Family Tree

by Tasty Little Pop Tart

Copyright© 2015 by Tasty Little Pop Tart

Science Fiction Sex Story: Eddie time travels. His sister Jackie has to deal with the consequences. Some things are best left unexplored, they both think. A short story in the tradition of "--All You Zombies--" and the movie Predestination.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Consensual   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Fiction   Science Fiction   Time Travel   Incest   Brother   Sister   .

She was blonde, cute as a button, and fourteen years old. I took off her top and she shivered violently, erupted in goose flesh and convulsively crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders. I had a beautiful fucking hard on.

"Take off your shorts," I said softly.

Obediently, though reluctantly, she uncrossed her arms and undid her shorts, wiggling them down her narrow hips and bandy legs to puddle at her feet. I offered a hand and she held it while stepping out and kicking them aside. She wore blue and white striped panties and her Sketchers.

"Want to suck me?" I asked.

She shook her head, bobbed hair swishing back and forth.

"You will though?" I asked anxiously. Like I had a right to be anxious.

Her blue eyes, frightened and super wide, dilated by fear, blinked anxiously. Jackie had reason to be anxious.

"We don't have to do this," I said.

She nodded, her chest rapidly expanding and contracting with labored breathing. I could feel her heart pounding. This was our tenth time together since the end of school and it was just like our first. We gulped together, both making noise. She was spasmodically blinking her eyes.

"Maybe we shouldn't," I suggested. We had not done it more times than we had. Sex with your older brother was a pretty big thing when you're fourteen years old. It was the third week of July; we were home alone while Mom and Dad worked.

"We don't have to do this," I repeated.

She nodded again, hair whisking forward and back. She has such thin, fine, silky hair. It has an odd, light greenish tint that I don't understand at all, especially after swimming, especially in the back.

"Wanna skinny dip?" I teased. She giggled and squirmed girlishly. Last time we hit the pool naked, that pervert Kenny next door took pictures of her with his cell phone and tried to blackmail her into having sex. I punched out the fat fuck and made him suck my cock while I filmed him. He hasn't bothered her since.

"Did you... ?" She colored the shade of a Red Delicious apple.

"Did I what?" I asked.

"Make him ... you know?"

Jackie had never brought me to orgasm with her mouth, only her hand.

"No," I said, feeling disgusted. "I wouldn't come in that foul fuck's mouth. It was bad enough making him suck me." I grimaced. "I scrubbed it with bleach, afterward, you know? Like six effing times." I grinned at her and she blushed back to bright red again. I love when she squirms like a nine year old.

Jackie is 5'3" tall, weighs 98 lbs., and enters ninth grade in the fall. I'm 16 years old. I stand 6' tall, weigh 160 lbs, and have no business messing with my kid sister. My baby sister.

"Do you beat off?" she blurted. Her face turned plum as she colored in horror. I knew she had wondered about this. We watch videos and her favorite are guys stroking their huge cocks. I like watching girls get fucked in the ass, which makes Jackie rightly anxious. She knows I want to do that to her.

"You've watched me do it every time we watch videos together," I pointed out.

"I know," she peeped in embarrassment. "I wondered if you do it alone."

"Would you be jealous?" I asked, honestly curious.

She nodded and shook her head. I laughed.

"Stop it," she mumbled, coloring all over again.

"Yes," I admitted. "I've been doing it for years."

She nodded uncertainly, shook her head again, and squirmed uncomfortably. Fourteen-year-old's are so self-conscious.

"I'll stop doing it, if you beat me off every day," I offered.

This made her squirm even more. Nothing grossed her out more than hot cum.

"That's okay. You can beat off," she muttered.

I bent down and gently slid down her panties and left her naked in her Sketchers. She was soft and smooth, old enough to shave everywhere.

"Take off your tennis shoes," I said, and she kicked them off. That left her in pink trimmed ankle socks. I took out my iPhone and snapped a couple pictures. The My Disk app on my phone is full of them. I disabled My Photo Stream after it uploaded photos of her naked and barely fourteen years old.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she grumbled.

I never asked her to pose, though occasionally she offered to. When I beat off, I mostly do it looking at her pictures.

I took another picture, stepped back, and took half a dozen more. My favorite pics are not with her spreading her legs and grinning at me. My favorite are Jackie standing hunched shouldered and unhappy like this, eyeing me through her hair, pouting. Her hands made tight little fists.

