Ode to Joy (1-2) My Love (Part 2)

My Love (Part 2)

Chapter Two: The Thorny Rose (Part 1)

Looking back on everything that happened, I am incredibly grateful to my mother. She brought me into this world, raised me to adulthood, and gave me the most important gift of my life—even more important than the three months my mother and I spent together so passionately: my sister Rose was born a year after I was born.

Rose and I seemed to be natural enemies, enjoying opposing me from the moment we were born. Many of my relatives said that I often bullied Rose when she was little, and that my behavior was despicable, but I didn't quite believe it. I thought it was just typical sibling rivalry. Which family with several children doesn't bicker and argue? We were no different, just a little different.

I mean, we argued about almost everything, even fought, and we wouldn't admit it even about things we both liked. But Rose had a secret weapon: crying. Almost every time she couldn't win an argument with me, she would burst into tears. Although I hated her so much I gritted my teeth, sometimes even wanting to kill her, I couldn't bear to see her cry. The moment her eyes reddened, I had to slip away before the tears fell, lest I soften and comfort her

instead. Of course, she also smiled, which was when we stopped arguing, especially as we grew into our teens and stopped attacking each other so much. She seemed like a different person, becoming very shy and melancholic, but perhaps too melancholic, always looking sorrowful, which made me very uncomfortable.

However, if you approached her closely and encouraged her, she would reward you with a smile. I firmly believe that my sister's smile could charm everyone.

Her smile was like the rising sun, like a child's innocence, like a sweet first kiss, giving a radiant feeling. Anyone who saw it once would rather die than miss it again.

Unfortunately, although I often bullied her when we were young, as an adult I had to strive every day to win my sister's smile, and I had other ulterior motives.

I don't know when I fell in love with my sister, but it was definitely a long time ago, probably from the age when I started having erotic dreams and masturbating.

I masturbated frequently when I was younger, but the object of my masturbation wasn't my mother, but my sister Rose.

Looking back, it's not surprising. Although I loved and respected my mother, my interest in her was largely due to my admiration for my father, and later, it was my mother who actively seduced me. I think the reason I was able to finally sever ties with my mother was because subconsciously I believed that the person I truly loved wasn't her.

I often see my sister naked in my dreams, offering her pure body to me, actively sucking my penis…

One day, I was about to leave my room when my sister came in. I was thirteen, and she was twelve. We bumped into each other at the doorway, and naturally, we reached out to steady each other.

I pulled too hard, pulling my sister into my arms, her small, firm breasts pressing against my chest, our stomachs slamming together, face to face, breaths mingling. My penis inexplicably hardened, and I pressed it against my sister's vulva through her clothes. Her face flushed red, and she broke free from my embrace, running away as if her life depended on it.

I think this was perhaps the initial spark between us.

I stood there, stunned and bewildered, completely oblivious to her departure. I desperately wished that intoxicating feeling could come again.

That night, I reached orgasm for the first time through masturbation.

Lying in bed, I vigorously rubbed my penis, recalling the feeling of my sister's small breasts against my chest. I longed to know how she felt then; how wonderful it would be if we played this sexual game together.

Sometimes, when my parents went shopping or to church for mass, they would leave us at home, and I would always take full advantage of these opportunities to spy on my sister's actions.

At that time, a sexual game was popular among the children at our school: find an opportunity to walk home with a girl, then ask her, "Can you feel it?" When she answered no, you would take the opportunity to grope her body, saying, "Can you feel it now?"

It took my sister a long time to understand this game, and I seized the few opportunities I had to feast on her body, especially intentionally kneading her breasts. It seems I'm too influenced by my mother, to the point of being particularly interested in women's breasts.

I desperately wanted her to know my feelings for her, but I couldn't directly tell her I loved her and wanted to spend my life with her.

However, that was the furthest I could go at the moment; I didn't want to simply declare that I'd done it after making love with my sister. I saw us as lovers, husband and wife, even as parents.

I had dreamed of our wonderful first time, even planning every step: in the afterglow of the sunset, we would come to the beach together, and I would slowly take off her clothes. First her shoes, then her trousers, then her top, then her bra, and finally her panties. By then, the sun had set, the western sky was filled with blood-red sunset clouds, and she stood between me and the sea, turned sideways towards the beautiful sunset; I could only see her beautiful silhouette. Her full, beautifully shaped breasts outlined perfect curves in the afterglow of the setting sun. Then she lowered herself and sat down, looking expectant, her hairy pubic area vaguely visible. I couldn't help but walk over, gently laid her down, and then…

Unfortunately, my sister didn't seem to like this "Can you feel it?" game. Every time I asked her, "Can you feel it?" she would let me "feel" a few times, then suddenly break free and run away.

During that time, Dad doted on her the most.

I was never jealous of Mom and Dad's marriage, but I couldn't help feeling anxious about Dad's favoritism. I even suspected that Dad and my sister were having an affair. Of course, all of this happened before my secret relationship with Mom.

