Kiss Your Sister

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Chapter Six

Having a baby in the house changed everything. Before this, it had often seemed as silent as a museum. When tiny, little Christopher came home, if he was unhappy, everybody in the house knew it. Gidget fed him from her breast, which she did not feel compelled to cover up while the baby sucked, or later when she changed from one breast to the other. Her breasts looked completely different than Emma's. They were pear-shaped, and the areolas were huge, maybe three inches across. Her nipples seemed to be in a constant state of arousal. The nice thing about this (other than the show I got, frequently) was that food was instantly available to a hungry baby. Christopher didn't have to wait for somebody to warm up a bottle.

That changed four weeks later, when Gidget had to go visit the mine. She wanted to take the baby with her, but he was too young to fly. So I learned all about breast pumps and bottle feeding a baby who, prior to this, had enjoyed a warm nipple and gushing milk. In the end, Emma offered him one of her nipples and, as soon as he was sucking avidly, she slipped the nipple of the bottle into the side of his mouth.

That worked, but I got a boner every time I watched her feed him.

Christmas came, and just the four of us celebrated. We heard nothing from either Mom or Dad, but we were used to that. Emma wanted to send them a card, but I thought that would be viewed as us thumbing our noses at them.

We were off from school until after the new year, and I learned all about diapers and skin-to-skin bonding as the little boy fell asleep on my chest. When he was fully asleep, Emma would come get him and transfer him to the crib.

Uncle Bob was involved in all this, too, of course. We were a family, and everybody pitched in.

While Gidget was gone, Emma did most of the child care while Uncle Bob and I worked the ranch. He said I was a "good hand" and it made me feel good, even though I knew I was a bumbling fool who know practically nothing about horses. I learned, though.

It snowed two and a half feet in one night, and Uncle Bob taught me how to use the tractor, which now had a blade on the front, instead of a bucket, to plow the road. Everything we had on the ranch was four wheel drive, so we didn't have a lot of problems. I did a lot of thinking about what it must have been like when the settlers tried to live here, back in the 1800s. A lot of them must have died, trying to get through a Wyoming winter.

Part of what got me through that winter was that, every night, I got to make love to Emma. I sucked her nipples so much that she started lactating. She was still two months from term, but the combination of Christopher and me sucking got her breasts working early. Her milk tasted deliciously sweet. There was nothing better than watching her while she sat naked on top of me and rubbed her impaled pussy all over my groin. Her baby bump was too big for her to bend forward far enough that I could reach her nipples with my mouth, but that was okay. The crowning pleasure was that when she had an orgasm the baby moved around a lot, like he was having a good time, too.

The only fly in the ointment was that it was hard for me to cum with her on top. We tried doggy style, and it felt good, but just didn't get me off. She was more than willing to suck me dry, but cumming in her pussy was my favorite thing in the world.

The solution, thought up by Emma, was for me to jack off and, at the moment of climax, slide my prick into her and finish inside her. That worked with her on her back, lying perpendicular on the bed with her butt at the edge and her ankles on my shoulders, or with her on all fours and me behind her, like doggy style. It felt weird at first, but Emma said it was only temporary. Six weeks after our baby was born, she said I could lie on top of her and rut to my heart's content. She knew I could always cum that way.

They had hit what looked like part of a new vein at the mine, and production was up. Gidget spent a lot of time there, now, and the three of us took care of Christopher. Gidget pumped a little, but now Emma could feed the baby with her breasts. Gidget pumped while she was at the mine, so her milk production wouldn't be disrupted, but she dumped the milk.

The strangest part of all this was when, one day before Emma's due date, Mom showed up. She had driven there alone and had taken two weeks vacation time.

"Every mother should be there when her daughter gives birth," she said.

She was still distinctly uncomfortable with the fact that Emma and I behaved like we were married, but her maternal instincts drove her past that obstacle.

It was kind of comical when she first got there, because Gidget was gone and Emma happened to be feeding Christopher. He was draped over her bump, which hid it a little. Uncle Bob had seen her driving up the road and met her in front of the house. He brought her in and said, "Guess who's here!"

