Date: Sun, 21 Apr 2024 23:42:25 -0400 From: Jacob Schwann Subject: PEN&COB #12 Bisexual Incest PEN&COB #12 Bisexual Incest P&C #12 PEN&COB Welcome to P&C #12. This revision of earlier Nifty bisexual incest et al. submissions is in the manner of Victorian erotica, being soft and slow as well as hard and fast - an original exercise in plagiaristic pornography. Herein are recounted the amorous misadventures of young Cobby, his sister Penny, and their family and friends. Authors' note: We'd love to hear from you. Please let us know what you think. Our email is always open at cobschwann@gmail.com. Support Nifty! (using link https://donate.nifty.org/). + + + + + + Letter #12: Matinée & The Parsonage Epistler: Jacob Cygnet Schwann Date: Fall, 1932 & Spring, 1933 Place: Shallow Lake, Grey County 1932 Jacob now 12, and Cousin Steven age 19 go to the movies. 1933 Jacob and Penelope, age 11, spend an evening together. Letter #12; Chapter I Matinée -- 1 HE'S HERE...! Uncle Doctor's silver Peerless Eight limousine thrummed up the rutted lane to the Parsonage in Shallow Lake. I would have summersaulted and stood on my head if there had been any dry spots. So, weaving and leaping over the potholes, I was hot. Here was my nineteen-year-old Cousin Steven at the wheel of his father's long, fancy motorcar. After wending his way through backroads and chasms, along cataracts, among the declivities and tall dark pines of northern Grey County, he had made it to our `Haunted Castle'. Now here was the `Handsome Camper' himself. Steven had entertained me proudly when I was eleven for my first summer at Cainan Lake Camp - our consanguineous community's sunny-season safe-haven for kids. [Letter #8 ] My cousin was a well-built youth, spiffed out in casual attire with his tortoise-shell glasses. He danced up the rotten wooden steps of the Parsonage for the obligatory call on the parents. I myself was barely dry from a bath in our claw-footed, cast-iron tub in the Parsonage bathroom. I had soaped up, tugging at my tight balls, stiffy-stroking ever faster. My fist flew. I groaned, jerked, yelled - NGAH...! My cock exploded -- lobbing creamy sticky juicy cum-spray everywhere, jetting glob after glob. My body buckled, then I sank back, huffing. And I huffed still - in such sweet reflections. So then, with memories of stirring ablutions, I idled in the afternoon breeze and bird song. Cousin Steven was going to get me out of school that day. We were to make a `lecture' on how `wildlife' was filmed in `nature'. Or so we said. In actual fact, he and I were to sneak to see an afternoon movie. Yet there was some truth to our story. In addition to the feature film, there was a `short subject' showing: one of the 'Frank Buck "Bring 'Em Back Alive" ` twenty-minuters about African fauna. Soon my fine-looking cousin was back out on the porch. He sought me out with a close hug. I welcomed every scent and feel and line and pose of that noble body. Including the surge of his striking man-cock as it strained within his trousers. All had been made known to me the summer before during our one night together in the screen-shack at Camp Cainan. WOW! And Cousin Steven understood. Seeing me blush, he gave a knowing grin and tousled my fiery red hair. He tugged my slim frame tight against him -- flesh on flesh and bone on bone. I blushed when he clapped a hand on my shoulders and palmed my butt. I thought I would melt. He eyed me up and down. "Ah, our young `Sexy-Slim', Jacob!" Steven recited in his affected, theatrical voice. "For is he not now `A True Twelve-Year-Old', and mayhap seeming `even more so'?" I giggled and wriggled out of his grip, only to careen back, hard against him for the fun of it. "Cuter. Stronger. Such a tall and slender `prince' sporting that `explosive crown' of `crenellated crimson curls'. Ah, my Jacob, I've been in `a hell' of a desire for you `my love' - have you `never' guessed?" Our Cousin Steven! As constant and courageous as our intrepid pioneers, with his sweeping chestnut hair, wide forehead, dreamy blue eyes, defined cheekbones, and sharp jawline. He stood just about six feet tall, wide shouldered, narrow hipped, with the slender, long muscles of a track and field titlist. His arms flexed as he encircled my thin waist. How his strong hands kneaded my tight butt cheeks. Whew! Fingering my warm crack.... I gagged and giggled. He stroked my `misbehaving mane', as he called it. His skilled fingers caressed my ears and his hands closed firm about my throat. He tightened his grip, as he had that time at camp. Then tighter. I choked. Coughing and gasping, staring up into his deep, stormy-blue eyes - my body hungered for air. The world slowed toward a stop. I surged up, beyond, spurred and sparked, to slide into sleep, seeing stars, as though merging with my beloved cousin. Releasing me, Steven jumped back with a laugh. "D'ya feel `it' lad?" he whispered, with his hand to my crotch now. "D'ya feel how `good' it feels!" ...As though wakening in the midst of a dream..., sapped and sucking air..., I whooped and wheezed, glancing and giggling, roused and ready for him. We sniggered. Then like young colts we ran to the great Peerless motor car - turning, prancing, strutting, leaping. We were headed for fun.... ...And trouble! + + + + + Letter #12; Chapter II Matinée -- 2 "Ah, my Jacob...," Steven winked with one of his stage-whispers, "are you `UP!' for our `blood-curdling' birthday `adventure'?" I glowed. Steven drove and I rode shotgun. I sat hip to hip beside him on the soft leather of the big front seat of the Peerless Eight. He steered and worked the clutch while I shifted gears. This gave his right hand `the freedom' - he laughed as he said this - to `check' me out and `fire' me up. His fingers caressed my neck and chest, his hand pressed my pants about my stiff, little cob. I gasped -- clamping thighs tight then spreading wide and sliding down in the seat. I stared up at Steven's handsome features. His face was as singular as it was pleasant, there being a silken graciousness about it. He appeared heroic; his bearing refined with a touch of ruggedness. His hair was a shimmering dark brown, brushed in a high wave above his forehead. That, and his fine chin, gave his face a most perfect form. Small wonder that my cousin intended to get into motion pictures. I adored him. Steven knew my thoughts and he laughed aloud. Just for kicks, with his baritone and my uncertain boy tenor, he led the two of us in a warbling rendition of what Rudy Vallée was soon to make a great hit: ..." `You oughta be in pictures, You're wonderful to see, `You oughta be in pictures, Oh what a hit you would be! We arrived at the Grand Trunk station in Shallow Lake just as a mighty class K-3 4-6-2 Pacific locomotive took on water amidst clouds of steam. Over the blue-plate special at the depot lunch, I told Steven about our Stone Crew exploits at Camp Cainan that summer. [Letter # 11 ] And I gave obligatory rote reports about my dumb school and about living with dreary parents and that pig-headed sister of mine - Penelope. I also blathered about bike riding, and running faster than our border collie Patches, and feeling taller and stronger, and..... But I did not say anything about my body growing up. Or about busting my nuts in cum-showers -- torrential downpours actually -- so much! Steven could tell just by looking. And his grin let me know it. Most of all, it was swell to be with my big Cousin! Steven spoke of his apprenticing at the film studios in Trenton, Ontario. He worked on the sound stages and got noticed by big-time movie producers and directors. And he did hint at what `being noticed' meant: ..."They have most definitely `taught' me some `things'," Steven blushed, then whispered with a wink. "And so's I'll `show' ya soon enough." Thus, for the long-delayed celebration of my twelfth birthday, we two `kissing-cousins' headed to the Classic Theater in Shallow Lake. We were to see the Wednesday matinee: "early show -- early flow" explained Steven, who was experienced in these matters. The sidewalk posters proclaimed: ..."The Cinematic Marvel -- WHITE ZOMBIE! The true-to-life story of a young woman's transformation into a zombie at the hands of an evil voodoo master." Below the marquee, I stared at the huge, life-size poster of a wide-eyed, innocent heroine. Her silky chemise was torn aside to show her ballooning breasts, rounded thighs, and tattered underthings. Wowsa! My eyes bugged, mouth gaped, breath held -- it felt just like being choked by Steven. "Ah Jacob, `my love', we had best see this flick in a `trance' ", said Steven reading from the billboard, "so as to better take in the sensual images of `Possession', `Defloration', and `Necrophilia'!" We shimmered in anticipation as our eyes met. The lure of Steven's look was so strong that I could not move. I did not know how, but his hand brushed across my pants over my soft cock. For sure, I was the one becoming `possessed'! Steven hinted that he had chosen this sleepy, midweek, afternoon showtime for a reason. There would be few movie-goers, and we two would not be recognized. He said he would go in first, and if all was `okay', he would wave me on. My older cousin greased the palm of the amenable usher -- one well-practiced in the art of enabling `adult-youth afternoon assignations', Steven noted. We sat near the back of the almost empty theater. An arm rest had broken away between two seats amidst the smell of stale popcorn and old-man pee. A distant exit-sign cast a dim scarlet glow over the two of us. Steven said this was like being in our own..., ...