Because of my experience with Mom, I became even more eager to take further action with my sister. If she refused, I would be completely finished. She might submit to Dad, which would definitely destroy our family, because Dad was an upright and traditional man. I can even picture my father's furious face, my mother's fierce defense of me, and me watching silently as our family crumbled.

In middle school, besides learning and building my confidence, I had many opportunities to meet girls. At school, I wasn't a playboy or a bookworm, so I dated quite a few girls, but it was mostly just hanging out, watching movies, holding hands, maybe a kiss on the cheek. Sometimes, though, the chance to slip my hand inside a girl's shirt or shorts was quite exciting.

However, after my relationship with my mother, I grew tired of these superficial interactions. I was confident that if I touched a girl again, I could make her take off her underwear. But I didn't try those things again.

After graduating high school, I went to university and settled into a dormitory—my first time living away from home.

I missed home a little, but I found university life very suitable. For me, it was a place of both intellectual enrichment and intellectual liberation.

In late autumn, the pastor from my hometown came with bad news: my family had been in an accident, a car accident. He didn't tell me the details. Although I was preparing for my final exams at the time, I immediately drove home as soon as I heard the news. While refueling, I called the police, but they were evasive and only told me to come back quickly.

I had a premonition that misfortune had finally befallen my family.

When I arrived at the hospital, I only found my sister Rose crying hysterically. The pastor was there too, and it was from him that I learned the details.

Our family was driving home from Mass in the caravan my father had just bought when we were hit by a car. Neither my parents were wearing seatbelts and died instantly. My other sister, though wearing a seatbelt, was hit from her direction and also perished. My two brothers were seriously injured and bled profusely. Thankfully,

Rose wasn't with them.

The pastor said my mother was very upset that day; when asked why, she only said she had argued with Rose and didn't know what would happen next.

At dawn, my two brothers also died.

I took my sister back to the empty house, but she was distraught, as if she didn't exist. She wouldn't eat, speak, or respond to anyone.

I cared for her carefully, fearing she might commit suicide.

The funeral was held three days after the accident. My sister attended, but her dull eyes and lifeless expression contrasted sharply with her neat black clothes.

After burying our loved one's remains, we silently accepted the comfort and well wishes of acquaintances. I could barely hold on any longer, but my sister seemed expressionless, as if she didn't exist.

I took her home and then lay down, exhausted, and fell asleep.

About an hour later, I woke up and needed to use the restroom. As I passed my sister's room, I suddenly smelled a strange odor. I quickly knocked on her door, but there was no response. In desperation, I started banging on the door.

After the door was forced open, I stumbled into the room and immediately smelled the pungent smell of gas and heard the hissing of the stove. Thank God, my sister was sleeping on the bed near the door. I quickly carried her to the living room, laid her flat on the sofa, then ran back to turn off the gas and the stove, opened the windows wide, and returned to my sister's side.

Her complexion was much better, and her breathing was somewhat normal, but very weak.

I shook her hand hard, repeatedly saying, "Wake up, little sister, wake up... Oh, don't scare me like this, little sister, don't leave me, wake up, little sister, I love you, don't leave me, wake up."

She groaned, "Let me be alone for a while, I want to die, I should die, you won't love me, I'm so scared, let me die!"

"No, little sister. Don't leave me alone, I've lost so much, maybe even more, just like you. Don't scare your brother anymore, I don't want to lose you, my sister."

She opened her eyes and cried for the first time, "You don't know, I killed them, it's my fault!"

"What did you say? Brother knew you wouldn't do this."

She shook her head and said, "If it weren't for me, they wouldn't be on the road, they wouldn't have had this accident."

I tried my best to comfort her, "Okay, so what exactly did you do?"

"Dad called me and said Mom had told him about our argument, and they're on their way back. I even heard Mom and Dad arguing on the phone, I think they must have had this accident because they were arguing on the road."

“Okay,” I said, “You and Mom had a fight, and Dad tried to make amends, then the accident happened, but it wasn’t your fault. Okay, tell your brother, why did you and Mom fight?”

“Because of you!” she said, burying her head deep in the cushion.

I was stunned. What did this have to do with me?

I pressed her for details, and finally, I understood what had happened. It all started when my sister found Mom’s diary.

Our family likes to reminisce about the past, and we often want to look at old things. That time, my sister had to do her homework on family, so she went to the attic to find some materials and accidentally found Mom’s diary. Although she knew it was wrong, she still secretly read it.

The worst part was that Mom’s diary started from when Dad went to work on the West Coast, which was the day Mom and I had our first time that summer.

Although the diary recorded sweet things, for my sister, it was undoubtedly the beginning of a nightmare.

“I remember her diary detailing everything that happened after Dad left,” she said. “Mom was depressed for the first week, but she cheered up quickly. She wrote in her diary that she was happy that night because she realized you had grown up.” She suddenly smiled.

