Chapter 2: Reminiscence

One day I was in my room getting dressed and Janine came in. I was topless and only in my panties. Janine just stared at me. "Is everything was all right?" I asked. She just broke down crying.

"I need to tell you something." She said through her tears. I went and sat on my bed and patted the place next to me indicating she should sit next to me. She timidly complied.

"What is it?" I asked her.

"While I've been away at college I discovered something. I'm into... women. I'm attracted to them." I was astonished, but I wasn't upset or anything, our father raised us to be open to new ideas and to accept others no matter how they lived or what they believed, because people had a right to live how they wished as long as they treated other people with that same right. It was just a little shocking because I had never given the thought of two women together much consideration.

"Have you done anything... I mean have you had any relationships?" I asked. Janine nodded. I was surprised to find myself a little aroused when I asked that question.

"I have had intimate relationships with other girls there." She said. "The experiences I've had were so wonderful and I've finally figured out the main reason why I've always felt that I was different and didn't fit in with the other girls. I know now, I'm a lesbian. I just don't know how Dad and Jack will react when I tell them." She started crying again.

I put my hand on hers. "It might take them a while to digest this, I know I still am, but you know how understanding they are, especially dad, they will be okay with it as long as you're happy, same with me."

"I'm happy you're not totally freaked out about this, Julie, but just for now, I hope we can keep this between you and me."

"Sure, no problem, it's up to you when you want to tell anyone, not me."

"Thanks," Janine said staring down at the floor. "That's not even my biggest problem."

"It's not?" I asked.

"No," she said as she looked up and stared at me, her eyes red rimmed and an anguished expression on her face. "Since I've been home I've been having fantasies about... you. I can't believe how beautiful you've become... I can't get you out of my mind!" Janine collapsed on the bed crying. "Please forgive me! I know it's was wrong but I can't help feeling this way!" Now, I was completely dumbfounded, and a bit nervous, but I was amazed that I was also even more aroused. The idea of not only having sex with a woman but it being my sister seemed incredibly naughty to me and the more forbidden it seemed the more horny I felt.

I hugged Janine as she kept making slurred apologies through her crying. "It's all right." I said, and then I did something to show her how all right it was. I placed her hand on my crotch so she could feel the wetness there. She looked at me with astoundment and wonder. A devious smile then spread across her face, a smile I imagine was mirrored in my own. She took me right then and showed me all the joys a woman can bring to another woman. I wasn't a virgin at the time, but I never had a real orgasm before, with Janine I did. It was the most incredible sex I ever had up to that point.

For the next month Janine and I fucked just about every day, it was wonderful. Too soon, the time came for her to start her new job. She found an apartment close to where she worked and moved out. She promised to still see me as much as possible, but she soon became very involved with her work and she found less and less time to see me. I became lonely without her, and also horny as hell! Janine had introduced me to how good sex could be and I wanted more. I thought about finding a new boyfriend or even a girlfriend, but I realized that what made sex with Janine so good was that I all ready loved and trusted her as my sister, and when we made love it only deepened that bond. The idea that we were having a lesbian and incestuous relationship was also a turn on, the naughtiness of it was also exhilarating and that's what got me started in it, but as the relationship progressed, we both knew our love was the main thing that made it great. I loved my sister and felt free with her.

I was starving for sex, but if it couldn't be with someone I loved and I knew loved me, I didn't want it. That was when I started noticing Jack. He was twenty years old, two years older than me and two years younger than Janine. He was tall, the tallest one of us in the family, he had jet black hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders and a very muscular body. Jack had never gone to college but instead got a job with a landscaping company right out of high school and he still lived at home. He worked outdoors most of the time, was in very nice shape, and very handsome. One day I was feeling particularly horny when Jack came home from work dirty and sweaty. He immediately went to take a shower. I heard him turn the water on and I imagined him naked and full of soap and I couldn't take it anymore. I got stark naked, went to the bathroom, and got right in the shower with my brother. Jack was totally bewildered but his cock got instantly hard at the sight of me.

"Jack, I need you, I mean I really need you." I said, "But if you think this is wrong I will understand and leave you alone." Jack just smiled at me and took me in his arms. We fucked for over an hour in the shower and for the rest of that night in my bedroom.

