textfiles/sex/EROTICA/C/con1.txt

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!