Message-ID: <466eli$9704072337@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: RankAmatr@aol.com Subject: REPOST: Have you ever committed incest? #14 The Thoroughly Disreputable Incest Digest ========================================= Issue 14 Of all the taboos in human society, incest may be the greatest. No wonder, then, that it is also one of the best kept secrets.... We now know that incest is much more common than previously imagined. Many people first begin to fantasize sexually about family members. Cousins and siblings may help us explore another person's body for the first time. I want to hear from you if you have had sexual contact with a family member, and what impact that had on your lives. Perhaps it was successful; perhaps it was a bad memory best forgotten. The story doesn't have to be very long, or detailed, or even sexy. Just let me know: ...with whom (brother, mother, cousin, uncle) ...at what age ...who initated the activity, and ...how you feel about it now I assure you, the confidentiality of any information provided will not be compromised. If you have a story you would like to share, please send mail to RankAmateur@WriteMe.com. Here are a few of the stories I have received so far. Thank you. [A bumper crop after 3 weeks of famine. Thanks, everyone! More stories in a few days. For now, one looooong one .... names changed to protect the not-so-innocent, as you shall read.] [Ed. personal note to Jeannie: please write.] =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ME AND MY YOUNGER BROTHER (mf, teen, incest, true) By Jeannie I'm glad I found this group on incest. I want to talk something out. I hope I got all that "mf, teen" etc. business right. I also hope I don't screw up my anonymity. A friend at college set me up with the Private Idaho remailing program (I told him I wanted to send jokey messages to friends and play around in some newsgroups without collecting weird email). Private Idaho posted okay to alt.anonymous but not to alt.sex.incest. Too disreputable maybe. So I borrowed a temporary AOL ID and am emailing my journal to [Ed. note: updated to reflect my new lifetime e-mail address] "RankAmateur@WriteMe.com" instead. "RankAmateur@WriteMe.com" posts true incest stories collected from others so I suppose I can trust him or her to protect my anonymity. I do want to post this. It represents quite a bit of effort (mostly enjoyable) to remember the details of some experiences I had with my brother a couple of years ago. I will read anyone's comments but I won't be able to respond since I can't post to this group anonymously. Unless someone posts some instructions on how to do the truly anonymous posts that I see so many of here. Pls don't flame me; I'm not brain dead; and I'm willing to learn. I would like to be able to participate more directly if my journal sparks any comment. [Anonymous posting used to be easy, with the anon.penet.fi service in Finland. Unfortunately, the Scientologists wanted to know one of the posters there, and brought suit in a Finnish court that ruled against the owner of that service. He shut down rather than put more users at risk of exposure. The next time you wonder where your privacy went, remember this: thank the Scientologists. Personally, I think they're assholes. -- Rank] So here are my memories of my encounters with Ricky, in the form of a note I tried unsuccessfully to post using Private Idaho. I will trust "RankAmateur@WriteMe.com" to post my message unchanged and to honor my request for anonymity. * * * Most of the alt.sex.incest messages just seem to me like Huge Cock Meets Hungry Slut drools, and I've avoided the graphic files mostly. But to each his own. I'm in no position to judge others for what makes them excited, so long as they don't hurt others. Some messages here do seem real, for which I'm grateful, because I've needed for a couple of years to process some sexual encounters I had with my younger brother. I hope writing here will help me get a handle on these events. A friend who participates in several support groups (okay, I know that's not exactly what this place is) said I should tell some general stuff about myself so you have some idea of who you're sort-of-interacting with. So here goes. My real first name is Jeanne (Je-Anne) but I go by Jeannie. I'm 19 and going to college "somewhere in the Midwest," as they say. (I don't want to get too specific.) My teachers tell me I have a good mind. Physically, I'm 5'6" in my shoes and a bit thin, with light brown hair that I hate to cut. I have greenish eyes and fairly regular features. I've been told by friends and by guys my own age that I'm good-looking, although my mirror tells me I'm not beautiful or stunning or anything like that. A boyfriend once said I look like a pixie, which he seemed to think was okay. I play tennis and swim a lot, so I'm fairly