MY JEAN
BillyG (hayden@mindless.com)
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Chapter 14
The frogs in the pond behind our house were giving up their
last cacophony in the early morning light. Dictated by my
biologic clock I suppose, I was awake early even though Jean and
I had spent an intense little while on the phone with each other
late the night before. As was my custom, I sleep in the nude and
often awoke with an unconscious "tent pole" under the sheets.
With my eyes closed and hands clasped behind my head, I was
reviewing the latent imagery of the night before, of the phone
sex I'd had with Jean, luxuriating in the deliciousness of it
all.
God, I loved that woman! The feeling washed over me with an
intensity that left me short of breath. I loved her wit and her
spontaneity, her seriousness and gravity, her daffiness and
heaven knows, her sensuousness. Yet I was uncertain. We'd
agreed not to "do it," but I wasn't at all clear just what that
meant. Jean spoke repeatedly of "the thing." Just what
*was* the thing anyway? Was it talking about sex? I
thought not. Then was it touching? Well, we'd certainly touched
on a couple of occasions and neither of us appeared to be
troubled, much less traumatized by the experience, so I thought
that wasn't it.
If she my dick once, was *that* incest? How about
when I fingered her pussy? To climax? Now, was that incest?
Shit! I didn't know and it bothered me, a niggling, unresolved
burr of an issue.
I don't know about you, but I've got several voices in my
head that think they know everything. And they're all loud, even
strident. Usually they sit on the head of my bed and start up
first thing in the morning. "Oh good, you're awake. Let me tell
you a few things." They're rarely kind and understanding; mostly
they're full of fear and negativity, except those that are lazy
and just want to go to the beach. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a
car pool when I'm all alone. I can argue both sides of any given
issue and worse, I lose nine times out of ten!
Is it solely the emotional fallout of putting my dick in
Jean's pussy? Is that what she's fearful of? Cripes, I've been
*there* a hundred times in my mind. I've screwed that so
many times in my head, the emotional fallout is mostly that it's
*only* been there . . . in my head! Or is it that she's afraid
she'll get pregnant? Yeah, that'd be tough. I mean, how many
get knocked up by their brother? I'll have to ask her
about this, I thought.
In the middle of this intellectual discussion I was having
with myself, I was startled when something soft touched my face!
My eyes snapped open and saw for a second only a hazy light until
I scrabbled away a pair of that'd been dropped across my
eyes and nose.
Jean laughed, "Wake up, sleepy head. I promised you these
panties." Then looking away in mock embarrassment, she added,
"Geez, they're ripe! Hope you *really* wanted em."
I inhaled deeply, pulling the aromatic essence of her into
my head and simply said, "YES!" She'd kept her promise.
Nodding toward the tent pole, she asked, "Did I cause that?"
Nodding, "Mostly. I wake up with a woodie every morning,"
and then looking down at myself in wonder, I added, "but this one
is particularly urgent. And yes, I *was* thinking of you . . .
of last night . . . of what we did. God, I loved it! I just
can't believe the power of phone sex for cryin' out loud!"
Jean smiled and nodded, just looking sat me. The least I
could do was return the scrutiny. The morning light was soft,
filtering through the giant redwood behind the house, to the east
of us and it cast a warm, luminous glow. She was wearing a short
wrap-around skirt and a T-shirt that didn't even begin to
disguise her prominent nipples. Once again, out of character,
Jean wasn't wearing a bra.
Her eyes dropped to the tented sheet and she gestured with
an open palm as if to ask, "What, pray tell, is that?"
Then, remembering a little ditty that Jean had read to me
years before, I recited,
"The tent pole's up, the canvas is spread. To hell with
breakfast, come on back to bed."
She giggled and continued,
"Take the tent pole down, put the canvas away. Monkey
had a hemorrhage; there'll be no circus today."
Still chuckling, she said, "Just kidding, just kidding," and
sat on the edge of the bed facing me, with one leg bent on the
bed and the other on the floor, partly opening her thighs. Of
course, my eyes darted right to the darkened space under her
short skirt, hoping to see . . . well, anything.