`red-light district'. + + + + + Letter #12; Chapter III Matinée -- 3 The first..., ...of the triple-features had already ended. As we waited for the second to begin, we watched the previews. Steven surveyed the theater with care, ensuring that no one was close by or paying us any attention. At the end of the newsreel and trailers, the second feature - the main attraction for us! - was starting. I hopped up and down in my seat. "!!! THE WHITE ZOMBIE !!!" This film was scary! Steven had attended two previews in Toronto some time ago, and I had snuck into part of last Saturday's matinee in Mount Forest. But even, so I could not take my eyes from the screen: ...... -On the Isle of St. Dominique -- Haiti -- The Lass, ever so pretty, is turned into a most captivating zombie by the evil voodoo master, `Murder Legendre'. -His Haitian `maroons', runaway-slaves, are zombies. -They look as though they are rotting: they do not speak, they walk in that slow, shuffling way. -In the creepy mill scene, the big, creaky, wooden grinder crushes the sugarcane. -All unnoticed, one tall, dusky zombie stumbles and tumbles into the `works', to become part of the distilled clairin rum. -Another gruesome, glowering, hulking zombie in nothing but a hint of a loin cloth flexes its dark, shiny muscles. -The Lass, pale and terrified, has her lace finery torn away in the grip of the undead monster. ...... Half way through -- along with her screams - came the surprise of my life as Steven leaned over and whispered, "Just hush, Jacob, and enjoy!" "Wha...!" I gulped. He watched me watching him in the dim light of the movie house. His fingers ruffled about my clothes to press on my skinny chest and spindly legs. He closed his fist on the lump in my school pants and gave a squeeze, making me jump. I blushed furiously. Cheeks red and hot, pulse racing, with fluttery feelings in my belly, I tried to will my iron erection down. Steven nodded his head and sank farther into his seat. I got hot, then choked chilly-cold when he leaned over to touch my shoulder and fingered my chest. Tugging up my loose shirt, his hot hand felt along my tight tummy and outie belly button. Sweating and shivering, I sizzled from Steven's bold grip. "You're so `crisp', Jacob," he whispered. "So narrow and slender and trim and `right here' at my fingertips. So clean-limbed and lithesome and limber. And so cute with your flaming red hair, freckles, and those dark, enticing ox-eyes that all of you Schwanns share." Who taught him to say stuff like that? And so I knew. And so did my own self-rising stiffy. Steven's skillful fingers began to loosen my belt. Then I had to help. I wanted to help. I felt my balls tingle and my cob stiffen even more. As directed, I opened up my trousers and lifted my small butt. He gently squeezed upon my stretched white undies, cupping my covered aching boy-parts in his strong hand. Then, in some practiced move, he unveiled my all. He held my slim stick of a prick in his fingers. My cob tended to be quite thin with bluish veins, but long -- the bulbous head sheathed in a generous, drawn-out foreskin. It grew harder still. I flopped back and forth upon the seat in excitement. Flexing my hips, I humped and pumped my aching, pricked-up cock into his encircling fist. He swiped about my small, scrotal sac. His hand gently cupped my young balls, rolling and fondling my tender orbs in the process. My butt cheeks thrust up and down, tight and tighter. I felt that electric tingle-ache in my swollen nads, and even, it seemed, back down deep, deep, deep in the very depths..., ...of my tight gut-pucker hole. + + + + + Letter #12; Chapter IV Matinée -- 4 "Uh-h-h? Steven...!" ...I moaned - trying not to be so loud. Even so he shushed me. He ran his electrifying fingertips up under my shirt, tickling my trim chest and tight tummy. "You are so `fine', Jacob. I can `feel' your tensing boy-belly and budding muscles beneath." Of a sudden, his strong hand returned to my lap. Poking around down there, he felt about my smooth groin. Ahh!!! He had grasped it. I nearly passed out. I moaned, scooting down ever deeper in my seat. I first clamped shut, then spread my legs wide open - offering my all to him. My Sunday-best cotton underdrawers tented up as my throbbing cob pushed hard, standing straight and tall, pulsing and aching. "Let us proceed - shall we?" Ever obedient, I arched my back up off the seat. I struggled to push my trousers and white undies all the way down below my knees. The stiff plush of the theater seat bristled at my bare bottom. The flickering theater light made it as if we two were in our own movie. Steven got to my small balls and held them and pressed them and squeezed them ever so gentle - setting me on fire. "Ah, and here's your bean-pole, our `Sexy Slim'," he said in a soft voice. "As slim as the rest of you. Longer now and `stiff as a tent peg' once more." Then he muttered like reading from some smutty novel: ..." `In a trice she liberated his sexual weapon, and all eyes widened with amazement at the sight'." Steven studied me with a big grin in the flickering light. In awe, I watched this handsome youth lick his lips and stare at me in such eager need. " `With these zombie-eyes he rendered her powerless'," he growled the words from the movie poster in that slow, thickly accented Balkan tongue. Steven half slumped a bit down in his movie seat. I stared like a fool into his lap. By the flickering light, I watched as he unbuttoned his tented trousers. I held my breath. He messed with his silken underdrawers. Thank goodness the theater was dark and quite vacant. I looked back and forth between the screen with zombies chasing shrieking girls, and our broken seats. Huh? What was he doing now? After adjusting things in his lap, of a sudden he pulled `it' out. Wow! I had not seen 'his' since my eleventh birthday with him at Cainan Lake Camp. The goodly rod unfurled and stood tapered-slim and tall; arcing bow-like ever so slightly from the depths of his groin to tap sweetly before his belly button. His was a trim, full-bore, hooded cock, as lean and flexible as a hickory broom handle and surely beyond half a foot long. Steven brazenly stroked his hand along its full manly length, from its cowled tip down to the fulsome coils of light brown pubic hair at the sturdy base, upon the flush ball-sack. Then with one hand in his own aroused lap, he gripped my naked bone with the other. In a silent-scream I catapulted up as he stroked along its length. He rubbed the loose tip-skin up and down the head with his thumb. Gasping, I jabbed my small hips at his rubbing hand - his fingers moist and hot. I shivered under his touch; my body all electric; my soul thrilled. " With this `zombie grip' ," snarled Steven, "he made her perform his `every desire'." I giggled and groaned. I tried to stare into his eyes, but the slow, constant massage of my foreskin made my lids flutter. All felt so much better than when I did it alone at home. I pushed my head back against the seat. He continued the fondling and said something about `practice playing with' others, and also