What happens in Lock-down

What happens in Lockdown...

... Stays in Lockdown, a story of a brother and his sister, and how they cope during the Covid 19 lockdown. This story contains acts of incest, all participants are over the age of 18 and consenting. If that isn't your thing, don't read it. There are also some examples of highly inappropriate language. However, if you do read it and enjoy it, your votes and comments would be much appreciated. Thank you.

"What do you mean you fucked your sister?! DO YOU MEAN ME?!!!"

"What?!"

"It says there you say you fucked your sister -- are you saying that you fucked me!"

"No!"

"But you wrote it down!"

"You're my sister, Cassie -- my only sister, do you remember us doing it? No, of course you don't!"

I was working in my office at home -- I write business apps and 'consult' with companies on processes and regulatory matters -- not doing too bad at it either, and my phone rang -- it was my sister Cassie -- Cassandra Alice Evans.

There was none of the usual banter, just a quick "Kaz, (short for Kazimir Alexander Evans -- yeah, our mum and dad went for some bonkers names) are you at home? I need a place to crash for a few days, I can't get back to Italy because of the travel ban - can I stay there? It might be for a few days."

Of course, I said yes. She is my sister -- who I love very much - and I have plenty of room. And, I hoped, it would be nice to have her around for more than just a flying visit.

Which was probably just as well because the next thing I knew someone was leaning on my door-bell.

The taxi was driving off as I opened the door to see Cassie and a pile of bags and cases on my door step. My sister stood among them, looking stunning, tanned and well-presented.

"Kazimir!" She greeted me.

My sister is five years older than me - I'm thirty-two and she is a stunning thirty-seven - doesn't sound a lot does it?

It's worlds.

When she finished at uni, Cass went off to work in 'fine art' and that was it, she travelled the world working with and for various art galleries with her specialist knowledge of seventeenth century German painters, art in general and her ability to communicate.

By the time I finished my own studies and graduated university, Cass had been married for a short while, and she'd become a well-known figure in the art world, frequently cited in learned works and often appearing in documentaries on the History or Discovery channels, even on the Beeb. And it was like she was made for it - tall, slim, elegant Cassie Evans. With her cultured speaking voice, her beautiful brown eyes, gorgeous smile, and incredible memory for detail, she is an assistant-producer's dream, the perfect 'talking head'. On top of that, Cas fitted the cultural life like she had been born for it. Art exhibitions, charity galas, the museums and galleries of Europe, castles and theatres, yup that's my sister!

In all of this time, though she was well established in Europe, Cass never missed a Christmas or birthday card. Personal appearances were rare, she did turn up for our parent's funerals but if you invited her to anything it was more in hope than expectation. Still she always made her presence felt, with a card or a book signed by an author -- I have an incredible library of signed, first-editions - most of which I have never read, because they don't interest me. The Michelle Obama book, that I did read, but most of them I haven't even glanced at, even so, it's still a valuable collection.

The Italian government's response to the Covid-19 pandemic meant that with not being able to fly and get home to her place in Milan, Cass was stuck in the UK having to hole up somewhere -- that 'somewhere' being my place, our old family home. She'd been working in Leeds for the last week and was getting ready to return to Italy when they locked down, and so she found herself on the front step of the family home in North London.

We did the European kissy-kissy thing, and she helped me carry her bags in.

I made sure that all of her bags were in her old bedroom, and went down and did that most British of things -- put the kettle on. Cassie was already back on her phone.

"Yes darling, I'm at uncle Kaz's house" She held the phone away from her and looked at me. "Lucia says 'hello uncle Kazimir'."

"Ciao Bella!" I shouted across the kitchen. I heard a tinny "Love you Uncle Kaz!" in return.

Cassie's daughter lives with her father, who is an actual Venetian noble blood type, called Marco. Which is cool because he's actually a really nice guy. He has invited me to stay with him a couple of times to watch the England rugby team play the Azzurri -- Italy's rugby team -- at a place he has in Rome. Great bloke, can't half hold his drink, loves his rugby. Anyway, when he and my sister split -- quite amicably - it was felt that Lucia would be better living in the comfort of a family-owned venetian palazzo with all of the benefits that that conferred, rather than living out of hotels or in the smaller flat in Milan with her mother. Cass is still very involved in Lucia's life and the girl is loved by both parents, but her mother recognised what was best for her daughter.

