Brotherly Love

byCal Y. Pygia©

June had performed a good dive. I could obtain the same effect by imitating her, I decided. Mentally marking the spot at the end of the board at which, on the board below, my sister had sprung into the air, I sprinted forward, measuring my stride, and bounced as hard as I could at the end of the board, on the same spot I'd marked in my mind. The board dipped steeply and sprang back, launching me heavenward. Air rushed past my face, my chest and belly, my legs and feet. I stretched my arms before me, bent at the waist, and extended my legs behind me, a human rocket plummeting toward the water, which seemed miles instead of feet below me.

In a moment, I heard a great splash; water sprayed all around me, and I was met with a cool, liquid rush as I plunged into the pool. I turned my body, directing my feet toward the bottom of the pool. The moment they touched, I pushed off. A moment later, I'd burst the surface of the water and was sucking in a lungful of air. My sister had appeared beside me. She was smiling. "Great dive," she complimented me, surprising me with a kiss on the cheek.

The brush of her full, soft lips against my face was incredibly sexy, the eroticism of this simple act enhanced by our mutual nudity and the ruse that we were playing in pretending to be husband and wife. "Thanks," I managed to reply.

She stepped closer to me. Our arms touched. Should I step back? Give her some space? I reasoned that she could just as easily step back as I could. I decided to stand my ground.

"You never saw me naked when we were kids?"

At just eighteen, my little sister was still a kid, I mused, but I simply shook my head. "No."

"I saw you once," she confided.

I arched an eyebrow. "You did?"

She spluttered a laugh. "Don't look so outraged. It was years ago. You were sixteen."

"Tell me about it."


I frowned. "Then why'd you bring it up?"

"So you'd know," she said with an impish grin.

"That's not fair."

"I know."

She continued to grin at my irritated expression. "All right," she relented. "I'll give you a hint. You were at the beach."

When the hell would my sister have seen me naked on the beach? I wondered. Maybe she hadn't. Maybe she was just making this whole thing up. "You never saw me naked at the beach," I replied, "or anywhere else, for that matter."

Her smile remained in place. In the shimmering sunlight, as it reflected from the blue-bottomed pool, her eyes were sapphire. They were gorgeous and full of mischief. "Think what you want."

A picture popped into my mind--me, naked, at the beach--well, actually, the shore of Lake Meade--with Wanda Good, who was also naked. June had come to the lake with us that day. My parents had allowed me to visit the lake with Wanda, provided that I let June tag along. Clearly, I'd understood, even then, they'd wanted June to serve as a sort of chaperone. After all, what could a teenage boy do with his little sister hanging around?

"But I sent you to the snack stand to buy burgers and fries," I said, "to, uh, get you out of the way."

"I know," June acknowledged. "That's why I didn't go--well, not right away, at least--not until I saw you and Wild, Wicked Wanda--"

"Okay, okay," I surrendered. "I get the point."

June looked me in the eye, held me with her gaze. "You were handsome then," she said, "and virile. You're even more attractive and manly today."

I gulped. Although such a compliment was welcome, it also was a little weird hearing it from my little sister. She's not so little anymore, I thought. "Thanks," I managed to say. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

"If you'd seen me naked, would you have told me?"

"Of course."

Now it was she who lifted a skeptical eyebrow at me. "Oh, really?"

I shrugged. "Okay, maybe I wouldn't have. So why did you tell me now?"

She looked at me enigmatically, the way that only women--one's sister or otherwise--can. "I want you to know," she said.

Before I could pursue this cryptic line, an elderly couple waded past us. I'd seen June speak to them earlier, while I was returning from her car, having retrieved the last of her luggage. Like most women, she'd packed enough for a month's stay despite the fact that we had reservations for only today.

The old man of the couple asked me, "What do you think of Palm Valley?"

"It's nice, really nice."

The old codger's wife, a blue-haired old lady with jowls and tits to her wrinkled belly, sniffed. "Just 'nice'?"

"Great," I replied, upgrading my evaluation.

"It is that," the old man agreed. He winked at me. "A wonderful place to spend your honeymoon, eh?"

"Honeymoon?" I blurted.

My surprise seemed to confuse him. He turned toward June. "Didn't you say that you and your husband are on your honeymoon?"

June rolled her eyes. With a glance in my direction, she answered, "Don't mind Mark. He thinks he's a comedian."

The matronly old lady regarded me as if I were pool scum. "How very droll," she said.

The elderly couple waded away.

I looked at June. "Why the hell did you tell them that?"