strong and don't have much body fat. My personal behavior for the most part falls within the norm. I'm not a virgin but I've never been very active sexually, since AIDS scares me to death and I want to lead a good, reasonably long life. I do masturbate fairly often, at least several times a week. When I do, I'm usually thinking about my brother Ricky. That's what I need to write about. Ricky (who lately prefers to be called Rich) is still at home finishing high school, a few hundred miles away. He's 17 now and a classic "nice kid," the sort that other boys' moms wish they had: stays out of trouble, plays sports, studies hard. He'll probably make it to 21 without having to lie or answer "Yes" to any of those "have you ever...?" questions on application forms. He runs long-distance events in track and competes in school swimming and diving meets, so you can probably visualize the kind of lo ng, lean body he has. He would have no problem getting dates, but he's on the shy side. I hope someday he gets over that. I also have a little sister Jody, 12, who wants to grow up like me for some reason. That's it for the family. Mom has dates sometimes, mostly with men from where she works, but there's nobody of the male persuasion steady in her life, at least not that I know of. Dad left our household years ago; he lives in California. I spent my last summer vacation and last year's school vacations with him and he wasn't drinking for the first time I can remember. He did go to a lot of AA meetings, which made me happy. He said he got a lot of stuff worked out in his life by writing about it after he got sober, which is one reason I'm writing this. I think I need to look at these memories. The events I'm writing about happened a couple of years ago in late Spring. Ricky had just turned 15 and I had been 17 for a couple of months. Since I skipped a grade in grammar school, I was about to graduate early from high school, and was feeling very grown-up and mature, thank you very much. A couple weeks before, Ricky had gotten into a losing argument with a car while riding his bicycle. It wasn't the driver's fault, since Ricky had just barreled out into the street in front of him at full tilt. The bike was killed dead, a total wreck. Ricky, luckily for him, only had his arms broken in a couple of places, plus a couple of ribs cracked and a collar bone broken. Plus some internal injuries that healed fairly quickly, and assorted deep bruises. He got out of it alive and without serious head or spinal injuries, was the main thing. But he was hurting. When Ricky got home from the hospital he was all wrapped up in bandages across his chest and had immobilizing casts on both arms. They installed his poor injured carcass in a rented hospital bed in his room, all hooked up to ropes and pulleys that held his arms slightly elevated to accelerate healing, I guess. The poor kid was completely helpless and had to be taken care of by a nurse who came during the day, courtesy of the state government. She was a big, 50-ish, no-nonsense woman who looked like a prison guard. At night she went home to whoever loved her and Mom tended to Ricky's needs. I guess that's a situation anyone can get used to in time, but I felt really sorry for Ricky, having to be fed and bathed and use a bedpan and everything. I just couldn't imagine having to use a bedpan. In a hospital room, with nurses to handle the details, maybe; but right there at home? With my own MOM wiping my butt and pulling my pants back up and emptying the bedpan and everything? It boggled my mind to think about it. Still does. (Well, after the first week or so Ricky was strong enough to get out of bed and walk to the toilet if someone unhooked the ropes for him, but he still needed help because he couldn't bend his arms. And he couldn't stay on his feet for long. Poor kid.) Mom is tough, and smart too, and knew how to help Ricky feel better about it; or at least, he never complained. The nurse took care of the worst of the intimate details most of the time, so I guess it was workable. Mom pretty much kept me and Jody out of Ricky's room at first because he felt miserable and also, I suppose, he didn't feel like answering any embarrassing questions. By the second week we all sort of took everything for granted, and visited Ricky when he wasn't otherwise occupied and stayed out of the way when he needed privacy with Mom or the nurse. In the second week after the accident, on a Friday night after Ricky's nurse had left, Mom got a panic night call from her job and had to go in to help fix problems with some sort of engineering proposal they were all excited about. She put me in charge of Ricky and Jody for the evening. We expected it wouldn't be a problem, since they were both asleep. I was watching TV when I heard Ricky holler out for Mom, so I ran up to his room to see