some words I could not hear. I reveled in the flood of pleasure offered by his fingertips. Oh...! Such slippery, rolling motions on and around my foreskin. I sucked air. My testicles drew tight. A pulse welled up from deep within my gut. A single slip of thin, clear dew seeped out onto his palm. He licked it off. Then he worked the stringy pre-cum more, all the while fingering and pulling my glans up and down within its sheath. Steven grinned. He whispered, "Come on, come on, come on, come on," over and over. Then Steven hissed, "Shhh... be still, Jacob." I had not known that I had cried out, but I stifled my sighs. And I nodded, not wanting him to stop -- ever. He pinched my swollen prick tip with his thumb and forefinger. He began a twisting motion as if opening up a shaken bottle of soda pop. I about jumped out of my seat. His hand moved upward and downward on me, slow at first, then fast and faster. Those high-pitched moans mingling with movie zombie hissings and snarlings were my own. Other than that, I had no idea what was going on in the show - nor did I care. I stared at Steven jerking me. I watched my cousin jerking himself. Here was man-cock within man-hand. I fell back hard against the seat. My breathing picked up. Then he switched to soft strokes as he stared at my cob. "Put your hand over here onto mine," he huffed. So I did. He had me heft his immense, full bulk in my palm. Warm, stiff, pliant and stony - it tapered headlong in a slight bow all regal. I felt the surprising hardness like steel, but also the thickness, the heat and softness. Steven's was wonderfully strong and sturdy and solid, just like it had been the previous summer at camp. My own itty pricklet was straight and skinny. But holding his great arching cock made my flimsy bolt grow full and hard.... ...Now for sure feeling like a true `Sexy-Slim'. + + + + + Letter #12; Chapter V Matinée -- 5 Gently now -- gently...! ...We two cousins snuggled side by side in the flickering movie light. Shirts wide open, pants pulled down, the play of the projector's alternating light and dark glimmered on our faces, arms, bared chests and open laps - our `prior parts' very much exposed. Yet the story was scary! I could not take my eyes away: ...... -The Lass -- still ever so pretty - is now a vampish, servile zombie. -Her bountiful breasts bob and bounce as she staggers stupefied about. -The great hulking zombie in scanty loincloth bulges with glistening muscles. -It grips her in arms of steel, and she obeys, bending submissively before it. -She sighs through slavish lips. -And then succumbs to submit the all of herself, yielding right there before us on the silver screen - or so it appears. ........ He leaned toward me, pressing his forehead upon mine. Eye to eye, he forced my head up, his bonny brown hair shimmering before me. With a practiced move he lifted his tortoise-shell glasses and placed them in the pocket of his unbuttoned, embroidered shirt. There -- the fan-shaped musculature, the crisp pectorals -- such a magnificent chest, So, this was to be for real. We were less than an inch apart gazing deep into one another's eyes. Ahhh...! Just so, Steven's strong hand worked my pining boy-prick. He rubbed his thumb along the length, making tingling passes across the top. His finger skimmed my own slippery goo back and forth over the crown. Then I cringed and stared as, lifting his hand to his lips, he sucked my slimy strings from his shiny fingers. With his silent lip-smacks, Steven seemed pleased with each naughty tip-and-dip swill. I sure was. All the while, more viscid, slushy juices were oozing from my own small meatus. And my balls drew up tingling as my dick got even harder. And harder. The sensations now so sharp that they drove me nuts. In whispers I begged Steven to stop. In a husky whisper he said that I must keep on rubbing him: ..."Longer! Harder!" One's hands to other's crotch, palms about cousin-cocks, we stroked one another faster and faster still. My small hips jabbed upward into his strong, rubbing hand. Hesitant sighs escaped my choked throat. I lurched. "Oh, my `Sexy Slim' Jacob," Steven whispered, "Not only you.... For now your elder cousin's own warm, viscid, feracious `aqua-vitae' arises to that very brim of excess." Ahh.... I knew I should have hated having such forbidden desires as I had. But the very feel of his man-hands wandering over my boy-body -- along my chin and across my chest and over my belly and up my thighs as well.... His all was impelling me on to the very brink. Such a welling-up in the pit of my own crotch-groin. I could not bear it. And from Steven's gasps and jerks, I could tell his was there too. Just before we lost it, he spoke.... "Jacob.... Kiss me...." With a gasp, as in crossing some No-Man's-Land battlefield with a cry of `Get Up And Go On!' -- as in a reckless animal display prior to a lubricious conceptual act -- as if heedless of the societal impropriety of a man loving a man.... I did ram my face against my cousins' chiseled chin. I felt the slight fuzz on his jaw. We allowed a first peck on the lips. The delicate sucking, caressing of the inner lining of my mouth -- I was lost in all that was happening -- and then the snap, zip, fizz of that nursing suckle.... A gasping back away out of breath only to return closer. Ahh.... Yes, and again.... And.... Mmmm.... We parted at last with a final `smack!' I slumped backward from his mouth, sucking air. I realized how hard I was leaning onto him. We lay back gulping for breath in the flickering theater. "Ah, I love every second," sighed Steven. "And thus, shall this make it easier to suck young cock!" He escalated the rubbing of his thumb over my sparking cob-crown. Clear spewings, spills, pulses - coated his still stroking hand and my small balls. Then he lifted his hand to suck the smooth and sticky ambrosia from his slimed thumb. AHHH....!!! BUT THEN...!!! And so my Sexy-Slim was to erupt. The seizing, squeezing series of serious shocks deep within. Then.... Both our two semen shots blasted over one another. Mine thin and shimmering, showering all sprinkling about, coating my small balls, his still stroking hand, his lips, his face and then his own to erupt thick, heavy; springing in long substantial single salvos, splatting -splop- onto his clothes, upon the arm rests, the seat back, the floor, surely far enough to the very silver screen itself.... Even so, there was no telling whose was whose. In time, Steven reached into his back pocket and took out a crisp, pressed, white linen handkerchief. He mopped up the mess that he helped make, dabbing at me with tenderness. With a gamy grin, he allowed my flagging erection to subside onto my tight-pressed and now quite `blue' boy-balls. Whew...! ...Just me and my Handsome Cousin. Dark theater, flickering film light upon we two dazed kin. Our shirts aside, pants open, legs apart -- if seen, birthday-bare to all the theater. With a grin, Steven leaned across the broken seat arm and nipped his lower lip as if asking, `is this real?' He looked down at me with that all-knowing `camp-counselor smile' of his, and those amused, loving `kissing-cousin' eyes. Yeow...! Oh, the continuing attentions of his hot hands on my body. He grasped my dormant dick, milking the floppy, wobbly shaft to wring out all remains of that last geysering boy-semen toss. Yet residual leftovers, the last flicking drops of still fresh boy-cum seeped from the dead-head. I sensed subtle swellings in bodily flesh and small changes in muscle tension with every intake of breath. Maybe a recent limp-dick, but at present living and rousable..., ...and awakening ever new. + + + + + Letter #12; Chapter VI Matinée 6 My cousin bent further over me..., ...and would you believe it? He licked my mushroom cap. And he tongue-slobbered my clinched ball sack. He pursed the goods between his lips and sucked them into his mouth with joy. Ahh...!. His drawing cheeks, moist lips, writhing tongue and smooth palate tenderly, gently and sensuously suckled my balls. They were fondled and cupped, slathered and licked. Then held and sucked. He playfully tugged on that loose skin of the sac with little bite-nips. Of a sudden, with a smile, my Handsome Cousin bent his head and took my semi-shrunken, flopping cock into his warm, moist, mouth. Steven moved his head up and down in an intense milking rhythm with his licking, darting, rimming tongue. Ahh.... Instant resurrection! As he suckled me with eyes closed, I jacked up my groin, driving my ever-stiffening rod deep between his lips. I was screwing my cousin's mouth. Every twitchy thrust of my hips pushed my skinny prick deep, deeper within his throat. Uhh.... Ahh.... Such warm wet washings.... Smiling sweetly -- amidst gulps for breath - he kept his eyes on mine even as he consumed me. All the while his hands were at my face and scrawny chest, pinching my nipples with his fingers. He nodded, going all the way down, burrowing deeper at my center, taking me far into his throat ever so easy with a look of `Feed Me!'