Oh, that was a good sign; it was the first time she had smiled in days.

“Do you remember that night? That night she taught you to play cards,” she asked me.

“Of course,” I said.

“From then on, I suspected something unusual was going to happen because she never taught any of us other kids. I remember her eyes following you as you went back to sleep until you disappeared down the hallway. I wanted to know what happened between you two, so I read Mom’s diary.”

I was shocked that Mom would be so careless, not only recording our relationship but also brazenly leaving such a messy diary in the attic. Of course, I also wanted to know how detailed her entries were, and whether she truly considered me her lover.

“When I saw the record of your first time making love, my heart broke.” She turned to me, angry but also very sad. “You know what? I always thought you loved me!”

God, how could this be? I almost collapsed to the ground. Was my sister jealous?

She spoke quickly, as if trying to blurt out her innermost thoughts before losing her courage.

"I thought I could control myself. I mean, although I'd long suspected you and Mom had… had…

that kind of relationship, when the facts were laid bare before me, I went crazy."

"I ran to Mom and used every filthy word I could find to insult her. I called her a slut, a whore, a pervert. I questioned her about why she would steal the only man I loved when she already had the best husband in the world."

Damn it! If she said she stole, then she had nothing to do with Dad at all.

“Wait a minute, little sister.” I quickly interrupted her. “What did you just say? I always thought you weren’t interested in me.”

“I love you, brother, I’ve always loved you.” She said shyly. “Do you remember that time we bumped into each other in the hallway and hugged for five minutes?”

I laughed and said, “Of course I remember, it feels like yesterday.”

“Do you know why I dodged back then? I was soaking wet down there, and I was afraid you’d think I was a little kid and had wet my pants. I didn’t want you to see me as a child.”

“Oh, I see.” I suddenly understood. “Then why did you always avoid me when we played the ‘Can You Feel It?’ game? I thought you hated me.”

“Did I run away when you touched my breasts?” she asked defiantly. “Later, I avoided you because I wanted to see if you had the courage to chase me. You really are a bit childish, you know?”

As she said this, she smiled slightly at me, which made me feel much better.

But I had to ruin the atmosphere because her guilt hadn’t subsided.

“What happened next? Tell me.” I continued, “Why do you think this accident was your fault?” Her face darkened again.

Chapter Two: The Thorny Rose (Part Two)

“I know Mom told Dad about our argument, and she might have confessed something.

I heard Mom’s voice when Dad called me while driving. She seemed to be saying something like, ‘Don’t you know enough?’ I think Mom might have revealed something, but not…not…” Her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, as if someone could hear her: “…you two…incest.”

“I was worried that Dad was angry and kept arguing with Mom, so he didn’t notice the other cars. I reminded him, but it didn’t work. If I hadn’t argued with Mom, this wouldn’t have happened.”

I finally understood what had happened. I grabbed her shoulders and made us face each other.

“Listen to me, you seem to have forgotten that Dad is a strong-willed, rigorously trained, and principled man. He knows how to distinguish between emotions and responsibilities, and no one does that better than him. No matter what Mom said to him, he wouldn't have lost control.”

“Do you believe your brother, little sister? I spoke with the officers investigating the accident, and they told me some facts. First, Dad saw the oncoming car, and judging from the trajectory of the car after he braked, he didn't accelerate. He did everything he could to avoid a collision, but there was a cliff on the right side of the road, no way to go. Dad did his best.”

“Also, even if it weren't for you, they would have had to come back from church.” I stared into my sister's eyes and said, “You only asked them to come back a few minutes earlier, but the fact is, whether they came back a few minutes earlier or later, they would have run into that drunk driver bastard on the way.”

“So, it's not your fault.”

My sister looked at me, seemingly much more relieved, but suddenly she said anxiously, “Then, what do we do now?”

“What do you think?”

“I told you I love you, brother, I need you. When you shook my hand just now, I heard you say you love me, so do you ‘need’ me too?”

I took her hand and led her to our parents’ bedroom, letting her lie down on their bed.

To her surprise, I simply picked out a nightgown for her to wear and then gave her sleeping pills.

“I brought you here because we’re going to sleep together tonight, but just sleep.” I whispered in her ear, “After what happened this afternoon, I don’t want anything to happen to you, so I need to keep a close eye on you.”

“However, I won’t touch you tonight; I have a lot to think about.”

After watching my sister fall asleep, I went back to her bedroom to find my mother’s diary. After finding it, I returned to her side. Thanks to the sleeping pills, my sister was fast asleep.

I sat in the armchair my mother used to sit in and began to read my mother’s diary.

Although I had once been deeply infatuated with my mother, I could never truly understand what she was thinking, what my place was in her heart, how she viewed our relationship, and so on. I wanted to know everything, and I had to satisfy my curiosity.

The first thing I saw was our initial description, and one passage particularly caught my attention.

