we had ever been to being caught. Somewhat sobered, adjourning to a nearby coffee- shop to recover ourselves, we talked of going a little easier, but then felt frustration; why should we? If we could tolerate other people's ridiculous tribal laws, why couldn't they tolerate us? But back home again, after that encounter, we walked on egg-shells for days until it became clear the woman had noticed nothing. Providing it was not actually in front of the television set, Dad would not have noticed his son screwing his daughter and/or his wife at one and the same time, but, a little later, something told both Julia and I that Mum had her own thoughts on our relationship. Of course, never the family policy, nothing was said in actual words, but usually accompanied with a half-smile as though she knew a secret, just an occasional `be careful what you do'. Dear old Mum, how we loved her. Some things proved a `no-win' situation. Notoriously narrow-minded about brothers and sisters dossing-down in the same bed for a fortnight, struck by the `family- resemblance', many hotel-managers, guests, camp-site inmates, caravan-parkers etc. not unreasonably assumed we were brother and sister, often shocked into secretive tete-a-tetes when, tallying with our booking-forms, we were obliged to say we were `man-and-wife'. Although adding spice and excitement to life, apart from being irksome, it being only a matter of time before an arriving holiday-maker turned out to be someone we knew, we acknowledged the stupidity of running so close to the wind. Foreign holidays cut odds to a bald minimum. Because of Julia's love, socially, I felt the man with the ultimate Rolls-Royce. Built to the highest standards, hinting of untold performance, of superb design and superior craftsmanship, the ultimate of comfort all subtlely hidden beneath tasteful trim, deep polish, beautiful lines and fantastic finish, always the centre of attraction, and - to me - of immeasurable value, any male meeting Julia felt all she needed was a turn of the key, a press of the button, and with a graceful, feminine swish, permitting being lovingly- seduced or, as wild as the driver wished, fucked with a lusty roar, she would purr into bed. But amid numerous admirers and disregarded by lusters for ownership and those possessed of only a never-to-be-fulfilled dream wish of a test-drive, stood her brother, the most unlikely possessor of the sole ignition-key. Side-products to attending parties gave us a lot of innocent merriment. To keep up appearances and without any qualms, we `freed' each other, and knowing Julia was living apart - and later - divorced from Marcus, as she mingled and danced with everyone, asking me if she was `free', `seeing someone' or `available', the players would strut their stuff. Either simultaneously or one after the other and very probably to their ever-lasting physical detriment, aware my lithesome beauty could gracefully cater for them all without so much as spilling her drink, and knowing full well her heart and bed were occupied, to those offering me a drink, and even money, for putting in a good word - and there were many - cruelly, I'd suggest trying their luck and dancing with her. As they vainly reached for her emotions, hormones and body, over their shoulder, Julia would flash me a twinkle-eyed look of `thanks for nothing, you sod', or amuse herself by making revolting faces at me as with kind-hearted, gentle but firm refusals, she fended of all-comers. Foolish, but fun! Life was kept fresh and interesting, we worked at it and no-one more than Julia. One night, driving her home from one of these bashes, for no reason at all of which I was aware, and sitting in silence for the remainder of the journey, she calmly informed me she was cross with me. By this time, we'd been together long enough for me to be wary; one could never be too sure from which direction Julia would launch her next sexual-assault on me, so whilst not particularly concerned and checking she was still giving off the musk of love and goodwill, I planned ahead. Nose-in-the-air, immediately on reaching home, Julia haughtily went for a shower. Amiably giving her as long as required to leisurely take my clothes off, led by my erection, I stormed the stairs. Goggling at pink labia- lips nestling amongst black-hair curls set between wide- apart legs, bursting through the bathroom-door, I stopped dead as she said, "What kept you, sister- fucker!" Bent forward, hands braced against the water-cistern and eyeing my wavering shaft over her shoulder, Julia grinned wickedly. Naked apart from party-going high- heels and stockings, she wriggled a perfectly-curved bottom at me. "You'll have to be quick! The police and fire-brigade are on their way and they want their share!" Enjoying my stunned expression, she added with a gurgle, "Well, don't just stand there, waving your cock at me! Make up your mind! You either suck it, fuck it or strike a match on it! It's all yours, brother! "And it always will be!"