. With a wink he simply held, and held, and then he pulled his head up to gasp a breath, giggling. "You are my `pretty' lad, Jacob. My `lean-mean, sexy-slim, string-bean' lad!" Of a sudden, with those words of all-accepting love, unforced boy cum leaked free from the slit of my dick. A slight, involuntary, searing seminal discharge spewed out unprovoked and unexpected -- undeserved as well. Up and over anew, thin drops of swirling, twirling, sprinkling sperm-spirals pushed - shot -- scattered thinly onto his hand. Meanwhile he milked my thin, stiff shaft, wringing out the last bits of my early kiddy-climax. And then with pursed, grinning lips he directed his drawing cheeks, his writhing tongue, smooth, firm palate, to tenderly, gently and sensuously suck the bouncy, tractile rounds of my slimy balls. Ahh.... Softly fondled and cupped, slathered and licked; then enveloped by his mouth - daintily, gingerly, held and suckled. With little nip-bites he playfully tugged on that looser skin about one side of the ball sac and the other. Even so, his hand felt of my testicles within. Then slipping back, back, farther back underneath to knead my bum. And then! His fingertip dipped into my very center -- into the warm, moist tunnel of my boy butt-hole. That thrill overcame me. I writhed. I convulsed. I was on the verge. Pressure built in my all. "Mnngh! Ah...!" An eternal instant and then the finger pulled away. Had it lasted a second longer I would have lost all sense. With eyes closed, I felt the flounce of his hair upon my face as he kissed my lips with his wet ones. Then down again across my chest, and his breath-puff on my tummy. Leaning far over me, he pressed his cheek to my lap. I sensed his lips searching, searching, returning to my cob. Steven moved his head up and down in an intense rhythm of sucking, licking, darting, causing me to mew anew in pleasure. And then my young hips kicked and thrust in back and forth moves, for I felt on fire -- my toes curling under. He sucked me with fervor now, small grunts cutting loose from his throat. Steven's knowing hands stroked the backs of my thighs as they shook-- pinching butt cheeks, tugging at the swinging sack. I felt my balls on fire. I went up on tiptoe tightening my butt, driving forward. Ever so cool, Steven just kept sucking my cob. And in between sucks, "`Sexy Slim' want to cum for true? In my mouth?" "Ahh..., ah?, oh..., ho!" He wanted me to shoot? In his mouth, for real? My brain reeled. My body melted. The burning mounted up like a sap of fire. I grunted as his tongue wiped all around my cockhead. My blood bubbled in my brain, maddening me. That unpleasant yet exquisite fullness in my throat.... I soared above and sank below through thickening clouds and warm woozy waters; I gagged and grimaced and giggled; in a few pumps my groin crimped in an aching sensation. And with rapid butt thrusts. I exploded into Cousin Steven's mouth. Waves of pleasure; shocking-intense; rising celestial heights to fall from mountain peaks into deep foaming seas only to surge heavenward through the fathomless depths. My first true blast hit. "NGH-AH...!" I erupted creamy boy-cum pulsing into his sucking mouth. He jerked his head back in shock. The volume choked him. "NGH-AH...!" Warm juice jetted all over his tongue, lips and chin; yet he coughed, gagged, drooled and swallowed every drop. "Ngh-ah...." He looked up at me. He retched, slobbered, his eyes bulged and watering. He gulped repeatedly, swallowing again and again. My cousin kept his lips wrapped around my dick as I pumped and pumped. He wanted it all. He did not let go of my bone..., until he pulled away and I sank slowly down. I fell back on the seat, still thinking, "...What I've wanted for so long...." How great this felt, I could not believe.... The warm pressure, pumping, radiating.... So much better than my pup Patches slobbering me with her loving, needley teeth and tongue. [Letter #10] Steven lifted his head up, spluttering a bit and giggling. My Handsome Cousin opened his smirking mouth to show the slime of my stuff shining white all over his tongue. Then, with a gulping sound, he swallowed it. My cum-lees dribbled down his cheeks and off his chin. "By Jove, what a `spend' I have supped up," he whispered. "All of it - like a full glass of warm, milky, buttery-cream. So much! It feels good to give someone great pleasure with such an intimate act as oral sex. Those who dismiss it as `gross' do not understand, do they?" The image of my cousin's mouth awash with my cum, his lips raised in that handsome grin, shall stay with me always. Somehow, my Steven had jerked his generous self off again during all this. The pearls dripped from his finger tips, and he both licked them and wiped the goo over me. He greased my belly and chest and lips with a Cainan cousin's magnificent, musky slime. "Ahh..., -`In liquid measures I dissolve all o'er. -`Melt into sperm and spend at every pore....' Hmm, towel please!" With handkerchief in hand, Steven snuggled next to me. I relaxed into his strong arms, and lay my head upon his bare chest, again feeling the pounding surge of his strong heart. He pulled my curly, red head against him. I smelled my own cum on his warm breath. It made me slobber and grin. "Everything's `swell'," he murmured with a smile. then he quoted from something very old...: ..." `After fellating the boy, I've a mouthful of joy....'," + + + + + Letter #12; Chapter VII Matinée 7 "Happy belated twelfth birthday..., ...my young Cousin Jacob." I was roused to overflowing, not believing all that had happened. I was at once terrified and carefree. Could things ever be the same again, after....? Would Steven still be mine? I touched my chest where it was bare. Some of `his' was puddled there, dripping down around my outie belly button. I played it between my fingertips. And I thought about innocent little sister Penny. Maybe not so innocent. Had she seen this sort of stuff before? Dad's perhaps? Had Dad ever...? With her...? My brow furrowed and I grit my teeth. Bewildered, without thought, I brought my fingers up to my lips. I tasted `his' again there, it no longer being warm now - but still musky-sweet, like saucy snot-buggers. I looked down and my cob was hard as a rock. Steven watched in the dim theater light as I took the residue of my cousin's cum and spread it on my cocklet. I gave myself a slow rub; all the time replaying -- not the movie -- but his and my `handy-lovin'. A bit of my slick seeped out to mingle with Cousin Steven's. He had succumbed down onto his seat - head back, eyes closed -- sprawling there as if at peace in a true good; his mind being so caught up in sensual pleasure, that it seemed quite prevented from thinking of anything else. "You see how I've `shown ya'. So when you release your sacred `loads', my Sexy Slim, twice or thrice a day at the least, you may lick, savor, swallow and eat `more' and then `more' of your own until finally you eat `all' -- and then you shall look forward to your next wad. And to those copious ones of your fellow lovers." It was all more than I could take in -- given the darkened theater, flickering light, flouncy girls and zombies galore. I looked up at the screen as the film was ending: ....... -Murder Legendre commands his zombie guardians to kill The Lad. -Yet Murder's mental control over his zombies is broken, and the boogeymen topple off the high cliff. Then with great ballyhoo, the evil, vast-caped voodoo master topples into the surging sea. -The Lass is released from her zombie trance, and she awakens to embrace The Lad. -Happily, ever after! ...... Was everything that Steven knew -- and all that he and I