I had found with my brother what I had with my sister, an exciting, intensely thrilling, sexual relationship. It excited both of us that we were doing something considered so forbidden. Jack told me he had been attracted to me for a long time, but he would have never done anything out of fear that even the suggestion of the idea would harm our relationship and harm me. He also told me that he had suspected something was going on between Janine and me, but he didn't want to intrude in our private business. I was just thrilled that I could now experience the love of my brother the same way I had with my sister.

For a little more than a year my brother and I continued having a sexual relationship. I still occasionally had sex with Janine, but she was so busy with work I seldom saw her. Janine knew what Jack and I were doing, just as Jack knew what Janine and I did and we were all okay with it. The idea of a threesome never came up because Janine was only interested in women, but I on the other hand loved having it both ways. The only one who didn't know what was going on was our dear father. He let us lead our own lives, only stepping in when he felt we needed him. What he cared most about was just having our company when he could and seeing we were happy.

Jack and I continued to live at home, I enrolled at the junior college majoring in graphic design and Jack continued to work for the landscaping company. Jack's company was becoming more and more renowned for the good work it did, much of that thanks to Jack, and more successful. Jack was making more money and he finally decided to get a place of his own, on top of that Jack told me he had met a woman and fallen in love. He wanted to be faithful to her so he had to put an end to our sexual relationship. I was heartbroken. What's more, the last time Janine had come home to visit, she had told me that she too had been seeing a woman, and wanted to be seclusive.

I was totally devastated. With Jack and Janine I felt I had all I needed in my life in regard to romantic love, but I guess they needed more and now I had no one. Once again I considered finding just anyone and having a fuck, but it still all came down to love. The thought of sex without love was worse than not having it at all. I thought that I might find someone, and after a time fall in love with them, but I had known my brother and sister all my life and felt as if they had hurt me, if I couldn't trust my siblings, how could I trust someone who I had only known for a relatively short time?

When Jack left I was an emotional mess. I was prone to random bouts of crying and loneliness seemed to haunt me. I couldn't concentrate with school and I felt too wounded to have any social life. I didn't want to begrudge Jack and Janine their happiness, but I felt betrayed by them as well. They must have felt guilty or at least uncomfortable with the way they left things because they each pretty much stuck to their own lives. They rarely visited us and I never went to see them.

My father and I were pretty much on our own, when I think back on it, I can tell that he was hurting too because of Jack and Janine's absence, but I was so absorbed in my own misery, I didn't notice it then. My father knew something was wrong. He would often find me in my room crying into my pillow. He tried his best to console me, but it was hard for him considering I wouldn't even tell him why I was upset. I thought about telling him everything, but even though he was the most understanding person I knew, I was afraid of him finding out what his children had been up to. So I just cried and sulked, and every time I did my father was there to put his arm around me.

I think he might have hurt just as bad as I did not being able to ease my pain. I remember one time when I was a kid and Janine accidentally slammed the car door on my fingers, nothing was broken but it hurt like crazy! My father quickly got ice to put on my hand and he lavished me with sympathetic love, but what I remember most was the tears he shed and the look of sheer agony on his face at the sight of me in pain. From the way he looked, you would have thought he was the one who had his fingers slammed in the car, and funny enough, seeing him like that, so worried and so caring, it took my mind completely off my own pain as I tried to console him, assuring him I wasn't hurt that bad.

He had always been there for me whenever I was hurting and he always made me feel better, but this wasn't like the times when I was a kid and he could put ice on an injury, kiss it, tear up or make a funny face, and it would feel better, he didn't know how to heal this pain I had. However, that didn't stop him from trying. In attempts to stop my moping he would take me out to dinner, a movie, or we would go shopping and he would buy me a little gift, and for a while it would help. I enjoyed his company a great deal and while I was with him I didn't feel so sad and forlorn, but eventually I would be by myself again and the oppressive feeling of loneliness would return.

A couple months after Jack moved out, I was feeling so dejected I couldn't stand it. Sometimes all I wanted to do was sleep, other times I couldn't fall asleep if my life depended on it. The time I spent with my father was the only bright spots in my days.