"You never give up, do you? What are expecting to see?"
"Not expecting . . . just hoping."
"Billy, you've seen my legs hundreds and hundreds of times.
What's the attraction?"
"Don't really understand it, girl, but it's strong. You
thrill me. More and more, you thrill me. I'm just taken with
you. You know that!"
Jean placed her hand on the sheet on top of my thigh and
said softly, "Yes, Billy, I *do* know that and I want to tell you
again, I feel the same way. And I'll tell you this again . . .
usually, it's very scary!"
"I've been thinking about that. About why it's scary for
you, I mean," letting my hand fall to her left knee. Her skirt
had pulled up and open a little and I could see the fine, hairs on her thigh.
She glanced at my hand, smiled and asked, "Tell me, buster.
What do you know that I don't? Most of my feelings are just that
. . . feelings. Not based on my intellect, just on my gut."
Trailing my finger tips over the inside of her knee, I
looked up at her and continued, "Well, I've been trying to define
"incest" in the last little while -- an operational definition if
you will -- and I've decided that for us, it's not "talking" and
it's not "touching" and it's not "sucking." Know what I mean?"
Jean, looking puzzled, slid onto the side of the bed
another few inches, opening up her thighs a little more. I
looked again. Still too dark, but now more inner thigh visible..
"If you mean that we've done those things and we're still
OK, then I *do* know what you mean. But I'm still afraid."
Still trailing my fingertips on the inside of her thigh, I
continued, "Yeah. But I think it's not so much what we've done.
I don't think it -- that is -- has a lot to do with
putting my dick in your pussy."
Jean's eyes widened and her pupils dilated with that phrase.
She in her breath but didn't speak. For all her
candidness, she remained unaccustomed to such specific and
graphic talk.
Again, nudging her thigh to keep her attention, I went on,
"No. For us . . . for you . . . isn't about fucking."
Again, the little gasp. In a softer voice I added, "I think your
fear of is about getting pregnant," and then fell silent.
She exploded, "Cripes, Billy! Pregnant! By you? Where in
heck did *that* notion come from? That's silly. That's goofy,
you know that?" She barked a nervous laugh and moved her leg
again. This time I caught a fleeting glimpse of the crotch of
her dark panties. The scent of her used was fresh in my
mind and I again experienced a strong urge to bury my head
between her legs.
"OK, I know it's goofy, but stay with me a minute. Tell me,
IF we actually did it . . . if we actually, you know, fucked . .
. how would you feel? Inside, I mean. How'd you feel?"
"Scared. I told you that," she answered, nervously plucking
at her skirt, picking it up and then dropping it. I kept my eyes
on hers.
"OK, sure," I agreed, "scared but not turned off. Stay with
me a little longer. How'd you feel if you got pregnant? By me?"
I added pointlessly.
"Devastated. Just devastated . . . I'd simply just die."
Then she added with a wry smile, "Aside from from that, fine.
Where is this going, anyway?"
"Wanna have kids someday, Jean?"
"You know I do, Billy. SOMEday."
I wiggled down in the bed a little, both to give me a better
view under her skirt and that I might be able to reach farther up
on her thigh. "Well, that's what I think is going on. It's not
us screwing that scares you. It's getting pregnant. One part of
you wants to get pregnant . . . someday, and another part of you
is frightened, scared witless that it would be ME that did it."
"Let me get this straight . . . let me tell you what I think
you've said. You think that it's not the actual, uh . . . doin'
it, that I'm afraid of?"
"Right," I assured her, touching the inside of her thigh,
well up under her skirt. I wondered if she, like me, had two
thoughts running at the same time, one on the topic and the other
on touching her?
"That it's getting pregnant by you that I'm really afraid
of?"
"Yeah, exactly, Sis. Hell, we've done almost everything and
haven't suffered any psychological consequences. Actually, we're
closer than ever. We really love and CARE for each other, more
now than ever."
Jean smiled and said, "Well, you *may* have something there.
It "feels" all right. At least it doesn't feel *bad*. Not right
now anyhow."
