Rick and Linda Bk. 11

Everyone in this story is 18+ in this story of young lust that turned to young love.

Rick and Linda: June and Bobby tell their story. Book 11

This letter was written for Linda and Rick to read after we were gone. We wrote this the year Linda returned to your life, and you two got married on our farm. The letter occurs just before the war and sheds light on my Dad's 'Cousins.' We are sorry we kept the truth, our truth, from you; it was too shocking for the 1940s and Texas and it never got better, but your Father was a true friend. Like an eleven-year-old brash boy who brought me flowers. Your so, like your Father, you are; you never once stopped loving us. We both know you'll keep loving us after reading this.

I start our tale first. I'm the oldest of the two siblings by eleven months. Born in 1922, the same as your Dad in the same hospital a month apart. We lived ten miles northeast of Bryan, Texas on a large farm near the Navasota River. When you came along, Rick, it was down to five from the seventy-five acres it started with. By 1939, life on the farm was so hard that turning eighteen, we could not be expected to stay in school and work the farm. We were on track with our grades to graduate high school, a first in our family, and college was posable.

If we could keep it up, that is. Farm work was from dawn to dusk, and it was taking a toll on both of us, trying to keep grades with a little over half a day at school and eight to ten hours of chores attempting to keep up with our class. We looked like we were already old. Our uncle, your grandfather, saw how tired we were. He remembered seeing how hard his Dad worked and how much harder it was on a farm.

He had two guys come to him for work, but he had no room for them in the bakery. So he brought them to our farm and told Dad he would take June and Bobby into town so we could gain two hours of study time a day. He paid the two guys who needed work for two years. That's what family does, or at least ours did.

Bobby shared a room with Bob, your Dad, and his two sisters and took me into their room. The first few weeks were like a sleepover. Your Dad was in the school band, but he had played fullback his first year of high school; your Dad had anger issues, and he told me football let him hurt people without guilt, so he stopped.

Bobby was a big, strong farm boy. He became a fullback and was being scouted for a football scholarship for College. I got talked into being a cheerleader, and well, I got in easy. Farm girls are strong; I could jump over Bobby's six foot four doing a standing jump. Bobby looked like a dreamboat walking, and your Dad was no slouch. Bobby entered a room looking like he was sizing everyone up for a boxing match.

Being a cheerleader in 1940, my nineteenth year, meant lots of boys hit on me and asked me to watch the submarine races at the City Lake (it's what we called kissing and boys trying to get to first base in a car). Andy was a cute boy. He hoped we would go to the races, but he was not taking no for an answer, and his hands were going places he was not asked.

When your Dad comes up, He said. "Hey, Junebug.''

He holds his hand out and takes me out to dance, saying. "Do I need to teach your boyfriend manners?''

I laugh, but you know he would and could because he did, he has, but I answered Bob. "Not a boyfriend candidate, but there are some that are.''

I wish I could tell your Dad about my love for my brother. He would understand. You're just like your Dad, with the same height build, but your Dad had a hair trigger and got into fights at the drop of a hat, and he always wore a hat.

Bobby came back in with one of the other cheerleaders. 'Sue the easy' looking like they have been kissing hot and heavy; I admit it: I went cold in Bob's arms with green with jealousy.

I stopped dancing. As your Dad said, my hands must have been clenched into Bob's arms. "Oh, Junebug, your hurting.''

I let go, thinking he meant I was hurting his arms, and ran from the school gym. My face flushed, and my tears started. I could not catch my breath. Bob stood with his back to the rest of our classmates, giving me a little hiding place out at the bleachers. He hands me his handkerchief and an ice-cold Coke with a straw in it. Bob stands there and brushes my hair out of my face.

Bob said. "I see you're hurting, June Bug; not something we can discuss. You must wash your face, tidy up your war paint, go in there, and dance your ass off. And we will take you home when the dance is over. I'm going on in June. You can't let people see you like this; what would your Dad say if this gets discussed? Now for the tough question: does Bobby even know?''

My face, or the look on it, said everything your Dad needed to know. I had looked at Bobby differently since after my eighteenth birthday when he took his shirt off to unstuck a tractor or, damn it, just stood there. They were not sisterly thoughts.