"...He licked my vagina and brought me to orgasm once, but I had to pretend to come three times. He tried so hard; he needs confidence..."

My mother's description made me a little embarrassed, but her love for her son was evident in every word, which warmed my heart.

It wasn't until three weeks later that I felt much better.

"...Five times today! This child learns so quickly..."

From my mother's diary, I finally found the answer to the question that had been bothering me—my mother actually wanted to have my child. This shocked me, but also brought a sense of relief.

The diary revealed that she desperately wanted to conceive, but hadn't been able to. As I mentioned, my mother had some condoms, and she hadn't had any sterilization procedures, but she never let me use them. She thought that if we had sex four or five times a day, she might conceive, but by the end of our three months, she hadn't gotten pregnant, so she suspected I was infertile.

After reading my mother's diary (which only recorded the three months we dated), I felt deeply grateful to her. She not only brought me into this world but also took on the responsibility of raising me to adulthood, patiently guiding me and letting me experience the beauty of union between a man and a woman.

After putting my mother's situation aside, I began to consider my future with my sister.

Tonight, I deliberately rejected her advances because I know grief is the strongest aphrodisiac. I didn't want sadness to mix with our sinful union, even though it would be more exciting that way.

She asked if I needed her. Of course I did, I needed her terribly, but I wanted to consider it when we were both clear-headed.

I love my sister too; I don't want to lose her. I want to see her every day, have her, and live with her.

I reminisced about the past. She said she'd always loved me, so she must have loved me for a long time. Did I truly love her?

I tried to imagine what my life would be like without her; it was a pale and desolate picture. Even in the worst circumstances, as long as we were together, it seemed like we could overcome any difficulty.

I thought about sex again, but all I could think about were the words "intercourse" and "making love." Just thinking about my sister's pure and lovely face, her graceful figure, and her captivating smile made my penis throb and swell.

Oh, doing it with my sister would definitely be better than doing it with Mom.

I returned to reality and considered what we should do next. I mean, we would have to leave here. If we started a family here, everyone would know, and rumors and malicious slander would spread. But I love our home now; it's the house Dad and Mom left us, and I really don't want to leave it.

If we had to leave, where would we go? I couldn't go back to university. What would people say if I brought my sister back to the dorm? I no longer wanted to pursue a degree. Wasn't the point of going to university to find a good job after graduation? Like everyone else, to have money to indulge in pleasure, to have women lick their genitals. To hell with that!

I don't need any of that. I already have the woman I love most.

I put on my pajamas, climbed into bed, and snuggled up to my sister.

I held her close, our bodies pressed tightly together. Even through the pajamas, I could feel the pressure of her firm breasts against my skin. Her warm breath, carrying a sweet fragrance, brushed against my face, intoxicating me. We cuddled like that and fell asleep.

The next day, the brilliant sunrise streamed through the window, illuminating us, and I woke up. The first thing I saw

when I opened my eyes was my sister's bright, clear eyes. She had clearly been awake for a while, and must have been watching me sleep for a long time.

Seeing me open my eyes, she smiled slightly, leaned over, and gave me a light kiss on the cheek.

Had her mind changed overnight?

"Are you going to continue our conversation from last night?" I asked cautiously.

She nodded and kissed my other cheek.

I was determined to break the ice: “When I said I loved you last night, I meant I was asking you—would—you—want—to—marry—me—, sister?”

Her eyes lit up, then she sat up, pressing her hands tightly to her heaving chest.

“If that’s the only possibility.” She was a little excited, her breathing rapid.

“Listen to me, little sister. Believe it or not, I’ve learned a lot in college. I know some drug addicts and anti-war activists who can get us fake IDs—real, usable IDs. That way we can have different names, and then we can get married legally. I want us to be together forever, and I won’t love anyone else but you. Promise me, little sister.”

“That’s wonderful, brother.” Tears streamed down her face. “I’ve been waiting for this day. I want to marry you, brother.”

“But there are some things I think we can do ahead of time.” She took a deep breath and said, “Like, making love. I don’t want to wait until our wedding day to start.”

I kissed her moist lips and said, “Whatever you want.”

As I spoke, my hands were busy. I reached out to unbutton her nightgown, and she leaned completely against me, kissing me passionately. I responded, gently biting her lower lip and sucking on it, then meeting her lips with my own, my tongue probing inside, meeting her soft, wet tongue, and we intertwined passionately. My sister resisted my tongue’s advance, then returned it to my mouth, sucking on each other passionately.

After unbuttoning all the buttons on her nightgown, I let it slide from her shoulders to her waist. Her breasts were fully exposed before me, and as I said, she looked just like my mother. Her nipples were a bright red, beautifully shaped like my mother’s. Her snow-white breasts, though not as full as my mother’s, radiated youthful vitality, firm, with delicate skin and extremely elasticity.

I reached out and gently pinched and twisted her two adorable nipples, feeling them harden.

I was very careful; this was my sister's first time, and I didn't know how she truly felt, or what she liked about me.