"Just sit with it, Sis. You don't have to buy it right now
. . . or ever. Just let it percolate. We'll talk about it
later, OK?"
"Whew! Yes, later," she answered, visibly relaxing. Then,
as if noticing for the first time, she stared at the lump of my
hand beneath her skirt, creeping toward her body. "Yes?" she
asked, lifting one eye brow.
Reaching down with my free hand, I covered hers, still on my
thigh, almost touching my cock, and reasoned, "Your fault,"
nodding to her hand so close to my hardon.
Surprised, she yanked her hand back and exclaimed, "Yikes!"
And then, almost as quickly, laughed and ran the palm of her hand
up my thigh, again brushing against my erect cock murmuring
something like, "Geez, you are *always* horny, aren't you?"
That rhetorical question didn't need an answer. The lawyers
have an expression for it, something like "res ipsa loquitur" or
"the thing speaks for itself." Instead, I turned my body
slightly into her leg, pushing my hard cock to her hand and, at
the same time, running my hand up to her crotch. What? No
panties! I touched the fur of her sex between the warm softness
of her inner thighs, not the crotch of her as I'd
anticipated. A thrill shot through me.
Jean suddenly beamed, "That's right, big boy. No panties.
I gave them to you. Just *me* there," and she leaned forward,
laying her head on my chest, now blatantly holding my cock
through the sheet.
"Lie beside me for a moment, won't you Jean?" I asked,
making room for her on the bed. I smiled to myself, thinking of
the expression that promised, "I'll only put it in a little way."
"Only a moment," she whispered, turning her body and sliding
down beside me, one leg thrown over my thigh, opening her crotch
to my hand.
I cupped her furry mons softly in one hand while cradling
her head with my other, whispering, "Jean, thanks for last night.
It was awesome. I can't believe how hot it was, being sexual
with you . . . even at long distance."
She ran her hand down my forearm, I thought perhaps to pull
my hand from her crotch, but she surprised me. She curved her
hand around mine and with her index finger, pushed my middle
finger into the pulpy wetness of her slit, arching her
pelvis into my hand. Her was sopping and swollen and once
again, I experienced the extraordinary thrill of feeling my
finger slide into the heat of my sister's cunt.
"Yes, Billy . . . yes. Touch me. Feel me. Feel my
wetness." Wiggling closer to me, she continued, "I'm melting
inside. This is *so* sweet."
As I slid my finger slowly in and out of her pussy, she
rocked her hips against me, still pushing my hand against her
sex, now grunting a little with each thrust.
"I wanted this so much last night, Billy. After we hung up,
I masturbated . . . it seemed like hours. I came and then came
again. I kept coming until . . . I guess I just passed out. God
I was horny!"
"Was?"
"*Am*, you jerk! Am horny." And then she murmured
something so soft I couldn't make it out.
"What? What'd you say, girl? Can't hear you."
She murmured again, slightly louder but all I could hear was
"finger . . . " something or another.
Running my tongue into her ear, I again whispered, "What
babe? What'd you say? Tell me what you want. Say it out loud."
Then, as if we were in a crowded room and she wanted only me
to hear, she put her hand to her cheek and whispered in my ear,
"Finger . . . finger fuck me, Billy. Please, I need it."
"Yes-s-s," I hissed, cupping her sex in the palm of my hand,
my middle finger curling up under her pelvic bone, searching for
her G-spot.
As she grunted her pleasure, she began writhing on the bed,
hunching against my hand, rubbing her body against mine. I could
feel the fullness of her as her torso twisted against me.
Pulling back to free myself from her leg, I threw my right leg
over her body as she turned, first into me and then prone,
continuing to hunch against the sheets.
I ran my hand down over her buttocks, catching the hem of
her skirt and pulling it up to her waist as she lifted up,
freeing the front of it. I palmed her butt in my hand and
whispered, "Christ Jean, I love feeling your ass."
"Oh, Billy! Don't stop touching me. I'm so itchy in there.
I *need* you there."