"If Mom ever found those effing pictures..."

She couldn't, but I sighed, and put away the phone. "Fine."

She took a deep breath, expanding her underdeveloped chest. I told her someday she'd have breasts bigger than Mom's, and a rear end to die for. The claim made her scoff, though it turned her red with pleasure. I told her she'd officially loose her virginity in ninth grade, give a boy her first blowjob in his bedroom after school a month later, and let a boy put his cock up her ass after a party during her junior year in high school. I didn't give her names or dates, and I didn't elaborate.

"Here," I said, offering a bra that didn't fit her yet. She examined it nervously.

"This is mine?" she asked, trembling lightly.

I had taken it from her underwear drawer moments ago. "Try it on."

"No!" she responded frantically. Her tremble became a momentarily violent shudder. Then she surprised me, clumsily putting it on. The cups bagged around her small breasts. She stood, hunch-shouldered and frowning.

"How old am I?" she asked, fingering the bra.


"This fits me?"

I laughed at her hopeful expression. "Like a Victoria's Secret lingerie model," I promised.

The bra was size 36C. Her bra on the floor was size 32A. She had recently graduated from an AA cup and would continue her steady progress upward from there. It was ironic how she complains about being too big sometimes, about being ogled, even by friends. I tell her not to wear such tight tops.

She was nine when I told her of my abilities. Sure, she said, blowing me off with attitude. She freaked when I showed her. She freaked even worse when I explained months later about us having sex. Assuring her that she was fourteen the first time didn't calm her much.

She looked at me, blinking slowly, arms crossed, trembling like a kitten. "I can't believe we have sex. Do you know how perverted this is? What if my friends found out?"

This made her shudder again. She looked oddly sensual, shivering, and naked except for her oversize bra and ankle socks with pink trim. She chewed her lower lip. That was one anxiety step below chewing the ends of her hair.

"We're not having sex today," I said.

Her breathing quickened and her eyes lit up. "We're not?"

"That seems rather obvious, doesn't it, Jackie?"

"Thank you," she mumbled gratefully. Her relief was almost comic.

"What do you want to do until?" I asked.

She returned to gnawing her lip. "I don't know. Can I get dressed?"

"I'd rather you wouldn't. It makes the disappointment easier to bear when I can look at you bare."

Her scowl made me laugh. "I'm your effing sister. You shouldn't be seeing me nude, much less fucking me, Eddie!"

"I'm not," I reminded her.

"Asshole," she muttered.

I laughed again. Then I took us to the top of Scott Mountain.

"Eddie!" she screeched and hunched, trying to cover up. "Oh," she muttered, discovering she was completely clothed. "I hate it when you do this shit, Eddie. A little warning... ?"

People in the immediate vicinity, all in climbing gear, eyed us warily. How did two teens in shorts, t-shirts, and tennis shoes get to the top of the mountain, they wondered. Moreover, where had they come from? A pair of women who were obvious lesbians whispered about us urgently. We had just popped up out of nowhere for them. I smiled, and they both looked away.

"It's cold," Jackie said, rubbing her biceps. Indeed, it was, and I handed her the lightweight coat from the back of her closet door.

"Will you stop that!" she hissed. "Those women are already freaking out."

"I could make them go away," I offered.

"Don't you dare!" she said fiercely. She pulled on the North Face jacket and zipped it up to her chin.

"It'll give them something to talk about in bed tonight," I said.

She glowered at me. I laughed. I wanted so badly to yank her against me and assault her thin lips. That wouldn't go over well with Miss North Carolina Uptight Teen, though.

Tight lipped, she stared into the vast Oregon countryside below. It really was beautiful here. She had told me our second time on the mountain that someday she meant to climb it. I told her we'd do it together twice, and she'd do it with her husband during their honeymoon. She was miffed that I told her that.

"Free will," I reminded her. "Fate is what you make it."

I would never tell her she died once in a traffic accident. The drunk who hit her got off easy. I could have dropped him twenty miles off shore and let the sharks eat him. Instead, I flattened all the tires on his truck and he slept it off in the bar's parking lot. Instead of killing a pair of twenty year old coeds on the way back to their apartment, he'd awake with a stiff neck and a miserable hangover.

"I'm still wearing that bra," she muttered. "It's uncomfortable."

I chuckled and got an elbow in the ribs.