Cassie was finishing her call, as I shouted "Love you 3000, Luci!" Cassie paused and looked at me. "She said that she loves you too. What does that mean? 3000?" I remembered then that Cass doesn't really 'do' fiction.

I explained it was from a film, "Perhaps we can sit down and update your modern social references, if Boris's supposed 'lock-down' goes ahead." I said.

With the tea poured it seemed to slow the whirl down, and we were quiet for a moment as we took a first sip.

"You're looking good Cass." And she was too. Like I said Cassie is slim - relatively small hips and a tight bum - though not the stick insect she was when she was younger, not really even an 'a' cup. Having Luci didn't do much for her overall figure, as shown by the artfully distressed, designer slim leg jeans with the knees missing and her tanned thighs showing through. Her hips got a bit wider, losing that 'straight-up-and-down-ness', but her boobs got a major upgrade, I guess she went from an 'a' to a big 'b' or even a 'c', nearly over-night, and now they fill her shirts nicely. I had had a crush on and off for my sister since - well since forever, and her bigger bust did nothing to sooth those feelings.

"Any idea how long this will last for Kaz?" She asked, "Not that I don't want to spend time with you, but ... you know?"

"I don't know Cass. Some guys I've worked with in the Home Office reckon the UK will be bringing a lock down in starting next week - they're talking about six weeks." I told her, "Possibly more. And the way I see it -- there's bugger all we can do about it.

"There shouldn't be any problems with you working from here," I told her, "I usually work from home anyway, so the wi-fi and broadband will cope with the two of us both being on line together. I'll set you up in the spare room and you can work out of there if you need to. If I put one of the landline base-stations in there, it'll save you roaming charges on your mobile."

That seemed to ease her mind a bit, she's trying to finish her new book, amongst other things and she sat back. "I'm hearing that it's really strict in Italy," she said. Cass has dual UK and Italian passports.

"Yeah -- the TV says it's really bad. It'll probably get bad here too." I said. "I think that it's not a case of if you get this Corona thing but when, and what I have heard about it worries me.

"I think the best thing we can do is stay inside and look after each other. But right now, I need to get to Ikea and get you a desk and chair. And I think while I am out, I'll do a shop to stock the freezer, top up what I can except for loo roll."

"Toilet roll? It's a virus not diarrhoea!"

I chuckled. "Yeah -- well, toilet paper is as rare as rocking horse pooh at the moment, panic buying and everything."

For a moment Cassie looked concerned. "You do have some don't you?"

I assured her we did and plenty of it, but then said, "If we do we run short, there's dock leaves at the end of the garden, but make sure you get the right ones and not the nettles that are next to them."

Cassie gave me that 'big sister' look, "Failing that," I said, "We'll do the 'designated flannel'."

Cass pulled a disgusted face. "This could be the longest six weeks of my life."

"Oh, it won't be that bad, I have lots to do, I'm sure you do too. And there are other things to do as well. Films, music, wine. There's plenty of that."

"Thank God for that!" Cassie laughed.

As it turned out, after the UK government announced our own lock down a few days later, the first two weeks passed really quickly. By this point neither of us had shown any signs of symptoms, but Cassie was quite tense because of the news from Italy. Each evening we would hear of the rising numbers of cases, and how areas were being isolated -- including where Cassie had her flat and where she worked. She listened intently to the announcers and scanned various news websites for information as well as following her friends on Facebook and Twitter. From what I could see from the reports, the Italian medical people were heroes, and Cas relaxed a little, knowing that the situation was bad but that every effort was being made to contain it and treat the sick.

As I said previously, I work from home most of the time anyway, so things hadn't really changed a lot for me. If I am at home (and not travelling) I usually get up about eight and run on my treadmill for twenty minutes before breakfast, I make breakfast and sit down and eat it at my desk. Then I work through till about four-thirty (ish) -- only stopping for a light lunch. I have another run at about five if I can manage it. Working was good, it took my mind off the generally bad news that was on the TV and the radio. And the weather was good, so I found often myself working not in my home office, but sat at the patio table, enjoying the April sunshine.

