Chapter 4
Diana checked the clock by the bed, surprised to see that the hands were very little different in their placement than they had been the last time she had looked. Actually, it had been less than half an hour since she had heard Georgia's bellows of eruption beneath David's fucking cock. At that moment, Diana her own cunt alive with juices, had shut her eyes and commanded herself to go to sleep. She had actually thought she had succeeded-in fact, she possibly had; but, certainly not for any length of time.
And, certainly not for as long as Diana would have liked!
Half an hour. Hell, just half an hour. She had been hoping to sleep the night away, to wake up and find the sexual gymnastics of the next room over and done with.
What Diana should have done was get dressed and head down to the station to help Karl with some of those reports which had resulted from the gunfight earlier. But, although Diana knew she would be doing everyone a far better service at her own desk instead of lying here wide awake, she was afraid that her attempted exit from the apartment might bery well be heard by either Georgia or David-either or both who might come out to check on the reasons behind her departure.
Except that it seemed hardly likely that Georgia or David would be hearing anything above and beyond their own sexually-spawned racket, now did it?
Jesus, but Georgia had sounded like a stuck cow! On second thought, that was probably pretty much just what Georgia had been at the moment her bellowing had penetrated all of the way to Diana's bedroom.
Diana listened. Was that Georgia grunting off in the distance? Was that the sound of David's muffled moans of pleasure? Or was Diana only imagining the sounds? Actually, she wasn't hearing much of anything, was she, except her own breathing, her own heartbeat, and the steady tack, tick, tick of the bedside clock which refused to pass time as fast as Diana desired?
So, what in the hell were those two doing? Resting? After all, no one would fuck all night, would they? Could they?
Diana resented the fact that she couldn't seem to get the picture of David and Georgia's fucking out of her mind. Then, again, it wasn't all that odd at all, was it? Hell, no! David was her brother, wasn't he? Georgia was Diana's roommate, wasn't she? In short, Diana's brother was in that bedroom down the hall, fucking Diana's roommate. And, what did Diana feel? Jealousy?
Yes, as sick as it probably was, Diana did feel jealous, didn't she? She felt jealous that another woman-not herself-was being fucked by Diana's brother. And, Diana continued to feel jealous, even though she knew it was only natural for David to be fucking Georgia, where it would have been degenerately unnatural to have had David fucking Diana's juicy cunt.
Because Diana, having the inner knowledge that she had always had certain longings that "weren't quite socially acceptable" as far as her brother was concerned, could also realize that those feelings of hers weren't really healthy. Why else had she resisted by running off to Grandmother Miller's? If she had really wanted to get fucked by her brother, she could have gotten just that by biding her time and waylaying him once again in the woods behind their house.
So, Diana told herself, she wasn't all bad. She, as well as the next girl, knew all the old taboo bullshit about incest. Although, she had to admit that she was less frightened by the idea now than she had been as a youngter. Because, since she had jacked off David's big cock and felt his fingers playing with her pussy, Diana had done a lot of reading up on the subject and had-on several separate occasions-actually managed to rationalize that all the original reasons for barring incestuous relations had become archaic in the present day and age. After all, there were ways to prevent conception, and thus the risk of deformed children, weren't there? Hell, yes! Diana had been on the pill for years; and, even if a pregnancy did happen to come about, weren't there clinics (private and public) all over the place who performed abortions without asking all that many questions? And many of the incest taboos had merely been nothing more than a means of keeping peace in the household in days when every man, woman, and child was important for the survival of a tribe (and of the species), weren't they? There would have been nasty fighting if a man started hopping into bed with whomever was available-whether that woman was married to daddy, brother, or uncle. But shit, in this day and age, at least as far as Diane and David were concerned, who was going to care whether or not the two of them got into the sack together?
That was sick, though, wasn't it? WASN'T IT?
Still, the modern generations weren't grouped as tribes any longer, were they? No one gave a tinker's damn about anything known as tribe cohesion. And not even he survival of the species was anymore threatened with extinction if a few females-like a few homosexuals-decided that they weren't going to breed. Diana's fertile cunt was no longer of such value as it might have once been in the days when it was every woman's responsibility to be fruitful and multiply lest there be no men children to replace those who were so easily (and so early) killed by the very rugged and dangerous nature of that early world.
