Abbienme

This story deals with brother/sister incest. If you find this type of material difficult or offensive, please read no further.

The characters in this story are aged 18 or over when engaged in sexual activity.

I would like to thank Hatsuda for his assistance in editing this story for me, and for making several helpful suggestions about its content.

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My plane got in at 10.00 am, and I lashed out on a taxi to take me to see Mum. I'd phoned ahead, and she was waiting to see me. I got a big kiss and a very motherly hug when I arrived.

"How long can you stay, Scott? It's been so long since you were home."

"I'm sorry, Mum," I apologised, "I've got to fly out to Melbourne this evening -- I start my contract on Monday, but it's only six months, and then I hope I can come back."

"Oh, pooh," Mum voiced her disappointment in the usual way, but she knew I wasn't going to be able to stay for long. I'd recently finished my IT degree, and some intensive practical training, and was ready for my first professional challenge, even though it was interstate.

"I hoped I'd be able to catch up with Abbie while I'm here, just to say, 'Hi' and see how she's going."

"Hmm," - a shadow passed over Mum's face, "I haven't seen Abbie for months and hardly spoken to her on the phone. You knew she'd gone off to Melbourne with that bastard Eric, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I replied, "and I know she lost the baby, and then broke up with Eric, but I thought she'd come back home?"

"No, honey, she cut herself off from me and seemed to just disappear -- look, if you've got a chance, could you look her up and make sure she's okay; here's her address and mobile phone number; at least, I think that's where she is."

Abbie was three years younger than me, which made her now 22. Mum and Dad had divorced when I was eight; Mum threw him out when she got fed up with his drinking and chasing anything in a skirt; he died about 8 years later. Mum had a hard time bringing up us kids; she was nineteen when she'd had me -- it was a shotgun wedding, and I don't think there was much love between my parents. Mum fought hard to care for Abbie and me, and I think she did a pretty good job. We managed to stay out of too much trouble, and I developed a big interest in computers, and ran a lot to keep fit.

As I hit puberty, Mum made it clear that I would have to take on some of the family responsibilities, and I was okay with that, although Abbie always wanted to hang around me, and I found that a bit annoying.

Mum took me aside one day, and said to me, "Scott, you know that Abbie really looks up to her big brother -- you're the main male influence in her life, and although she would never say so, I know she looks up to you, so cut her some slack."

After that, we started to become more friendly, and in her mid teens, she started to develop very nicely. When I last saw her, just before I headed interstate to university, she had become a very attractive young woman. She was happy, healthy, uninhibited and enjoyed teasing me about my lack of success with girls, and not afraid to flaunt her gorgeous body in my face, then run away giggling when I threatened to deal with her.

Mum and I spent the rest of the day chatting and laughing and I caught up on the family gossip, most of which was pretty much what I expected. Later in the evening, Mum drove me to the airport, and treated me to a warm and generous kiss before I headed off to Melbourne. I'd found a room at a cheap hostel while I looked for something more suitable, booked myself in and settled in for the night.

Next day was a Thursday, and early on I rang Abbie's phone but just got an answering service. I left a message asking her to call me back, and continued hunting for a suitable car to get around the big city. By 4.00 pm, I hadn't heard from Abbie, so I rang again, and left another message saying that I would call around 7.30 pm. As I didn't yet have my own transport, it was closer to 7.45 pm by the time I worked out the directions and the tram routes and got to Abbie's place. It was a small apartment in a rather run down block. I couldn't see any light from her apartment, but I knocked on the door, and shortly I could hear steps coming towards the door. It opened, and it was obviously Abbie, but not at all how I expected.

The Abbie who opened the door to me seemed to be quite different from the little sister I knew and loved.

"Oh my God, Scott, what are you doing here?" Instead of the bubbly, laughing, gorgeous, sister that I remembered, Abbie looked drawn and stressed. Her hair was pulled back into an untidy pony tail, and wearing no makeup, her skin looked pale and a bit grubby. And her unit smelled rather stale and unappetising.

"Well, hi to you, too, little sister; are you going to keep me standing on the doorstep all night ....?"