what he needed. He asked where Mom was and I told him, and he asked if I would mind getting him some toast with honey since he was hungry. I said sure, and went to get it. When I got back he explained I needed to put a towel on his chest in case of spills because crumbs and such could get uncomfortable. So I pulled the blanket down to his waist and put a hand towel over his chest, put another pillow under his head to bring his head closer to upright, sat down on the bed by him and held the toast up to his mouth so he could take a bite. He was smiling at me as I did all this, which made me feel good since I always really liked Ricky. He was a super kid and a good younger broth er. We had a minor mishap when some honey dripped off the toast and started rolling down his cheek. I jerked the toast away so I could dab at his cheek with the towel, but that just made things worse -- the toast got away and landed the way Murphy's Law says it must, with the honey side down, half on Ricky's stomach and half on the blanket. Ricky started giggling out loud, so, since he wasn't wearing a shirt (the casts on his arms made him too hot if he wore one) I started tickling his sides, not too hard. Pret ty soon honey had gotten pretty much all over. Once we'd both calmed down a bit, I got a warm, wet washcloth and started washing him -- laving, as the old word goes -- from his chest bandage down to the top of his p.j. bottoms, wiping his stomach gently so as not to start him laughing again. Ricky had his eyes closed and was smiling, and I never felt so close to him as I did then. I just loved him to pieces. There wasn't any sexual component; it's just that seeing him smile like that, with his eyes closed, as I washed his body, made my heart full. Like I said, I have always liked Ricky. When I pulled down the blanket in order to put a new (unhoneyed) one onto the bed, the sheet pulled down with it, so he was uncovered except by his pajama bottoms. When I glanced back up at him from where I was removing the sheet and blanket, something struck me as odd, and then I realized Ricky had an erection. It was raising the front of his p.j.'s so that its outline showed rather clearly from his crotch down along his left leg. I guess my mouth dropped open in surprise; I know my eyes widened and I just stared stupidly at the outline of his erect penis under the thin cloth of his pajamas. It's odd, but I remember an image flashed through my mind of his cute little thingie the last time I had seen it, when he was about 4 or 5 years old, and I thought how much bigger it was now. (Duh.) I don't know how long I stared. Eventually he more or less cried out "Jeannie!" and raised up the knee nearest me. I tore my eyes away and looked up at his face. Poor Ricky -- he was mortified! His cheeks were bright red, and I think he might have given just about anything to be able to cover himself up at that point. But with his arms immobilized, of course all he could do was raise his knee and sort of point it away from me in order to hide himself. My heart went out to him. I had never meant to embarrass him. "Ricky, it's okay," I told him. "I've seen pictures in sex ed and you don't have anything to be ashamed of. I love you." Somewhere in there I started smiling at him. "You're beautiful. It's okay, you have a beautiful male body, and really it's okay." "I can't help it," he told me. "It felt so good when you were washing me, and I've been like stuck here. Forever. I'm really sorry, Jeannie. I'm so sorry." I think he was about to cry. Remember I'm not a very sexually active person, and at that time I was technically still a virgin. So this was unknown territory for me. Not that I was completely ignorant. I'd taken sex ed (not much real knowledge there -- I guess we got the Baptist version). Also, the year before, at 16, I had gotten too hot and heavy for comfort with my boyfriend Tom in the back of his father's car a couple of times, me with my shirt unbuttoned and Tom groping me while I groped him back. One night I let him finger me bet ween my legs until I had an orgasm. Then he told me he needed release also, or it would be physically painful for him, which was a new idea to me. But fair is fair, so I let him show me the right way to stroke his erection and I brought him to climax that way; he spurted semen all over himself and his shirt and the car seat. It was astonishing and a bit scary, how much fluid came jetting out of him. I could see how it might be painful for a boy to have to hold all that in. When the spurting slowed down I let go of Tom's penis, but even so his semen got all over my hand and I had to wipe it off -- I used his jeans for that, hee hee. (Thank god for the sex ed class, though -- I knew in general terms what was going on with him physically, so I didn't freak out. But I bet his poor old dad freaked the next day