Case History 2: Cheryl, 28 Years Old Her Brother, 16

Twenty-eight-year-old Cheryl Y. was single, a part-time schoolteacher of elementary grades, and the devoted companion to her mother who was a long-time invalid. She also performed all household tasks, including caring for her sixteen-year-old brother. Cheryl was not especially attractive, in fact, she was quite plain-looking. She had dated only once when she was sixteen, then gave up any attempt to follow through with future male relationships. She had quite enough to do caring for her widowed mother, she always explained to the curious. There was no time for men in her life. And besides, boys and men were usually "silly" and wanted nothing more than the intimacies of a girl's body.

Cheryl's mother died quite unexpectedly. Cheryl was shaken with grief. The brother, Jason, was sad, but not especially upset. He had his life. He enjoyed living it, especially the parts of it that provided him with many girl friends, almost all of whom he had sexually known at one time or another.

Cheryl mourned her mother's passing for nearly a year. Several viewpoints for this rather long mourning period have been advanced by psychiatric authorities.

"The mother's death forced Cheryl to some decisions about her own life," one psychiatrist said. "Until the time of her mother's death, there was an ample amount of activity or excuse, if you will to keep Cheryl from the male relationships that were expected of her by society. With her mother's death, the excuses vanished, too. This threatened Cheryl's defenses. With mother no longer available as an excuse, and as the reality of constant care and long hours of work, Cheryl had to face up to the fact that if she did not now desire male companionship she would have to face up to the questions of her 'difference' or 'oddness.' "

Still another psychiatrist advanced the belief that Cheryl loved the martyr role, that her mother's death robbed her of this role, and that without it Cheryl was an under functioning individual, given to brooding and despondence that was directed toward her lost role, not the actuality of her mother's death.

Another therapist looked to the brother as the cause of her prolonged sadness.

"Cheryl had always entertained incestuous wishes for her brother. She admired him, cared for him like a wife, did all the things for him that a wife does for a husband except the sexual things. Therefore, when their mother died, the last bulwark the last reality of another person in the home was gone, intensifying the young woman's incestuous feelings for her brother, causing her to become solitary and introspective and show all the signs of sorrow that were the symptoms of grief over the loss of a loved one."

At the time that Cheryl began to emerge her shell of loneliness, her sixteen-year-old brother found himself in a great deal of trouble. He was a high school dropout, not wanting to complete any further education, and displayed no interest in any further schooling. He went to work in an electronics firm, working on the assembly line testing television tubes. He was a hard worker and was well thought of by his immediate supervisors. And he confined his pleasure activities to after-work hours. But he played as hard as he worked, dating many girls, making love to all of them while he was not serious about any of them. But fear was brought to his pleasant life. A girl he dated often a fellow employee of the factory discovered that she was pregnant and informed Jason that he was the father. He was totally stunned. Speechless. The prospects of marriage and fatherhood did not at all appeal to him. And the fear that the girl would carry out her threats and go to the police and also tell Jason's supervisors, was just as appalling.

Jason waited as long as was possible, then told his sister of his troubles. Cheryl was sitting on the couch in the living room when he came in from work. He seated himself next to her and confessed the problems he faced.

"Oh, no, Jason," Cheryl said, after he had told his story.

"Yeah, ain't that a pile of trouble though?" he replied.

"Is it true, Jason? Did you really get the girl pregnant?"

"I guess so but it could have been somebody else. She fucked others, you know."

"You know, too," she said seriously.

"Yeah, I know," he answered. "It's me all right."

Cheryl and Jason talked of the problem. And during the conversation, Cheryl sparked to new life and vitality. This hour this moment marked the end of a life of drudgery and dullness. It marked a new pattern for Cheryl, one that found her changing mentally and physically during the following months.

After every conceivable avenue of escape for Jason had been discussed and discarded, Cheryl found the answer for her brother's problem.

"Go to the girl. Tell her you won't marry her," Cheryl said. "But tell her that she should get a leave of absence from work, consult an unwed mother's home, have the baby and put it up for adoption."