Cassie doesn't work like me - she's all over the show, never really in one place too long - even so, she adapted to the situation pretty quickly. She worked too, mostly in the room I set up for her, but often she sat opposite me in the garden, and that felt really good to be sharing time with her like that. Often though, she opted not to work in the afternoons, as most of her European contacts started earlier than us, and my sister would talk to them in the morning and make time to sunbathe for at least half an hour after lunch, while I worked.

in the evening I would make supper, and we would watch a movie. We talked too, more than we've talked in a very long time. I really enjoyed those conversations, it felt like I was getting to know her again. It wasn't that I felt estranged from my sister, but just catching up with her and her life and telling her about mine was particularly enjoyable for both of us.

We would start off with the Six O'clock News from the BBC, and then go on to watch a film. At one point we were watching a news item about the people of a town in Italy singing together from their balconies. Cassie teared up a little at this. She loves Italy -- she has a whole other life there, with people I have never met, and she was missing it a lot. We were getting some news through from her friends but there were others -- some in hospital and others with whom she had been unable to make contact -- that she worried about.

I reached over and gave her a hug. It lasted quite a long time, because quietly and almost uncontrollably my sister was breaking her heart into my shoulder. All of the tension, all of the worry, it all came out. And me, I just sat there and let her do it.

Cassie sat up and looked at me, her eyes still watery. "Thank you!" She sniffled. Then she said, "When did you become so thoughtful and caring?"

"All part of growing up I suppose Cass," I told her.

"Well, you give good hugs," She said emphatically. For the rest of the evening Cass told me more about where she lives in Milan and the people who live around her at the university and the community. I was a little jealous, but only a little - I have my own life and my own community here in England. What was nice, though, was that after the hug Cassie didn't really move, she was leaning back against me, and to be honest if felt really good. At one point I found myself getting hard because her right boob was rubbing against my right arm but because my left arm was unencumbered, I was able to adjust myself without Cass being aware.

I was less worried about the erection, that was just a bodily reaction, than I was happy just to be with my big sister. It was pleasant to have her there.

So, you know I mentioned how Cassie's boobs got bigger? Yes? Well, because Cass kept to European time, starting her day earlier than me and finishing earlier, after she finished, she would lie out in the garden on a sun-lounger, in one of the tiniest bikinis I think I have ever seen. The top was a couple of pieces of string and two blue patches, while the bottoms were a couple more pieces of string and a bit of blue fabric in front of her mons. Cass doesn't like tan lines so she would lie there with her top off -- which from the lack of pale lines, I gather was SOP -- standard operating procedure -- and I'd be treated to the full monty when she rolled onto her back. Although Cass generally didn't take her bikini bottoms -- brief as they were -- off it was clear that she was scrupulous about keeping her body hair to a minimum - pits, bits, the lot.

I'm a grown man in the early part of the twenty-first century, nudity shouldn't be an issue, I have been to nude beaches, seen plenty of women naked, and been naked around them. Yet now in the seclusion of our back garden I found my eyes wandering to Cassie more and more. Despite my sunglasses I'm sure she was aware, and I found I had to 'stare off into space' - as if I was concentrating -- to explain why I wasn't working.

I couldn't understand why I found my sister's body so fascinating. I was between girlfriends -- this was true, and to be honest Cassie is still a bit too thin for my tastes these days, but with her tanned skin and those boobs, she just looked so hot! Then to make matters worse she asked me to put sun tan lotion on her back.

I took the bottle from her and started to smooth the lotion into her skin, gliding my hands across her back. She lay there, her head turned away from me, so when I got down to her bum and massaged the lotion on those taught, tight buttocks I thought I heard her moan, but wasn't sure.

Afterwards I had to go and rub one out in the downstairs loo. It wasn't a one-off occurrence either. I soon found that I was wanking myself two or three times a day. It was ridiculous, I'm a thirty-something-year old masturbating over my older sister, it's just bizarre!