I kissed her breasts, my lips circling her areolas, feeling the slight trembling of her delicate skin as my lips moved.

"Oh... brother... my nipples... kiss my nipples..." she moaned.

My lips touched her nipples, gently licking and sucking. My teeth gently bit her hardened nipples, pulling them from side to side, my tongue licking them incessantly. My sister continued to moan, her body twisting and pressing her breasts against my face.

I switched to using the tip of my tongue, lightly teasing her nipples, pressing it against the small opening in the center, pushing it in forcefully. Her moans quickened; she reached out and tightly embraced my head, burying it deep in her firm breasts, rubbing her face against mine.

"Oh...brother...it feels so good...I like it..." she said happily.

I released my attack on my sister's nipples, smiled at her, and asked, "Does this feel good? Are you wet down there? Is it hot and wet down there?"

My sister was already aroused by me, her seductive manner was on full display, and her words were becoming somewhat unrestrained.

She gave me a flirtatious wink and said, "I'm as hot as a stove boiling water down there, do you dare to come in?"

I turned her body around so that her back was to me. I already knew last night that she wasn't wearing underwear, so I leaned down, wanting to admire my sister's private parts from behind.

To my surprise, I didn't see the pubic hair that an adult woman usually has. My sister's vulva was slightly raised, with a bright red and cute little slit, but there was not a single hair growing around the slit. This reminded me of when my sister and I played childish sex games when we were little, and a warm feeling welled up in my heart.

My sister obviously noticed my reaction.

“I woke up an hour earlier than you,” she said. “Remember when we were little? You tried so hard to pull me into your room, wanting to lick my pussy like you did with the neighbor’s sister, but I never let you.

After waking up, I thought that if we make love today, I want you to taste my hairless pussy, just like we did when we were little. So I shaved all my hair off. Brother, do you think that’s okay?”

Understanding my sister’s intentions, I couldn’t help but laugh happily. “I told you I wanted you to marry me, didn’t I?”

“Yes!” she said quickly.

“Okay,” I said. “Then let me taste my dear sister’s little cunt.”

I put my head between my sister’s legs, carefully admiring her vulva.

Of course, my sister’s vulva had its own unique scent, a bit like my mother’s, but much lighter. Her labia were bright red, clearly untouched. A clear, prominent, and sensitive cleft was visible on the slightly raised mound. Even the slightest touch of my tongue to her vaginal opening made my sister’s body tremble; she seemed very sensitive and shy.

As my tongue tentatively probed into her vagina, I was surprised to find it blocked by a thin membrane.

My sister really was a virgin!

For a moment, I didn't know what to do; I'd never had sex with a virgin before.

I'd heard that the first time, it was very painful for the woman. Should I enter slowly or force my way in?

I carefully traced the shape of my sister's hymen with my tongue. It looked thin and large, and should be easy to break through.

So, I decided to force my way in.

My sister clearly appreciated my tongue's movements inside her vagina. In fact, this was something my mother taught me, a legacy she left us.

"Oh…brother…this is so beautiful…it feels so good…is your penis like this too, brother? Tell me…brother…I like it…"

I remembered my mother saying that incest increases the lewdness and obscenity of sex, and I thought I needed to preserve this tradition.

I temporarily released my sister's hymen, looked at her face to face, and repeated the conversation my mother and I had had, only now it was my turn to ask.

"Do you know what incest is?" I asked.

“Like what we’re doing now,” she said, “family sexual relations.”

“You know, many people think incest is wrong, immoral, taboo?”

She nodded.

“Well, when we make love, we should think like this: we might use different names in front of others, but in bed, I want to remember we're brother and sister. I love you, sister, and from now on, when we make love, you should always call me brother, and I'll call you sister, so we'll be happier.”

“Okay, brother.” She understood quickly.

She reached out and grabbed my thick penis, saying, “I’ve never done anything like this before. If you want, I want brother’s big cock in sister’s mouth.”

Oh, of course I wanted my sister to service my penis with her mouth, but not now. I wanted to deflower her before my penis ejaculated.

“Okay, sister. But I want to ask you what some of our organs are called.”

I stroked her breasts and asked, “What’s this?”

“My breasts,” she said.

“Correct.” My hand moved to her mounds: “And what’s this?”

“My vulva,” she said.

“Correct, but I prefer to call it a cunt, a slut; it sounds much cuter.”

Then I raised my penis and asked her, “As for this, many books call it a penis, but I don’t like it. My lovely little sister should call it…”

“Cock!” she blurted out suddenly.

I asked in surprise, “How do you know that name? A pure virgin like you couldn’t possibly know these things?”

My sister smiled smugly and said, “I have a few rather promiscuous girlfriends; they told me. But none of them are as lewd as me because they don’t dare to sleep with their brothers. I think that’s just because they don’t have a handsome brother like me.”

“So, answer my question from before, brother, would you be willing to put your big-cock-cock into your little sister’s mouth?”