"She won't go for that," Jason said.

"Then tell her that we'll give her some money to help her over the period," Cheryl continued. "We can give her one thousand dollars. Tell her that we will do this to help her. And tell her that it's our only offer, that if she doesn't accept it, you'll merely quit your job, go to another state and never be heard from again."

"Hell I bet it'll work," Jason exclaimed almost happily.

"You bet it will," Cheryl told him.

And it did.

Almost immediately a change came over Cheryl. She started wearing make-up, bought some new clothes and undergarments even three French-type bras that would exhibit the ampleness of her tits to best effect and started to spend more time in front of her mirror, working out new hairdos and new make-up styles.

Why should the resolution of so serious a problem cause this change in the twenty-eight-year-old girl?

There are many answers. One is the simple relief of having solved great difficulties. But for a girl such as Cheryl, there is far more significance in the relationship of these two events.

Plain, dull, despondent Cheryl had for the first time competed successfully with another girl. Although it was felt in abstract terms, Cheryl had really bested another girl with the brother as the subject between them. The girl's pregnancy had threatened to take Jason away from Cheryl. But Cheryl had won the combat, she had solved Jason's problem and by the same token had "won" him for herself. And it was this that brought the change to Cheryl; it was this that caused her to take interest in her appearance and suddenly go forth as a woman.

After this event, Cheryl has reported that she spent a great deal of time thinking about sex. But she did not entertain sexual fantasies with herself as a subject. She fantasized the sexual activities of her brother, Jason. And once she even talked about sex with him.

After dinner on a night that found Jason and his sister a few weeks removed from their problem on a night that found them sitting next to each other on the couch awaiting a television program that had been anticipated Cheryl brought up the subject of her brother's active sex life.

"You're going to have to be very careful now, Jason," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean that you're going to have to be a little more discreet with girls we can't go on giving out one thousand dollars to every girl you fuck with that gets pregnant, now can we?"

He laughed, then said, "Of course not. I'll be careful."

Then Cheryl laughed, too. "You'd better," she said and then paused and looked at her brother, noting the reddish hair and the sharp, handsome lines of his youthful face.

Jason turned from the television set and smiled into his sister's face. Then he said, "I guess I never did thank you, did I, Cheryl?"

"No, but it's not necessary. You're my brother and I'm glad I was able to help you out of a tight spot."

"But it was good of you not to bitch about spending all that money because of me."

"Why bitch?" she asked softly.

"Hey," Jason exclaimed, grinning. "You look great tonight. What's up? You got a date or something?"

Cheryl couldn't help blushing. "You know better than that."

"No, I don't. Not now. Hell, with mom gone and you with a little time for yourself for a change, man, the studs are going to be howling on the porch for you. And that's for damn sure."

"Don't say that, Jason," she reprimanded.

"What?"

"About me having time now that mother's dead."

"Oh. Sorry." He paused, then added, "But it's the truth. Hell, Cheryl, you ought to start going out now."

She smiled sadly. "I've never been much for that and you know it. Men don't like me too much. I can't seem to find the right things to say to them."

Jason leaned a bit away from his sister in order to cast his eyes over a full view of her body. "Hell, they should take notice of you. You're a good-looking chick. No kidding."

Cheryl preferred to ignore the remark and returned the conversation to the consideration of her brother. "Tell me something, Jason," she said. "What do you look for in a girl when you go out with one? Or rather, what is it about a girl that makes you want to go out with her?"

"Are you kidding?" he asked, smiling devilishly at his sister.

"No, I'm very serious."

"And you want me to be honest about it?"

"Well, Cheryl, baby, I look for sex and that's all. If a girl looks like she'll put out, or looks as if she'll be good at fucking, well, man, she's for me. I try to make a date whenever I smell good pussy."

"As basic as that, eh?"

"Yeah, just that simple. I'm looking for juicy cunt and when I think I've found it, I come right out and ask for it."

"And and the...." Cheryl stopped in mid-sentence.

