You Could Pretend Ch. 02

The first days of our holiday together passed without awkwardness and we could relax together as I showed her around the Island. She saw first-hand that there was no lover waiting for me and it was that, I think, that opened the doors to a cautious reawakening of our brother sister relationship.

Did I say "cautious?"

Cautious would be a fitting description of my feelings but Janet seemed to fling caution to the winds and quickly resumed her role of boss, director, adjudicator in all things and not least, big sister. It was as if she now, having lost her hopeless husband, needed to turn the clock back and take charge of looking after me again. Having never had a successful long term relationship these 30 years I fell easily in with her wishes and realised I had found my soul mate again.

The third night, after a successful happy day where with her assistance I found and photographed my 61st species of Orchid on the Island she insisted she treat me to dinner away from the hotel. After the meal and on the way back through the village she slung her arm round mine and pressing herself up to me whispered,

"We still go together as well as we did in the old days."

And though I was suddenly and overwhelmingly glad and luxuriated in her femininity I could also taste the guilt way back in my mind and in a moment of guilty weakness I stopped and turning her towards me whispered that I had a confession to make and that I owed her 30 years of apologies. She threw her arm round my shoulders and shushed me;

"It's waited this long, it will wait until we get to our room."

So with her in charge we continued the walk back to the hotel.

We'd got quickly into the holiday routine of sharing bathroom and bedroom and moved easily and without embarrassment between the one or the other half clothed though by no means going naked. I had had the chance to catch a few discrete glances at her as she got ready for bed and tonight was no exception. She was looking good and as I lay there in my bed reading and stealing glances as she moved around I felt a stirring in my groin; yes, she was looking good.

At last she was finished and leaving the bathroom she closed door fully leaving only a chink of light. It was as dark as could be and as she approached her bed she bumped into mine and reached out to steady herself. My hand flew out to catch her and for a brief moment we held each other before she moved safely into her bed.

"Careful," I said, "Its more than dark enough."

"Well," she said, "So it should be, if we are going to discuss what.s bothering you."

I found the resulting silence awkward. I had intended confessing abusing her sexually while she slept and yet I was still getting horny at the sight of her getting ready for bed!

I could hear her breathing in her bed and struggled to find something sensible to say.

"Was the funeral a shock to you?"

"The cost of it perhaps, but he had more than enough insurance."

I could sense she didn't want to talk about her dead husband and I searched for another subject, anything that could lead back to the easy banter we used to enjoy but it was Janet who broke the ice.

"Why did you never marry? Not gay are you?"

"Gay? Me? Course not; You remember Jane don't you?"

Jane had been the least catastrophic of my several failed long term relationships.

"Jane?" She said with an echo of innocence that bordered on sarcasm. I wondered what remark was coming next.

"Was that the dark one?"

She paused a while then continued slyly,

"The one that looked like me?"

I realised she was right. Had I been trying to recreate in the desire I felt for Jane the greater desire I'd felt for my sister, Janet?

Christ, even the names were alike! Did she suspect my incestuous desire for her?

My conscience was making itself felt but despite the shame, I realised I had an erection.

I tried unsuccessfully to turn the conversation back to her and joked back

"Why do you ask if I am gay, Sis; are you lesbian?"

She answered scornfully,

"I might well have been for all the interest my now deceased husband had in me."

"Lesbianism? Is that the right word, Janet? Could it be ok for you then?"

She remained silent and I knew then she was waiting for me to bring out my confession. I could only continue weakly, trying to delay the awful moment of confession as long as possible,

"Wouldn't you both, being women, know what you wanted and how to get it?"

"No I don't think so" she said,

"I don't lust after softness," she said "And you don't lust after an erect penis, do you?" She laughed and as if an afterthought muttered,

"No, I suspect you lust after something else."

I said the first thing that came into my head and exclaimed out into the all-enveloping darkness,

"I lust after our closeness, the good closeness we lost when you married him."

After a long thoughtful pause, she replied sadly;

"Marrying him was a mistake but what's done is done. We are together again now."

That made me sadder; My confession would surely destroy the closeness we had regained these past weeks?