I felt funny when he was near; he often kissed the top of my head. As a kid, my brother was a full head taller and had been for three years. Just weeks before the dance, I woke up in a sweat in my bed at our farm, wet and breathless from a dream. My kid brother's strong hands touched all over my body. I had chills just at the thought. I rubbed my budding nipples, Holy crab-balls, and bit my hand to keep from screaming.

What was that? Was I going to hell because the heat came from my lady parts? I thought touching my nipples was Ace. When my hand touched my pussy, fireworks hit the back of my head. I flooded my panties, and my pajamas were getting soaked with what was coming from my pussy.

When my hand slid under my clothes, I hardly started touching myself, fingers dipping in a most excellently rubbing. I felt my back arch lifting my hips, trying to get my fingers in deeper or my ass closer to heaven as I was sure it needed saving. I'm burning up. I take my pajamas and panties off. I moaned out, Bobby, and my body changed. I went stiff, sped up, and my hands blurred. I stuck my legs in the air and came again for the third time, calling out Bobby. Bobby comes running in and starts to ask. "Are you all right, Sis?''

Seeing what he saw, Bobby backed out of the room, saying. "Sorry, Junebug, sorry.''

June said. "I thought I would die, BUT HIM CALLING ME THAT BABY NAME MADE ME MAD AS HELL.''

I put my pajamas back on, went to his room on fire, and was mad enough to kill him.

He dared to say. "Hey, hot stuff, what's cooking, Junebug?''

I reached back and hit him with every ounce of my one hundred- twenty-two pounds. My hand hurt for a week. He didn't even have the decency to bruise, but I think the idea of his older Sister wanting to hit him hard enough to hurt changed how he saw me.

We could not look at each other; it was so awkward. We stopped talking. The work was hard enough that the week went by fast, and it looked like we were done as friends. Bob drove the work truck to the farm Saturday and brought his two sisters to pick us up for the movies. It was planned a few weeks ago.

We both just remembered about the movie day, our coveralls, and Saturday work dirt still covered us, but the works needs to be done. So Mom sends us off to the movies, a rare treat indeed. Mom took hard lemonade out to our Dad to smooth things over.

We did rock paper scissors for first in the shower. We were sitting in the kitchen drinking hot Cokes (this sounds odd today, but many people liked them at room temperature. Ask your grandparents). I heard the water turn off, ran up the stairs, and Bobby forgot his robe again. Poking his head out and looked to see who ran up the stairs. He sees it is me, and he walks out and stops naked as a J-bird like the day he was born. All six foot four of him, brown eyes, light, blown hair, not an ounce of fat, ripped abs on his eighteen-year-old body. He weighed one hundred and eighty pounds with not a once of fat on him.

Bobby said. "Can you forgive me? I'm sorry, June. Does this make us even-Steven?''

He looked oddly happy as his significant man thing just waved at me, getting more prominent; it looked like six or seven inches.

Bobby said. "You tell me when we are even Sis and that 'Bug' thing, I will never call you that again.''

I smiled at that and said. "Apology accepted, but you're not doing what I did, and we are even.''

I go in to shower, unable to stop touching myself, and the fireworks happen again. I don't know what this is called, but I know anything that feels this much like heaven now means burning in hell later. Damn, fair trade if ever I saw one. I put my robe on to get dressed in a cute sun dress with matching slips and bra. For some reason, I looked at my panties starting for the door, and the 'good girl' made me return to putting them on.

We rode with Bob and his Sister Kelly, with her and I in the cab, and Bobby and Betty, Bob's youngest Sister, rode in the back. We headed downtown to the town's one theater showing Fantasia 1940. We had fun, but Bob and his sisters had to wake us when the movie ended. Since air conditioning is not in average homes yet, the theater was nice and cool, making us sleepy. Bob waited for everyone to finish at the restrooms before going to the truck.

Bob said. "You guys look like you can't keep your eyes open, Junebug.

I make a lemon face at my nickname.

Bob asked, "What was that about? I've called you that since we could both stand up to pee off a train bridge.''

I told your Dad. "That was my baby name, and I felt like I had left that little girl behind."

He did not call me the Junebug name again until that night when my world ended and began again a few months later. When, yes, I cried at a dance over my brother, I was green with envy that he had been kissing someone else. We heard Mom and Dad drive to town for church the next day. We were still pitching hay in the barn and had to finish Saturday and Sunday chores, picking up eggs as the hens got out.