It was on one of those nights I couldn't fall asleep and all I could do was toss and turn, my mind in turmoil over my desolation, that I knew I needed human companionship at that instant. There was only one person I could turn to; the one person who was always there for me.

I got out of bed and went to my father's room. I asked him if I could sleep in his bed that night, something I hadn't done since I was eleven. He looked quite befuddled, but he could see that I had been crying again, so he agreed. I climbed into his bed with my back against his chest and his strong arms around me. He held me all night, stroking my hair and telling me how much he loved me. He made me feel like a little girl again safe in his arms, it had been a long time since I had felt that good.

Throughout the night I thought about how my father was the one person who never let me down. I knew that he missed my mother a great deal. I remembered as a kid seeing him in the morning with dark rims around his reddish eyes, I knew he had spent a sleepless night downhearted and thinking about my mother. There were still mornings he showed up like that. After my mother left, he never seriously dated, spending almost all of his spare time with my siblings and me. Our happiness was the only happiness he ever seemed to need or want if he couldn't have my mother. I hadn't realized completely until that night how terribly lonely he must have been all these years since my mother had left. She left him to run off with someone else, I now knew how it hurt to be rejected like that.

I don't know why my mother left him. I suppose she felt she found something better with the guy she ran off with. She said she was deeply in love with him. He was rich, and my father wasn't, but he always made enough to provide for us and give us a decent life. Mother tried to keep in touch with us after she left, sending cards and gifts, calling us on the phone, but every year she would always miss at least one of our birthdays and sometimes Christmas. She said that she wanted me, Jack, and Janine to come live with her, but she and her new husband wanted some time to themselves at first, as if any of us would rather live with her than our father by that time, which none of us did.

Last I heard from her she was pregnant but I don't know if I have another brother or sister out there because eventually all contact lapsed between us. I've been curious to know what happened to her, but I never looked into reestablishing contact with her, I figured if she had wanted us in our life we would have been. She turned her back on all of us and if there ever was going to be a reconciliation she would have to make the first move, but she never has.

In any case, father tried desperately to be all the parents we needed, and for the most part he succeeded. Whatever problems I had growing up, whenever I felt angry, depressed, or confused, he was there for me and always made me feel better. He was always supportive in anything I was interested in, like art, and he encouraged me to pursue my interests. Because of him, I majored in graphic design and made a career out of it. Sometimes I felt as if my heart was filled to the bursting point with the love I had for that man. I never felt more so after that time he held me all night comforting me and whispering words of love.

I thought my father was a handsome man. He was tall, though not as tall as Jack, he used to have jet black hair but at that time it had started to go gray, he worked as a mail carrier and that helped keep him in nice shape, he had a powerful build much like Jack's. However, my father's best feature was his dark brown eyes. They were the kindest eyes I have ever seen. When he looked at me, or any of his children for that matter, it pervaded to us his love. I loved looking into his eyes, it was like looking into a window and seeing a place so warm and welcoming you yearned to be inside. After that night I spent cuddled with him in bed, I knew I wanted to be even closer too him, I wanted to feel his love in the deepest way possible, I hungered for it.

With the tender love I felt in father's arms I was finally able to get some sleep that night, but by the next morning I knew I wanted more. My father had to get up early that morning for work, he tried to be careful not to disturb me, but I knew he was getting up. Just before he left, he ran his finger gently and lovingly across my cheek and I heard him whisper "I love you", and then he was gone. That gesture of affection was so sweet and after all I had gone through and realized the night before, I wept with the love I had for him.

I decided that night would be the night my relationship with my father would become something more. I planned the entire night out in my mind while I lounged in my father's bed, basking in his scent that lingered in the sheets and pillows. The smell of his musky yet sweet aroma combined with what I was planning for that night was enough to get me very aroused. My panties had become very wet and so had I. I put my hand to my crotch to feel how wet I was and I couldn't stop myself from rubbing, at first on top of my panties, but then I slowly slid my hand underneath them and rubbed my excited sex directly. My sexual desire was aflame and I needed relief. I laid in my father's bed thinking of him while I masturbated, I smelled him, I could remember the feel of him, I came strong and I came hard. I had never had such an intense orgasm from masturbation alone. Afterwards, with my erotic urges abated, if not sated, I got out of bed. I noticed that there was a damp spot from my sexual juices where I was lying on the bed. I made the bed without changing the sheets, letting my essence intermingle with my father's. It would be entirely dry by the time he came home and in my mind it was a way of christening the bed in anticipation for that night.