"Sis, I said I had something I had to confess to you. I want to drop it so we can let it go and continue as before?"

She said nothing.

She was good at the interrogative silences and after a while her silence had me unreservedly babbling meaningless nonsense until I was finally compelled to confide in her;

"Sis, I want your forgiveness."

In the silence that followed I heard her turn towards me and the covers rustled.

"Hand." She said.

I didn't catch on at first and she repeated her demand that I stretch out and grasp her hand.

"Hand," she said quietly.

I groped out into the darkness and found her hand and was immediately transported back to our life as youngsters in the flat; Her demand for darkness; The holding of hands when the difficult worries threatened to overwhelm us. This was what we'd done when serious and intimate thoughts that needed our unity as brother and sister presented themselves.

"Well? She said. Tell me what's bothering you brother."

"No" I answered.

"No, I think its best left unsaid."

"Come on now" she said,

"I think you need to get this off your chest, tell me what you feel you have to confess."

"I abused you." I said brutally.

"I abused you sexually while you slept."

In the resulting silence I was sure she could hear my heart beating. But at least she hadn't let go of my hand in disgust.

"No, I don't think you did."

You don't understand Janet. I touched your body when you were fast asleep....

I struggled for the words.

"When I was fast asleep?"

"I came to feel you up, to explore your body. I knelt beside your bed in the darkness and touched you."

This was horrible and I wanted it all to be over.

"I even,......."

I just couldn't bring myself to say it

"You even?"

"I even had sex with you."

"You had sex?"

"Yes I put my...."

"You put your?"

"Yes. I came to you when you slept and abused you, I'm so sorry Sis."

"You were inquisitive."

I wondered uneasily; was that was a question or a statement?

"I felt your breasts."

"Young boys often feel their sister's breasts."

I experienced the feeling of being out of control but somewhere inside I wondered; Why she wasn't hysterically angry?

"But I felt you!....I felt you... down there."

I struggled with the words; I had to make her understand;

" I raped you."

She held my hand very tightly and she had the grace not to laugh but I could sense her good natured amusement.

"Raped me? You did not! I remember you took me with astonishing delicacy."

"You remember! You remember? You mean you knew?"

"You knew what I'd done?"

I corrected myself accusingly,

"You knew what I was doing? Not done, but doing?"

"Knew?" she said lightly, "Afterwards I confided with my best girlfriend, she had the same experience with her little brother."

"Who?" I asked, aghast. "Who knows about me?"

"About us you mean?" and she chuckled,

"It takes two to tango you know. No dear, I cannot tell you who I told about us, but rest assured, our secret is safe."

I was confused and worried. This conversation, brewed up with agonised guilt and shame over the last 30 years was getting out of control but somewhere inside I felt an astonishing sense of relief as she kindly rebuffed my shame and guilt.

"You weren't the only one who fiddled under the covers brother. Sometimes you were so hard to wake up on a school day that I had free and unhindered access to your morning erection and could practice my wanking technique as often as I wanted."

"You wanked me?"

She laughed quietly. "It didn't take long and you seemed to like it"

I was turned on by this, if only she knew what I had under the covers now.

"So that's why my dreams were so realistic."

She chuckled again and my guilt began to fade.

"Don't tell me you have suffered this guilt for so long?"

"Well, yes of course, I still feel I shouldn't have abused you."

"But you didn't darling. It hasn't harmed me, I have at times cherished the memory, especially when I have been lonely and horny."

She stopped as if not knowing what to say, then continued hurriedly,

"But has it harmed you, brother?"

"I don't know, no doubt my experience with you has influenced my sexual interests."

"Oh yes, the lovely Jane."

I realised girlfriend Jane did look remarkably like sister Janet.

"But she was lovely, like you."

She squeezed my hand in thanks.

"Go on brother."

"I must confess that my attempts to play sleeping games with Jane led to our breakup."

"Oh, you men are so insensitive sometimes! The poor girl may have sensed you were attempting to recapture the intensity of feelings you'd experienced before. That's enough to make anyone feel inadequate."