What in the hell was she thinking? Diana could often times wonder if she hadn't gone to the Police Academy, hadn't manipulated to get her assignment here only because she held out some hope of taking up with David where they had left off that day in the woods when Diana had been scared shitless (as well as so excited) by the prospect of having her relationship with her brother progress beyond mutual petting to more involved adult things.
But such thoughts were absurd, weren't they? Or, were they? It would have been easier for Diana to convince herself of her innocense in plotting for an incestuous liaison with her brother if she had decided on being a policewoman before she had learned that David had joined the force. She hadn't. Or, if she had been assigned to this district as only the result of chance. Actually, she had gone to a great deal of difficulty, pulled a great many strings, to get herself this present assignment.
And, it certainly would have made Diana more confident of there being no method to her madness if she wasn't here now on the bed, jealous beyond words that David had fucked (was still fucking?) Georgia off in the other bedroom.
What in the shit was she doing? Why was she so intent upon loading herself with some kind of guilt trip? There was certainly the possibility of other explanations for what she was doing, besides the assumed incestuous ones, wasn't there? After all, wasn't it only natural-yes, goddamn it natural-that a sister might want to get back on speaking terms with her brother? What with their father dead (Diana hadn't even been invited to his funeral), their mother having retired to Florida for bridge and gossip in the sun, it was certainly not all that strange that a sister make every effort to get back together with her brother again; although, David had apparently made very little effort to see Diana during the past ten years.
Was Diana hurt at all that David hadn't at least phoned or written? Yes, by God, she was; although, she didn't know why she should be. She, after all, hadn't even given David forewarning she was going, had she? No! She had just panicked and had pulled out. Having acted thus, could she really have expected David to search her out the first opportunity he had? He had possibly suspected Diana had done what she had done because of what the both of them had done in the woods behind the house. And if David had come to suspect that Diana's guilt had been so great that she had gone to such extremes to severe their relationship, there was no reason why he should have caused her any assumed additional embarrassment by seeking her out. Besides, looking Diana up might have looked as if David were out to renew an old "familiar acquaintanceship" which Diana had-by running away-seemingly made quite plain she was not ready to renew.
So, Diana had made her bed and had been forced to lie in it. And if she was now out to see and talk to her brother again, it certainly wasn't because of any secret desire to go to bed with him, was it? Hell, no! It was simply that they were both adults now and could handle their brother-sister relationship with far more aplomb and frankness than either of them had been capable of doing ten years ago.
However, if it was as simple as that, then why was Diana creeping around in secrecy? Why hadn't she simply gone right up to David and said, "Here I am, brother!"? Instead, although she had had .plenty of opportunity to reveal her true identity, she had gone to pains not to do so.
On the other hand, that was certainly explained, wasn't it? After a ten-year separation, it was best to wait for the right time and the right place for reunions, wasn't it? And the right time and the right place was certainly not right here and now, was it? Although, there was really nothing more that Diana would have liked doing than stepping into Georgia's bedroom (catching David and Georgia right in the middle of their screw), and proclaiming to David: "Brother, your sister is back!"
Diana was hot. She threw back her blankets, revealing her perspiring body to the night air. She ran her right hand down over her right breast, feeling the hardness of her nipple. Diana made a conscioius effort not to wonder just why her nipple was hard.
What was that? Sounds.. Sexual sounds? From Georgia's bedroom? Were the two starting up again? Was David climbing on for another upcoming ride to climax on Georgia's gyrating body? Was David positioning his bulky cock head to the hair-fringed crack between Georgia's milky thighs? Was he pushing so that his bulbous cock corona was stretching open Georgia's vaginal doors and sliding into the sensuous warmth beyond those guarding portals? Were Georgia's glistening cuntal membranes moving inward to lovingly enclose David's stiff meatiness and suck hungrily on David's prick as if cunt were really starving mouth?