I got dressed and went to the store to buy food so I could make my father's favorite meal for dinner that night: porterhouse steak, batter dipped onion rings, baked potatoes, and a fresh garden salad. When I came home I showered and spent a good amount of time making myself look as attractive as possible. I did my hair up nice, I strived to apply the perfect amount of make-up to make me look ravishing, and I wore my black strapless dress that showcased my cleavage to good effect (an outfit which always drew attention), and high heels.

By the time my father came home that evening I had the meal and myself ready, I also had the radio on in the background tuned to the soft rock station, the lights turned down low, and candles lit on the table, all providing a romantic atmosphere.

My father was stunned by the way I looked when he first arrived home, but when I gave him a huge hug and kiss on the cheek, beaming up at him, he became delighted that I appeared to have risen from my depression. He was also pleasantly surprised with the meal, if still a little bewildered by my appearance and the décor.

"What did I do to deserve this?" He asked when we sat down to dinner.

"I just felt it was high time you had a reward for being such a good father." I said smiling demurely. My father blushed which made me giggle. My father was a shy and unassuming man and when he received praise he never really knew how to handle it and felt embarrassed. In the awkward silence, I poured him a glass of the red wine I had picked out to go with dinner. He raised his eyebrows in bemusement that I had even gone and added wine to the night's menu. My father was never a big alcohol drinker, but he did enjoy a nice wine to go with a meal on special occasions. He tasted the wine.

"Mmm... excellent selection." He said pleasing me no end when he voiced his approval. The dinner had started out wonderfully. When I served him the food, he responded as if the taste of it sent him to nirvana. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he let out a very gratifying moan.

"This is really exquisite!" He said as he chewed a bite of the juicy steak. It always pleased me when he enjoyed something I made for him, but watching him so thoroughly enjoy this special meal that I lovingly created for him was one of the greatest pleasures I had ever felt.

We had pleasant conversation throughout dinner, he told me stories about him in his youth that I always loved hearing, I told him about some of the more devilish stunts I pulled as a child of which I had never been caught. It was exhilarating being able to talk like this, one adult to another, instead of like a parent to a child. At one point during dinner we started holding hands and stayed that way until we finished. We gazed into each other's eyes and I could tell my father was looking at me for the woman I was, not like his daughter. It was an incredible feeling to be looked at that way by him.

A nice song was playing on the radio, 'Can't Fight This Feeling' by REO Speedwagon, and I mentioned that this would be a wonderful song to dance to. He didn't catch on to what I was implying at first so I had to be more direct. I told him it would make my evening if we could finish the meal with a dance. Finally he got the message and very gentlemanly asked me to dance, I happily accepted.

In the middle of the living room we swayed to the music, my father held me close and I joyfully reveled in the feeling. Our chests were pressed together, my head rested on his shoulder. I could feel his heart beating, in time it felt like mine and his were beating as one in tune with the music. I could feel the warmth he generated as we moved radiating off him and covering me like a cozy blanket, protecting me from any chill in the air. Thanks to the high heels I was wearing, my head could reach up to dance cheek to cheek with him. Then I moved my mouth closer to his, closer and closer and right when the song said:

"And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might"

I pressed my lips up against his. I did so gently at first, as if by accident, and then I pushed in harder, exploring his mouth with my tongue. At first, he responded in kind and we kissed intensely as the song went on:

But then as if waking up from a spell, the music forgotten, his clarity of thought returned and he pushed away.

"Oh God, Julie, I'm sorry!" he said looking mortified. I laughed.

"What are you sorry about? I was the one who kissed you." I placed my hand around his neck and tried to bring him closer so I could kiss him again, but he instantly pulled back.