Bobby stuck his pitchfork in the hay and said. "June, we need to talk Sis.''

Bobby begins. "I slept with a few women but had not shown my prick to anyone I loved before. It's not like it was with the others. I can't say anything else without bursting into flames.''

I almost spat some names out at him, which the school was talking about Bobby 'Dating,' but I caught up. I was more intelligent and needed to act it; he said it first, 'Anyone one I loved before.'

It knocked the wind out of my sail. I sat down, unable to stand and process this love thing. Did he love me that way, too?

Bobby said. "If we do this, our life will change in ways we may not like.''

Bobby looking down. But he looks up. There is something else in his eyes.

June said. "It's weird, but I have to know. How do you love me, Bobby? I am a farm girl. Tell me like I'm slow.''

Bobby is back looking down again. He is hiding something.

He answered me. "June, your grade average last year was three point eight. Mine was a three-point one. Nothing about you is slow; I thought you loved being called Junebug so much that I got you this silly thing for your birthday. It's a June bug charm. I just wanted you to know how much I love you.''

He pulled a charm out with a simple bracelet with the school emblem we called them friendship bracelets.

I hit him softer this time. He said it first, and I said. "Thank you, Bobby.''

I stood up, stepped to Bobby, took his face in my hands, and kissed him not like a brother but as a man. I have been practicing more with my hand, but it's alright. OK, I am fibbing here. It was the first best thing ever since sliced bread. We were going to do this a lot! My Bobby is the first and last man I kissed next to you, Rick. We kissed like lovers. The thought of Bobby kissing in front of me made me tingle like touching was forbidden, and it was, but I had to; I just did.

June said. "Bobby, It changed the second I saw you kissing someone else. I don't know what to feel. I want all of you or none at all. We need to think about this. It's a big step. Well, our Dad will hurt us if our chores aren't done, and he will kill us this time if we get caught kissing.''

We heard the farm truck returning from church about an hour later, and we still had a little more to do. Another truck? Our uncle brings out two strapping boys sent from overseas to be apprentices learning to bake. Due to a translation to German error, they sent two sets of brothers. My uncle could not afford both groups but offered the two brothers full-time work on his brother's farm for two years, and he paid them. When the two finished, he would take them to learn to bake. They loved the idea.

So Bobby and I packed our clothes and books and moved into town that day. We were always treated like we were their kids. We had chores, but school was the first and last thought for as much as anyone else knew. I wanted more than a kiss; I had already told Bobby about not reneging on our deal. Sometime later in the week, I was reading my English lit book about the Salem witch trials. It was The Crucible. My mom taught me a little of Wicca; her Sister was one. Dad being a good Baptist, Dad might have burned us at the stake if he had known.

My mom came into town to tell me that. "Our aunt died from Cancer, and her garden farm closer to town had a full herb garden. It was mine now.''

Mom said school first. A friend of twenty-five years was staying in the house if it was OK with me, and she could devote full time to teaching me Wicca healing arts. "Or did you want to go to College instead? Then, she is ready to offer to buy the herb farm. It would pay for College?"

Well, options and plenty of time to plan. Bobby caught me in the hall and kissed me it had to be short.

He whispered in my ear. "What did mom want? It's been a month. Did you decide, baby?''

I said. "Family stuff, I had decided, but I had to hear yours first.''

Bobby said. "We can take a ride with Bob on a triple date tonight, and we can drop him off at his latest girlfriend's house her parents are out of town and we can pick him up after. I tried to get Bob to help us Sis, and that's when he asked me. What were my intentions? I thought we were dead before we started."

Bobby said. "Bob told me Because if it was a one-time thing to piss off because Our June was not now or would ever be a damn one-night stand. He offered to beat the crap out of me if that was what this was."

Bobby added. "I told him I wanted the impossible from June. I want to spend my life with my Sister. So I'll not be here except for you."

We dropped off your Dad and made our way to the overlook on the bank of the Navasota River. "Yes, that very spot Rick. That's why we sent you there that night.''

We had a full sky of stars. I had hoped that my math on my safer days was correct. If not, I made some Mugwort tea, which acted as an antiabortion. Bobby was so sweet he gave me a rose and said he saw the stars, the river, and the moonlight off my soft skin in his dream. We kissed, and we took each other's things off. We both kiss every inch of the other. My brother's love has made me crazy with lust.