Diana's right hand had left her breast and had slid down over her belly to her crotch, her fingertips resting on the blonde pubic hair veeing the soft triangular mound that punctuated the meeting of the young woman's thighs.
Yes, those were sexual sounds coming from that other bedroom, weren't they? Soft grunts and groans of pleasure, issuing from an insatiable stud and the woman he was humping.
Goddamn it, if they were going to screw, the least they could have done was be a little more quiet about it! Diana, after all, had to get up and go to work tomorrow. What with the sleep she was getting, she might as well have gone back to the station house and given Karl a hand with the paperwork. Did David and Georgia think Diana was possibly deriving any kind of pleasure whatsoever out of their muted heaves? Hell, Diana had never gotten all that big of a charge out of watching and hearing monkeys jack-off in their cages at the zoo. She wasn't getting any more pleasure now out of similar sound effects supplied by two adults in heat.
Or, was she? Wasn't her cunt just a little juicy? Wasn't her fingertips getting wet in the oozing liquid bubbling out of her vagina? And if her cunt was all soupy, wasn't that a sign that she was sexually stimulated by something? And if not by the sexual activities in the next room, then from what?
"Jesus, why don't the two of you keep it fucking down?" Diana asked audibly, consciously moving her hand away from her cunt. After all, hadn't she just spent long minutes trying to convince herself that her early sexual longings for her brother were purely infantile responses that had paled with each additional year of maturity? So, wasn't there something more than a little obscene about playing with herself while her brother was fucking Georgia down the hall?
And, he was fucking her, wasn't he? Christ, listen to those noises! Diana should have put them down on tape and peddled them to dirty old men through ads in those underground newspapers. Sound effects of love: that's what she could have called her product. And horny men could put on the records and tapes and play them every night while they masturbated in accompaniment.
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Diana proclaimed when another loud grunting of sexual excitement penetrated the walls of Diana's bedroom and exploded with disturbing sensuality in Diana's ears.
Diana got out of bed and reached for her robe hung over the back of a nearby chair.
And, what in the fuck was she planning on doing? Huh? Was she going to walk down the hall and tell them both to knock off their piece in silence?
"Is that the kind of noise a brother should be making to keep his sister awake in the next bedroom?" Diana asked herself. "Well, is it?"
Hell, maybe she should just make a little noise of her own, letting those two know she was up and could hear their guttural sexual orchestration. Maybe that would at least let them subconsciously keep the racket down to a bare minimum.
Diana would go to the kitchen for a glass of milk. Maybe get a sandwich while she was there.
So, why in the hell was she creeping on tiptoes? Why was she opening the door to her bedroom as if the last thing in the world she wanted was to have the door squeak and reveal her presence? The whole purpose was in letting them know she was up and about (hearing everything) wasn't it?
Yet, her door was open. And, Diana was in the carpeted hallway, having made no sound loud enough to penetrate to Georgia's bedroom. And, now that she was in the hallway, the sexual sounds were louder.
"Fuck me ... fuck me ... ohhhhhhh, fuck me!" Was that actually what Georgia was begging; or, was Diana merely letting her imagination run away with her?
"Take it! Take it, bitch! Take it!" And, did men really say such things while they were making it? Mervin certainly hadn't. But then, Mervin never had "said" much of anything in the bedroom, having been so totally concerned with trying to keep his pathetic prick hard.
Why in the fuck had Diana ever married that poor sonofabitch? Because, he looked like...?
Hell, what was she trying to do now? Convince herself that she had married Mervin because he had physically reminded her of David? And, wasn't that notion absurd? Oh, granted, Mervin and David both had blond hair, cleft chin, dimpled cheek, exceptional body. But how many men in the goddamned world had bond hair, blue eyes, square jaw, rugged physique? And, they didn't all appear as if they were clones, did they? Hell, no! Each one was unique, as David was unique, as Mervin had been unique. The fact that Mervin had had certain characteristics similar to those of Diana's brother certainly had nothing whatsoever to do with the reasons for her marrying him!