Chapter Two: The Thorny Rose (Part Three)

She practically shouted the word "cock," as if afraid the whole world wouldn't know what she was doing.

"Of course I'm willing," I said, "but not now."

"I want our first time to start with your pussy, and I want to ejaculate inside. Ready, little sister?"

She bit her lower lip and nodded.

I knelt between my sister's legs, my thick, long penis pressed against her lovely slit, the head slightly sinking in, then sliding up and down along the slit, experiencing the intimate stimulation between my glans and labia. My sister

's pussy was already soaking wet, her labia covered in slippery, lustful fluid. With the stimulation of my glans, clear liquid kept flowing out, the warm fluid sticking to my glans, making me itchy, with an uncontrollable urge.

Afraid of ejaculating, I quickly aligned the head of my penis with the center of my sister's pussy and began to push forward.

My sister's pussy was very tight, the tightest of all the girls I had ever touched. Although my sister's vagina was very wet, it was still difficult for my glans to penetrate. The vaginal walls were like a clamp, tightly pressing against my glans, trying to prevent its intrusion. I pushed in slowly and laboriously, and finally, my glans touched that thin membrane. The contact made my sister's body tremble slightly.

"Can you feel it?" I asked, kissing my sister's earlobe. "My glans is already against your hymen. If I stop now, you are still a virgin. I don't know if my little sister is willing to let her brother take her precious virginity?"

My sister's hand pressed against my buttocks.

"It's a husband's right," she said. "Since my brother is my husband, then it's his right."

Then she actively pushed my buttocks forward. When my glans broke through my sister's hymen, she only let out a soft groan, still pushing my buttocks hard until my penis was fully inside.

We were finally one!

From now on, we are brother and sister, partners, man and woman, husband and wife. Our union will be legal, and we will love each other until the end of our lives.

I lay there motionless, embracing my sister, savoring the soul-stirring pleasure of our union.

The room was quiet; we could both hear each other's heartbeats. My sister's vagina tightly gripped my penis, the slight pulsation of her vaginal walls synchronized with our heartbeats.

Her warm breath brushed against my neck, making me lick the back of her neck with my tongue.

Her breathing gradually quickened, her vaginal walls, as fiery as she had always desired, began to writhe violently, squeezing my penis. Waves of intense stimulation surged through my lower body, and I began to thrust.

At first, my movements were gentle and slow, allowing my sister's newly opened vagina time to adjust. My sister's furrowed brow finally relaxed, and a moan followed, growing louder with each thrust.

"Faster...oh...faster...brother...oh...oh...the faster you thrust, the less it hurts...oh...oh...good...faster...brother..."

I hadn't intended to speed things up, because this was our first time, and I didn't want to ejaculate so quickly. I wanted to savor the wonders of my sister's body.

But sex is a two-way street, and my sister had the right to make her own requests, so I started to increase the speed of my thrusts.

Five minutes later, my sister's breathing became increasingly heavy: "Oh...this is so wonderful...oh...

brother...I'm going to come...faster...brother...thrust harder into my cunt...oh...let me cum..."

At this moment, I had no other thoughts besides my sister. I just wanted my sister to experience the most beautiful moment of her life during our first time. I couldn't disappoint her, so I had to endure, even though I was on the verge of climaxing. I fought against my will, determined to hold on until my sister reached her climax.

I gritted my teeth and thrust harder, my movements becoming increasingly vigorous. As I pulled my penis out, my sister's body was lifted off the bed, and then I thrust down hard, slamming her back onto the bed. This repeated for a few minutes until my sister's thighs began to tremble violently, her vaginal secretions suddenly increased, and her muscles contracted sharply. I knew my most difficult moment was over.

"How did it feel, sister?" I asked breathlessly. "Did my lovely little sister enjoy the feeling of her pussy being penetrated for the first time?"

"Oh!...It's so good...I love it!" she screamed. "Brother, give me more..."

I thrust even harder into my sister's tight, narrow vagina, and the contractions of her vaginal walls eventually turned into a violent earthquake.

This time, I couldn't hold back any longer and asked, "Do you want me to ejaculate outside?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, I'm going to ejaculate!" I said loudly, "Do you want me to ejaculate outside your vagina?"

My sister understood and immediately wrapped her legs tightly around my waist, firmly saying, "No!"

"But if..." She pressed tightly against my body, whispering in my ear, "My safe period is over, I want a baby. Brother, husband, give your sister a baby."

Although her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible, my sister's words were more stimulating than any of the most lewd words, instantly pushing us both to orgasm.

I heard the most provocative words in the world, and my penis, unable to suppress the surging pleasure, finally erupted. I inserted my penis deep into my sister's body, all the way to her uterus, and then passionately ejaculated all my life essence into my sister's sweet cervix, fantasizing about my thousands of sperm swimming inside my sister's uterus, forming a crystallization of love with my sister's egg.