Mom saw Emma sitting there with a mostly newborn baby at her breast and yipped, "You already had the baby?!"

"Naw, that one's mine," said Uncle Bob. "His mother is ... um ... busy right now, so Emma's filling in for a few days."

Emma rolled Christopher off onto one arm, displaying her nearly bursting belly.

"I'm still pregnant, Mom. Why are you here?"

This wasn't a strange question. Since we'd been dumped off on Uncle Bob, our parents had called maybe three times. Those conversations were always awkward and it was obvious they were calling out of duty, rather than the desire to actually talk to us. That was when we found out Uncle Bob had been giving them updates on things. Much later, I found outg we had severely disrupted our parents' sex life, because every time they got intimate, one of them would say, "Do Emma and Bobby do this?"

Having Mom there didn't change our status. We decided that we weren't going to change anything because of her, and still slept together. We didn't make it obvious, but Emma's bulging belly couldn't be ignored. It was obvious that Mom was uncomfortable, but three days after she got there Emma's water broke and then it was all business for Mom.

I drove us to the hospital in the truck, with Mom and Emma in the back. Mom coached her on breathing and I tried to ignore my sister's moans, groans, and occasional screams.

Mom stayed with her all the way and I have to admit I was relieved that I didn't have to be there through the whole thing. At the hospital, since our last names were the same, they just assumed we were married. I filled out all the paperwork that way, too, because I didn't know what else to do.

So my name was on the birth certificate as the father. We didn't think of it until years later, but if someone had been suspicious, or investigating us, that birth certificate could have been used as evidence to prosecute me for incest.

Nobody was suspicious, though, and the birth produced a perfect little girl, who had ten fingers and toes, and two eyes, instead of three. She looked like any other baby.

This is not to say I wasn't worried. Newborn babies have a bluish tinge to them for the first few hours, and look awful to everyone who isn't on the medical staff or isn't the baby's mother (or grandmother). So I was concerned, the first time I saw my daughter. Everyone else talked about how beautiful she was, though, and that helped.

Whether it was just because women love babies, or grandmothers love babies, or because at home everyone else (Uncle Bob and Gidget) acted like Emma and my relationship was normal, but that's when Mom began to thaw a bit. I honestly think that the week and a half she stayed after Cynthia was born made Mom decide that things weren't as dire as she had previously thought. The fact that "Cynthia" was her mother's name might have helped, too. I don't know. We didn't ask her if we could do that, so I'm glad she was pleased.

We had gotten used to the noise level Christopher created, but adding Cynthia to the mix raised it back up. Emma's labor had been eighteen hours long. Part of that was because she was only sixteen. The other part was because Cynthia was an Amazon princess. She weighed nine pounds and eight ounces when the nurses weighed her, and she was twenty-one inches long. I still can't believe she fit in her mother's womb.

Mom couldn't keep her hands off her granddaughter. I know, now, that part of that was her desire to repeatedly inspect the baby from head to toe, looking for signs of defects. But there weren't any and Cynthia's behavior and development also proclaimed her to be a defect-free baby.

Still, when Mom left, she spoke into my ear when she hugged me.

"Don't do this again, Bobby," she said.

"I love you, Mom," I replied, instead of making any promises I knew I wouldn't keep.

"I love you too," she moaned. "When will you come home?"

"The plan was to finish school, here," I said. "It was a good plan. Uncle Bob needs my help, too."

"I can't believe how expensive and beautiful everything looks, here," she said. "This is definitely not what I expected."

"I think it would surprise a lot of people," I said.

"So have you," she mumbled.

"Drive safe," I said.

"Your father and I will come visit when he gets a break," she said. "I'm sorry we neglected you like we have."

"All you did was make us grow up a little quicker," I said. "No harm was done and we're as happy as clams."

"Please try not to be too happy," she said. It was another reference to us stopping what we'd been doing.

"Go," I said, gently.

She hugged me tighter and I kissed her on the cheek.

Then I went back inside the house to find the woman the hospital thought was my wife.