"What's that, Cheryl?"

She breathed deeply and said, "Well, tell me, do the girls always agree to fucking with you? Does it mean that much to them?"

"Hell, yes," Jason answered. He cocked his head and looked at her curiously, his eyes touching all of her body, but only lightly, merely peeking at her full tits and waist and at the tight lines her miniskirt made against her hips.

"Sure."

The conversation ended. They watched the television program, then went to bed.

Cheryl has reported that she spent a very restless night after talking to her brother about his sex life. She rolled and tossed and could not go to sleep. Finally, because it was hot, she removed the short nightie that she wore and stretched naked between the sheets. She was desperately aware of her body and wondered if Jason had spoken the truth, wondered if she truly did look good lately, wondered, too, if men really should pay more attention to her. She ran her hands down her body, pinching at her tit flesh and drawing at the pinkened nipples, snapping them back into place. She cupped her tits almost lovingly. She was shocked. The nipples were hard and elongated. Then she mentally pursued her favorite dream; she created images of her brother and how he was with the girls, how he maneuvered to fuck them. She thought of his cock touching at a girl's body and at the same time she ran her hands down to her thighs, tugging at the pubic curls hiding her womanliness. And when she created a mental picture of Jason above a nameless, unidentifiable girl, one whom he had undressed and was about to fuck, Cheryl touched at her cunt, paused, felt the heat and wetness, then touched harder, running her fingertips into her sloshy hole. Ripples of sensation swept her body.

Cheryl had never before masturbated. This night she began a new experience. She continued pulling and stroking at her cunt lips, feeling her juices flowing freely down her thighs as she worked over and in her cunt hole. And then she was stabbed with feelings of embarrassment. She withdrew her fingers suddenly, drew out some tissue from a nearby table and mopped at her thighs quickly. She rolled to her side to await sleep. Finally, it came.

Cheryl was determined to probe a little deeper into her brother's sex life. Upon the occasion of their conversations, she asked him many intimate questions and the words "fuck" and "come" began to emerge as a regular part of her vocabulary: "Do you get so hot you just have to fuck, Jason? Do the girls? Do you do any sucking on their cunts, Jason? Have any of the girls ever eaten your cock? Do you like that?"

Jason displayed signs of amusement for his sister's curiosity about sex. And he took a little pride in the change that had come over her, too. But, other than that, he went about his normal pattern. He did this, until a certain Friday night when he came home late and very drunk.

Cheryl had spent the day shopping and doing the usual chores about the house. But it was a day that was different than others for her, for her mind steamed with sexual thoughts. During the day she was besieged with the self-created images of Jason and dozens of girls. Cheryl visualized their lovemaking, their fucking and sucking. And after she had called in her weekly grocery order, she gave a few thoughts to her own body and its needs. She changed from the housedress she wore to hot-pants and a skimpy top that were boldly revealing of her body, bolder than any attire Cheryl had ever worn.

She had just finished changing clothes when the grocery truck pulled into the driveway. She opened the back door and held it while the delivery boy carried in three large boxes of store items.

It was while she was checking the bill and writing a check that Cheryl noticed the young boy looking at her body. She bent over the kitchen table as she wrote the check and felt the boy's eyes upon the sharp outline of her ass, straining in the tight hot pants. Her hand quivered slightly. But she did not break her pose. Instead, she dipped forward a bit more, conscious that the bra peeked open to expose a good portion of her tits. She felt excited. She felt a tingling at her cunt. She knew that the delivery boy was feeling the same emotion, for he shifted his feet restlessly and had maneuvered his body in a position that would afford him a better view of Cheryl's tits.

Soon Cheryl had written the check and handed it to the boy. He took it. Cheryl moved to the door and opened it. The boy started to pass through it, then paused, turned, and thanked Cheryl. As he turned, his forearm brushed against her tits, moved to the right, paused, then strayed left until contact was again made. He hesitated, keeping his forearm pressed tightly against Cheryl's tit. She stumbled some words of thanks of her own, nonsensical words that were not needed except to keep the contact between them alive. Then the boy turned and left the house.