had done -- learned from the hands of some modern-day `voodoo master'. Perhaps from a film director on a movie set in Trenton or Toronto? A cinema `Murder Legendre' with a pencil thin moustache, beret, monocle, tight leather boots and jodhpurs, lounging on a folding camp chair with a megaphone and long Cabriole cigarette holder. A `monster' auteur-director who would re-animate an actor's `corpus' into some `living-dead' character, such as an undead corporeal revenant. Was that happening to our Steven? I slumped stunned and fell against my Handsome Cousin. Ahh...! To convince my parents to let me out of school for the day, Steven had used the excuse of our seeing a `Nature Film'. And sure enough, we now watched the Frank Buck `Bring 'Em Back Alive' short about a huge Cape Buffalo on the African veldt being attacked and cruelly clawed by a massive, pride-leader lion. In defense, the `widow-maker' bull gored the feline villain, which limped away. Yet the fatally wounded buffalo slipped to the ground, life visibly draining from him. Of a sudden, another Cape Buffalo bull, much younger, more slender but muscled mightily in a sheen of sweat, pranced up to the helpless, `dagga boy'. There, on screen, right before our very eyes, the youth mounted the elder's back and drove his long, slim, iron-stiff pizzle deep, deep up the ass of the `gummer'. He sodomized him -cornholing him - right before our eyes, again and again and again. And then sauntered off, leaving the fallen bull to a degrading death. Whew! I gasped, clenching my butt cheeks tight together deep, down underneath. Steven grinned, explaining that such unnatural sex was 'a dominance thing'. He told of `mounting', where anal intercourse among male animals living in groups established a hierarchy. The dominant male was always the one on top. Such relationships between males might also be based on mutual affection, yet a sexual component would always be present. My cousin soliloquized in a soft voice: " 'Paedicatio' may be quite an `extraordinary experience'. It is all about letting your lover `meet his needs' and `have his particular pleasure'. For certain you, my young `Sexy Slim', shall learn `the pleasures of the plain', of `Going Greek', by doing `Uphill Gardening' in the `Secret Tunnels' of your lovers. Those shall be your most amorous moments, ever." I wanted to kiss him. I stumbled out of the matinée weak and exhausted in a trance. My Handsome Cousin Steven gave a wink, and proposed the promise of such an `extraordinary experience'..., ..."...for your next birthday...." + + + + + Letter #12; Chapter VIII Parsonage #1 Shuffling like a zombie..., ... I gave Steven a grin. He slipped his arm about my shoulder to help me into the Peerless. I assented to his drawing my slim body against his stalwart one: ..."Now Jacob, you won't say anything about our..., this..., but a trifling fling...., or..., or what....?" "I'll never let anyone know..., ever...." "We have had fun today...." The heat of a blush crawled over my cheeks. I nodded my head, my voice cracking, "Yeah Steven. A lot actually, Steven." And so, we drove slow and sleepy back to the Parsonage. The sun settled in the west, tinged with rose, purple, and gold. This in contrast to the dark, morose pines towering about the decaying Victorian manse. We rolled to a gentle, silent stop at the back porch by the kitchen. Then with a sudden jolt, handsome Steven gripped the wheel. He about threw himself through the windshield. Gazing straight ahead, his eyes bugged, his lips pursed, his face leered. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle est mignonne! `La fée verte' -- our `Green Absinthe Fairy'! Surely Baudelaire, Verlaine, Rimbaud, Toulouse-Lautrec, Proust, Oscar Wilde and such would be her devotees!" "Wha...?" I turned to look. There on the porch was my kid sister - eleven-year-old Penelope in some hand-me-down, bright-green smock. She was unaware of us, making slow-motion hip and belly-roll dance moves, precise and graceful, while piling stove-wood on a rack. Her butt waggled when she leaned over, and her baby-girl breasts surfaced fuller and more rounded every time she rose up. When had she gotten so hot? Steven opened the car door to stand on the running board so as to get a better look. "I'd come every afternoon of my life to `look' at this little parson's daughter, this `budding ballerina', as she stacks her wood and `turns' herself about." By this time, my sister had seen Cousin Steven and began to put on a real `Penny Show'. Her arms loaded with kitchen kindling, she did spur-of-the-moment approximations of plié, and pirouettes and leaps and twirls. Steven called a greeting to her - his voice like thick molasses covered in dark chocolate, as deep and rich as sin. "Why hello, my littlest `squirrel'." Penny shot right back, "I'm no squirrel. I'm now age one and ten. I'm gonna be a woman!" Steven subsided and settled back down in the driver's seat. He and I both gawked at her. Laughing at us, Penny turned and teased and twisted and tossed some cord wood onto the pile. "Phooey," she sighed slow and sylph-like, so Steven would hear. "I mussed up my dress. It was pretty." "Yes child," he called, not missing a beat. "And you are the prettiest of all." "What? Aren't there any pretty girls where you come from?" "Girls pretty enough. But none like you." "Hey! How do you know what I'm like?" "My eyes see you `blushing like a sunset'," Stephen recited with his hands clasped over his chest. "Such `an angel' in a frock with a flush of `shyness in her cheeks' and `zest in her eyes'. Your rich black hair is like a lamb's. What with your full little `rosy lips', pubescent bosom, tempting hips, tiny feet - a charmer. My ears hear your sparkly laughter. Cousin Penelope, I'm `making whoopee' with you in the depths of my heart." Penny spun and giggled her way in and out of the kitchen. Steven pulled me to him as a fellow conspirator. "Whoa, Jacob. Your little sister knows she `excites' men and boys. But she doesn't know what to do with `it' -- yet! She is sure looking `ready'. Ready for dancing without shirts on. She looks `hot'." Steven paused, "So, have you, uh, `done' her yet?" That was not expected. Not even from a nineteen-year-old `fashionable gentleman' like Steven who moved in fast circles. I looked up at him, "What the hell are you talking about?" Smiling, he said, "Come on my `lean-mean' Jacob, level with me, have you `fucked' her yet?" Steven spoke that naughty word with elegance, like a worldly-wise man of wide experience. It sounded so French -- like `phook': `Have you "phooked" her yet?' I just laughed, "Baloney...!" "What's the matter, Jacob?" "Cut it out, Steven." "So Jacob, are you afraid to pull `it' out and show your little sister your `Sexy Slim'?" He chuckled, "Believe me, you needn't be. That long and thin cob of yours is something to be plenty proud of." I guffawed, passing off the remark..., ...as no big deal. + + + + + Letter #12; Chapter IX Parsonage #2 I talked fast..., ...about how Penny, being eleven years old, in truth ran our Parsonage household. At school she was a strong swimmer, the top dancer, and the very best student. Once more looking over at Penny, Steven let out a low whistle. "Eleven? No way. `Eleven's Heaven'." Steven checked her out again, shaking his head ever so slow. "She's outside of eleven, at any rate. She's pretty `hot `. `It's Good at ten-plus-seven, but it's Heaven-at-eleven!'