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Janet and I

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Babes

One thing I always liked about my sister Janet was how she always stuck to her word. When our Mum was in hospital, she told her not to worry about our baby brother Byron, (who we nicknamed “Billy”) she would look after him. And she did! A group of her friends arrived at the door one evening, wanting to take her out to her favorite night-spot. She said “No, I have to look after Billy!” I said “I could look after him for you, so you go out and have a good time.” She said “No, Mike, it’s my responsibility. I gave my word that I would look after him and I will.” All the love I felt for Janet was partly because she’s my sister, but also because she’s just like that, determined to live up to her word, determined to be responsible, to honor her promises, and to do the right thing, no matter what. My love for her especially grew when she became curvaceous at puberty. I was just a year older, randy as a deprived rabbit, and she’d sway into the room like a young goddess about to start a mating dance. I carefully considered the benefits and advantages of self-restraint, couldn’t find any, and asked her straight out for sex. Well, what do you expect from a teenage boy who gets an urgent roaring hard-on whenever his sister’s curves glide and gyrate istanbul travesti into the room? She said no, but she lightly touched my cheek, as if she was touched that I would ask. God help me, I asked her again and again, whenever I thought that I had a slightly better chance than a snowflake in hell. She said “Mike, your schoolmate Helen likes you, Mandy likes you too, why not ask one of them?” I said “I don’t want them, I want you!” This time Janet kissed me on the cheek. Mandy and Helen were nice girls, sure, and they had nice figures, but let’s face it, my sister Janet, with her goddess good looks that drove my penis barmy, her gentle personality, her determination to keep her word, and the deep bond of brother-sisterhood we had shared all our lives, conspired together to overthrow any lust I would normally have for anyone else. “No offence, girls” I thought to myself “but you don’t even come close to my sister Janet.” I just couldn’t get her out of my mind. Janet eventually said “Maybe one day, maybe one day…” I wanted that day to be now! But at least she seemed to be getting used to the idea. Then one day, Janet and I were out hiking through the woods. We got as far as the bridge, and sat on it, looking into the istanbul travestileri water. I asked her for sex again, of course, and she laughed, wrapped her arm around my neck and said “Mike, I adore you, you know that. Of course I want to fuck you, I always have. There have been so many times when I’ve been so close to doing it with you. But society says it’s wrong, and that worries me.” I felt so bad. Janet and I wanted each other. She adored me and I adored her. But society said it was wrong. To hell with crappy society, I thought! I gently argued with her about it, but it was no use. She said it had to come from inside her, not from my persuasion. She had to feel certain about it, and she didn’t know how that would happen. Several weeks after that, we were walking along a footpath seven miles out of town, at the bottom of a cliff, and we were considering stopping soon for some lunch from our backpacks, when there was a small rockslide up ahead. We heard a cry! We ran like the wind towards the cry, and found an old man lying with his leg pinned under a large rock. Janet, always full of compassion, was crying “Oh no! Oh no!” I was worried too. “Get it off him, Mike, get it off him!” she cried. I gripped the rock by some ridges travesti istanbul along its sides, got a good grip and heaved it with all my might. No, it wasn’t moving. If only I were just a little bit stronger. Or the rock was a little smaller. I tried again. And again. The man’s foot looked as if the circulation might be cut off, so I gave it another try, with all the determination and strength I could muster. Not quite. It wasn’t quite moving. I was worried about the man, who could only make groaning sounds. I had to rest, to gather my strength for another try. But it looked hopeless. Then Janet said “If you get that thing off him, Mike, I’ll fuck you.” I gasped with astonishment. She looked me straight in the eye and said “I mean it!” I turned around and grabbed the rock by the ridges. For just a moment, either the rock disappeared or I went blind. All I could see in front of me was sex with my sister. I gave a great heave, this time with every muscle in my body working in harmony with each other muscle, and every muscle determined to get that rock off. The rock went flying off and rolled away. Janet, who had got her first aid kit out, used her training to help the old man’s leg, and together we got him out of there, with a makeshift stretcher, and got him back to a house a mile or so away, where we were able to ring an ambulance. After that we went back home, showered, had a quiet evening, and went to bed. After a little while, Janet came into my room, dressed in her nightie, and sat on the bed.

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