"Oh god, Scott ..." she replied, "Why are you ....I don't know what to ..." she paused, and I was astonished to see her looking embarrassed, uncertain, and, most startling of all, terrified.

"Scott, you can't ... I mean what are you doing here?" But before I could answer, she continued, "No, Scott you mustn't ask ... Oh, hell, I don't know what I'm saying, but please don't harass me."

I was very shaken, but tried to reassure her, "Abbie, I'm your big brother, and you know, or you ought to know that I love you, and the last thing I'm going to do is harass you, but ..."

"No, Scott, PLEASE, no questions now. Please, I beg you, will you do me the biggest favour you've ever done for me in my whole life? If you care about me at all, just turn round and leave, but come back in 48 hours time, and I'll cook you a meal and answer all your questions, but just not now -- please, big brother?"

"Okay Abbie, if you say so, but just one question -- is there anyone here who you don't want me to see, or who is threatening you?"

Abbie looked a bit surprised, but said, "No, now if you love me, please go and come back in two days".

More puzzled than I think I've ever been before, I left and made my way back to the hostel, and got an early night. But I spent most of it tossing and turning and trying to figure out what was wrong with Abbie. I was up early next morning, and after breakfast, I was able to find myself a half-way decent car at a price that I could just afford, and the deal was quickly done. The following day I spent in a rather desultory search for more permanent accommodation, but I was really more concerned with turning over and over in my mind the question of what had happened to Abbie. But I did stop off and buy a big bunch of flowers for her and a drinkable bottle of wine to go with the promised meal.

By the time I left I had showered and changed into "smart casual" and headed for Abbie's place. When I rang the bell, the vision in front of me was so unlike the Abbie I'd seen on the Thursday that I did a double take. Abbie was quite tall, maybe 5'6", dark brown hair with chestnut highlights worn down to her shoulders, long slim legs leading to a firm but eye catching butt, and boobs not overly big, probably 34B, but completely in proportion to the rest of her body. They were beautifully shaped, like ski slopes; I'd seen her in a bikini, and her nipples stood out firmly like pencil erasers.

Tonight, she was dressed in a soft pastel blue blouse with big buttons down the front, cream coloured linen slacks and open work sandals with about a three inch heel. She'd obviously washed her hair and brushed it until it glowed, her make-up was understated but captivating, and her fingers were tipped with glossy red nails. She looked gorgeous, and I told her so, and I looked her up and down until she blushed.

"Why, thank you, big brother -- please come in, and thanks for the lovely flowers."

"And some decent wine for dinner," I told her, but she looked embarrassed,

"I'm so sorry, honey, but I can't share that with you -- I've put myself on the wagon -- it's part of my sad story," she said with the faintest ghost of a smile.

"Are you going to tell me some of this story?" I asked Abbie, but she shook her head. "Food first, then I'll tell you as much as you want to know."

"Promise?" I asked, and she nodded her head.

"But it's not a pretty story, and I don't come out of it very well. But you are the one person I can trust, Scott; please don't judge me, that would break my heart."

"Abbie, you're my little sister and I love you. I don't care what has happened, or what you've done -- I'm here for you."

Her eyes shone with tears, and she turned away to see to the meal, and, I thought, to gather herself together.

When she turned back she was smiling, and said, "Thank you, Scott, you don't know how important that is to me. Now, come and eat; have some of the wine if you want it -- it might give you strength to hear what I've got to say," she smiled.

The meal was enjoyable -- Abbie was a good cook, and we exchanged small talk and cleared up afterwards. Then we sat close together on an old and rather battered sofa, and Abbie poured out her heart to me.

"You knew that I'd hooked up with Eric, didn't you?" I nodded -- they'd become an item just as I went away to university.

"To start with, he was wonderful, and Mum thought the sun shone out of his arse; so did I, to be honest. But then he wanted to move back here to Melbourne -- Mum was none too happy, but Eric was talking the talk about marriage, and we believed him. We got back over here and found a place to live, but he soon lost his job -- he was a salesman, and apparently some of his practices weren't entirely legitimate."

"Then he started to turn nasty," she continued. "He started drinking heavily; he was a nasty drunk, vicious and violent. I tried to calm him down because I thought I still loved him, but then one night around three years ago, he raped me."