I brought Emma's school assignments home with me for the next month. Most of it was stuff either I had already taken, or which either Gidget or Uncle Bob could help her with. She'd given birth in February, so when she got back to school, looking a lot slimmer than she had in the past, there were only two months of school left.

Mom and Dad showed up for my graduation, to see me get my high school diploma. Mom was a lot more relaxed. Dad was pensive, but Cynthia thawed him, too. He sat for hours with her on his lap while he read, or watched TV. Every once in a while he'd yell that she needed to be changed. "I do not do diapers," he said, firmly, more than once.

They only stayed three days that visit. Both needed to get back to work. Again, we were invited to come back home.

"I have a job, here," I said. "Uncle Bob's been putting money in a college account for me. He's going to do the same for Emma. She and Gidget have talked a lot about geology and what a geologist can do, and she's interested in that. Gidget has offered to let her go along on a few trips as her assistant, so she can see what it's all about. If she's interested, then she can go to college for some related degree." We didn't mention where and why Gidget was performing her work as a geologist.

"But she's still a child," objected Dad. "And she has a child."

"I can take care of Cynthia while she's traveling. Everybody here knows she's grown up enough to take on the mantle of an adult," I said. "You sent us here, and we've learned how to fend for ourselves. Our future is secure. Uncle Bob has a child to be his heir, but he says we're welcome to live and work here for as long as we want to."

"I don't like this," said Dad. "We sent you here to deal with a problem, not to leave home forever."

"Look," I said. "I would have graduated and gone away to college anyway. I would have started my own career and family. I'd have been gone anyway. And Emma wouldn't have been far behind me. When you sent us here you did deal with a problem, but it also gave us options we wouldn't have had if we'd stayed home. Sending us here turned out to be life changing, and in a good way."

"What you've done is wrong," Dad argued.

"Maybe it was," I said. "We all make mistakes in life and maybe this was one of them. Maybe Emma will meet some nice, young geologist and fall in love with him and get married. Maybe I'll meet a girl at college and do the same thing. Who knows what the future holds?"

I knew that was bullshit. Emma and I would stay together for the rest of our lives. I was sure of that and she'd told me so numerous times. One of the things she'd repeated over and over again, as she rode me with my stiff cock in her pussy, was, "You cannot have a girlfriend at college. You have to come home to me and our child."

That BS was what Dad wanted to hear, though, and it distracted him from our incestuous relationship enough that he changed the subject.

"What will you study at college?"

He was an engineer, and I knew he probably wanted me to follow in his footsteps. He made good money and he wanted what all parents want: for our lives to be better than his had been.

"I'm thinking veterinary medicine," I said. "Uncle Bob spends a ton of money on vet services. If I'm a vet, I can take care of the stock and we could even expand the operation. We have way more pasture than we need to support the number of animals we have, now."

"A vet," said dad, softly. "I guess that's not so bad. You can get a job anywhere."

My father still dismissed his brother as a ne'er-do-well, who wasn't disciplined, and who might do something stupid (like bet the ranch on a hand of cards) and end up homeless. Of course he didn't know about the mine, or how lucrative the Arabians really were. He had no idea that Uncle Bob's investments were bringing in a lot of money in dividends and interest. In his eyes, Uncle Bob was an ex-marine who got lucky with cards. And everybody knows luck can change.

He'd probably never change his mind, either, unless he lived on the ranch like we had. He needed to spend enough time with his brother to get to know him better. But adults have priorities in their lives that trump extended family, sometimes. They don't see it that way, but that's how it is.

Another way he could understand the black sheep of the family better was through us. And we'd be happy to serve in that capacity.

That assumed the family didn't paint us with the same brush they'd painted Uncle Bob. And they might. It would become known that Emma had a baby out of wedlock, and that the father of that baby had abandoned her. That, added to the fact we were living with Uncle Bob, might be enough to get us dismissed. If so, fine. What they didn't know wouldn't affect us.

I will admit that the idea of becoming a veterinarian was, initially, a pie-in-the-sky idea. If I had known how hard it would be, I might have gone in a different direction. The problem with becoming a veterinarian is that it takes nine years. You get your four year Bachelor's degree first, usually in some related field, like biology, and then you spend another five years getting your doctorate.