. Her's, anyway. " Steven licked his lips, "Hmm..., tasty! Must be nice to have around the house, eh?" I gave him a look, trying to hide just how much I was beginning to agree with that. I muttered, "I don't know Steven. But she's my sister. My own little sister, for gosh sake, you know?" Steven nodded in silence. Then he laughed to himself. "Verily, I do know Jacob. I do know! A little sister is so `available' and so `naughty'. Believe me, such a sister as yours is like a `milk-white lamb' bleating for her brother-ram's `protection', and `wags-her-tail' for his tupping `attentions'. Hmm..., you'll be `curling your lip' for her, if you haven't already. Jacob, your Penelope will soon `wind your clock'." Steven paused. "In that vein, my own younger sis is Suzie, `Pin-up Suzie' they call her. And my Suzie's a `real tomato'." He saw my stunned look. "She's quick of wit, nimble as a cat when it counts, with her curved blooming body, slim waist, a real bosom, large bright eyes, golden hair and that sweet, soft, hungry little mouth. Ah! Yum! `Forbidden Fruit is Sweetest.' Just imagine that most sensitive part of your body, Jacob, slip-sliding like an eel into a sisterly `velvety warm place', that is so moist and amenable. All your worries disappear as you sidle yourself within...." That thought went beyond my world and my mind spun out of control. There was total shock with the realization that Steven and Suzie, even being brother and half-sister, and she just seventeen and him nineteen, might `play at sex' with each other. Wow! All at once an image took over my mind: their being naked together; then climbing into their dad's big silver Peerless Eight limousine and pulling the car curtains down over the rear windows for privacy. He would have his boner. And Suzie would suck on it. Then Steven would be on top of her. He would put `his' all the way in while she grabbed him tight. And it would be the best feeling ever Then the cummings.... His. And hers.. "You know," my big cousin said as if reading my thoughts, "cumming inside your own sister will be a much `bigger rush' than cumming inside a non-family member. It will truly feel different. It will!" He had to be kidding. "With your half-sister?" I asked, unbelieving. "Half-sister?" Steven spat in a frenzy. "There are no `half-people'. She's not half of my sister. She's my total sister; my whole sister. Every bit of her. My sister!" "With your sister?" "We just fell in love," he revealed. "Basically it's `young blood'. And `sympathy'. What do you do when the song says, `Yes Sir, You're My Baby', and suddenly you are? Without our even thinking about it, Suzie and I each realized we were both awash in this `forbidden sea'. I held her hips and pulled her tight to my belly. She clasped her hands at my back and tugged. And..., I was `inside' her. Can you believe it? "I worked my dickhead in, it was tight, wet, warm and so very magical. The hood got pulled back and I felt it all. Her breath caught and I stopped, but then she wiggled her hips. Suzie did not have much of a hymen. She might have lost some of it playing with herself. Or, of course, maybe our dad, our `Uncle Doctor' had...; you know. And so I kept `going' because my balls were so drawn up and `churning'. "All on its own I thrust fast and hard as my `dragon' breathed its `liquid fire' deep into her young body. And so for the first time in my life, I pumped my Drake-Cygnet-Schwann lineage cum into a familial girl -- `My Sister', as it turned out. There's no feeling like `that' -- into your very own `boiling-point' sister. But same old story; can't let anybody know- ever. Hmm...?" Not believing a word of it, I punched Steven in the arm as hard as I could. He was joking, yes? Amidst giggles, Steven pulled into a defensive hunch and laughed and laughed: ... "So if our little Cousin Penny were `my' sister, I guarantee you I'd be `sniffin' and lickin'. And `pokin'!" Steven shook his head from side to side and pursed his lips. "She is `hot'. Playin' at eleven - playin' at heaven, I'd say, Jacob. Playin' at `ready'.... ..."Young Penelope has 'ready' dripping all over her." + + + + + Letter #12 Chapter X Parsonage #3 Steven chanted..., ...in his beautiful, soft baritone from our faith community scriptures: ..." `I shall have my little sister; ...for she now has delicate breasts. ...What may I do for my sister on our betrothal day?' " (Canticles of Cainan, 8: 8.) I glared at him in disbelief. "I understand, Jacob, that you are too shy to speak to your kid-sis directly about all this. In `silence' you but watch the `dancing object' of your adoration from some `lonely darkened closet', and you reflect bitterly upon the `futility' of your own `solitary' love life." My jaw dropped. For certain Steven had all that right. For sure! Indeed, I had sat in the depths of our dad's darkened closet, huddled over the sick, erotic woodcuts in the Japanese `rocket art' book. [Letter #6 ] Indeed. I had watched Penny's eyes dance in wonder at the forbidden etchings of ancient girls and boys at their `Oops-We-Did-It' play. Indeed, I had reflected bitterly upon the futility of my solitary love life -- of all life, for that matter. Alone and lonesome, I had thought what a loser I was. Ah, me.... Steven fixed me with his gorgeous dark eyes. He then made a crude gesture of grabbing at our two crotches and giggling goatishly. "And now, my kissing-cousin Jacob, you must never tell anyone about the two of us at the movies today ... or `all this'," he said, looking in my eyes and clenching his fist over my cob and balls. Even then my mind was on that great cock of his, and he knew it. I nodded my head: ..."No, Steven. I will never tell anybody." "I am most serious," he said. "Yeah. Me too." "That little girl will `spoil' you soon enough. I leave you to her, Jacob." "Will we see each other again, Steven?" As he maneuvered the great Peerless 8 limousine away from the Parsonage, Steven did not hesitate to call, "Oh yes, my `Sexy Slim'. We shall see a lot of each other. Most Definitely!" I heard him say `most definitely' - which signaled that `A Story' had begun. Several stories, maybe. He had said he looked forward to getting together with me again in the following year, more or less. Sometime about my next birthday -- my thirteenth -- for `Our Special Celebration'. To my surprise, I knew precisely what my Handsome Cousin meant. Like the two Cape Buffalo bulls in the `Bring `Em Back Alive' movie short. This made me hitch my pants and feel warmth in the very depths of my being. Also, I could not stop the other thoughts. The ones that Steven's remarks generated in my head and body. The ones about my sister. After all, my baby sister's face was for sure smooth and childlike. She had dark, doe-like eyes, long lashes and full sensual lips. Beneath her dancer's shirt, her breasts were peaking - though not, I guessed, as exciting to older men as they would be in another year or so. The truth was, Penny did look `ready'. And Steven's suggestions had me thinking. I felt queasy as my mind spun through infinite naughty possibilities. Naturally, someday there would be boys in her life - as there should be. Yet the vague idea of Penny being sexual with anyone bothered me. In spite of all our old games and all that Steven said, I had to admit that Penny was still `My Little Sister'. Of course, it was obvious that she could never be `My Girl' or anything close to that. But yet.... When I passed Penny on the porch, she pondered, "Handsome Cousin Steven kept staring at me. Why?" "Could be he likes what he sees." "What! Me?" "Why not?" Seeing me blush, my little sister's face broke into an affirming smile. She turned to stroke her fingers over my brow and through my hair. Out of the blue, Penny tugged me close to her into a tight hug. I went red-hot at the feel of her hands and breasts and hips against me. Whew! Steven had touched me in just the same way. All beyond her years, my little sister focused on my flushed face. She leaned in to sniff - getting a good whiff of me -- and of my older cousin's `stuff' on me, no doubt. She ran her fingers through my crazy red hair. "Hmm.... You alright, Cobby?" she asked with curious concern. "You and Steven...?" "Hmm..., yea, Penny, I'm good. We're good..., real good.... Really-really good. Just sort of tired, is all." We closer-than-ever sibs gazed at one another with increasing..., ... and understanding grins. + + + + + Letter #12 Chapter XI Parsonage #4 In the ensuing months..., ... I said nothing to nobody. Neither about the movie nor about Steven's `sister soliloquy'. I grinned as I recalled that first night when I had picked Steven's flaky cum off my belly. How had I been so lucky? I mean, I was real slow getting into puberty, I thought. I did have coppery hairs above my dick. I was a bit toned and forever good at getting hardons. And I jacked off all the time - my heart hammering like mad as I pumped my stiff cob. So I did take risks - necessary ones. I kept an eye out for intruders or peepers. Yet I would beat it right in the kitchen or the yard or on the roof, when I climbed up there. Of course, a thousand times in bed and in the bath tub. And I did it in the creek -- a favorite of mine. It felt so good, feeling the living waters surge about my