Oh, I was simply dying of pleasure.

My sister's vaginal walls contracted, tightly gripping my continuously ejaculating penis, as if trying to bite it off and keep it inside her forever.

Her body convulsed violently, her muscles taut, her pretty face flushed red, her hands unconsciously gripping my shoulders, her firm breasts grinding wildly against my chest, while her lower body pressed tightly against me, rapidly receiving my thrusts, her inner walls twitching periodically, tightening and relaxing, completely accepting everything my penis delivered, not missing a single drop.

Only after it was all over did we gradually regain consciousness.

My sister placed a pillow on her buttocks, then gently stroked me, who was slumped on top of her, softly kissing my shoulder to calm her breathing.

“Mom’s marriage manual says this increases the chances of getting pregnant,” she said, kissing me. “I won’t restrict your movements or force you to stay with me unless you want to, brother. You said you wanted to marry me, and I think you mean starting a family.”

“Of course,” I told her, “but you can refuse me until you have a baby.”

“Can unmarried people have children?”

“Oh, I don’t know how many couples in the world are siblings,” I said. “So I’m not sure they’ll do it like us. We have to be careful unless we can leave this place immediately. Right now it’s just the two of us living in this big house, and if your belly suddenly gets big, that’s more surprising than any scientific discovery.”

“I can’t think about that now,” she said. “Anyway, you’ll definitely be a father by the end of the year.”

Then she laughed again and said, "That was absolutely perfect, simply wonderful! I'm so glad our first time happened in Mom and Dad's bed, in this home we love so much. What do you think, brother?"

"Only one regret," I said.

Then I told her about a childhood dream I had about our first time. I dreamed that at sunset, on a romantic beach, the sea would wash over our intertwined bodies, oblivious to everything else, freely united in nature's embrace.

My sister giggled, but seemed very longing for it.

“You should have told me sooner,” she said with a hint of resentment. “I could have waited.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” I said. “That was just my ridiculous dream. I know you wanted to start our first time here, in Mom and Dad’s bed. I love you so much, I wouldn’t refuse your request. As for my dream, we’ll have our chance someday.”

“Unfortunately, that wasn’t our first time.” Tears suddenly streamed down her face. “Brother really wanted our first time to be on the beach. That was his dream for years. One day I’ll find a way to repay him.”

In the following days, we made all sorts of arrangements and plans. We would sell the house, collect all of our parents’ insurance, and then leave this place that had raised me to adulthood, a place filled with both happiness and pain. We would find a new place in the outside world where we could settle down and build a family that truly belonged to both of us.

Afterwards, I traveled around, meeting with some old friends to get new identification documents, mainly our birth certificates. With these documents, we could apply for social insurance and driver’s licenses. I also got a fake military service certificate to avoid having to serve several more years.

That evening, when I returned home, my sister greeted me at the door, completely naked except for a seductive smile on her face. I picked her up and placed her on the soft grass under the old oak tree in the yard, and we immediately started having sex. As usual, I made her completely submissive.

But my sister seemed unsatisfied: "Brother, we've already done it on Mom and Dad's bed, on the sofa, in the bathtub, in the kitchen, and even in the yard, but when can I suck your big cock?"

"Then tell me first, do you really want to do this, or do you have to do it to please me?"

she giggled and said, "Mom's diary said you're very good with your mouth, and I want to try it too."

She lowered her head and licked my limp penis like it was ice cream, quickly making me hard again. When I was fully erect, she opened her mouth and swallowed my penis whole, then began to vigorously stroke it up and down.

“Oh, little sister,” I groaned, “You did a great job, brother is cheering you on.”

My sister’s throat made gurgling sounds. My penis was thick and long, but she seemed to be licking it with great gusto. Her tongue rolled around on my shaft, the tip occasionally teasing my clitoris. In less than five minutes, I ejaculated in her mouth.

The “69” position followed naturally. My tongue fiercely attacked her overflowing vagina, while my penis was inside her cute little mouth. She clearly enjoyed it.

That night, we satisfied each other several times with our mouths.

Soon, everything was in place. We had new names and new identification, the house was sold, and our parents’ insurance gave us considerable savings. The only headache was what to do with our family’s belongings.

I kept my mother’s diary, while my sister kept our parents’ bed and some of her own clothes.

Just like my mother did during our “honeymoon,” my sister walked around the house naked all day. Of course, I also appreciated this sight; at least it made my worries disappear. My sister only wears clothes when people come over, but that's just sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and sandals.

Luckily, no one lives around here, so she can manage. But our new home will likely be in the city, and then it won't be so casual for her anymore.

I keep my mother's diary only because I see it as my only connection to her; I still have so much to say to her. If I remember something, I write a footnote next to it. Through the diary, I can vent all my unhappiness and pain.

I turn to the page I marked, where my mother comments on my ever-improving lovemaking techniques.

I write down what I want to say to her, telling her that everything she taught me is now being used on her daughter.