Cheryl leaned against the kitchen table and watched the truck pull out of the driveway. She felt weak and burning up. And she was aware of the tremor that had come to her pussy and the throb that had appeared at her tits. She thought she might faint. But she did not. And her mind filled with new images of sex, those of her brother, and for the first time, some that were created with herself being fucked by first the delivery boy and then by her own brother. And she felt happy. She knew that she must look attractive, otherwise the young delivery boy would not have looked at her with such longing, nor would he have bothered to press a contact against her tits. Suddenly, Cheryl felt very beautiful, very desirable, and very, very much a woman. A woman who needed a fucking by a good, hard, long cock.

That night she made a special dinner for her brother. Then she knew pangs of disappointment when Jason called and explained that he didn't have time to eat, that he had a very important date and had to leave as soon as he showered and changed clothes. Loneliness swept over Cheryl. She even teased Jason a bit, hoping to convince him that he should stay home with her. And, shockingly, she brought her body into play against his, purposely finding ways to rub her tits against his arm, to bend over and reveal her tits, to make tight poses with her buttocks and bare thighs as she stooped over to gather kitchen items from a low cupboard beneath the sink. Jason noticed it all. And he uttered words that pleased Cheryl very much.

"Better watch it in those hot pants of yours, Cheryl," he said. "Somebody might try to get into them. Somebody may very easily rape you for a fucking."

"Don't be silly," she said, flushing and keeping her eyes turned from his.

"I mean it. The milkman or delivery boy or somebody's liable to try and get into your pussy."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you look so goddamned sweet," he said.

She flushed again, but did not answer.

Jason went off on his date. Cheryl brooded around the house, feeling more lonely than at any time of her memory. And she felt erratic fits of jealousy for the girl who would that night know the pleasure of Jason's cock batterings. Finally, when she could find no way to keep herself occupied, Cheryl decided to take in a movie.

Cheryl attended a neighborhood theatre. Only a few blocks from her home, she walked to it.

It was dark inside. It was also crowded. She found a seat in a middle section and settled herself to watch the presentation. A man sat on her right; an elderly woman whose perfume reminded her of her mother, sat on her left.

The films were both foreign made. They were love stories and exhibited several torrid scenes of lovemaking. Cheryl watched, enthralled. And passion again claimed her body; every part of it from her low-cut bodice to her bare legs. So intrigued was Cheryl with the films, so taken was she by her own reactions to the love sequences that were portrayed, she did not at first notice that the man next to her had moved his leg to a position that put it into contact with her right leg. When she did notice it, Cheryl knew that the man's move had been deliberate, that he was trying to silently communicate his sexual wishes. Cheryl did not move her leg. She was both afraid to move it, and afraid not to move it. So, she keened her interest to the film, pretending not to notice. But then the man moved his arm, snuggling it to the arm rest of the seat, and he made contact with the side of her right tit. Cheryl felt as if she had been burned. Ripples of desire pulsed through her body. She felt her nipples grow hard and push against the thin material of her dress. She felt pulsations at her thighs that were strange and urgent, but rather wonderful.

And now Cheryl's interest in the motion picture disappeared. Now, she was only intent upon the feeling that swept her, the feeling that was unmistakably one of hot desire. For a few minutes, she remained motionless, allowing the contact, even increasing it by slight movements from her body and by an occasional deep breath, but when the man's hand wandered from the arm rest and was suddenly on her knee, Cheryl jerked upright, then shot to her feet. She hurried past the people who sat between her and the aisle, moving in the opposite direction of the man. She dashed up the aisle and out of the theatre.

Out of the theatre and on the street, Cheryl glanced where the man's arm had pressed against her right tit. There was a round, damp spot on her dress, much as if she had been seared with heat. She concealed the spot with her arm as best she could, and hurried home.

