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My Sister Jean and I, Chapter Six
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The following chapter deals with a marked escallation in the wet
relationship of BillyG and his sister, Jean. They're moving from the
tentative and lurching push-pull of earlier encounters to an
increasingly honest position of non-self-deception. Billy has had
his first inkling of an insight: The deception of others is always
rooted in the deception of self.
Chapter 6 - My Wet Confession
It's ironic. The things I want the most seem never to go the way I
want. I scheme and plan and I try to manipulate people, places and
things to get my way. It rarely works. Nevertheless, I keep
trying. I think of it as adding to the keeness of my anticipation.
And it does. I've learned not to take myself too seriously when I
don't get what I want. Most of the time, what I eventually get is
better than I might have planned and often better than what I might
have imagined.
That's the way it was working out with my sister, Jean. Yet, I
didn't really see it happening. I'd become increasingly aware of her
as a sexy girl. That's really an understatement. What I should
admit is that I'd grown infatuated with her. I'd always cared for
her deeply and we were both aware of a spiritual connection. Neithr
of us was completely at ease with our own sensuality. Sex remained a
titilating and excitingly naughty topic. That, however, was rapidly
changing.
Our sibling connection was tender and loving. At base, that was
always operative, even when we were at odds. Clearly, we cared
deeply for each other, but because she was so proper and reserved,
I'd assumed that she had no sexual feelings at all. But in the past
weeks, I'd come to know that wasn't the case. Not even close.
For example, not long previously, I'd humped myself to orgasm on the
edge of the laundry room table just looking down the front of her
shirt. While I had planned to confront her with her soiled panties
- my "cleaver" way on introducing the topic of sex - I'd not
planned on rubbing myself of on the hard edge of the table. Abd
despite the fact that she *knew* what I was doing. Or was it
*because* she was knew that made it so exciting?
A little later, in a sexual heat, we'd exposed ourselves to each
other on the living room couch as we were "talking dirty." We shared
a mutual culpability for our couch incident, but again, it was not my
intention to masturbate myself - and her - by slapping her clit
with my hard cock. It'd just happened in a spontaneous fashion, both
of us caught up in the compelling sexual heat . . . both surprised,
turned-on and both, completely helpless. Swept along by a current
whose strength tossed us about in a sexual typhoon, we had both cum
together. And again, freightened by the ferocity of it all, we'd
retreated to the familiar safety of silence.
And most recently . . . this morning - unexpected and unplanned,
out of nowhere - she'd fulfilled a long fantasy of mine by letting
me watch her pee.
For months and months I'd been trying to get her to "talk dirty" with
me . . . to share her own sexual stuff with me. Yet, I'd had limited
success until today, until we were riding home from our back-packing
weekend. Now the established reserves had been broached. To say the
cat was out of the bag didn't lend it sufficient impact. More
accurately, we both knew that old barriers were down and they'd not
be errected again. Still, we were uncertain how to move with comfort
into this newly open intimacy.
>From the silence of our mutual protection, we'd broken out of years
of restriction and restraint. This wasn't the naughty, snickery type
of you-show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine conversation that I'd
angled for. This was dealing with real stuff. I was dazzled.
Jean had shared with me some of her "deep dark secrets" and I'd
shared similarly . . . or started to. And she wanted more. She knew
of my peeing fetish and she'd admitted she had one too. It was plain
that we'd only continue in a step-wise manner with each of us
validating the other with our honesty. If I wanted Jean's truth, I'd
have to give her mine.
"Jean, I love this. I love being able to be so open with you."
"Yes. It's like when we were on the couch . . . only more so . . .
remember? Just talking with you like that . . . I got so hot then I
didn't know what I was doing."
When we'd parked at the Rest Stop, she'd taken her hands out of her
pants, looking around, surprised that we had stopped. Seeing that no
one was even close to us, she relaxed again, leaning back.
"Where are we? Why'd we stop?"
I explained, "It was getting too difficult for me to keep my eyes on
the road. Between listening to you talk about peeing, and watching
your hands in your pants, I had little attention for driving. We've
got all the time we want. I'd much rather stop and talk. This way I
can give you all my attention. I can see your eyes. . . and," I
added with a leer, "your hands."
"Then look at me, you lecher. I can't believe my kid brother makes
me so horny, just by talking to me. You're doing the couch thing all
over again, you little devil."
"Are you complaining?" I asked, while laying my left ankle over her
right leg in front of the center console.
"Nope. Just letting you know that you have that effect on me. Hope
you enjoy it, lecher."
"You know I do, you harlot. And speaking of harlots, where were we?
Oh, yes. We were talking about peeing and I was . . ."
Interrupting, "You were going to tell me your most secret fantasies,
Billy. You were saying you wanted me to pee on you. Remember?"
"Jean, it's more than just that. I think of other things . . .
. . . situations . . . having to do with peeing . . . or
needing to pee . . . and you can't. Excites me. Know what I mean?"
"No-o-o . . ." She *sounded* more uncertain than she really was, I
think. "No, I don't know. Tell me what you mean." Her right hand
was slipping into the top of her open shorts, the ingers under the
waistband of her panties.