if he noticed the backseat in his car.) Anyhow, after the second date in which we "got each other off" manually, I told Tom it made me nervous because I didn't want to go all the way with anyone yet, and I was afraid we would lose control. Tom respected my wishes, bless him. We still hugged and kissed, but we toned it down enough that such "heavy petting" (as they said in sex-ed) wasn't needed by him, or by me, anymore. We were still friends the last time I saw him, quite awhile ago -- platonic but intimate at the same time if you know what I mea n by that. The point is that I did know what the male of the species sometimes needs for physical release and I had learned (twice, with a good friend) how to provide it. Ricky looked so miserable, and I was feeling such love for him, and I so wanted for him to understand that his feelings and his body really were okay, and I didn't think any the less of him -- all these feelings just sort of came together in my mind all at once very strongly, and while I held his gaze I sat down next to him, reached over his bent leg and cupped my hand over his erection. It had shrunk a bit in his embarrassment, I guess, but as I held it I felt it grow full again, and Ricky straightened out his knee. His cock sort of twitched irregularly, moving under my hand as I gently squeezed. Ricky was looking seriously shocked, so I smiled and went, "Shhhh!" God. After two years of keeping all this to myself it feels very strange to be writing it out in detail like this so others can read about it. Even more weird, it's making me feel itchy. Horny. This can't be normal, but I'm going to have to pull down my pants and relieve myself before I soak my clothes. Amazing. Anyhow, to get on with it. "Ricky," I told him as softly as I could so Jody wouldn't wake up, "this is a normal thing for a boy to feel. I know you need relief sometimes, and you can't do it for yourself right now. It must be very uncomfortable. But I know how to help you feel better. May I? Would you mind?" While I babbled all that sex-ed-lecture type stuff he was watching me. His face looked very intense. "Are you sure you want to?" he asked, and I smiled and nodded. "Oh, Jeannie, it's so great, I'm so frustrated, if you'd do that for me... are you sure?" He was babbling too. I looked down at where I was gently kneading his rigid cock through his p.j.'s, and I think I caught my breath. There was a small, wet spot in the cloth, where the end of his cock was located. I looked up at him briefly -- he was watching me from between his suspended arms -- then hooked my hands over his p.j. bottoms at each side of his hips and pulled down on them. Ricky raised up slightly to help and I pulled his pajama bottoms down below his knees, leaning back to do so. Then I sat back up and reached o ver to touch him. His cock was standing up in the air, moving back and forth with his heartbeat, and I couldn't take my eyes away from it. He was absolutely gorgeous. And compelling. I was mesmerized. The thing is, this wasn't a heavy grope session in the dark, in some boy's father's car at the end of a date. This was on top of a bed, with the light on, and no one else in the house but my sleeping little sister. Ricky's cock just looked incredibly beautiful to me -- longer than the width of my hand by a couple or three inches (I guess that made it about 6 inches long) and perfectly proportioned; maybe on the slim side compared to Tom, but that's how Ricky's whole body was built, so it seemed just right. It had veins sticking out on its surface and a reddish head on the end with just a hint of moisture around the small opening slit. It stood up there, waving around, and took my breath away. I don't know if guys have any idea what power they have over females with that member of theirs, or maybe it's just me, but the effect of seeing Ricky's fully engorged penis -- his phallus -- was electric. It was as if all my circuits were suddenly running on double voltage. My breathing was out of control, my crotch was begging me to masturbate, and I was utterly enthralled. I guess you can tell, the sight burned itself into my memory. When I reached over to grasp Ricky's cock, my hand fit comfortably around it, overlapping a little. As I squeezed, it jerked against my hand, and when I stroked my hand upward toward the head the way Tom had taught me, moisture appeared at the end and spread downward to my fingers. I reached my left hand over to rub my finger around in it; it felt warm and slick. When I circled my fingertip around to the underside of his cock, where the head flared out slightly to the side and then swept up toward the slit at the end, Ricky groaned and hunched his hips up toward my hand. I could tell it felt very good to him; lord knows it was making my own world intense. My hormones must have been in flood stage by then. I could see