She smiled her Miss Innocence smile. "Don't you want a honeymoon with your bride?" she asked coyly.

I did. She had no idea how much I'd love a honeymoon with my "bride," even though June was my sister, not my wife. Instead, I rolled my eyes at her. "If anyone's a comic, it's you."

The afternoon was devoted to a picnic by the lake. The camp provided the food, the plates, the cups, the cutlery, and the cooks, and we provided the hungry stomachs. The idea was to provide a forum for us to get to know one another. The only one I wanted to get to know better was June. I'd always thought her a modest young lady. Apparently, I'd been wrong. At age fourteen, she'd seen me naked with her friend, Wanda, who was June's age at the time. Wanda and I had planned to make out for weeks. The trip to Lake Meade had been our chance to accomplish this common purpose. June was the fly in the ointment, so to speak, which is why I'd sent her to the snack shack for burgers and fries. By the time it would take her to get there and back, Wanda and I could have enjoyed some intimate moments together. I remember being surprised at how long it had taken June to get back to our site from her errand. Instead of half an hour, it had taken my sister twice that amount of time. Now, with her recent confession in mind, I understood why it had taken June so long--she hadn't left until Wanda and I had finished putting on our unwitting show for her.

All these years, June had kept her secret. I would have known immediately if she'd told Mom and Dad. In fact, my ass would have hurt for a week. My parents, as both June and I knew only too well, believed that, by sparing the rod--in our case, the belt--parents spoiled their children. Consequently, both Mom and Dad applied the rod, or belt, frequently and energetically to our bare backsides. Unfortunately, they only punished us in private. Dad had seen June's ass, and Mom had seen mine, but neither June nor I had ever been lucky enough to witness each other being spanked. When I heard the belt slapping her buttocks, though, I'd always get rock hard, imagining her ass cheeks reddening, maybe even bruising, under the repeated lashings, while my sister shrieked and sobbed. How often I had wished that I could have been the one to wield the belt!

As far as I knew, June hadn't told any of her friends about seeing Wanda and me naked together on the shore of Lake Meade, making out with each other. How could a fourteen-year-old girl not have told someone? Seeing her brother naked would have been a hard secret to keep for most teenage girls, but to have kept both that secret and to have kept secret her having seen Wanda naked with me while we--well, that was unbelievable. Yes, somehow, June had managed to tell no one. Until today, she hadn't even told me, and, as I mentioned, June and I have always been especially close. Again, I wondered why she'd brought it up now, after all these years. "I want you to know," she'd said cryptically when I'd asked her why she'd told me.

Her answer, although intriguing, made about as much sense as her telling the elderly couple she'd spoken to while I was retrieving the last of her luggage from her car that she and I were on our honeymoon or as her asking me to accompany her to a nudist camp posing as her "husband." If I didn't know better, I thought, I'd suspect that June had harbored the same incestuous thoughts about me as I'd entertained about her. Could it be that June, my little sister, despite her innocent demeanor and modest deportment (except for today, of course, when she'd begun to parade her nakedness for God and everybody else to see), actually wanted to fuck her brother as much as I had always wanted to fuck her? No, I told myself. That was impossible. Wasn't it? It was absurd. Right? It was just wishful thinking on my part, nothing more. Correct?

Although we were supposed to meet and mingle at the picnic, I stayed fast by my sister's side. Throughout the afternoon, I constantly stole glances at her naked body, prompting a few variations on the comment I first heard from a giggling teen, spoken, too loudly, into the ear of a confidante, "He really loves her! He can't take his eyes off her."

Truer words were never spoken, I thought with a sigh. Why couldn't June feel the same about me?

Maybe she does, I told myself.

Yeah, right.

She could.

Uh huh.

Couldn't she?

Quit dreaming.

The afternoon seemed to last forever. Finally, the picnic was over, and we left, this time to our cabins. This was what I'd been waiting for since our arrival. This was the first time today that I'd have June entirely to myself.

Maybe, I thought. . . .

Yeah, right.

On our way to our cabins, we held hands. I released hers to scratch an imaginary itch. When I finished this task, I didn't take June's hand in mine again. Instead, I placed it around her waist, midway down her hip. The heel of my hand rested against the curve of her right buttock. The palm and fingers curled around her flank. This was more intimate contact than simply holding hands had been.

June didn't object.

After all, we were "married."

Soon after we'd closed the door to our cabin, June asked, "Would you mind massaging me, Mark? It's been a long day, and I'm exhausted. Every joint and muscle is stiff and sore."