Those nine years mean you're not at home, with your lover and child, and other extended family members you now think of as your family.

Or, in my case, before I was finished, I was away from my lover and children, and Uncle Bob's family as well.

Even if I hadn't gone to college, we would have been separated. Emma liked going on trips with Gidget, but wasn't enthusiastic about geology as a career. Rather, she had two real passions. One was for the bookkeeping and record keeping and reams of paperwork that went with running a business. She loved keeping everything straight (and up to date) concerning working a mining claim, paying taxes, ordering supplies and so on. After she graduated from high school, she got into a program where three quarters of her undergrad school was online. When she had done as much as she could online, Uncle Bob hired a full-time nanny and set them up in an apartment off campus, where she went to "real" school to finish her degree. One year sufficed to do that.

She wanted to get an MBA, but being gone from the ranch for a year had made her itchy, so she and Claire, the nanny, went back to the ranch.

The other passion she had was for Cynthia. As she thought back about things, she decided that not being careful (enough), and getting knocked up by her big brother, was one of those things fate throws at you that make your life immeasurably richer. I was gone at school her senior year, when Cynthia was developing rapidly and becoming more of a little human than a helpless baby. I got to catch up on things the next summer, and we returned to acting like a young married couple, raising our little girl.

The second year I was gone, she was busy with her online classes, trips with Gidget, and taking care of Cynthia. She had lots to do, but that's how she preferred it. People with a bookkeeping bent like there to be lots of data to process, and set straight, and organize and so on.

Personally, I think having lots to do was one way she coped with me being away.

When I came back the next summer, to work on the ranch and live with my lover, the very first time she lay under me, straining up at me as I strained to get as deep in her as I could, she hugged my neck and whispered, "Get me pregnant again, Bobby."

I thought she was pulling my rope, just teasing me. After Cynthia was born, she went on the pill and I was used to thinking I was wasting perfectly good sperm just to have fun. But then, I'd done that for many, many years before I kissed my sister. I bet I ejaculated an actual gallon of semen, just masturbating, between the ages of twelve and seventeen.

Anyway, I thought she was teasing me, pushing my buttons. She knew how excited I got at the thought of fertilizing her. We had dealt with the taboo nature of our relationship long ago, and didn't care about society's rules. We really were like a young married couple, more so than a brother and sister. I guess the easiest way to explain it is that, when we were together and met new people, we didn't even think about introducing ourselves as brother and sister. A different relationship had supplanted the familial one in our minds. Or, maybe, we had formed a different kind of familial bond.

"Okay," I breathed into her hair and, a minute or so later, I jetted deep into her.

I didn't know she'd stopped taking the pill. She didn't tell me. I think she expected to have to convince me to impregnate her again. And, maybe she was right. We had both been very aware of how relieved our mother was that Cynthia was healthy and normal. Of course all parents (and grandparents) are happy if the baby is normal, but the historical hype about incest babies being abnormal makes it more important for the people involved who are called to love a baby made by taboo parents.

All I know is, when I came home for Christmas that year, I was stunned to find Emma with a belly swollen by six months of pregnancy.

I yelled at her for not telling me.

Uncle Bob yelled at her, too. He just did it before I got back, and then he didn't tell me, either, at her request. Maybe he wanted my mind on my studies, and not my again-pregnant sister.

Gidget took him by the hand and pulled him toward their bedroom.

"I'm not gonna tell you that you got me all pregnant again, either," she said.

"You're pregnant?" His voice rose by what seemed like two octaves.

"Not yet," she pouted. "Come on! You're not doing your job."

"You want to get pregnant again?" he asked, his voice hollow.

"Of course I do," she said, still tugging. "This wet-behind-the-ears girl is already ahead of me, and that's just not right."

I don't actually know if Gidget was serious about all this. I got the impression she was just trying to make sure we could be alone. Then again, my delight at Emma's new (?!) pregnancy might have strummed a string or two in her psyche. She did turn up preggers again, a couple of months later, but I still don't know if what she said that day was serious or not. I do know she had an IUD implant, so her getting pregnant again had to be intentional.