In the last volume of my mother's diary, she recounted her feelings about my sister discovering it. From this, I could understand her pain and inner turmoil. What shocked me most was her last passage: "Now I understand that Rose truly loved him. I wish they could be together forever, could live happily ever after, but unfortunately, this world will not allow such a relationship to exist. Oh, my poor child." I

decided to begin recording all the experiences my sister and I would have after that page. I wanted to tell my mother that I had found a way, even though it would come at a great cost.

I told her that although I loved my sister so much, if there was any way to bring them back to life, I would gladly give up that love. I thought my sister must feel the same way. I

promised my mother that I would take good care of my sister, and that we would never forget her.

About three months after my sister and I had a sexual relationship, as usual, I continued writing about our experiences in the sequel to my mother's diary. I turned to the part where my mother had thought I was infertile—a question that had troubled me for a time. Now I could finally answer my mother's question.

“Dear Mom—now you don’t have to worry about your son being infertile anymore, because I got my sister pregnant. I think the reason you and I couldn’t conceive is because we’re not compatible.”

One evening at dinner, my sister told me she wanted some sauerkraut and ice cream. I exclaimed in surprise, “Who in the world would eat those things?”

“A pregnant woman,” she said softly.

It took me a moment to understand: “You mean we…we…are pregnant?”

“Yes, brother, I’m pregnant, it’s your child.”

I ran quickly from one end of the table to her, knelt down, and kissed her hand, saying, “Now we have everything, except for a marriage certificate. We’ll leave here right away and get married officially. Oh, how much I love you now, you know that, sister?”

My sister had come up with a good plan, a practical one. She said,

“We’ll leave here in a week. Once I become your legal wife, I don’t want to come back. If we stay here, I’ll go to jail.”

“But what if others notice…” I hesitated.

“Brother, how could you be so confused? I’m only six weeks pregnant. We have plenty of time before others can tell.”

“But,” she added, “right now, all I want to do is celebrate in bed. Brother, you won’t mind sleeping with a pregnant woman, will you?”

“Of course not!” I quickly declared. “I can’t imagine any pregnant woman being more sexy and alluring than you.”

That night, we partied all night long, pouring out all our love, passion, and feelings. I will always remember this day, remember the fact that I got my sister pregnant, and I will cherish it forever deep in my memory.

A week later, we went to Lino to get married and officially became husband and wife. We spent a week there partying, enjoying a sweet honeymoon.

After that, we drove north and finally found a place to stay in Idaho. It was a beautiful city with stunning scenery, and you could fish and hunt there. I easily found a job as a car mechanic and was doing very well.

Of course, our sex life was insane; honestly, the feeling of making love with a pregnant woman was simply indescribable. Watching her swollen belly and darkening nipples would make my desire rise uncontrollably. Especially when you're making love and feeling the baby's restless movements inside you, it absolutely stimulates all your nerves, giving you a thrilling pleasure.

A month later, our first daughter was born, and I named her Asari. When I first held my newborn daughter in my arms, the feeling was indescribable. I wanted to give her all my love, everything I had, and all the most beautiful things in the world. She was my daughter, my baby, and I would give up anything for her.

Oh, I will never forget all the love I felt that day.

That night, I wrote down my feelings in my mother's diary, telling her that she had a granddaughter as beautiful and lovely as herself.

I never told my sister about keeping a diary, but she obviously found out. Below the page where I recorded her pregnancy, I found her handwriting.

"Dear Mom: Don't just listen to your brother's nonsense, I'm here too. 'We' are pregnant!"

Looking at my sister's prank, I could only wryly write down Asari's birthday and some of her features. I thought Mom would find it amusing.

Due to the doctor's advice, we didn't resume sex until two months after my sister gave birth. My sister was a little worried that having a child would affect her attractiveness to me. But I quickly proved with my actions that my love for her remained unchanged, even surpassed before.

Her breasts were much larger, and I loved competing with my daughter for her milk. I loved suckling at my sister's breasts, savoring the sweet taste, perhaps because I rarely had the opportunity to drink my mother's milk as a child.

I loved having her clamp my penis between her large breasts, smearing the expressed milk on her breasts, and then licking it with my tongue. We were both captivated by this extremely erotic sex.

Asari grew up healthy and happy, and four years later, our second daughter, Christy, was born. But this time, we encountered misfortune; my sister had a difficult childbirth. After my wife gave birth, the doctor told me that her life would be in danger if she had another child and recommended that I have her sterilized.

My sister was heartbroken because she wanted to have more children like our mother. I comforted her, saying that I couldn't lose her; we already had two lovely daughters, and it wasn't worth taking unnecessary risks.

Now, my sister and I have a happy and fulfilling family, two adorable daughters, a dog, and of course, our love.

If anyone were lucky enough to witness us making love passionately in bed, who would guess that we are siblings?

[last edited by dylancs on 2005-6-21 at 21:07]

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