But I could sense she also had something to confess and she continued hastily;

"Evidently, not long after I married, I uttered some words in my sleep and that finished my new husband off for good. He never approached me again....."

I gasped;

"You mean you talked about us in your sleep? In a positive way?"

"It seems so."

"No wonder he never liked me. But sis, you've not gone all those years without?"

"Without sex? No, I travel a lot with my job; I meet colleges who want extramarital sex but not divorce, one is discreet......"

"But is that enough for you, for your desires?"

She laughed a little.

"I have had some very young assistants; I was the first time for a few of them."

"You took their.... You taught them? But Sis, did you let them explore you?"

"Yes I did. Their innocent sense of wonder, their lack of experience and their fumbling made them very attractive to me."

She laughed at the thought.

"They had insatiable desires and once they gained confidence they could keep coming again and again."

I was holding my cock and rubbing it gently at the thought of her and her young assistants.

"I only used them once. Lost innocence is not attractive and there are so many young men who dream of an older woman helping them to manhood."

"Did you... How many, Where you their first.....?"

"Yes, I was the first woman for many of them."

"You mean you took?"

"Took their virginity? Yes."

She paused as if trying to find an excuse;

"Well, they were keen to give up their virginities after all. I didn't have to force them you know."

"But you," She said quietly "It's what, twelve years since Jane?"

"Yes, that's correct and, no there hasn't been anyone else, just me and my masturbation fantasies."

The atmosphere was much lighter now and she laughed; Typical for her she went right to the core of my statement.

"Do you masturbate about what you did thirty odd years ago? Or do you masturbate about me in the present day?"

"Yes"

"Yes what?"

"Both."

"Do you still...... do you still, do you still...."

She was quiet for a few minutes until at last she tried again

"Do you still see me as your sexual big sister?"

I daren't answer; It had been a struggle to admit that I had used her body thirty years ago and now she was asking if I was still a pervert and if I still saw her a sexual light.

Sensing my struggle, she was quick to remind me,

"When we share our thoughts in the dark like this we are in a state of equality, a type of truce, it's an emotional free for all and we can say what's nearest our hearts without hurting each other agreed?"

So I confessed that she was still in my sexual dreams, that I masturbated to fantasies of fucking her sleeping body.

"Yes, I do see my big sister in the same light, even more so after she told me about my morning erections."

"But do you still see yourself as my big sister?"

And again it was she who was silent.

A sudden thought crossed my mind, a thought so cynical and worldly wise a thought that only a lifetime of growing up could fuel.

"Tell me, you knew I came to your bed?"

"Yes."

"But why didn't you say anything to me? Join in even?"

"Because I also felt guilty. I wanted to have my cake and eat it. I wanted sex but couldn't join in, I couldn't openly admit it to myself, or you. I knew you were inquisitive; I had seen you peeping at me while I showered and don't forget it was me who changed the beds and washed your sheets."

She chuckled,

"You masturbated all the time."

"I knew you were horny as hell so I pretended to be asleep so I could see what you would do. I was horny and was curious to see what sex was like so I lay back and let you try."

I struggled with the memory of her breasts, her soft belly, the extreme intensity of my penis moving in her vagina. And again, with that big sister wisdom she had, it seemed as if she could read my thoughts;

"And If I remember correctly it was a very successful first attempt for you," and giggled.

"But if I'd known about your guilt I would have told you about my part in it years ago."

I tried to stutter an answer but It came out as a question,

"Could I come over to you?"

There was a long pause where I could hear her breathing in the darkness.

"We must take this carefully" she said and I felt disappointment then panic;

Had I misinterpreted her? Had she looked for a finish to these untidy memories not a beginning of something new? The thought flooded my head in a blind panic;

Had I disgusted her? She had no doubt grown out of incest sex with her little brother; she was after all approaching 60 years old and I had blindly revealed my perverted interest in her.

"I am so sorry Janet! Forgive me for asking, I misunderstood. I cannot bear the thought of us falling out. Can you forgive me and let it go?"

There was a long silence where the only communication between us was her stroking my hand.

"I think,"

She paused and her words hung in the air,

" I think it best if I sleep."