body. Then watching my spurting, creamy-white jism swirl on the surface of the fresh forest-flood and float away. Yet even with me just being a jerk-off - Steven had chosen me! And Penelope? My sister and I were in our `Best Enemies' period, although we had to work to keep up those appearances of mutual disgust. So, might things be changing for we two? But how? Then came what would turn out to be my last night at the old Shallow Lake Parsonage. The next morning, I was to take off for my third year at Cainan Lake Camp; the second year on the wolfish Stone Crew. I did not know it then, but I would be coming `home' to a different town, a different house, a different school. Yuck! On that last day, I had gotten back from a regional track and field meet in Owen Sound. I was not varsity anything; I just went along with the Shallow Lake team to assist the waterboy. While waiting for buckets to fill at a spicket, for the fun of it I ran hard up and down the bleacher steps a bunch of times, over and over. From the top I spied one extra-well-built, good-looking kid on the field. I could not take my eyes off him. He was at the event with the Mount Forrest high school track team. He was a runner and high jumper and wrestler with a sunny smile, blonde hair - and boy was he built! All at once, he caught me looking at him. Undaunted, he returned my stare, piercing into my very soul. He grinned like he `knew' - as if he had `seen' me - right `into' me and right `through' me. His face flushed red, no doubt in defiant determination to challenge me. I fast turned away, careening back down the steps, and hoisted the full water pails. Right then I sensed a presence in front of me. I lifted my eyes. I gasped and my gut wrenched. It was `The Boy'. He stood confident beneath the brilliant sky, as his blue-fire eyes transfixed my dark, ox-eyed ones. A slight sweat highlighted the fine arm and leg hairs - crisped white against his tan. In tight track shirt, brief shorts and white sneakers, the sun set off his young wrestler's physique and blonde head of curls. Ready for the certain sucker-punch, I squinched my lids shut, bent at the waist, dipped to the side, and tucked my chin in defense. Nothing happened. I looked up. He was sprinting away, his back to me - the play of muscle beneath his jersey forever imprinted on my brain. Whew..., beat-off material! Indeed. after the track meet, that last night before I left for camp, I unwound in the warm, welcoming waters of the grand old, claw-footed, cast-iron Parsonage bath tub. I flicked the light bulb off. The drippy, darkened room lost in gloom - save for light from a hall lamp slanting through the transom. I relaxed. The water got still. Just my freckled nose and my usual semi-hard dick poked up. I thought of that beautifully muscled boy -- the runner-wrestler at the Owen Sound meet. Here was masturbating material better than any Monkey-Ward catalogue boys' underwear pictures. Wow! And so I let my pee go, ...ahh! Such prolific piss flowed into the air and landed back hissing in the water and on me, big time. Uh-oh! A soft, sister-voice scolded through the mists..., ..."Oh hey, J-J-J-Jacob! Wow!" + + + + + Letter #12 Chapter # XII PARSONAGE -- 5 HUH...!!! ...I howled and sat up in the cooling tub. Rubbing my eyes, the door to the hallway was open. Dim light beamed into the bathroom. There in the half-dark -- a form. Squatting double on the toilet in full pee was pretty, prying little-sister Penelope. Sans-panties I guessed, yet still wearing her white dress-blouse and blue skirt from school. She rubbed rose tinged bath and body oil onto her bared feet. ...So pretty.... "Hmm..., Cobby," she whispered, giggling. "You got room in there for me?" She laughed aloud and had the brass to ask, "Well..., ya' gonna invite me in?" In a blustering, righteous rage I erupted. I started to stand up in high dudgeon all bare from the tub. ...Oops!.... I dropped down fast, rolling onto my frontside to get all of me back under water again. Penny mocked me in a sing-song of ancient verses: ..." `My brother is radiant and ruddy. ...His locks flowing dark as cider. ...His eyes are like doves bathing in milk.' " Then she broke into bubbling laughter: ..." `He sits in fullness, fitly set, ...washed by a brimming pool in the river of waters. ...From him flow watercourses!' " (Canticles of Cainan, 5: 10-12) "Penny! Get the hell out, or, or...!" "Or what, Cobby?" she asked in a sly whisper. "Or you'll tell...?" Penny paused at the door, eyeing me with a superior grin on her face. "Or you'll tell Mom and Dad?" she teased. "Well, you can tell them yourself. By the way, Jacob..., I like your brawny beaut of a bouncing boy-butt!" I glanced about. Indeed, my breezy, bare backside was mounded out of the bathwater - round and glistening. My sister giggled. I grit my teeth. She flexed up and filched my faded blue flannel pajama tops, a favorite of hers, then flit out the door. Growling, I stood from the cooling bath and toweled off. I grit my teeth and pulled on just the flapping, threadbare, blue-flannel pj bottoms, tightening the drawstring hard around my skinny waist. I stared in the mirror over the sink. In one view I saw a good-enough-looking kid. But in another, a total loser of a human being. I could not look myself in the eye. Instead, I sought to squish any imagined pustules on my face. Staring at my features, my `imaginary audience' began to offer approving plaudits and affirmations of some elusive masculine appeal. So, I did flex my evolving arms and chest and stood straight. I postured in such a way that Cousin Steven or that dreamboat, blond, muscle-bound, track-and-field boy from Owen Sound might see me to advantage. Or even my own sister. Oh, Great Mother...! Now, I had to face the parents. Tattletale Penny surely snitched about my peeing in the tub. Damn...! I would get the big-time lecture. Yikes - maybe even have Camp canceled. Damn...! And the three of them would be there. There in the Parsonage parlor, with the cherry-wood parquet floor and the tall, rosy stained-glass windows. All there on the great, red, down-cushioned ottoman-davenport. Arms crossed and glowering - Dad-Mom-Sis -- like a Pasha and Harem - waiting to hang me by the thumbs, or squash my testicles, no doubt. Damn...! I slunk into the darkened fore room. The sound of a deafening `Bab-o Soap' advertisement blared forth from the new Crosley thermionic radio: # ~~~radio~~~ -MISS BAB-O: ~I bring out the brighter side of things. ~I find the silver lining 'neath the darkest cloud of grime or dirt. ~I am Miss Bab-O. ~I am beautician to gorgeous bathrooms as well as modest ones. ~There's something about me that brightens things quickly. -AUDIENCE: Applause. # "Jacob dear, come join us," Mom called with a warm smile and a wave. Huh...?! There on the big, pink, poufy ottoman sofa was wanton sister `Shehzadi Penny' in her nightie. She law sprawled across our parents' laps like some loose selkie-seal lolling in the sunshine - trolling for gamy boy-seals, no doubt. At the far end, our drooling `Hunkarim Dad' caressed her hair all down her back. In the center, `Madam Valide-Sultan Mom' saltily stroked Sis's petite round and curvy butt. All the while our `Temptress Penny' grinned a lecherous leer, and winked and wiggled her bare toes at me. I could not believe it. I guessed my kid sister had not tattle-tailed on me! Penny's beguiling legs directed me to the last dusty-puffy sofa cushion. She commanded me to sit. I did -- Mom and Dad making room. Penny lay sprawled over the three of us, wriggling like a `calling-kitten' on a sunny windowsill. On the radio was the comedy `Cecil and Sally Show'. Cecil and Sally were sweet teener kids. They were doing something with costumes: # ~~~radio~~~ -CECIL: ~What kind of a costume you've got for me to wear? -SALLY: ~Well... (GIGGLE) ~You're going to wear one of my dresses. (GIGGLE) ~I'll dress you up like a girl. -CECIL: ~HUH! Nothin' doin. -SALLY: ~Oh, Cecil, -CECIL: ~ Stop! I won't do it. ~That's out. Way out. Outta sight. ~In other words, NO. -AUDIENCE: Laughter. # As the radio blared, my little sister murmured so that only I could hear...: ..."I'm going to miss you, my Cobby; when you've gone to camp." + + + + + Letter #12 Chapter # XIII PARSONAGE -- 6 How Penny disgusted me...! ...Her feet twitched all over my crotch, as the four of us