We had begun to watch through the Marvel films -- in order, in the evenings - starting with Captain America. Cass had never seen any of them, and while I don't think that she was major fan, she seemed to be enjoying them. I'd have my laptop out and sit and pick away at 'stories' while we watched -- I've seen them all several times.

And that was when the fun began.

I like to write porn stories. I've been doing it for a while and I post them on-line. I don't earn anything from them, I just do it for the fun of it.

I'll have an idea and fill out a story line, hammer that into shape, make sure there's a start and an end and then I go back and fill in the erotic bits. I always have two or three stories of various lengths on the go. With Cassie about, I would keep the bits I was writing clean and then when she went to bed, I'd work on the mucky bits (and sometimes bring myself off at the end).

Now normally I am quite good about closing stuff down, but one night the words were flowing, it was easy to write and because of this it was about three o'clock when I finished. I put the lights off, turned the telly off at the plug and went to bed.

And forgot to close all the windows on my laptop.

I just closed it up and left it on the kitchen table.

The next morning, I got up, showered, dressed, and went to get my breakfast. Cassie was there in the kitchen and I opened my laptop to check my emails as she was sat next to me.

When I signed in, the screen opened with a page of text. Cassie's eyes were drawn to it, and that was when she came out with "What do you mean you fucked your sister?!"

Seriously I have no idea how she got the notion that I was talking about her. Well, okay, I know HOW she got the idea, but ... well, you know what I mean. I tried to explain that this wasn't her, but a fictional sister, but she still went off on me about it.

I may have been a bit snappish in my replies - okay I was - but this had taken me by surprise a little, and I really wasn't up to speed yet.

Cassie looked at me "You fucking pervert!", and what made it worse was that she was wearing the blue bikini. The bottoms were showing at the waist band of a pair of light coloured capri pants, but the joggling motion of her boobs where they showed in the open front of her shirt, drew my eyes, "And you're perving on my breasts too."

She stormed off up to her room, and that was it until tea-time, I didn't see her again.

At about six-thirty Cass came out of her room, came downstairs, made herself a coffee and a sandwich and disappeared again. I watched TV and went to bed.

The next morning, I could hear Cass moving about, using the toilet and going into the spare-room/office. I left her to it. I saw her briefly again at lunch and it was just as I was finishing work and deciding whether to use the treadmill for a run, that she emerged again.

"Why do you do it?" She asked quietly, as she sat down at the kitchen table, her tone was level and she didn't appear angry. She was wearing yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt. I guessed from the way her boobs jiggled enticingly under the cotton of the shirt, she wasn't wearing a bra. She poured some water into glass, taking a drink.

I must really have it bad, because even as I watched her, I realised that my sister has a beautiful neck.

"The porn?" I asked. Cass nodded.

"Why do you write it?"

"I enjoy it." I said, "Simple as that."

I explained, "I wasn't very well one day and had a duvet day, and I remembered a story I had read. I went looking for it on the site where my stories are. When I couldn't find it, I decided to write my own version of what I remembered. I've always written, mostly stream of conscious stuff, or fantasy fiction, and it just grew out of that."

"And that's it?" She asked.

I shrugged, "I like telling stories," I said, "I tell them my way, try to keep them 'real' and I try to make them different from the usual fap stories..."

"Fap stories?"

"Stories designed primarily for people to masturbate to," I said. "Well obviously mine have sex in them too but I try and tell stories as well, instead of just a series of episodes of people bonking." Cass nodded again. She took a drink of her water and sat quietly for a moment, reflecting on what I had said.

"I've read them." She said simply. "Your stories."

"All of them?" I asked. She nodded a third time. "How did you find them?"

"That piece that was open had your nom de plume on. All I had to do was google that."

It was my turn to nod. "And?" I asked her.

"Why stories about incest? Is it some repressed urge?"

I laughed at that, "Not really." I admitted to Cas I had had a crush on her when I was younger but that was it. No urge to act on it or anything. She smiled.

"What about mum?"

I could quite honestly tell her "Nothing." Our mum had been quite open about many things, and growing up with that had made it ordinary, even to a hormonal teenager -- mum was just mum. End of.

"Okay, but why incest?" She asked again.