I was dumbfounded. My sister wanted me to massage her naked body? "Uh, sure, sis," I stammered, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. "Be glad to."

June lay on her stomach, and I climbed onto the king-size bed we were sharing, straddling the backs of her thighs. My balls actually touched the flesh of her upper legs. Her flesh, slightly red with the sun, was silk-smooth. My cock stiffened, swelling. This time, I knew that it wouldn't matter how many algebra, chemistry, or physics problems I worked in my head. This was one erection that wasn't going to succumb to math or science.

I started with her shoulders, gripping them between my thumb and fingers and squeezing. I pressed the muscles with the heels of my hands. I kneaded the flesh.

June sighed. "That feels so good," she said. "You're a natural masseuse."

Gently, I pressed my fingers against the vertebrae in her neck, massaging the muscles on the sides of her throat. "Thanks."

"But more than my neck and shoulders need your healing touch."

I worked my way down the sides of her back, rolling the sides of my fists back and forth over the muscles and pressing my palms down firmly upon her lower back. I rubbed her spine with the ball of my thumb.

"Ah! That feels wonderful."

I straddled the backs of her thighs with my spread thumb and fingers, squeezing the muscles in my hands as I worked them up and down her upper legs. Her skin was unbelievably smooth.

"Do me, baby," June encouraged me.

I massaged her calf muscles. Then, I slapped her lightly on the right buttock. "Feel better?"

June didn't move. "Yes, but you're not done."

"I've massaged your neck, shoulders, back, and legs," I reminded her. "What's left."

"Duh. My ass."

My eyes widened. "You want me to massage your ass?"

"Of course."

I shrugged. If she wanted her buttocks rubbed, I was just the man to do it. I pressed my thumbs into the deep cleavage between the smooth, ivory mounds and dug my fingertips into the outer sides of her ass cheeks. My fingertips make deep indentations in the flesh as I pressed them firmly into the cushions of her buttocks. After working my way down her ass cheeks in this manner, I placed my thumbs at the bottoms of her buttocks, pressing them beneath the firm globes and stroked the upper portions of her butt cheeks with my fingertips, alternating between light caresses and a firmer, kneading pressure.

"Ah! You are good!" June said.

My hands described circles upon her buttocks, as if I were polishing the sleek, firm flesh. My cock stood straight up against my belly. It was a good thing that June was on her stomach, I thought. Otherwise, she'd see her brother with a raging hardon.

"If I'd known you were such a good masseuse, I'd have had you give me a rundown much sooner."

Again, I gave her ass a light slap. "Glad I could help you out," I said. I climbed off her.

Turning over, onto her back, June caught sight of my erection. She smiled. "You really are my big brother, aren't you?" she asked.

I blushed, embarrassed to be seen in such a state by my sister.

If she noticed my chagrin--which was likely--she gave no indication that she had done so. Instead, she just said. "You're only half done."

I frowned at her, trying not to stare at her firm breasts and her trim bush. "What do you mean?"

"I want a complete massage," she said.

"A complete massage?"

"I have a front side as well as a back side," you know.

"Oh." I leaned forward, taking the sides of her neck in my hands.

"Not like that," she protested.

"How should I do it, then?"

"The same way you did before. Straddle me. Sit on my thighs."

With an erection pointing toward my chest? I thought. She'd be able to see my hardon simply by peering past her boobs and cunt. My stiff prick would be on open display to her--my sister.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" June urged.

I shrugged. If she had no problem with me sitting on her thighs, with my cock standing along my belly, why should I? I climbed onto the bed, straddled her, and rested my ass upon her sleek thighs. The contact of my ass and balls against her sleek flesh stiffened my cock even more, and I felt an ache in the center of my testicles. A clear drop of Cowper's fluid, or pre-cum, had formed at the tip of my purple glans.

June looked past her bosom, past her stomach, past her trim bush, at my stiff-standing, swollen cock, and smiled. "That's better," she said approvingly.

I worked her neck muscles and her shoulders again. Then, I slid my butt down her legs and took her thighs in my hands.

"What are you doing?" June demanded.

"Massaging your legs."

"What about my breasts?"

"I can't massage them."

"Why not?"

"They're your tits. You're my sister."


"I can't rub my sister's tits. It's wrong. It's incest."

She chuckled. "It's a massage, Mark."

"June, I can't."

"You can."

"You're my sister."

"You've already rubbed my bare ass."

"That's different."