The remainder of the evening passed restlessly. Cheryl could not center her attention on anything but sexual thoughts. All of them had her brother, Jason, as a subject. Many included herself. She prowled the house, redid housework that had been completed earlier the same day, tried to watch television, could not sit still, tried to eat and failed at that, too, and finally merely paced the house, knowing that sleep was impossible for her now.

By the time Cheryl heard her brother's car pull into the drive, announcing his premature arrival home, she had chosen liquor as an antidote, having consumed three unaccustomed highballs.

Jason's car entering the driveway startled Cheryl. It was as if his arrival announced something else. And she felt apprehension because her brother had arrived home much earlier than he usually did from a date. She reacted very oddly. Cheryl jumped up from the chair and took two quick steps to the middle of the living room. Then her body stiffened as if she were an actress waiting on the stage for a dramatic entrance of another major character. And then, the very moment that she heard the car motor quiet, Cheryl turned and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom.

Once within the confines of her own room, she moved with purpose and a certain fierce determination. She stripped off her dress and undergarments, then, nude, turned to her closet. Quickly, she donned a short, nearly transparent nightie. She decided against slippers because she had recently painted her toenails a bright pink. Then she turned, paused, and finally left her room.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Cheryl could see that her brother was quite drunk. He stood just inside the living room door, bracing himself against the door jamb. He looked very unhappy.

"Well, you're home pretty early tonight, Jason," Cheryl said, walking over to him.

"Yeah. Damn shame, ain't it?"

"What does that mean?" she asked, smiling.

"It means that it was a crummy date so I came home," he answered.

"Oh," she said, unable to deny the feeling of elation that swept over her.

"Really crummy," he mumbled, softly and sadly.

"What happened, Jason?"

"You should say what didn't happen," he said, grinning.

She raised her eyebrows, but did not speak.

"Very strange girl, this one was," Jason muttered, the words slurring drunkenly. "Very, very strange. She wouldn't let me get into her cunt. Can't understand it. One of the first girls I ever came across who wouldn't let me fuck her."

Cheryl cocked her head and said, "You're taking it badly, aren't you?"

"My pride's hurt."

"Is that all?"

"Guess I hurt all over. Christ, what a bitch she was. I sure as hell wanted to fuck her."

"Maybe you'll see her again," Cheryl suggested.

"Huh! Not in your life. I'm a one-shot man if I don't get my cock into her slit the first time, I don't plan on wasting myself for a second try."

Cheryl smiled. Thrills ran speedily throughout her body again. She felt excited and elated, much as if she had secured a victory over a rival.

Jason started to speak again, then paused. He started to move across the room and stumbled. Quickly, Cheryl was at his side. She put her arm around his waist and supported his weight. Jason wound his arm around her shoulder. His hand clutched at her flesh.

"Come on, you'd better get in bed," Cheryl said solicitously.

"Ah, Cheryl-you're a good one the only gal who really understands me my needs anything about me. I can always trust you to know what I need."

"Well, I have known you a long time, Jason," Cheryl laughed.

"Forever, baby. Forever."

They made their way across the living room. At the foot of the stairs, Jason stumbled again. It caused him to readjust his grip upon Cheryl. His hand slipped from her shoulder and, duplicating her hold upon him, laced around her waist. Then his hand nudged upward, pressuring a bit against Cheryl's tit.

Jason's movement was unintentional and in no way sexually centered. It was the simple action of a drunken young man claiming a hold for better support of his body. But to Cheryl, it was remindful of the man in the theatre. It made her passions bubble anew. She gripped her hand a little tighter around her brother's waist.

Slowly, and with their bodies pressed close together, they ascended the stairs. Soon, they were inside Jason's bedroom.

"Come on, let me take your jacket off," Cheryl coaxed.

Jason staggered a bit, then straightened a bit, then held his arms outstretched. Cheryl smiled. She remembered how her brother had been as a little boy. She felt quite the mother as she relieved him of his jacket. Jason moved back a step and stood facing Cheryl with his back to his bed.

"Christ, I'm hot," he said. He loosened his tie and the top buttons of his shirt.

