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!"