Anyway, within ten minutes of being alone with my (again) pregnant sister, I was running my hands all over her belly, cooing at the baby inside. Cynthia was playing with Christopher in the play room they had built, where it was safe and they didn't need constant supervision, so we had some time to do this. I didn't make love to her until that night, but I paid attention to our unborn second child right away.

She had told the doctor she didn't want to know the sex of the baby, just that it was healthy. Her OB had assured her everything looked fine.

My son was born when his big sister was a little over three years old, and just before I completed my third year of college. I knew this would happen and had talked to all my professors. Her due date was only 21 days before school ended, so they cut me some slack and let me go early.

So, for my last year as an undergraduate student, I had two children, and when I got my diploma as a bachelor in zoology, Cynthia was four and a half, and Michael was a year and a half.

My "wife", as I now thought of her, had three years of online college in the bag, and was about to go off with the new nanny to live in a strange place while she got her degree.

I was about to start a five year course of study in veterinary medicine, which would be the most challenging thing I ever did in my life, up to that point.

This ... is when our lives got hard.

Those next five years seem like a fog to me, now. I had to cram reams of information into my brain, and at times, it seemed like it would be impossible. I remember feeling like that more than once. I made some life-long friends among the other students in our study group, who were going through the same thing. Some of them were married and had kids, which gave us a point over which to bond beyond the fact that we were all trying to become animal doctors. They assumed I was married, and Emma and I even got rings to encourage people to think we were married. If people thought we were married to each other, so much the better.

Beyond the academic challenge, the hardest part of it all was being gone for most of the time while Cynthia grew into a nine-and-a-half-year-old little girl, and my son became six and a half. I got to see them during the summers, of course, and they knew me as "Daddy", but I missed out on so much. I wanted to take summer classes to advance toward the ultimate goal, but if I did that, I felt like I was absent more than was either wise or necessary. It was hard to decide what to do. I do know I recommend that couples wait to have kids until both parents can be there all the time. And yes, I'm aware that I'm turning into my father.

Emma didn't have nearly as much trouble as I did. She was busy all the time, with both work and shared child care. She got her degree and became Uncle Bob's official accountant. She kept the books for both the ranch and the mine, which had steadily produced at least a million in profits each year. At the point where I graduated with my doctorate in veterinary medicine, they had gone deep enough into the mountainside that Uncle Bob had to hire more specialized (and more expensive) engineering help. He was giving serious thought to selling to one of the big mining companies in the area, and several were interested, based on the mine's output over the previous decade. He was also having more difficulties in dealing with the Colorado environmental people, because the tailings from the mine were becoming so extensive. OSHA had begun inspecting the mine, along with other bureaucratic agencies, and profits had begun to diminish, even though production had remained steady.

His small herd of Arabians had also produced steadily, and when I finally got home and knew I could stay home, we had a long conversation, into the night, about the mine, and the horses, and what else might be done with the land he owned. Cattle came into the conversation. Our range could support a herd of several hundred.

Whatever we did, he wanted to hire more people to help. He was in his middle fifties, by this time, and while he had no intention of retiring any time soon, he did want to be able to slow down a little and do some of the things he'd been too busy to do before this. Like fishing, and hunting, among other pursuits.

Now that I was there, and he had his own personal veterinarian, he thought about expanding the equine herd to include registered quarter horses and appaloosas. His middle-eastern customers were interested in the appaloosa, since it is an American breed that is rare in that part of the world. That stock is also popular with those who enjoy various western riding disciplines, and the registry for appaloosas allows some Arabian and quarter horse blood to be introduced, so the three breeds would work well together.

We had the range to let them run on, and which would support them in terms of feed. Getting out of the mining business would give Gidget more time to spend on the ranch, and she had grown to love that with a fiery passion. Gidget still resisted marrying him, but Christopher and Jilly, Gidget's second child, bore his name and it was obvious she wasn't going anywhere. When we asked her what she'd do if she didn't have to work at the mine, she said, "Bake." I thought she was kidding, but she wasn't. She enjoyed her job, but it didn't identify her.