Cheryl nearly gasped when he pulled his shirt from his shoulders. The sight of her brother's bare skin excited her. She became very aware of her own near-nakedness as her tits bounced beneath the flimsy material of her nightie.

Jason, too, must have become aware of his sister's scant attire, for as he dropped his shirt to the floor, his eyes roamed over her body.

"Hey," he said. "Did I interrupt anything by coming home early?"

"Of course not. Why would you say that?"

He grinned evilly, then said, "Well, I just wondered. What the hell, dressed like that you might have been entertaining some stud."

"Jason," she reprimanded lightly.

"No kidding. What the hell, Cher, you're built like a...."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please stop kidding."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Oh, no, little sister," Jason continued, waving his hand in dismissal of her modesty. "You look just great lately what the hell, you're a damn sight better built than that little broad I wasted all the drinks on tonight. Funny I've never noticed it before."

"You're drunk, Jason," she said, offering it as explanation for previous oversights to her attractiveness. She was enjoying Jason's references to her looks.

"I sure as hell am drunk," Jason agreed.

With that, he turned and flopped across his bed. He remained still for a moment, then rolled to his back. His eyes were alcohol-glazed, but they stared straight ahead at Cheryl.

At this point Cheryl had no intention of leaving her brother now that he was safely in bed. All of the things of her life all of the problems, the work, the little rewards, the shyness and sorrow and introspection boiled to a bubbling need of expression. She looked at her brother's bare chest, the hard muscles of it, the flat, hard belly, the muscled arms and strong hands. Then she moved closer to the bed. What followed represents an overt act of seduction in one of its strongest forms; a performance of incest provocation.

Cheryl moved close to the bed. She breathed deeply, hoping, and feeling, that her tits rose high and pressed against the thin material in a way that would make her brother notice them, make him want to know them and fondle them. And he did glance pointedly at their full, round bloom with the nipple studs creasing the material of her nightie. And his eyes grew larger when she bent, lifted one foot and removed his shoe and sock, for her flesh loomed forward dramatically, showing firmness and flesh not previously touched by man.

When Cheryl had removed Jason's shoes and socks, she sighed, then said, "There, that's better. Now you'll be able to relax better."

"I'll never be able to relax," he said despondently. "Not after tonight's bust not after getting all that worked up for a fuck and then getting nothing."

"Try to relax anyway," Cheryl said.

She hesitated, then posed with her right knee on the edge of the bed. The action caused the bottom of her nightie to move high up on her thigh, revealing wisps of pubic curls. She did not pat it back into place. In a moment, she stretched next to her brother on the bed.

"Just be quiet and try to rest," Cheryl said.

Jason did not answer. But his eyes closed as she leaned over his chest and very gently stroked his brow with her fingers. For a moment, Cheryl was afraid that Jason had fallen asleep had perhaps passed out. Disappointment nearly cooled her. Then she experimented. She raised on one elbow and as she continued to stroke his brow, she leaned closer to him in a way that permitted one tit to crush against his chest. The heat between them seemed intense to Cheryl. She cuddled a little closer. Then, quite by surprise, she saw that her brother's eyes were upon her and that they looked very clear, very sober, even if deep and thoughtful. It startled her. She started to pull away from Jason.

"No, Cheryl, stay close to me," Jason pleaded.

She relaxed her body against him again. Then she brought words into play to act as the extra aphrodisiac necessary to join her with her brother in an incestuous act.

"Is it really so terrible for you when you don't get to fuck a girl?" she asked.

"It sure the hell is terrible," he said.

"Poor baby."

"That I am," he said. "And if you're curious just how bad it is on me, I can show you."

Cheryl did not answer at once. His words had notorious meanings. She knew exactly what he meant. From the time that Jason had entered the house, Cheryl had been aware of a congestion of clothing at his groin, a bunched, protruding jam as his cock pressed against his trousers, unmistakable evidence of his un-quenched desire.