"Two can play that game," I countered, as I slowly began to unbutton
my jeans.
Impatiently, "Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . but I *still* want to hear
those secrets. 'Specially if they're about peeing. And what do you
mean 'needing to pee, and can't'?"
I loved it when she kept after me, *making* me tell her my kinky
stuff.
"Oh *you* remember, sis . . . how could you forget? Think back to
the trip that you and me and mom made to the Farm. Remember, we'd
been driving for several hours after downing a couple of Cokes . . .
remember how hot it was? You all kid me about my micro bladder, so I
never gave it a thought when I had to get out and take a leak and you
all didn't. Peeing along the road's no big deal for a guy."
With a throaty laugh, she said, "Sure I do. Mom and I just looked at
each other when we heard you peeing on the road. We had to go then,
but we couldn't say anything . . . or at least I couldn't. I don't
think it embarrasses mom at all."
"I remember smiling back at mom when she said to me, 'You lucky
stiff.' It was about then that I caught on that you two guys were
starting to feel your full bladders. And it was then that I decided
to play a little game. I was going to make you guys wait and wait to
pee."
"I sure remember that trip, but I didn't know you were playing a
game. What'd you do?"
Smugly, "You never pay much attention to roads or which way we go, or
where things are. You just ride along and enjoy yourself. Mom's the
same way. So I decided to not only take a longer way, but to take
the route with no rest stops or gas stations."
"Why you little shit, you! I just thought we had bad luck. That you
got to take a leak and we needed to go, and there were just no
places to go. I thought it was an accident. You mean . . . ?"
"Yep. That's what I mean, girl. I wanted to see you two girls
squirm a little. You're always kidding me that I can't wait so I
wanted to see how well you could wait. Besides, I think it's sexy
. . . seeing you and mom squirm around, and then cross your legs."
"Billy, I don't know whether to laugh or get mad. At the time, I
would have given anything to squat and take a good pee. My back
teeth were floating. And you kept saying that it'd just be a little
further. You rat!"
"I loved it, sis. You were squirming around in the front seat and
mom was shifting back and forth right behind us. At least she was
able to ask me to look out for a gas station, that she had to pee
something bad. You just pretended that everything was okay . . . at
least for a little while. Sis, you are *so* hip, slick and cool!
Then it began to really get to you, and I enjoyed thinking of you,
needing to pee. Don't understand it, my dear sister, but there's
something terribly erotic about that. I mean, I got hard just
thinking about you and mom."
"More is coming back to me. I remember how *bad* I had to go. I
remember two things, actually. One was the fear that I'd lose it,
that I'd leak into my panties. The second was the burning sensation
in my . . . well, in my pussy . . . kinda good actually. Actually,
kinda erotic."
"Well, I guess I can confess now, sis. My fantasy was that you'd not
be able to hold it. I could see you in my mind's eye, dribbling a
little pee into your panties, whimpering, bent over, hugging yourself
with your legs crossed. You know how fantasies are . . . I was right
there . . . . I mean my eyes were inches from your pussy and I could
see you clench your cheeks trying to hold it in . . . and I could see
the pee dribble out, wetting your pussy hair and your panties."
"You mean you *wanted* me to pee in my panties?" She sounded
incredulous, but she didn't look it, as she smiled at me, one eyebrow
arched.
"Not really . . . well, yes . . . really. My fantasies don't always
make sense, but the idea of you peeing in your panties, seeing it run
down your legs, just jolts me. I'd like to stand in front of you as
you were losing it, and then run my hand up under your dress and cup
the crotch of your panties and feel your hot pee running over my palm
. . . those kinds of images. Kinky, huh?"
"Kinky, yes. But now that I know . . . well, I like it too. It sure
got to mom and me that day. I don't know how she feels about it, but
do you recall what happened when we finally got to the Farm?"
"Probably more than you know." I paused, recalling the scene. "You
and mom both jumped out of the car and raced for the house. I knew
there was only one bathroom in that old house and I didn't know what
you were gonna do . . . . who'd have to wait. You two were too
panicked to notice, but I followed right behind you . . . right to
the bathroom."
"Oh, God. I remember. I'd beaten mom to the toilet, but as I was
pushing my shorts and panties down, she said, 'I'm your mother! I go
first,' and she just pushed me right out of the way! There I was,
dying to pee, standing in front of mom like some little girl, waiting
for her to finish . . . and afraid I was going to lose it."
As she was recalling the memory, I'd slipped my cock out of my jeans
and was sitting back, holding it and covering it at the same time as
I slowly stroked it up and down.
Nodding toward my hand, Jean said, "That gets me hot, bro."
Not acknowledging her reference to my masturbation, I continued,
"When the two of you dashed in there, you slammed the door, but it
didn't shut all the way . . . musta bounced or somthin'.
I couldn't see you but I sure could hear you. I heard mom's pee
hissing and you whimpering, 'Hurry . . . hurry . . . I gotta go
too.'"