and pay attention to everything I did to Ricky, I could see the physical details of how he was built, how his testicles hung down against his crotch and where his butt started down below that, and I could see a sort of hint of his anus hidden away down there. Most of all, I could clearly see what happened when I did certain things to him, and all this made me a bit crazy. One time I glanced up to his face and saw Ricky gazing back down with his eyes half shut, watching the action, but I didn't look up long enough even to smile or anything. I just looked right back down at his wonderful, full cock and at what I was doing to it and how Ricky was responding. "Jeannie, I'm getting close," he said (his voice was even a bit hoarse!) so I stroked my right hand up and down faster. Then, pausing but not letting go of him, I moved over on the bed so my left knee rested outside of his right leg and my right knee was between his legs. It gave me a more direct view of his cock and his testicle sack. Tim Allen says a guy's ball sack -- okay, his scrotum, but that's such an ugly word -- looks like leftover elbow skin, and it does, kind of, but it's awfully sexy just the sa me. Anyway, I reached over with my left hand to lift his balls while I stroked his erection with my right, and the tips of my left hand fingers, pressing lightly against the skin behind where his ball sack joined his body, could feel his muscles contract every now and then. From this and from his hip action I figured he was about to let loose with his semen, like Tom had done. When I scratched lightly at the skin behind his balls he moaned softly, so I stroked up and down faster with my right hand and kept scra tching lightly, up and down behind his ball sack, with my other hand. This provoked a more intense moan, and he started hunching his hips up and down. It was fascinating and wonderful to watch. I guess it was too intense to last -- Ricky started to spurt, and I could feel each jet of semen moving against my fingers inside his cock (!), just before it pulsed out of the little slit on the end. My left hand fingers, resting against Ricky's crotch behind his balls, could feel the muscles there contract with each spurt. I hadn't noticed any of that with Tom, but then everything about this was different from anything before. By now I was moving my own hips back and forth, rubbing myself against Ricky's leg; it was so compulsive that it still makes me blush to recall. But I needed the release and had a little orgasm myself as Ricky shot out his semen. He must have spurted strongly 4 or 5 times, not counting the little in-between "spurtlets." I can still see it clearly in my mind. His first really strong pulse was incredible -- it went clear up to his face, landed on his right cheek next to his nose, and left a glistening string of semen down over his lips and chin onto his chest bandages and the towel. As I continued stroking he kept spurting with decreasing energy until finally his penis started getting softer and smaller in my hand. Unlike with Tom I didn't want to let go right away, but Ricky sort of pulled away, murmuring: "Too hard, Jeannie, take it easier," so I tried to make my hand motions less urgent. Guided by Ricky's hip movements and soft vocal sounds, I moved my hand against him gently until finally he lowered his hips all the way back down and I knew he was finished. This is how I learned it hurts a boy to stroke his penis too hard when he is almost done ejaculating, but feels good to him if you rub gently at the underside, jus t below the head. I guess the nerves there are concentrated but not oversensitive. Male physiology is very strange sometimes. Interesting, but strange. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Ricky," I told him, and meant it. "I love you." Then on impulse (and I guess a bit lewdly) I leaned up to kiss him on the mouth briefly, with my mouth slightly open so I could wipe my tongue over his mouth where his semen had landed. I just wanted to taste it for some reason. It tasted interesting and okay, a bit like raw shellfish but more subtle, I thought. I liked it. Or maybe what I liked was knowing where it came from and that I had caused it. Ricky-jui ce, courtesy of Jeannie. Anyhow, after I kissed him I used the towel to wipe up the rest of his semen. It had shot all over the place and had collected in little puddles here and there, mostly on his belly. "Ricky, are you okay that I did that for you?" I asked him. I was a little worried and guilty, I mean incest is a strong taboo, but his eyes were wide open and steady, and he just gazed at me and nodded his head. I have always loved his steady gaze. "I'll come back and do it again if you want me to, until you get well," I told him. "Jeannie, I love you. I really do," he said. I smiled at him and got up to warm the washcloth that had started