Pulling myself up a bit, I ran my hand between her legs from
the back, feeling the swollen and open lips. She moaned
and pushed her hips back to meet me as I slipped the thumb of my
right hand into her pussy, cupping her mons and clit with my
fingers, slowly rocking.
"Yes! Right there. Right *there*!" she exclaimed with an
explosive deep, grunting voice, with passion.
Pulling her elbows under her, she pushed her chest off the
bed as she pulled her knees under her pelvis, assuming a stance
of supplication. Now her backside was completely bared, her
skirt up over her back and her ass arched high in the air. I
kneeled beside her, still holding her in my hand, still
fucking her with my thumb.
Her head was down on the sheet, turned toward me but mostly
obscured by her hair. She was groaning and murmuring
incoherently. I enjoyed the power of making her voice her desire
out loud. "What Jean? What do you want? Say the words."
Barely louder and still incoherent, she continued an
entreaty in a near sing-song voice, still rocking back against my
hand.
"Say it Jean. I want to hear the words."
Throwing her head to toss her hair out of her eyes, she
looked at me with eyes almost crazed in passion and said quite
distinctly and slowly, "Fuck - me - with - your - hand. Fuck -
me - Billy." Then, dropping her forehead to the bed again, she
groaned, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME."
Driven by my own lust and given approval by the force of her
thrusts back against my hand, I picked up the speed and depth of
my thumb fucking. With her knees pulled up beside her chest and
her back arched, her ass cheeks were full open, exposing her pink
bung to my stare.
God! Her ass hole, exposed, open and vulnerable to me! The
place I'd dreamed about and had glimpsed just a few times before.
I placed the tip of my left index finger right below her anus and
then as I continued to thrust my right thumb into her cunt, I ran
my left fingertip around the edge of her ass with a
feather-light touch, teasing.
Again she groaned, "Billy . . . Billy . . . what are you
*doing*?"
Pushing the pulp of my finger tip against her puckered anus,
I said, "I'm fucking you, Jean. I'm fucking you and touching
your ass hole. Can you feel me?"
She gasped, "I can't believe this. I just can't believe
what's happening. I don't even know what I'm feeling, but it's
incredible, it's wonderful. Oh, I want it, I* want* it!"
Dropping a dollop of my saliva on her ass hole, I again
pushed my finger tip against her sphincter muscle. It resisted
for just a little while and then began to soften. My finger tip
dilated her ass a fraction. Again, she pushed back against
my hand, against my finger.
"Yes, yes, yes . . . whatever you're doing . . . yes!" she
chanted into the bed as I fucked her with my fingers, humping
myself against her hip. I lost sense of time. The sensations
went on an on, building, cresting, overflowing and then she
shrieked. No words. Just an explosive shriek. Then she suddenly
became still save the shuddering of her body and with another
eruptive grunt, she screamed, "Coming . . . coming . . . God,
God, God . . . oh shit, shit, shit . . . I'm coming!"
Jean had once told me how hypersensitive her feels
after she's had an orgasm, so I had presence of mind to slow
down, then stop, but leaving my thumb buried deep in her with my fingertip just nudging into her ass hole. We stayed
frozen there, suddenly silent save our gasping for long minutes.
I was aware. In *that* moment, right there, right then, I
was aware. I had a startling clarity of us and the moment. I
could feel our breathing and our sweaty bodies. I could smell
the heady scent of Jean filling the room and my head with her
essence. I felt my cock, still hard, pressing against her thigh
and the coolness of the morning breeze drying the wetness of our
bodies. Me naked, Jean with her skirt pulled up, nude from the
waist down and my fingers in her.
Then, I slowly pulled my thumb from her and she gasped, "Oh,
no." Pulling her down with her back to me, I curled around her,
holding her tight against my chest, by hips against her ass and
my legs curled into the crook of her legs. I petted her and I
crooned into her hair, Oh, baby . . . that was . . . that was
indescribable. I have no words. I simply can't tell you . . . I
was just blown away. I love you, babes. I love you more than I
can say . . . more than you know."
END 14
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