"Shhhhh, just relax, darling," Cheryl said. The word of endearment stunned her ears. It had come unplanned, uncoaxed from her mouth. She was not actually prepared to hear herself say this.

Jason swung his arm down and circled it over Cheryl's back. She crushed her tit a little harder against his chest. Then she asked more questions that were exciting to hear, very dramatic that they had come from her, she thought.

"Do the girls always like to fuck with you, Jason?" she asked.

"Usually."

"That must be nice for them."

"Sure. And for me, too."

She moved her lips against his cheek. "Do you do everything hard to them, Jason? Do you fuck them hard? Do you suck them hard?"

"I'm a stud, honey," he said in reply.

"Those girls they're very lucky."

"That's just the way I always figured it, too," he said.

"Such modesty," she smiled.

"No. Just the truth. I know what sort of cock equipment I have and I know what it can do for girls."

"Well, I suppose if anyone knows you do."

"But what about you, Cheryl," he said, raising his head slightly. "You know all about that stuff. You sure as hell must know about it."

"No," she answered simply.

"But a pretty one like you," he said, the words dwindling into nothingness. "Sure as hell, just like I was telling you the other day, now that mom's...."

"Shhh," she whispered against his cheek.

He was quiet a long time, then said, "Your lips are hot."

"Your your body is, too."

"Yes, I know."

"Do you know why, Cheryl?"

"I think so."

"You're right."

"But I didn't give you an answer."

"About things like this you don't have to," he said, becoming somewhat serious.

"I suppose not," she said, her voice suddenly going sleepy sounding.

Cheryl closed her eyes. She thought of the several drinks she had had while pacing the house. Then she thought of Jason's drunkenness. And the thoughts of liquor and its effects seemed to call it forth in a kind of delayed action. Cheryl felt dizzy. She felt daring and anxious and desirable. She moved her lips from her brother's cheek, then nibbled carefully and tentatively upon his ear lobe. She felt Jason's body stiffen, his hand going tighter against the small of her back. Then she moved again and plunged her sharp-pointed tongue within his ear. She moved it wildly, darting and circling and whipping as deep as it was possible for it to go. And Jason grew rigid, even arched his body somewhat.

"Oh, hell," he breathed mournfully.

Cheryl did not stop. Not until Jason clasped her tighter and with a sudden cry, rolled her atop him.

They kissed now in a very passionate way. A man-woman way. Their tongues clashed. They sucked. They spun together, retreated, struck again, clashed harder, withdrew for a rest, then met in the heady combat of frantic passion. And as their mouths stayed glued together, their hands roamed and experimented and touched. Jason brought his fingertips into contact with Cheryl's hot thigh flesh, probing and searching through her muff until he reached her clit. He began to pull and stretch upon her love button and Cheryl moaned in delightful agony as he worked over her cunt lips and back to her clit. And Cheryl's hands were equally busy over Jason's body, her fingers searching out and then tugging beneath his belt.

It was Cheryl who made the move for total nakedness. She brought her mouth free, raised, then quickly pulled her nightie over her head. She remained on her knees above her brother for a moment. The pose made Jason gasp. Then she lowered and the full heaviness of her bare titties touched at his own naked flesh. They renewed their kiss. Their hold upon each other held tighter. Their hands roamed more aggressively. Cheryl, nude and with a man for the first time in her life, snuggled her thighs to him. She felt his pulsing cock, growing, strengthening. She wanted more of it, wanted the fucking which she had never known. She cuddled closer and Jason's hands shot to her naked buttocks and aided her. He ground her furiously against him at the same time that he arched high, pressuring as much of his cock against his sister's naked thighs as it was possible to do. And then Cheryl's hand shot out to Jason's body grabbing at his cock, squeezing mightily in uncontrolled passion.

They rolled apart for a few brief moments, mumbling incoherently. Jason removed the rest of his clothing and returned to his sister.