"God what a rat you are! I can't believe you . . . you pervert. You
sadist. And your own mother too. They've got a name for guys like
you, bro."
"You asked for it," I defended myself. "'Sides, you're just as bad
as me."
"I know. I *am* and it surprises me, but it feels too good to stop."
Then she added, "If you were right outside the door, you must have
known what happened, huh?"
"I think so. It sounded like mom finished and you bumped into her or
something like that . . . trying to get to the toilet. And then I
heard you cry out, 'Ohh . . . I can't hold it.' And mom laughed and
then you almost cried, 'It's not funny, mom!' In my imagination, I
thought that you'd peed on yourself or something like that."
"That's exactly what happened. I was just dying. Mom took
for-EVER. Why she even wanted to wipe herself! The sound of her
going just loosened me up. Like running the faucet for a little kid.
My muscles weren't working anymore. I knew I was relaxing and that I
was gonna pee on myself and there wasn't anything I could do about
it. I kept bumping into mom trying to get to the toilet. Cripes, it
was a Chinese fire drill. She moved one way and I moved the same
way, back and forth, back and forth. My darn shorts and panties were
down around my knees and I couldn't take a big step. Mom bumped into
me again . . . by then she was laughing at me . . . and I just lost
it. I started to pee right there, bent over, stumbling for the
john. Billy, it was awful . . . and at the same time, it was
wonderful. I peed all over my panties and all over my legs and the
floor and the toilet seat, frantically trying to plop my fanny down.
Then it really open up. I think I peed a gallon. I remember sitting
there, knees together, looking at my wet panties and legs and then
looking at mom as I peed and peed. I was so embarrassed. Did you
hear her when she said something like, 'Feels good, huh?'"
"Yeah. I think she said, "Jean, I *know* how good that feels."
"Whatever . . . but I think she liked it too. Tho she never said
anything."
"All this talk of peeing . . . and I haven't gone since this morning.
How about you?"
"I *knew* you were working up to this. Yeah, I need to pee, now more
than ever . . . but I'll hold it just a little longer. How 'bout
you?"
"Me too. Then when you *have* to go, I'll be there to help you."
"Billy, I just know what kind of help you have in mind . . . the same
kind I do."
"Let me tell you what I'm thinking, girl. We *could* go into the
rest rooms, but what a waste. I've got another idea."
Jean slipped her hand out of her shorts, leaned over and ran her wet
finger under my nose. She stared right into my eyes and again ran
the wet tip of her tongue over her partially open lips. The same
intoxicating odor of her pussy filled my senses. I closed my eyes
and slowly sniffed in, making a moaning sound of appreciation.
"Lecher! she accused, and then asked, "What's your idea . . . if I
dare ask?"
"I was thinking. How about if we walk over to those picnic benches
and you straddle my lap? No one's around. Don't tell me when you're
gonna start, but surprise me . . . just let it go . . . pee right
through your panties and through your shorts and into my lap? I
really love that."
"Brother dear, you've just been reading my mind. Right this minute
I'm hotter than can be and I've got a full bladder and the idea of
peeing my panties, right into your lap . . . actually all over your
cock . . . that just get's me wet. Yes, let's do it . . . and right
now!"
Jean, when suddenly moved to action, is nothing if not decisive. Not
waiting for further discussion, she slipped out of the Scout,
buttoning her pants and walking off. I followed her out the other
door, frantically trying to jam my hard dick back into my tight jeans
Don't start without me!" I shouted after her.
"Getcher buns over here, guy and sit right down . . . right here,"
gesturing to a picnic bench facing away from the parking area.
I sat with my butt on the edge of the picnic bench. Jean looked
around one more time before swinging her leg over mine and squatted
on my thighs, facing me. Her eyes were sparkling as she gave me a
wicked grin.
"There're some people right over there, Billy. Do ya suppose they
know what we're doin'?"
Without looking, I said, "Yes. They know exactly what you're doing,
Jean. They know you're a naughty little girl with a full bladder who
can't make it to the toilet and who's gonna pee on her brother's lap
. . . don't they?"
"Christ, you're a tease, guy. I pity your girl friend . . . when
you get one."
She hadn't waited long. I could see the change in her eyes, the
relaxation in her face. (Some surprise.) She fell silent and looked
into my eyes as long as she could, then dropped her head into the
corner of my neck and shoulder. Her hips seemed to settle as she gave
a soft moan. I could feel the heat and the wetness spreading, at
first rightt in my crotch and then spreading. It was happening! My
sister was peeing on me, right through her panties. I held her ass
around her hips as she peed.
My mind was dizzy . . . drunk with passion. My wonderful, sweet
sister Jean was sitting on my lap, straddling me, in the open and
peeing all over herself and all over me . . . all over my cock. I
could feel my heart pounding in my chest and, at the same time, my
heart beat in my turgid dick. It swelled and I felt a pulling pasion
within the core of my being.
With a groan of passion, I pulled her crotch right into my belly and
said, "God, sis, I really wanna fuck you."
<End of Chapter Six>
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