I screamed to the stars. ''Bobby''

As he bit my nipple. I saw stars exploding like a Van Gogh painting and pulling the last things off each other.

I asked. "Bobby, to stand, and you're like a Greek god.''

Bobby reached down, held his hand out, and pulled me up. Then, standing next to him, you spun me full circle and said. "Then a god can eat a goddess.''

He picked me up by my ass cheeks and held me up to his mouth, standing under the stars; oh god, I was in heaven. I screamed through two orgasms before Bobby laid me back down and told me how perfect I was. He got a little over me as he rubbed his meaty head on my wet pussy lips. I took over from him. We slipped inside each other; that's the only way words do it any justice. About a few inches in, he hit my maidenhead. I never felt so complete.

Bobby kissed me and whispered. "This is going to sting you ready, my love. We do this, and we are one.''

I pushed harder than Bobby did and said. "Shit! Sting! I say you full of shit Bobby Bogart.''

The time it took to say it went from pain to the beginning of joy, and we danced under the stars for what felt like hours, but we both came twice before. Somebody got soft and started saying how all this was a big fucking mistake.

I saw a shooting star pointing at it and said. "I wished for us to be as one till time freezes. You cut that crap out right this second, Bobby. If some gods want to burn us in their hell, they can, but nothing that feels this right can be this wrong. Now hold me, baby, I have gotten chilly.''

Hold us; you did, Bobby. I never felt more belonging to something or someone; I know what it was to be loved and cherished, and I still do thank the gods.

So, we had some time to ourselves over the next two years. Hiding incest was hard work. But, then again, the world changed, and we did not care if the young could not keep to their plans. Then, the day that will live in infamy happened on Dec 7^th, 1942. Your Dad and I were in our second year in College. Bob at A&M and Bobby was starting his first year, and I am in my second year; we're sharing a two-bedroom apartment housing just off campus at U. H. in Houston.

We have been in now just a few months. According to the first-year college rules, we had to stay a year and a little more in the dorms first. Bobby kept a dorm room in the singles dorm. Finding a place to kiss became more challenging as our friends knew we were brother and sister. We rented a one-bedroom in an off-campus apartment. Mom slipped us the money from her jams and egg money. We finished classes Friday and stayed in bed from Saturday, Dec 6^th to Monday, Dec 8^th, just being lovers.

We unplugged the phone and stayed in bed doing it like rabbits. No radio, nor did we go anywhere for the whole weekend. We ate and stayed in bed, using up a box of rubbers.

Till that damned knock at the door that Monday morning, Bobby put on his robe and opened the door. I heard voices, thinking it was our College friends as we both hand no classes that day. I put my robe on and walked out. Shit, Shit, Shit, it's Dad and Mom. They were worried we did not pick up the phone. Well, Dad cold-cocked Bobby. He is down but not out, but I thank our mom. She hit Dad high. I hit Dad in the legs. We had him down, but we were like fleas on a dog. Doing as much damage as a couple of fleas could, but it slowed him down. It gave Bobby time to stand up.

June said. "You heard Bobby speak when he is mad before Rick.''

Bobby said. "I saw you hit our mom more than once, you son of a bitch. That ends now!''

Bobby started throwing punches, and none missed. Blood was going everywhere. Dad was back down and bloody in a matter of seconds. It showed he only got in a lucky punch. Mom held one arm of Bobby's; I had the other.

Dad got up and told me. "To get your things, you're returning to the farm.''

Dad spitting blood and cuss words at us. We three stand, and he reaches out to grab us. "His woman, his property," He had the guts to say.

Bobby said. "Don't touch us ever again.''

What happened next was a sight to see. Bobby picked our Dad up, carried him to the truck, battered him, and said. "Show up, touch them again, and you will be weighted down at the bottom of the river. Now leave.''

He left ranting about filing assault charges on Bobby, and it looked like he would try to force Mom and me home. Bobby drove us to my house, the one my aunt left me, and Mom mentioned Dad had no clue this was there. I called Bob at the dorm. He signed up for the Army Air Corps already, but He said. "Let me call my dad."

Your Dad calls back. It's 530 p.m., and he said. "Bobby, go now, sign up, and with luck, you will be on the seven p.m. bus. But, of course, once you signed up, it's unclear what they can do to you, if anything."