So, once again, WHY HAD DIANA MARRIED HIM? Possibly because she had picked up that newspaper in that magazine store (the one that sold out-of-town newspapers), and she had seen her father's picture and the accompanying obituary: Business Executive Dead At Sixty-four. And, Diana hadn't even been invited to the funeral. Wouldn't even have known her old man was dead if she hadn't chanced upon that one newspaper.
Oh, it wasn't that Diana had so much cared that her father was dead. Everyone had to die sometime; and, she and her father had never been that close. And, he had made incestuous advances toward her. No, what really hurt was that David hadn't used the opportunity of his father's death to contact his sister.
And, while Diana had been feeling down and out and resentful that David hadn't come through, there was Mervin with his proposal. And Diana-for God-only-knew-the-real-reason-had accepted what had been destined for catastrophe from the very beginning. Because Mervin had had a whole gamut of his own problems which Diana (as wrapped up as she was in hers) couldn't possibly have given the time necessary to help sort out. So, the two of them had plowed straight ahead toward oblivion. And if Mervin had been having questions about his manhood at the time of his marriage, he must have been even less sure at the time of his divorce.
Diana should have tried to help Mervin. Really, she should have. But, he had been such a wretched disappointment compared to the fantasies Diana had lived with up until then. And, Mervin had looked so much like David that Diana had naturally expected him to perform in the bedroom exactly as Diana had always imagined David would perform-as David was so obviously performing now in Georgia's bedroom.
"Ugggghhhunnngghhh!" And, who was that? Obviously Georgia, unless David had another woman in there. Because the gurgled groan had issued from between female lips.
And Diana suddenly realized where she had crept during those last few seconds. She had automatically moved stealthily down the hallway to pause in front of the linen closet.
An accident? Or, did she know that the only thing that stood between herself and the actual witnessing of what was going on in Georgia's bedroom was this linen closet door? Because, once the door was open, all Diana had to do was squat down, move into the crawl space below the shelves; and, there would be the window into that sexual world beyond: the same window whose other side would be reflecting the activities on the bed to disguise the fact that Diana was even watching.
All ... she ... had ... to ... do ... was ... open ... the ... door. So what was she waiting for?
WHAT WAS SHE WAITING FOR? Jesus, what kind of question was that for her to be asking herself?
She was waiting because that was her brother in that bedroom. And, it would be Diana's brother who Diana would be seeing beyond the mirror. Her brother, for Christ's sake! Naked! Fucking a woman! That's why Diana was waiting. There was something disturbing about the fact that she should even want to look. Because, there were certain inescapable incestuous implications inherent in even the mere contemplation of looking. And if certain incestuous longings still existed for Diana after all of these years (after her exit from adolescene into maturity), then what in the hell had she proved by running away in t he first place?
"It was sick, wasn't it? Oh, yes, it was indeed sick! As much as Diana might rationalize it otherwise, as much as she did often rationalize it otherwise, it was still sick! David was her brother. David was her own flesh and blood. And, it just wasn't somehow right that thoughts of David fucking could always get Diana's pussy juice-sopped where the real thing with her ex-husband had often found Diana's pussy so dry that screwing had been painful for both Diana and Mervin.
Still, just watching David perform sex wasn't the same as actually performing sex with him, was it? Hell, no! There was a world of difference in between!
Of course, all aspects of incest and David aside, there was Georgia to be considered, wasn't there? After all, Georgia certainly had all rights to certain privacy, didn't she? Just because the two women shared living space, didn't mean that they shared everything else. Meaning, additionally, that Georgia's fucking with David was a personal thing, wasn't it? And Diana would have been infringing upon that private thing if she now spied on it. Right?
Well, if Georgia really hadn't wanted to risk being spied upon, then why hadn't she covered up that spy mirror the way Diana had sealed up all of the peepholes that gave access to Diana's bedroom? The very fact that Georgia hadn't covered up the mirror seemed somehow to insinuate a tacit permission for Diana to spy, didn't it?
"Yes ... yes ... yessssss!" Georgia was hissing, her sounds seeping out beneath the bedroom door up the hall from where Diana was standing silently.
Diana opened the linen closet, knelt down, and crawled into the space beneath the shelves. Feeling guilty-but oh-so-excited-she pulled the door securely shut behind her.