"If I am asleep, well, then you will work it all out you see."

My thoughts were racing and I could barely think a coherent thought.

"I am tired" she said so faintly I had to lean out of bed to catch her words;

"You could pretend I am asleep."

Her hand slipped from mine and I could hear her arrange the covers around her.

I lay there in the dark with my heart beating wildly and tried to make sense of all she had said. I could pretend she was asleep; if she slept then I would work it all out.

"You'll work it out." What did she mean?

She had found a series of young inexperienced assistants and they had fumbled their way to her body; they had left their virginities inside her... "Their uncertainty was stimulating."

I was as uncertain now as I had been those thirty odd years ago; was that what she meant? Was she was waiting for me to throw caution to the winds and in a state of genuine uncertainty, explore her body?

I sat up quietly. My cock was erect and aching. I pulled off my shorts and hidden by the darkness wanked myself silently for a few intense strokes. I had to be able to see her body! And was with that thought transported back to that night in the flat when I first felt her breasts.

Naked, I crept to the bathroom and opened the door a crack. Glancing across the room I could see the shape of her body in the gloom. I moved carefully towards her and knelt beside her bed.

With the first rustling of her bedclothes she emitted a long and deep sigh and I was sure she was going to participate actively in our lovemaking but no, there was no response when I leaned across and kissed her.

Her silence, her immobility thrilled me intensely, it was as if I was transported instantly back to the innocent eighteen-year-old I had been when we lived together in the flat. But now I was free from the anxiety I had felt then though I could scarcely accept the truth of the moment; I was going to experience the lust and release of all these 30 year's masturbation fantasies! I could do as I wished and she'd not wake and stop me.

She was breathing deeply. Leaning across I put my face next to hers and felt her breath on my cheek. I moved my hand lightly over the covers and finding the edge of her blanket slid my hand under and into the warmth of her body.

Earlier, when explaining her weakness for her young and inexperienced assistants she had admitted to being turned on by their lack of sexual sophistication and how their nervous and fumbling hands on her body were stimulating; well my hands shook as much as any virgin teenager's; I had no need to pretend!

My hand was trembling as I slowly moved towards her body. I peeled the blanket slowly back and searched around her waist to find the bottom of the T-shirt she was wearing. I rolled it carefully up over her belly, pausing whenever it stuck between her and the bed. After what seemed like an eternity I had her heavy breasts exposed to my gaze.

"Look at those tits." I said to myself and was startled by my own voice.

Should I keep silent or should I maintain the charade of innocent fumbling?

I leant across her and caressed her breasts. Pressing them together I sucked and bit on first one then the other peg-like nipple.

She made a slight sound; her mouth was open and her breath caught in her throat. I could see her tongue move as she swallowed and I wanted to kiss her again.

"I wonder what it's like to feel her fanny?" I said

and leaning away down her body began turning back the covers over her smooth round belly. Reaching as far as I could I turned the last of the covers back and had her completely uncovered.

The last thirty years had been kind to her. She'd had no children, she had pursued an active sporting life, no doubt her passion for horse riding had helped her maintain her athletic figure and now she lay silently on the bed in front of me. Smooth and round, her breasts were still heavy and firm and she had on a pair of black lacy panties stretched over her broad hips and I felt my heart would explode with lust.

I leaned over her. My fingers, travelling gently over her soft belly, slid under the top of her panties and came to rest on the brittle hair of her sex; She was warm and the panties were damp against the back of my hand.

As I leant awkwardly over her my penis brushed her breasts and surprised by the shock I thrust blindly a couple of times as the smooth curve of her cleavage sent an almost electric shock of pleasure through the head of my cock.

I removed my hand from her panties and turning back knelt astride her.

"God her tits are so soft."

And I leant across her and took the weight on my hands. My cock was hanging over her cleavage and I pushed it again and again into the the warmth between her breasts. But it was not enough, I had to go further.

Her mouth was still open as she slept. I was gasping with frustrated lust now and not daring to believe what I was doing I pulled back my foreskin and leaning towards her face placed my glans carefully in her open mouth.