This time Cheryl gasped, sobbed, choked back tears that must have been born from desire and fear, joy and remorse, from all of the mad, mad things that go to make up the elements of incest. The thrill of naked bodies crushed together was almost more than Cheryl could stand. She cuddled as close as possible, then, when only a total fucking could bring relief for her shrieking body, she pulled back, raised, very expertly lifted Jason's body, then grasped again at his cock. Her fingertips pressed down firmly against the hot male flesh as she felt the determined pulsing against her palm. Then Cheryl brought his lance to her cunt lips, stroking at her own pussy flesh with his steamy knob. And then she placed him at the opening to her love channel and as he plunged, she screamed a long howl which seemed to perfectly express the long years of waiting for the moment of lovemaking that would make her a woman. She and Jason began a long fuck a long, incestuous fuck that brought them both to the ultimate throb of satisfaction that was their reward.

It was Cheryl who proved to be an expert lover. One can rightly ask how the uninitiated can become experts within moments. The only answer is that Cheryl had years of dreams, over a decade of fantasies, and an abundant sensitivity for the ultimate fucking which she sought, probably whether or not her brother had been her first partner.

Their journey to orgasm was an exciting experience. They grappled and struggled, moaned in passionate sobs and eventual outcries. Jason achieved his peak first. Cheryl came to her peak moments later, sobbing heavily as her body heaved beneath her brother's ramming ministrations. She felt his cock juice splash out into her cunt hole, warming her walls with its warmth and then trickling down, oozing onto her strained thighs. They kissed each other frantically during their coming, unable to control their pulsating emotions as they both struggled for release. like sinners caught by the pastor, they immediately rolled away from each other. They fell into a speedy, exhausted sleep.

When Cheryl awoke the following morning, the odor of alcohol was the first thing she noticed. It released the knot of fear that wag crammed in her chest. She remembered the drinking and found an excuse.

When Jason came downstairs, Cheryl was already in the kitchen preparing breakfast. His eyes darted furtively. His voice quivered. And it was representative of the very emotions that Cheryl herself felt at that moment.

She served breakfast to her brother. Neither of them spoke of the previous night. Cheryl hoped that her own excuse of alcohol was also her brother's. She moved and acted normally, pretending that the night and the clash of their bodies had not occurred. But when they were settled over their second cup of coffee, the sham was destroyed.

"You were one hell of a fuck, Cheryl," Jason said, grinning at his sister.

She looked silently into her coffee cup. She did not make a reply.

"Man the guys have something," Jason added, shaking his head from side to side in a kind of puzzled confusion.

Then Cheryl spoke, for the first time making a reference to incest.

"Jason I I want you to know that well, I had quite a bit to drink before you came home last night. What I did was...."

"I know."

"So, you see, that's why...."

"You weren't drunk, Cheryl," Jason interrupted. "And neither was I. Not after we got upstairs. So, don't pretend things that aren't. That'll only make it worse, and I guess it's bad enough when a brother fucks with his own sister. I know it's not accepted readily."

"Don't please don't feel guilty, Jason."

"I don't," he grinned. "The only thing I feel is anxious to have another fucking with you."

"It won't happen again."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes."

Cheryl mouthed a word, not truth. That very night they again came together in a violent act of fucking that sent Cheryl to screaming like a madwoman as she achieved her orgasm. It was a violence and the satisfaction derived from it that set the pattern for their future years.

Brother and sister became lovers. At home they acted like man and wife, the man working, the woman caring for her man. They shared the same bed every night. They clashed at night, cock to cunt, fucking in an abnormal amount, meeting several times a night sometimes, especially on those nights when Jason had been out with another girl. On those nights, Cheryl experienced extreme jealousy and she felt called upon to outdo anything her brother might have known with a girl who was not his sister.

Jason, always somewhat the opportunist, began to use incest as a means of securing special favors; extra money, a new car, suits and sports jackets by the dozens. Cheryl did not mind the extra drain upon the family savings account. She was happy to give freely of her money, and of herself.

Their affair lasted for almost eight years. It finally ended when Cheryl had a nervous breakdown, was hospitalized and put in intensive psychiatric treatment that brought insight to her drive for incest.