"He'd been out drinking and got home earlier than I expected," she continued. "I was in my dressing gown about to take a shower, and he claimed I'd had another man here. I told him that was nonsense, but he called me a bitch and a fucking whore who couldn't keep her legs closed. He tore my gown off, threw me down on the floor and just fucked me brutally. It was so painful and I felt so cheap and degraded that I couldn't even move after he got up, called me more filthy names and staggered off to bed."

Tears were running down Abbie's face, and I put my arm round her, held her to me and stroked her hair.

"Abbie, love, please don't carry on with this if it's too painful for you."

"No," she replied, "I've got to tell someone, and you are the only person I can trust."

"OK, sweetness, I'm here for you, but take it in your own time and stop whenever you need to." I tried to make my voice sound as soothing as possible, but underneath I was seething with fury at what that bastard had done to my little sister.

"I was caught in two minds, whether to stay with Eric and try to help him through his problems, or to get out and go home to Mum. But I've always been stubborn," she looked at me and smiled as I raised an eyebrow. "However, a few weeks later I discovered that I was pregnant, and in my naivety, I thought this would bring Eric and me closer." Abbie's voice had an ironic edge to it. "I don't think it is possible for anyone to be so wrong; he turned even nastier, if that was possible, and accused me of thinking more about the baby than of him."

Abbie's voice started to tremble, but she stuck to her story. "It happened when I was about three month's pregnant. Eric had been drinking as usual, and he came home in a foul mood. He started yelling and threatening me, and I stood up to him and told him to shut up because it would harm the baby."

Abbie sighed and tears came into her eyes but she carried on. "Wrong thing to say, I guess, with the benefit of perfect hindsight, but he came for me, slapped my face and shoved me hard in the chest. I staggered, tripped and fell to the floor, landing hard against the corner of the coffee table, and I passed out. Next thing I knew, I was in an ambulance, heading for the hospital. To cut a long story short, not only had that bastard caused me to lose my baby, but he damaged me in such a way that I couldn't have any more children."

I took her hand and held it tightly. "Oh, Abbie," I whispered, "If only I'd known."

"No, sweetie, I didn't want anyone to know. Mum would've been, 'I told you so', and I couldn't handle that, and you were at university, and I didn't want to burden you with my worries."

I started to speak, but Abbie cut me off, "No, Scott I made my decision to fight this out myself without relying on other people -- please don't be too hard on me about that."

"God, no, Abbie, I just admire you for your courage."

"Hmm," she murmured, "I'm not too sure about that. Anyway, when I got home, Eric had left, taking all our money and anything he could sell for cash -- fortunately, I had my own bank account, such as it was, and he couldn't touch that. And that swine left me a sort of a note, saying 'Sorry you tripped and fell and lost our baby. I guess I'll be better off on my own for a while'."

"Trying to insure himself against an assault charge, I guess," I commented.

Abbie nodded. "I didn't report it to the police -- I had no evidence and the only marks on my body came from hitting the end of the coffee table."

"Wow," I said, inadequately, "that certainly was a tough break, but at least you were rid of Eric."

"Oh, no," Abbie replied with a grim half smile on her face, "that wasn't the worst part. A couple of months after I came home from the hospital, I had a visit from two very unpleasant guys who were looking for Eric. They said he owed them money, which didn't surprise me, and seeing that I was his wife - well, his de facto, I had to pay up. I tried to tell them that I didn't have any money, and they said that I'd have to get it, $5,000 to be precise. They gave me a week to find it, and told me, 'get the money or you and your mother and your brother will have a nasty accident'. I couldn't think of any way to get that sort of cash, other than through one of these no security loan sharks at an exorbitant rate of interest. So I got them the $5,000, and they made it very clear that this had never happened, and any enquiries about the transaction would lead to some painful results."

"So you didn't want to come to Mum or me for help?" I queried, knowing the answer. Mum would have been straight onto the police, regardless of any consequences, and I was struggling to get through university, working two part time jobs to keep myself alive.

Abbie confirmed this when I told her, but then she said, "Now comes the worst part of the story," Abbie trembled and looked both embarrassed and scared.

I put my arm round her shoulder and kissed her gently. "It's okay, honey, don't go on if it's too painful for you."

"Scott, I have to get this out -- catharsis, I think the shrinks call it. I had no idea about how to repay the money, and I told my then boss about it. He came up with an idea that still gives me nightmares. He suggested that I should sleep with him whenever he wanted, at a "fixed price" that would allow me to repay the loan. At first I told him to fuck himself, but eventually, I realised that there was probably no alternative and I agreed."

"Oh God, Abbie, you prostituted yourself to save Mum and me from being put in danger?"

"Yeah, I guess that's it," she replied, "But please don't think too badly of me, Scott ..."

I put my finger against her lips; "Abbie, that is the most incredible thing I've ever heard, and it makes me feel honoured that you should feel able to do that for me. If there's EVER anything I can do for you, you've only got to ask."

"Well, yes, there is, but I'll come to that in a moment," she smiled. "Thank you so much, big brother, for not condemning me -- I was so afraid you'd turn against me when you heard that part of the story."

"Well, little sister, maybe you don't know me as well as you thought," I smiled, lightening the mood just a little.

"Eventually I paid off the debt, but I hated every moment of letting that bastard paw me and have sex, most of which was just getting me on my back and ..."

"And masturbating into your body," I completed.

"Yeah, that was generally what happened," Abbie confirmed, "except for some of the kinkier stuff that I won't go into now. After that, I fell apart. I found another job as a waitress -- the boss was okay -- a woman -- and the customers seemed to like me, but I started drinking, and eventually, my boss told me to do something about it, or I'd lose my job. That night I really tied one on, collapsed into bed and vomited in my sleep. I woke up next morning in a stinking mess, but I knew I'd been lucky -- I might've died. So I called in sick, got myself together, and haven't had a drink since -- that was about three months ago."

"That was positive," Abbie continued, "but since then I've been feeling really down as if life had no meaning. And I know that strong women are not supposed to need men in their lives, but maybe I'm not really that strong, because I do, so very much."

Abbie now sounded nervous and seemed to be coming to some hard decision. "Scott, I know what I want - I want someone to love and who will love me and who's warm and funny and smart and strong and who I can be there for but who will be there for me and who I can feel safe with. I began to have dreams about being with a man who I thought might be right for me -- the same dream every time, but when I looked at him, he had no face, and we broke up with hard words and shouting."

She stopped, wrestling with what to say next, and I dredged up enough commonsense to keep quiet. "Scott, I didn't realise until a couple of days ago that I've been looking for someone just like you."

"I'm flattered, Abbie, but I think you could set your sights a bit higher," I laughed.

"Mmm, maybe, but then you came knocking at the door, my big brother, looking just as I remembered, but even more so, and I so much wanted to talk to you and be with you, but not in the dreadful mess that you saw. And that night, I had the dream again, but this time the man had a face. It was yours, Scott, and we were happy together. I woke up and immediately thought, 'God, Abbie, why settle for a substitute when you might have the real thing!'"

I was stunned and speechless for a while, while Abbie watched me anxiously.

"You realise what you are talking about, don't you, Abbie. That's incest, and the authorities don't take too kindly to that."

"I know, I know, Scott, but I don't care," her voice was trembling. "Do you remember that line in "Notting Hill" where Anna turns up at William's shop and says to him, 'I'm just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her'? Well, that's what is happening now, but please don't answer me the same way he answered her. Besides, you did say that if there was EVER anything you could do for me, I only had to ask."

I stopped and buried myself in thought for a few minutes, while Abbie was trembling with her breathing coming in great gasps and sobs. My teenage fantasies rushed back into my mind. Thoughts of kissing and playing with her beautiful tits, of stroking her pussy and making her squirm and squeal with lust, and of ramming my rigid cock into her hot, wet cunt came flooding back to me."

I looked deep into her pleading eyes and came to a final decision. "Oh, to hell with the consequences, sweetheart. Look, Abbie, I want to show you something," I started, and pulling out my wallet, I took out a photo and showed it to her. It was a picture of Abbie when she was around 18, in a microscopic electric blue bikini, flaunting her gorgeous body at the camera with a grin that could only be described as naughty, lustful or inviting.