Chapter 14

The frogs in the pond behind our house were giving up their last cacophony in the early morning light. Dictated by my biologic clock I suppose, I was awake early even though Jean and I had spent an intense little while on the phone with each other late the night before. As was my custom, I sleep in the nude and often awoke with an unconscious "tent pole" under the sheets. With my eyes closed and hands clasped behind my head, I was reviewing the latent imagery of the night before, of the phone sex I'd had with Jean, luxuriating in the deliciousness of it all.

God, I loved that woman! The feeling washed over me with an intensity that left me short of breath. I loved her wit and her spontaneity, her seriousness and gravity, her daffiness and heaven knows, her sensuousness. Yet I was uncertain. We'd agreed not to "do it," but I wasn't at all clear just what that meant. Jean spoke repeatedly of "the incest thing." Just what was the incest thing anyway? Was it talking about sex? I thought not. Then was it touching? Well, we'd certainly touched on a couple of occasions and neither of us appeared to be troubled, much less traumatized by the experience, so I thought that wasn't it.

If she sucked my dick once, was that incest? How about when I fingered her pussy? To climax? Now, was that incest? Shit! I didn't know and it bothered me, a niggling, unresolved burr of an issue.

I don't know about you, but I've got several voices in my head that think they know everything. And they're all loud, even strident. Usually they sit on the head of my bed and start up first thing in the morning. "Oh good, you're awake. Let me tell you a few things." They're rarely kind and understanding; mostly they're full of fear and negativity, except those that are lazy and just want to go to the beach. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a car pool when I'm all alone. I can argue both sides of any given issue and worse, I lose nine times out of ten!

Is it solely the emotional fallout of putting my dick in Jean's pussy? Is that what she's fearful of? Cripes, I've been there a hundred times in my mind. I've screwed that girl so many times in my head, the emotional fallout is mostly that it's only been there... in my head! Or is it that she's afraid she'll get pregnant? Yeah, that'd be tough. I mean, how many girls get knocked up by their brother? I'll have to ask her about this, I thought.

In the middle of this intellectual discussion I was having with myself, I was startled when something soft touched my face! My eyes snapped open and saw for a second only a hazy light until I scrabbled away a pair of panties that'd been dropped across my eyes and nose.

Jean laughed, "Wake up, sleepy head. I promised you these panties." Then looking away in mock embarrassment, she added, "Geez, they're ripe! Hope you really wanted em."

I inhaled deeply, pulling the aromatic essence of her into my head and simply said, "YES!" She'd kept her promise.

Nodding toward the tent pole, she asked, "Did I cause that?"

Nodding, "Mostly. I wake up with a woody every morning," and then looking down at myself in wonder, I added, "but this one is particularly urgent. And yes, I was thinking of you... of last night... of what we did. God, I loved it! I just can't believe the power of phone sex for cryin' out loud!"

Jean smiled and nodded, just looking at me. The least I could do was return the scrutiny. The morning light was soft, filtering through the giant redwood behind the house, to the east of us and it cast a warm, luminous glow. She was wearing a short wrap-around skirt and a T-shirt that didn't even begin to disguise her prominent nipples. Once again, out of character, Jean wasn't wearing a bra.

Her eyes dropped to the tented sheet and she gestured with an open palm as if to ask, "What, pray tell, is that?"

Then, remembering a little ditty that Jean had read to me years before, I recited,

"The tent pole's up, the canvas is spread. To hell with

breakfast, come on back to bed."

She giggled and continued,

"Take the tent pole down, put the canvas away. Monkey had a

hemorrhage; there'll be no circus today."

Still chuckling, she said, "Just kidding, just kidding," and sat on the edge of the bed facing me, with one leg bent on the bed and the other on the floor, partly opening her thighs. Of course, my eyes darted right to the darkened space under her short skirt, hoping to see... well, anything.

"You never give up, do you? What are expecting to see?"

"Not expecting... just hoping."

"Billy, you've seen my legs hundreds and hundreds of times. What's the attraction?"

"Don't really understand it, girl, but it's strong. You thrill me. More and more, you thrill me. I'm just taken with you. You know that!"

Jean placed her hand on the sheet on top of my thigh and said softly, "Yes, Billy, I do know that and I want to tell you again, I feel the same way. And I'll tell you this again... usually, it's very scary!"

"I've been thinking about that. About why it's scary for you, I mean," letting my hand fall to her left knee. Her skirt had pulled up and open a little and I could see the fine, blond hairs on her thigh.

She glanced at my hand, smiled and asked, "Tell me, buster. What do you know that I don't? Most of my feelings are just that... feelings. Not based on my intellect, just on my gut."

Trailing my fingertips over the inside of her knee, I looked up at her and continued, "Well, I've been trying to define "incest" in the last little while -- an operational definition if you will -- and I've decided that for us, it's not "talking" and it's not "touching" and it's not "sucking." Know what I mean?"

Jean, looking puzzled, slid onto the side of the bed another few inches, opening up her thighs a little more. I looked again. Still too dark, but now more inner thigh visible...

"If you mean that we've done those things and we're still OK, then I do know what you mean. But I'm still afraid."

Still trailing my fingertips on the inside of her thigh, I continued, "Yeah. But I think it's not so much what we've done. I don't think it -- incest that is -- has a lot to do with putting my dick in your pussy."

Jean's eyes widened and her pupils dilated with that phrase. She sucked in her breath but didn't speak. For all her candidness, she remained unaccustomed to such specific and graphic talk.

Again, nudging her thigh to keep her attention, I went on, "No. For us... for you... incest isn't about fucking." Again, the little gasp. In a softer voice I added, "I think your fear of incest is about getting pregnant," and then fell silent.

She exploded, "Cripes, Billy! Pregnant! By you? Where in heck did that notion come from? That's silly. That's goofy, you know that?" She barked a nervous laugh and moved her leg again. This time I caught a fleeting glimpse of the crotch of her dark panties. The scent of her used panties was fresh in my mind and I again experienced a strong urge to bury my head between her legs.

"OK, I know it's goofy, but stay with me a minute. Tell me, IF we actually did it... if we actually, you know, fucked... how would you feel? Inside, I mean. How'd you feel?"

"Scared. I told you that," she answered, nervously plucking at her skirt, picking it up and then dropping it. I kept my eyes on hers.

"OK, sure," I agreed, "scared but not turned off. Stay with me a little longer. How'd you feel if you got pregnant? By me?" I added pointlessly.

"Devastated. Just devastated... I'd simply just die." Then she added with a wry smile, "Aside from that, fine. Where is this going, anyway?"

"Wanna have kids someday, Jean?"

"You know I do, Billy. SOMEday."

I wiggled down in the bed a little, both to give me a better view under her skirt and that I might be able to reach farther up on her thigh. "Well, that's what I think is going on. It's not us screwing that scares you. It's getting pregnant. One part of you wants to get pregnant... someday, and another part of you is frightened, scared witless that it would be ME that did it."

"Let me get this straight... let me tell you what I think you've said. You think that it's not the actual, uh... doin' it, that I'm afraid of?"

"Right," I assured her, touching the inside of her thigh, well up under her skirt. I wondered if she, like me, had two thoughts running at the same time, one on the topic and the other on touching her?

"That it's getting pregnant by you that I'm really afraid of?"

"Yeah, exactly, Sis. Hell, we've done almost everything and haven't suffered any psychological consequences. Actually, we're closer than ever. We really love and CARE for each other, more now than ever."

Jean smiled and said, "Well, you may have something there. It "feels" all right. At least it doesn't feel bad. Not right now anyhow."