"I don't know. It just is."

"I want you to, Mark. Please."

I shook my head. "No. I can't. Don't ask me."

"I have asked you. We're not doing anything wrong. You're just giving me a massage, Mark."

Her breasts were tempting. I wanted to take them in my hands. I wanted to touch the silken mounds and thumb the erect nipples and the puffy, smooth areolas. But it was wrong. Wasn't it?

"Please, Mark."

Yes. It was. Wrong.


Against my better judgment, I cupped my hands over my sister's breasts and squeezed them lightly. They felt wonderful in my hands--sleek, soft, warm, full, round, firm. I rolled my thumbs back and forth across their nipples.

Pinned beneath me, June squirmed, moaning. "Oh, God!" she gasped.

I noticed the moisture between her legs. My sister was aroused. Her arousal aroused me further, and I teased and manipulated and rubbed and kneaded and squeezed her lovely breasts in my hands and tickled them with my fingertips. My thumbs flicked her hard, swollen nipples.

"Ah! Don't stop!" June cried.

I didn't. June's cries intensified and quickened, as did her breath and her pulse. Her heart pounded, and her cunt was awash in its own juices. I coaxed my sister from one orgasm to another. By the time I'd finished massaging her breasts, June was beyond herself with ecstasy.

I slipped a thumb between her drenched labia, feeling the deep-pink, rose-petal soft tissues slide past my digit. I let my thumb slide into her to its limit. Stretching my forefinger, I used its tip to stroke and circle and flick her clitoris. If rubbing her ass and tits hadn't crossed the line from a massage to sexual play, caressing her pussy and her clitoris certainly did. I had passed a social boundary. I was committing incest with my sister.

Like her, I was loving it.

June had her eyes closed. Her head rolled back and forth upon her pillow. She seemed oblivious to everything but the pleasure rising inside her and to the presence of my thumb inside her cunt. "Oh!" June cried. "Fuck me, Mark!"

"I'm not fucking you," I told her. "That's my thumb, not my cock, in your cunt."

"I know that," she snapped. "Take out your thumb and shove in your cock!"

I blinked. "You're asking me to fuck you?"


Here was an even clearer boundary. If I fucked June, neither of us would ever be able to be simply brother and sister again. We'd be partners in incest. "Are you sure?" I demanded.

"Fuck me, damn it!"

She sounded pretty sure, I thought.

Fucking my own sister--this was a one-way ticket to hell if anything was, I thought. A guy just didn't have sex with his sister. Such an act was forbidden--by God, by society, and, for most people, at least, by their own consciences. It was wrong. Sinful. Criminal. Immoral.

Or was it? In some societies, brother-sister sex had not been only acceptable, but it had also been desirable. In ancient Egypt, for example, among the pharaohs, brothers commonly married their sisters, producing offspring by one another. Incest among adults was also commonplace among royal families in ancient Hawaii, among the pre-Columbian Mixtec tribe, and among the members of Europe's Habsburg family. Other forms of incest, in which cousins intermarried, was also commonplace. Many scholars believed that such unions were intended to keep wealth, and power in the family, so to speak. In some of the states of the United States and in other industrialized countries, marriage between first cousins is permitted. Mythology is likewise replete with examples of incest. For example, Zeus and Hera are both brother and sister as well as husband and wife, as were their parents, Cronus and Rhea. Frey and Freya, according to Norse mythology, also committed incest--or so the mischievous Loki claimed. The Scandinavian hero Sigmund and his sister Signy, after killing Signy's offspring, had a son together, whom they named Sinfötli. Incest also appears in the folklore concerning King Arthur.

Even the Bible contained several instances of incest, which it reports without censure. Lot's sister Micah married her uncle Nahor. Lot's two daughters had sex with their drunken father, giving birth, respectively, to Moab and Ben-Ammi. Abraham marries his half-sister Sarah. One of Abraham's sons, Isaac, married his second cousin Rebekah. Esau had several wives, among whom were two cousins, the sisters Mahalath and Basemath. Jacob married two cousins, Rachel and Leah, the daughters of his uncle Laban. Jacob's fourth son, Judah, impregnated his daughter-in-law Tamar, whom he mistook for a prostitute, producing twin sons Perez and Zerah. Amran married his father's sister Jochebed, by whom he fathered Aaron and Moses. (Apparently God approved of this act, because he allowed Amram to live to the ripe old age of 137.) God commanded Zelophehad's five daughters to marry within their extended family, so they married cousins born of their father's clan.

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