Date: Fri, 25 Jan 2008 07:44:14 -0800 (PST) From: Gale Adams Subject: f/f incest "She Came to Me" Chapter 2 She Came to Me By Gale Adams Chapter 2 I was brushing, and lightly curling with my fingers, Melody's hair that soft early Spring Saturday. Mama and Father Daddy were off to their friends' house in a neighboring town, having had their manservant ready the lorry and get the horse groomed and fed early this dark morning, so they would be ready to leave by nine a.m. We were alone. Our cook was attending to a sick husband at her home. We were sitting in the great room, with summer soft breeze coming through the opened window and the linen curtains blowing softly. Melody was on a stool, sitting properly Victorian, as I knelt beside her, curling her long locks that went almost to the end of her back. The day was to be ours. Mama and Papa Daddy would not be back till late even. Then we would all get prepared for the church on the morrow. Our house presses against none others, for we are the rich family in town and we live on top a beautiful green hill where the zephyrs of breeze cools us even on a very hot summer's armistice. Melody and I, since that night when she was so frightened of her first menses, had gradually learned to go further than we had that night in the bath when she and I were naked and we ended up pleasuring each other. The guilt had set in. in a small encroachment, but we had not let it hold full sway over us yet. In further example of that, she and I, doing a regular sisterly thing, were doing it naked. As we had become so childishly bold over this period of time. She had had such fun measuring our "clities" and putting her tongue to my opening and wishing she could have hair there too and how nice mine had grown into a small patch of an almost perfect V. We giggled more and more as we progressed. And now, she turned her face to me and nursed upon my breast, my left one to be exact, while she put her hand on my other one and made me wet down there almost immediately. I pressed my buds that had already developed larger against her hand and her mouth. She bit delicately the nipple, as I had taught her, me, surely, with me "Oh so vast experience of such a thing"-aye, I was virgin still, as of course Melody also was. To be otherwise would have resulted in the shunning of our parents and us; no matter he did own the town bank and was on so many important boards. Melody, sometimes wise beyond her years, told me in quiet whisper as we forbidden lay in my bed under a quilt to keep the chill out, as she and I played with each other's privates, that we surely could not make each other—that word—so wouldn't it make sense in all the world just to have-sex-between us, wasn't that the safest thing? I held her and laughed silently into her shoulder that night as our bodies bare were tightly against each other's and said oh Melody, that is a wondrous plan. And for a time, we actually believed it. We had been naked for over an hour now as I used the silver curling iron and brush to make my love's hair look beautiful as I looked at her sucking my teat and felt so immensely erotic seeing that, her little lips on me and sucking me as if she were a babe, and her other hand kneading my other breast as though she were preparing it for brown baked bread for Sunday dinner. I dropped the brush, and in the red flocked wall paper of a room with the smell of jasmine in it from Melody and my perfume, onto the shining hardwood floor, amidst the light coming in the tall windows to our right, and the shadows of the corners of the large room and the floor next to the footstool and the huge blue couch, and pulled my naked sister to the floor on top of me in a rush of mad adventurism and she and I touched lips to lips for the longest time. I had read about French kissing, and debated trying it. Her tiny rosebud lips were so warm and sweet on mine, of wine, as continuing with words I've read in big gilt books in Father Daddy's great library and momma's smaller one, smaller but dainty with little hidden erotic novels and billets while Father Daddy's only has etchings and frontispieces and wood carvings, only sparingly of course, nothing of the Karma Sutra book I've heard whispers about, never that daring. Neither knows I have the key to their book cases and would be quite mad if they— And then I used my tongue to open my sister's mouth, and banished all extraneous thoughts, for here were we, me, Ivory, 14, and she Melody, 10, naked and making love, two sisters; what indeed would Emily Bronte say, or how withered Lady Chatterley would be at our already gaining sexual wisdom—and our tongues touched—played their wet moist tips one against the other. As my hands went to Melody's flat chest and little tits that I tickled with my fingers which made her laugh and we pulled our mouths from each other, as I gently pushed her on her back and sucked her little rosebud tits. I found them dainty and tasteful. While Melody was busy exploring me—she was the first one to say it—cunt—though we felt oh like lightning would strike us dead that instant, though it did not, so we perceived a little reprieve from the Almighty for these acts. But they weren't acts. Daddy Papa and Mama seem to act a lot. Like Reverend Jonas also acts. Like teachers act. All putting on a show. All pretending. We were not pretending, for when Melody and I said we loved each other, we meant it. As sisters. As lovers. I had been the first to touch her-cunt—there again I said it, with my tongue tip, and now I did it again. She wiggled like a wiggle worm and giggled and cried out Stop, sister, stop, though it was the kind of stop sister stop that meant don't you dare sister don't you dare. We had both bathed shortly ago, and she smelled soap fresh and water pure as I tickled her clitoris with my tongue and held onto her bare hips as her knee came close to my loins and she held to my arms as she started panting. As she started moving in a kind of tandem with me. As she began to perspire as did I. As I felt my nipples harden. As I felt that special sexual tingle in my privates. I began masturbating with one hand myself as I continued sucking and tickling the girl who was my sister in this most secret of crevices. How we had loved looking at each other's lips down there. Holding them open. Seeing them close. Wondering how much it hurt to break the Hymen after I had told Melody to my endless regret about that, for it worried her silly for a time, till she convinced herself she would never have to know that pain. I pulled my head up from her Delta of Venus and said to her, she of the closed eyes and the tiny nostrils now flaring and put my tits on her vagina and rubbed them there for I was close to my apex now and wanted to somehow be in her more, like a man with a woman, but this was all there was, at least all I knew how to do. So I put my hand to her clit and I masturbated my own and I brought her off in a huge wave of pleasure and then instead of her lying there and enjoying it selfishly I had come to think sometimes, totally unfairly and with shameful self-pride and self-pity, she once again proved how wrong I had been about her, as he popped up like a jack-in-the-box and pushed me over on my back and stuck a finger and her tongue deeply in my cunt, surprising the hell forgive me Father Daddy or God I am not sure which, as she licked in deeply and broke my Hymen with her finger as she brought blood and wetness out of me and I came in undulant waves like never ever before. I think I passed out for a second or two—to be fucked, yes, this was fucking, this counted, and Melody had broken my Hymen. My cherry. As I opened my sweaty eyes I saw her kneeling there with blood on her fingers, not much really, as she looked scared toward me, and I held her with me immediately and explained it was my Hymen she had broken, and she asked hurriedly had I hurt her? I kissed her cheeks, oh blessed girl, no, not at all; I have never had such deep joy before in my life. As we kissed. Then Melody said, "We truly are lovers, then aren't we? I broke your Hymen and that means we are married." I held her. I was concerned by the intensity of that for her. I would have to explain some day, soon, just not this day. And when we got up and went to wash again, after which we lay naked on her small bed, tightly together, and we slept a sisterly sleep, and it had been a lovely golden day. God, I thought, bless Melody forever. And, God, I thought, thank you. It was a most restful sleep. And the house was very cool when we woke up and made to dress, slowly and lovingly, each the other, in preparing for dinner, cold chicken in the ice box, and for our parents' return some few hours hence.