all this, and washed him off again before pulling his p.j.'s back up. I put the new sheet and blanket over him, kissed him on the mouth again quickly, and left. Did I mention this episode wasn't entirely noble of me? I ran back to my room, dropped my pants, lay down and rubbed myself to another orgasm, a big one that felt like it lasted about 10 minutes. God it was intense. The sight of that beautiful cock spurting semen all the way up to Ricky's face just wouldn't leave my mind, and I had to release my own energies several times more before I could even get to sleep that night. The next morning was the same -- I masturbated to images of Ricky's erupting cock and memories of how his semen tasted as soon as I woke up, and since it was a Saturday, I repeated the process two or three times during the day, just about every time I went to the bathroom, in fact. I just couldn't seem to get over it. That night, Mom went to bed early and Jody stayed over at a friend's house, so about a half hour after the house went dark I snuck into Ricky's room again. "Ricky," I whispered. "Yeah, hi Jeannie," he whispered back. "Would you like me to do it for you again? Would you mind? I really want to," I whispered, and sat down on the bed by him. I guess I was past trying to be subtle or act noble about it -- I just wanted a repeat of the night before! "Jeannie, I was scared you wouldn't want to anymore. I was afraid you would hate yourself. Or hate me. Or wish it had never happened." He sounded very tense, so I smiled and rested my hand on his stomach, on top of the blanket. "I would do anything not to hurt you," he told me, "but you can't know how much it meant to me. It felt so good and I'm so alone in here. I love you so much." He was starting to babble again, but I didn't mind. I just moved my hand around in circles on his stomach and watched his face. He may be my brother, but at that moment, in the shadowy light from the street outside, he looked more beautiful to me than any human has a right to be, with eagerness and fear and a shy smile chasing each other across his face. I simply loved him. Totally. "If you don't really want to that's alright. But if you're okay with it, if you're sure -- I would love it," he whispered. "I love you, Jeannie" he added, and I'm sure he meant it, because I loved him at that moment too, and I told him so. There was something wonderful about the trust and intimacy of it. I got up and locked his door (we all got door locks as kids as soon as we could be trusted not to lock ourselves in by accident -- it was Mom's statement of respect for our privacy). Then I switched on his reading lamp so I could see him better. He was watching me, his eyes glistening. I could hear him breathing faster, and I guess I was puffing a bit, too. Gazing at his face, I squatted down by the bed and reached my arm down under the blanket to his p.j. bottoms, then under the elastic and down to his penis. It was already hard, so I reached under it and sort of flipped it over, so it lay up along his stomach, and stroked it gently up and down, putting light pressure on the underside of it. When he sighed, I leaned up under his elevated arm and kissed him on his mouth. His lips were open so I opened mine too, and his tongue strayed hesitantly into my mouth. I played my own tongue against his, and it turned into a deep, lingering kiss as I rubbed his cock under the covers. It was very intense. When we broke the kiss, I whispered, "I want to see you," and moved to pull down the blanket and sheet. I then pulled his pajamas down; as before, he raised his hips to help. Once again I was treated to the sight of his erect cock standing up, pulsing in time to his heartbeat. And again it was a powerful and beautiful sight. I moved onto the bed and knelt below his crotch, this time with both knees between his legs. This forced his legs farther apart than they had been the previous night and I had a better view of his physiology as I stroked him. When he raised his knees a little and moved them farther apart, it was even better. I was fascinated at the way his crotch pulsed just before I felt his cock move in my hand and a little bit of fluid would dribble out -- but not really dribble, more like just moisture spreading from th e end. I reached over with my left hand to rub the liquid into his skin on the underside, where the head joined the main body of it, the upper shaft, where the night before I had learned he was sensitive. He moaned softly at that, and the sound felt so energizing and intense I could hardly stand it. On impulse, I leaned over and licked the underside of his cock, starting down by his balls and moving up to the head. It tasted strongly of his semen up by the head, a bit less neutral than I remembered from the previo us night, somewhat saltier. First drops, I suppose. Delicious. "My god, Jeannie - oh my god, that feels good," he moaned. So I moved my right hand down to the base of his cock, lifted his balls with my left hand, and took his cock right into my mouth. It was the first time I had ever done that. All I had ever heard about it was a few giggling remarks about "eating" from my girl friends and a mention or two of oral sex in sex-ed class. I don't even know why I did it. But I did do it, and I liked it. Boys can't know the delicious, sinful sense of power a girl can get from running her mouth up and down on a hard cock, knowing she is in control, knowing that the tube of hard-but-soft flesh in her mouth is concentrating the boy's every sensation into a final explosion, and she is the cause of it. I doubt if even gay males can share that feeling since they have the same physiology as their partner. As a female I got a sense of control over powerful but dimly understood force s that made my blood race. It was my first experience of that exhilaration. As Ricky's cock throbbed in my mouth he started hunching his hips up at my face. I removed my right hand from his cock and put it down on the bed by his hip so I could put my weight on it and move my head up and over his cock more. By raising my body and then lowering my head so my hair fell down on his stomach, I could take as much of him into my mouth as possible without physical discomfort. I think I took most of him in, right into my throat, and it didn't even choke me, I was so excited! Then he started to spurt, once again in a series of powerful jets that this time I felt against the back of my throat. There was a kind of vibration to it as the fluid spurted out against my tissues. As this happened, Ricky was hunching his cock up and down in my mouth so I kept my head still and just circled my tongue against the underside of his cock as he moved, to let him pace his own release. I guess about a quarter cup of his semen must have gon e down my throat as I kept swallowing while he gushed. He was groaning a nd saying my name over and over. It was wonderful. As his ejaculation finished, his cock shrank and I had him entirely inside my mouth. I moved my tongue around on the underside gently while I scratched around some more, lightly, behind his balls. This provoked more twitching inside my mouth as he hunched his hips up at me, though I don't know if any more semen came out or if it was just residual feel-goods. I never have figured that out. Anyhow, his cock finally stopped twitching. I held him against the roof of my mouth with my tongue for awhile longer, un til I was sure he had finished, then I removed his cute little soft penis from my mouth, kissed its head, pulled up his p.j.'s, covered him with a blanket, whispered, "I have to go now," and hurried out of the room. Where I went was to my own room for a series of crashing orgasms while I fingered and manipulated and rubbed myself, sometimes in ways I had never tried before -- I even put a finger up my own butt during one climax. I was quite shameless. It was terrific. For the next few weeks, until his casts came off, I went into Ricky's room almost every night after everyone else was asleep. Sometimes I used my hands on him but more often I used my mouth; each time, I drained him of semen and then ran back to my room to, let's say, watch an instant replay in my mind as I released my own pent-up energies. Some of those encounters were memorable. One time I got back late from a school dance and Ricky was already asleep when I went in. I snuck my head and arms under the covers, carefully maneuvered his soft penis through the opening in the front of his pajamas, put it into my mouth and gently sucked on it. The sensation woke Ricky up, and it thrilled me to feel how quickly he went from soft to hard, right there inside my mouth. Maybe because of the surprise, he lasted longer than usual that night, building gradually to his climax without any wild hum ping or such; he just let me control the pace. I loved it. There is no way I can fool myself into thinking I did that to Ricky as he slept in order to help him meet an immediate physical need. He was fast asleep. I did it because I loved it, and I loved him, and he loved to have me do it. I remember looking up at his face while I bobbed my head up and down on him and licked around the base of his balls and suckled at him -- I did pretty much everything I could think of, in fact, while I watched his face -- and he watched me back with his eyes half shut and a tender smile on his face. Since he was being so passive, I dragged things out as long as I could, until finally I was the one who couldn't stand it anymore. Then I triggered his orgasm by moving my mouth up and down on him faster and scratching lightly between his legs from the base of his balls back to his anus. Touching his anus popped him off like a rocket, I