And so Uncle Bob got out of the mining business (to the tune of a hundred and fifty million profit) and we expanded the herd and stables. We introduced a cattle herd of twenty-five animals to see how that went. He rented the services of a bull from a neighbor and fenced in a hundred acres for them to roam around in. Claire, the nanny Uncle Bob had hired and who stayed with them after Emma got her degree so Gidget and Emma could work without distraction, bid us a semi-tearful goodbye. It was only semi-tearful because she and her boyfriend were ready to get married and start their own family.

Gidget took over primary childcare duties, and Emma's job got less strenuous. Childcare duties at that point consisted primarily of keeping an eye on Michael and Jilly. Michael was six and a half, and Jilly was eight months younger. Both wanted to tag along with Christopher and Cynthia, who were both roughly ten. Both had their own horse and they took care of them religiously. Both could ride the range with Bob and me, though it was mostly for learning the ropes, rather than engaging in the real work of ranching.

Gidget's passion in the kitchen was pies, and she got very good at baking them. Bob and I ate a lot of pie and eventually encouraged her to gift our neighbors with her creations because we were gaining too much weight. She eventually started her own company, named Box T Pies, and sold pies to the grocery store in town, as well as to five or six tourist trap kind of places on the highways that went through the Bighorn and Shoshone national forests. People wanted her to sell them online, but she said that was too much hassle. She said baking fifteen to twenty pies a day was enough.

My father had a stroke one year after I graduated from Vet school. It happened while he was driving from one project site to another, and his car went off the road. He was killed and, just like that, my mother was a widow. She was still working at the hospital in town. She was forty-eight, which is young, these days, so she didn't intend to stop working for twenty more years. Dad's life insurance let her pay off the house and put something in the bank for later.

We kept inviting her to come live with us on the ranch, but she said the commute to work at the nearest hospital would be too tedious, especially in the winter. After Emma had Michael, the frequency of contact with our parents was even less. I think that was Dad's fault, because after his death Emma and Mom talked on the phone every week, and those conversations often lasted an hour or more. I have no idea what they found to talk about for that long.

She learned about the expansion of the animal program, but we never told her about the mine, or how it had made Uncle Bob a millionaire many times over. One day Christopher and Jilly would inherit a ranch and a ton of money, but by then we hoped they'd be just as tied to the land as he was.

And as for Emma and me? Well, we were pretty sure we'd never lack for a place to live, where people thought we were married. I got to sleep with Emma every night, and rub my naked body against her naked body. I was doing that, in fact, one night, when Emma's cell phone rang. It was our mother.

As they talked, I sucked gently on Emma's nipples and ran my hand between her legs. She had Mom on speaker, so any noises either of us made would have been clear to Mom. Emma batted at my hands ineffectively, and tried to push my lips away from her distended nipples. I backed off to simply kiss every inch of her exposed skin within reach of my lips.

Eventually, Mom said, "Well, I've got to go. I'm doing a double shift tomorrow."

"Get some sleep, then," said Emma.

"I will. Kiss your brother for me," said our mother.

"I will," said Emma. "Night night."

As soon as she hung up, I got on top of her. I was hard, and I straddled her legs, which were together.

"Mom told you to kiss me," I said, as I slid upwards. I felt the tip of my prick prying between her slippery pussy lips.

"I'm not sure I want to," she said. "You were terrible while I was talking to her."

"What? All I did was this," I said.

I sucked each nipple in turn. I squirmed higher and the head of my cock slipped into her hot tunnel.

"I don't know why I put up with you," she sighed as I wiggled higher, and got in her deeper. She was able to spread her legs a little, which eased the pressure and allowed me to dig my knees into the bed and socket my sword firmly in her sheath.

"That's why," I said, as I crushed her clit.

"Be quiet and do what you're supposed to do," she said.

"You mean this?" I humped her a couple of times.

"No, do what Mom said to do."

Her pussy squeezed me tightly.

"Kiss your sister, Bobby," she said. "Kiss your sister."

The End

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