Mountain of Memories
Copyright© 2021 by Its a Kilt, Not a Skirt
Memorial
Incest Sex Story: Memorial - When Rhys' estranged younger sister, Maggie, suddenly appears on his doorstep with an unwelcome visitor after six silent months, neither is in for the experience they expected.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Consensual Reluctant Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Incest Brother Sister Cream Pie First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Slow
‘Feel here!’
Maggie was vaulted up backwards onto their bed, lying back and pulling her shirt up. Her hair was a beautiful mess around her face. Those gorgeous doe eyes sparkled with excitement as she guided her brother’s hand to her engorged belly. ‘She’s kicking, Rhys. Can you feel it?!’
He could. Being able to feel their child kick for the first time (his first time, that is) quickened a new excitement in him. It made his heart beat faster and blood to roar in his ears.
‘Yes,’ he’d said slowly, not wanting to take his hand away. He’d made such a face when the baby stopped kicking that Maggie had giggled and smoothed his hair affectionately, and he’d given her an entirely loving kiss that ended with the two of them ‘Practising for next time,’ as Maggie always put it. ‘We don’t want to get rusty, do we?’
The memories brought tears to his eyes even as they made him smile, now, and even laugh, sometimes. But not today. With memory and reality echoing dizzyingly, Maggie’s presence on the mountain and absence at his side made laughter impossible today. But for their unborn daughter, he always worked hard to smile.
Settling in on the rock he kept next to the grave for this exact purpose, he sighed. It was extreme care and love that he used his sleeve to polish the stone he and Maggie had picked together. To anyone else, it was just a rock—large, and rather pretty at best, but just a rock. Craggy and unmarked, no name, but beautiful. It was mostly white, but swirled through with reddish orange, and cream, and sand dune colours. They’d hauled it a long way, all the way from where Maggie was convinced they’d conceived together. While Rhys was never as sure about it as her, that day would always be a favourite of his, and it seemed a fitting memory to paint their daughter’s grave with.
When the stone was clean to his satisfaction, he lay his hand upon it gently. ‘Janie,’ he said quietly, ‘I have so much to tell you. Your mother is here, on the mountain.’
Maggie knew her way. There was no way in hell she’d forget. This mountain had been her cradle, playground, schoolroom, and love-nest, to name a few, and it was woven into her skin and bone just as much as the print on each finger.
It was hard, this walk. So painful, each step seemed heavier and more effort than the last. Several times she stopped, paused, and looked back down at the house, perched faerylike on hills dropping away beneath her. But she didn’t turn to go back.
Looking up made it harder. Too many memories of the Before Times hid in these woods, haunting her guilt-ridden mind like ghosts. She tried to comfort herself with the fact that she needed to watch her step—that’s why she looked down most of the way. Strange, how only a few months of concrete and cement skies could make her footing this unsure. Or perhaps it was she herself who made herself so unsure, so scared. So fragile about everything.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.