"Sometimes I don't like you very much, Eddie. Will you please take care of this?"

I did, and she thanked me. I slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her in tight. She didn't resist. Scared as she is when we make love, Jackie loves me.

She told me that, lying beneath me with our heart rates slowly dropping, our labored breathing easing, the adrenaline seeping out of our muscles.

"What if I get pregnant?" she asked me once.

"Do you want to?"

"No!" she cried in horror. "I'm fourteen years old! Mom would kill me!"

The lesbians I hadn't sent home to share a shower in their climbing gear had moved off a safe distance. One was amazingly cute, and younger--the wife. They'd been married ten months, and still had sex almost every night. The wife routinely was drilled with a strap on dildo. The husband longed for a real cock to fuck her with, and didn't know her wife would have no interest in being fucked with any cock. She loved Melanie's strap on--attached to Melanie.

My sister, clueless to how attractive she was to other girls would find out her first year in college how nice it was to kiss another girl. The one she would no longer die with on a Saturday morning.

"Why did we wait until now?" she asked.

"Fourteen, you mean," I said.


"You'd rather we'd started earlier."

"No!" she said quickly. "Of course not." She was red-faced, ill at ease, wishing she hadn't brought this up.

"You were scared shitless," I told her.

"I'm still scared shitless," she pointed out. "I'm scared every day of my effing life, Eddie. Why wait until I was fourteen though?"

She waited impatiently, started tapping her foot.

"Because I can't post this story if you were any younger than fourteen," I said.

She stopped tapping her foot. "What?"

I pointed out our pair of married females, standing nearby.

"Those two I could write about all day long and no one bats an eyelid." I nodded at a couple named Dave and Stephanie over by an emaciated pine tree. She was totally hot in a mauve tank top and khaki hiker shorts and boots. Small-chested, but eye catching in that tight tank top and those shorts, I'll tell you. I could write about her all day too, I said.

She just looked at me, frowning.

"This is a story. None of the sites I regularly post to accept stories with characters under the age of fourteen. Most won't accept them your age even; the minimum is eighteen. To get this posted, you had to be fourteen years old, which you are. We didn't have sex, I never took off your clothes, saw you naked or touched you until after your fourteenth birthday, right?"

She was gawping at me now. "You're saying I'm a character in a book?"

"A short story," I corrected. "To be specific, a story I'm writing one letter at a time on my iPhone 5c."

Jackie's frown had become a glower. "If you don't want to tell me, fine. You don't have to be an asshole about it, Eddie." Muttering, she clutched herself and stared into the distance again.

She was so strikingly pretty. Her only flaw was her crooked teeth, which the braces would remedy soon. She unconsciously ran over them with her tongue and twitched her lips. What fourteen-year-old enjoyed wearing braces?

I patted her rear end.

"Stop that!" she hissed, flinching away. Without moving her head, she threw clandestine glances in all directions.

The married women had forgotten us and were busy planning strategy for the climb down. Dave and Stephanie by the pine tree were whispering about what they had done last night, and how sore she was today, an unwelcome and distracting complication. She really did look good in that shirt, and I liked how she leaned against the tree, arms leisurely crossed, disheveled hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wanted a hot shower more than anything.

I put my arm around Jackie's shoulders and hugged her to me. She was shivering lightly from the cool breeze and snuggled tight against me. "How can she stand there in that t-top and shorts like that, and be completely comfortable?" she complained through her chattering teeth. "It's freezing up here!"

"Do you want to go on?"

She stiffly shook her head. "I like it here. It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful," I said solicitously.

"Asshole," she muttered.

Oregon has it all over North Carolina with respect to tall mountains, breathtaking scenery, and places to hide out.

I slipped my hand in her back pocket to enjoy her rear end. She stiffened but didn't move. Her only comment was, "How's this look with your hand in the back pocket of a fourteen-year-old's shorts?"

I left my hand be, shrugging. "I'm sixteen. I don't care what anyone thinks."

"That's your whole problem," she muttered. "And it's not 'cause you're sixteen. It's because you can do things nobody else can do."

"Like this?" I asked, replacing her white shorts for a warm pair of jeans.

"Thank you, and yes," she grumped. "That's exactly what I mean."

My hand remained in her back pocket. I squeezed her rear end. She shook her head in exasperation and sighed. "Thank God they don't know you're my brother."

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