Author's Note
: Here's chapter two of my romantic incest story. It may be too melodramatic for some, but make sure you send me feedback if you read it anyway. At this point, I'm not sure if there'll be more, but we'll see.
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Dear Journal,
I remember when I began this journal, years ago, I would always write in it with the idea in mind that someone else would one day read it and learn from it. That was when I wrote about my thoughts, about the world, about what it was like to grow up feeling different to everyone else you've ever met. Even my musings on Danielle, I thought, would enlighten another poor soul who would one day go through the same thing I went through. But now...now I have to commit to these pages something so scandalous I hope no one ever reads it.
It's not that I'm ashamed β although, I do feel something rather different to happiness β it's just that what I did β what
we
did β would never be understood by anyone who hadn't experienced the same thing before. People would pass judgement on us before they even got to know us or the circumstances of the event. I don't expect people to understand and I have no intention of telling them; but already I can feel the weight of keeping it a secret.
Okay, then β here it is:
I fingered my sister.
And yes, I mean that in the exact same way that first comes to mind. I had my fingers...inside her. Not only that but, we kissed and we cuddled and I told her I loved her. And I meant it. I thought it would feel so wrong saying those words to her but it didn't. A little strange, certainly, but not wrong. I suppose that, having distanced ourselves from each other for so many years, we aren't exactly a paragon of the brother-sister relationship, and so maybe that's why it didn't feel as forbidden as it should have. It's not that she's just like any other girl to me β she isn't β it's just that it wasn't as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. I guess that's something.
So what was it like? Well, it was...great. It was so much like what I hoped my first sexual experience would be like. It was tender and romantic and soft and gentle. We were lying on the couch, bodies pressed together with a blanket over our legs, and it just sort of happened naturally. Well, Kyla asked me to do it, but I had a feeling it would have happened anyway. And there was no awkward, unspoken question of sex either, which took away a lot of anxiety. We just...connected.
To my dying day I'll never forget what it felt like having two of my fingers buried deep inside her vagina, my arm wrapped around her and my mouth kissing the soft flesh of her neck. It was the most erotic and sensual embrace I've ever experienced, or ever seen, really.
I know now how potent love can be and how easy it is to see it. Maybe I was in love with Danielle at one point, but I can't ever remember feeling for her the way I felt for Kyla in those moments. It was almost painful, like something was clawing its way through my chest, trying to get out. I know also why sex is the logical step for two people in love, because right then I couldn't think up enough ways to express how I felt about her. I felt like just giving up because I knew that, even given a lifetime with her, I wouldn't be able to convey all that love β not with words, not with gifts, not even with physical affection. I certainly tried though.
I'm left to wonder now whether it will continue, whether it was just a one-off. My heart and my mind both tell me it wasn't, that it can't possibly be when we said those things to each other and shared what we did. But even more so, I'm left to wonder whether sex is on the horizon and whether, even if I want to, I'll be able to stop myself.
I did last night, which I know was something I wanted to do. I couldn't stand to turn it into a simple case of mutual physical relief. If Kyla had returned the favour simply because she felt she had to, I wouldn't have derived much pleasure from the experience. It was better, I think, to offer her something she wanted and something I wanted to give her without trivialising the experience. I wanted only to hold her in my arms and fill my nostrils with her sweet scent, which mingled easily with the smell of her sex.
It's hard to find strangeness in all this, but, sometimes, if I shut my eyes and then quickly open them and read one of the sentences I've written, I realise just how bizarre it really is. I guess it's a testament to how right it is that I don't feel awkward writing about it. At first I thought the knot in my stomach that appeared whenever I thought of Kyla was guilt or shame β but now I think it's love. I think of her and picture her and I can't help but smile and remember what it was like to touch her skin and kiss her lips.
So many years of looking for love, for the right girl, for someone who understands me, and all this time she's been right under my nose.
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Dear Diary,
I cannot possibly express the elation I felt this morning β and am still feeling β after I woke up from what was perhaps the best night's sleep of my life. After my almost surreal experience with Kevin last night, I simply returned to my room after parting ways with him outside my door, with a kiss of course.
Once I was in bed and under the covers, however, I pulled my pants and my panties off and lay there, naked from the waist down, with a memory so vivid that I could almost feel Kevin's fingers inside me again. I fell asleep like that β the taste of my own juices on my lips and the thought of Kevin's fingers between them.
When I woke up I was rested and relaxed and wanting Kevin again. It was impossible, though, to go to his room when mum and dad were probably home. I don't know if they'll be going out today or if I'll be forced to wait an unknown amount of time until I can be alone with Kevin again. I want to feel his hands on my back again and his lips on my neck; I want to touch him the way he touched me and make him cum like a storm, so he can taste the fruit that I tasted last night.
I ended up pleasuring myself after I woke up, so that I wouldn't be so horny when I left my room, but it was dull and boring. I want Kevin to do it, like he did last night.
I'm not sure how healthy it is, thinking of him so ardently and so often. I guess I'm still too far into that state of bliss to worry about things like hiding it from mum and dad and what will happen in the future. The latter, especially, terrifies me. I want to ask Kevin about it β to ask him whether he'll stay with me forever and run away with me where we can be together in public β but I don't want to frighten him.
Oh, I'm so happy. I think I have to cum again, though.
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Dear Journal,
The first time I saw Kyla today was everything I'd expected. My stomach instantly tied itself in knots and I could vividly taste her skin in my mouth and feel her hips in my hands. We both kind of froze for a moment when we saw each other in the kitchen; then Kyla broke into a huge smile and I couldn't help but follow suit. I wanted to pick her up and kiss her all over until she squealed with delight; but I couldn't, of course.
With a cautious glance at the door, I crossed the room so that I stood a mere foot away from her, smiling down at her beautiful face. Bravely, she crossed the rest of the distance between us so that we were almost toe-to-toe. Her smile was a sight more astonishingly beautiful than any I've ever laid eyes on, and it sent a shockwave along my spine.
"I had fun last night," she whispered, soft as a breeze. Mum and dad could have been anywhere, but her presence was like a magnet, like a drug β I needed more.