sat on the sofa. Not that my prick did not love the attention her toes gave -- it did! It began to rise, worming its way through the fly of my pj's. I pulled a section of old newspaper over my lap to hide it. I tried to shove my sister's foot away, even while tucking my iron-spike cob between my legs. # ~~~radio~~~ -SALLY: ~Now, we have to dress YOU. -CECIL: ~Uhh.... What do I have to take off? -SALLY: ~Well, everything. ~Well, except your... mmm..., your, well, whatever you call your `step-ins', your `smalls', your `undies'..... -AUDIENCE: Laughter. # My kid-sister did not seem to mind me looking right up-and-under - clear-view inside - her voluminous pajama tops. No undies! I could see `her's'! There - a shadowy, cranny-mound of peachy-cleft skin.... Penny saw my eyes widen. In a near-silent whisper she mouthed, "And how was your piddle-time in the bath, Cobby...?" I froze. Was she going to tell the parents about seeing me pee in the tub? The soles of her dancing feet found their way beneath the rustling newsprint over my clutched lap. Her toes stroked my flannel pj's at my bare belly, then high on my thighs, now close to my crotch. Then Penny's two feet were at `IT'! The newsprint poked up in three peaked priapic prongs --her two great toes, and higher than all was my own.... I jerked up and cried out. # ~~~radio~~~ -SALLY: ~There. (GIGGLE) There's the dress. ~Have you got it? -CECIL: ~Yeah. How do I get into it? -SALLY: ~Slip it over your head. -CECIL: ~Which end is which? ~Can't I climb into it?" -AUDIENCE: Laughter. # The family's laughter at the radio show covered my shameful agony. I dared not react with my usual revulsion toward Penny's behavior. I had to sit and take it - as though nothing was happening - even as my damned sister molested me beneath the newspaper right in front of my parents. I hated it. I liked it. Was she for real saying she would miss me? And all the while teasing my prick? # ~~~radio~~~ -CECIL: ~Time out. The dress got caught on my shoulder, now. -SALLY: ~Shall I help you? -CECIL: ~No! Stay where you are! ~(SOTTO) This darn thing... (MUTTERS TO HIMSELF) There! ~Now it's stuck on my head! -SALLY: ~Aw, Cecil. ~You look just darling! -CECIL: ~I don't wanna look THAT way. ~It's kinda tight. I'm kind of afraid to breathe. ~I hope I don't have to sneeze. -AUDIENCE: Laughter. # Penny's tiny toes had found their way to the gaping fly of my pj's. Then her great toe was in there shoving up sofly, slowly, harder. All unknowing, she lolled her toes about my nads in their sack. They pulled up tight, tighter, tightest. As her instep came upon my naked cob, I pushed away tight up against the sofa back. So! Little Sister DID know what she was doing! Penny whispered, "Cobby...?" I had to get out of there now! I yelled, "Gotta pack for camp...." I was up like a shot..., leaping up in the air..., sprinting up the great staircase of the old Parsonage. At the half-way turn, I paused on the landing. Why? In a fog I followed the family tradition. I took the key from its hook and wound the dusty old Grandfather Josiah wall clock. It had been repaired again by our Uncle Doctor. I stared at the decorative gilt script inscribed on the base of the clock - a verse from our Cainan Faith Community scriptures, Psalm 51:5-- ..."Behold ...I was brought forth in iniquity by my father's imperious urge, ...As he conjoined with his mother-sister's consuming heat. ...Thus was I conceived and born a sinner" The clock struck the ten o'clock hour. It sounded to me like "...DONG...DONG...DONG..." a bunch of times. I thought of what troubles our ancestral family's `Dongs', our `blessed jewels', our pricks and balls, had gotten all of our Cainan progeny into. I shook my head..., ...and so I turned aside. + + + + + Letter #12 Chapter # XIV PARSONAGE -- 7 Then, there was Penny..., ...beside me on the landing half-way up the great stairway. Unable to move, we gaped at each other. She -- a sylphlike eleven, with amber Native skin - clad in just a flowing blue flannel pajama top. Me -- some jerk! Going on thirteen, bean-pole wirey, Norse-pale and freckled - in `naught but those flapping pj bottoms. Her black tresses shimmering down her back. My own frizzy fire-red mane flounced about my scalp. Yet we shared those Schwann family dimples and that consanguineous, dark, ox-eyed look. Of a sudden we were dancing all quiet, bumping bottoms on that stairway landing. Silently swinging and swaying, we made soundless Lindy Hop dance moves. Hand in hand, arm about waist, spinning and flowing, we twirled to the syncopated rhythms inside our heads. Of a sudden we stopped. I waited for her to speak. "Our Grandfather Josiah's...," Penny whispered, pointing to the clock. When Grandfather Josiah was fifteen years old the Black Coat incest vigilantes castrated him, and strung him up to die on the Rendering Tree, for impregnating his own little sister. Little sister? Hmm.... Steven's words came back to me, "Young Penelope has 'ready' dripping all over her." My mouth dry. Penny swizzled closer. My brain stunned. She was nearer now. I noted individual eyelashes and strands of hair. "Cobby....?" I could not think. A tingling sensation spread through me, paralyzing my arms, legs and brain. She was much too close. I could count the rare freckle on her nose. Penny's warm arms slithered over my cool, naked shoulders - pulling close. Her face surfaced in front of mine. "Cobby...? I'm gonna miss...." Her voice trailed off as her fingertips skimmed over my tight chest, touching my nipples, and then about my bare back. She drew close. Her hair flicked upon my skin. And so we danced close and closer. She slid her hands about my back. She pulled herself hard against me. We were like serpentine young trout - a whitling and herling -- strong-sidling along and about one another in a flashing stream. Uh-oh! My bare belly felt the points of her `tiny tweaky twins' peeking from out the faded blue-flannel tops. She had to feel my pj bottoms sticking `rock-hard' out against her uncovered hips. Her eyes burned with that bright, piercing ox-eyed gaze. They seemed to be lit from within by some vast, venal, feminine experience. If not yet, then destined to be so soon.... Penny shifted to look up at me. Her small mouth puckered and loosened, pursed and ready like a babe's at breast. I was drawn to her, down, down. I leaned close. She lifted. Her lips, warm, wet, covering -- no, taking over - my mouth. My hot little sister kissed hard, sucking my breath. Her tongue.... Ahh...! She drew back; staring at me, nervous, lovesome. I gasped; heart racing, fumbling, happy. "Uhh..., watch out, Pen!" I could naught but caution her. "Don't do anything stupid this summer when I'm gone. Don't take any wooden nickels...!" Then.... Off she ran. Oh, Great Mother! Wow! I felt too big for my skin. My heart beat as if to push out the front of my ribcage. I told myself: it was only my kid-sister - I should have hated it. Yet.... I thought her little goodbye kiss was heaven. As Steven had recited in his epilog: "Eleven Is Heaven." *** Very early the next morning, before I took the long train ride to my third summer at Cainan Lake Camp below the Ishpatina Ridge, I wrote my kid sister a `Dear-Diary'-`Let's-Do-It' letter. I wanted to - and I wanted her to know I wanted to. I had planned to put it in her undies-drawer in the old Grandmother Cygnet dresser. She would be sure to find it sometime after I had gone. + + -Hey Penny-Sis + Suprise suprise its me I want to say how great a kid-sis you are I know I act like I dont but I do notice when you flirt. -I know you let the fire go out and get in bed with me and you always forget after you undress for bath so I see you I do see you and you see me. -You joke getting in the tub with me while Im in it like when we were little you are welcome if you want hope your not mad. + -Love ya - +Big brother Cob + Then I read it over again. Wha...? -`...in the tub...'- Uh-oh! NO WAY! So just in time before I left, I hid my letter so she would never-ever find it. I put it far, far back and under in my raggle-taggle sock drawer in the Grandmother Cygnet dresser. This was safe. This was secret. I vowed never-ever to tell or touch my own sister. Never-ever! No castrating Black Coat incest vigilantes would be coming after us.... ...Never-ever! Yours truly, JACOB + + + + + END P&C Letter #12