remember: He made a strangled moaning sound and started humping wildly up at me and jetting his semen into my throat. I drank him down and ran to my room for a mental replay. Another time, at his request, I got completely naked and let him look at my body. He said I was beautiful, and for that moment I did feel beautiful, but also shy for some reason. He liked my boobs a lot, although they are not very big. I showed him how my nipples get hard when I stroke and pull on them, and then I straddled his chest, kneeling, and parted myself with my fingers so he could see how I'm built sexually. My clitoris was swelling right out there wanting attention, and when I pointed it out he sa id it looked like a little excited nubbin. I put a finger up into my vagina so he could see how slick and wet it gets inside of me. (Yes, I was very turned on.) I let him lick and suck my finger after, which he was eager to do! Finally, I stroked myself to an intense orgasm while he watched. His eyes were wide, his head was up off the pillow, and I don't think he blinked the whole time. Yow, did I erupt! With his arms up on ropes, watching was about all the participation he could manage -- other than letti ng me take care of his physical needs afterwards. It made him incredibly excited: After I stroked myself to climax right in front of his face, I scooted down on the bed to take him into my mouth, and he started spurting just about as soon as I closed my mouth around him. It felt like he gushed half a cup of semen down my throat that time! I only got naked for him the one time, though, because I was afraid Mom might wake up and knock at the door, and also, like I said, it made me feel self conscious. After Ricky's casts came off he invited me into his room again one night but I told him he could take care of his own needs now. I told him when we both got older and knew more, we might decide to make love again, but for now we had better stop. He never pushed me about it, though he always had a smile ready when I looked his way or smiled at him. At the end of that school year I graduated and went on to college early for Summer session. (I had to earn a scholarship to go to college, and I take it very seri ously.) I'm on the pill now, and have "gone all the way" with several very nice guys; but for excitement I'm afraid they were nothing to write about, even though they were all built bigger than Ricky in the cock department. Of course, Ricky was barely 15, so who knows if he was finished growing yet, down there... Ultimately, and I know this is a cliche, but it's true -- I really don't care whether Ricky's cock has grown larger over the last few years. He was beautiful just the way he was, and that's what I want to remember. I don't think I'd like it much if he grew a gargantuan, swollen, outlandish member like some kind of primitive carved potency fetish. To borrow a metaphor I saw used here, I'll leave the horses to other horses. (Or is that a simile?) Anyhow, when I go home for Thanksgiving at the end of next week I guess I will offer to renew my physical acquaintance with Ricky -- I mean with Rich; the name change will take some getting used to -- if I can do it without damaging him emotionally. I know the experience won't hurt me. Reliving those early sexual contacts in this note has reminded me that I got as much out of it as he did, and I suspect getting physical again now that he can participate fully should either let us both achieve closure or giv e us something wonderful to guard and treasure and use carefully into the future. Wow. I just realized how important that is, the fact that I trust him to be as careful with me as I will be with him. I actually trust him completely. I saw trust mentioned in someone else's note on the subject of incest, but the importance of it just now sank in. Trust, and love, and acceptance. Now I really do want to find out if Ricky, I mean Rich, wants to give it another go. I guess I'll try to get him alone long enough to let it happen if it wants to. When I get back here to school after Thanksgiving I'll write again to tell how it comes out. (Assuming I don't lose my courage and wuss out.) Now I have to go relieve some physical stresses of my own while thinking about Ricky. About Rich. Wow. I'm absolutely soaked again. Hoping broken taboos won't cause pain -- Jeannie (19 and finally ready to experiment a little further) =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- If you have an incest experience you would like to share, please send it to: RankAmateur@WriteMe.com. Anonymity guaranteed. QUESTION OF THE WEEK: Men sometimes grow up with an underwear fetish because they played with their mother's or sister's lingerie. Did you ever get into that? What were your feelings about it? Was incest a part of your fantasies? -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /