Date: Sat, 23 Jan 2010 08:50:05 -0800 (PST) From: Tim Stillman Subject: m/f/m incest Let's Talk About Magic Let's Talk About Magic By Tim Stillman It is time for me to run through the memory again. As they had sex that July hot night. Philippe and Tanya lived across the street from me. There were brother and sister. They were 14 and 15 respectively. I came up on them, one summer evening, and there were making love. I don't know what you think about but incest, to me, it had always been so repulsive. But, as I looked at them, through her bedroom window, they were naked in all their bodies, and he was sucking her labia, he on his knees and she masturbating him. On her bed surrounded by her Snoopy dolls and pin ups and books and teen zines. I didn't know the technical terms then, and in truth, I was not sure what they were doing, or why. I was 9. I watched some and I looked at both of them as closely as I could. We were friends, as much as they could be friends with a little kid like me. Philippe's long penis was being rubbed hard, as he proceeded to lick her and eat her. It seemed.they were in a frenzy. I've never seen anybody naked before. Or, so excited, so feverish, and at the same time. So troubled It made me excited. And sad. I don't know why the sad part; I guess it's meant growing up. He had no chest hair. His legs, long and thin, had down on them. But always so nice to touch, I imagined, like a soft rabbit. Tanya threw her head back in her pink room, and she screamed softly and she was beautiful. As was her brother. She dug her fingernails long in red into her brother's shoulders. He kissed her small cupcake breasts seemed to be biting her nipples, which would seem to me to hurt her, but she smiled and she said something to him as she rippled front and back as if an odd kind of dancing to music slowly in their minds. And slowly, they had sex, then fast and hard driven. Tanya. Of course, I had a crush on her. Her brother was my idol. Everything he said was true, and I believe them both. Now, they looked like nobody that I do. They both had brown hair. Hers long, and to her shoulders. His cut short. He was manly; he worked out; he had abs. But he was still shorter than she, only a slight bit and that bothered him immensely. Which made me feel happy. I've never seen or imagined or read about what they were doing in that little pink room. I had never been it, but was sure it smelled like talcum powder, and perfume. Then, he took his teenage penis out of her hand, pushed her down on her back on her bed, then put himself on top of her, and proceeded to put his penis, which had black pubic hair, in her pussy, without her help, which meant this was nothing new for either. The blind was up. Were they hoping for an audience? Would they be disappointed to know that it was only me. With much fanfare and groaning and grimacing, from the both of them, as Tanya spread her legs wide and he went with definiteness, and deftness, as he pushed himself deeply inside her. It appeared her body in some way burped as he did this. Pain lasted on her face as he raised himself like a cantilevered bridge and seemed much taller than he actually was. His penis pulling and pushing in and out, as they both broke out in sweat this hot summer night. My own penis was quite hard, those still quite small. I watched his butt, muscular, as was his spine. And, his legs learning inside of her legs that were now wrapping around him and pulling him in as deeply as she could. I could have covered this over. I could have left and gone home. The cicadas were buzzing. No cars were passing. I heard television in the other part of their house. Kids down the street playing late-night basketball. It was her short pajamas on the bed next to them. It was for a girl, this room, though it had become larger, to fit him in too, He looked so foolish as he concentrated on fucking, his sister. And smiled a huge smile, so satisfied, so right. I looked at her body, and his. Then I looked at her face. As he hunched his back and pumped her and humped her, her face did not have passion, or sexual lust; he was not looking at her and she showed what she felt -- boredom. I did not understand it at the time. But the nakedness was in my eyes. Her lack of interest. In her eyes and in her face pushed up mostly a need to check the time, to get rid of Philippe, to dress, to go to bed, to go to sleep. They call that the sexual act. For good reason. But to say that was all that ever was or would be is untrue. How many years had they been doing this? Do many brothers and sisters do it too? And giant I was not, neither mentally nor physically, yet I felt a proprietary need to help them in some way. Of course I couldn't. I was a kid brother, a kind of family pest, though unrelated so them. And in time, her brother pushed 123, then he held, pushed twice, more than his face was made in ecstasy, as he both closed their eyes tightly. And I was experiencing the very first time. That I was on the outside looking in, as with few exceptions, I would always be. In those days, I called masturbation rubbing my penis. I waited till I got home, to my room, locking the door, and proceeding for my 5 second happiness. I could do it again in about five minutes. It does a comforting. And five minutes again. I never looked at her window again, but the imagery of it all, kept me going for a long time. Yet, when I saw them again. I was able to divide them from last night. There was such a demarcation, and it did not bother me in the slightest to be around them, or to even think to break the confidence of the to strangers from last night. She was as delicate as China, slender, pale, tender. Her brother, strong, somehow with calculations as graceful as she. So, I use them as fantasy and somehow made them not a part of it. I can shut people out too. So that's my story. It happened a long time ago. I think and know there was something more to it, there was a complexity in her, in me, and in her brother and the thing itself is a spider web, shiny deep dark that sometimes quietly scares me now. I escaped just in time. I don't know. Just, sometimes late at night, I wake in a cold sweat. I wondered if there were other boys, otherwise, like me, they made sure watched them and perhaps more; I would like to think not. I try not to.