Date: Sat, 23 Jan 2010 08:50:05 -0800 (PST)
From: Tim Stillman <novemberhourglass@yahoo.com>
Subject: m/f/m incest  Let's Talk About Magic

			  Let's Talk About Magic
				    By
			       Tim Stillman

It is time for me to run through the memory again. As they had sex that
July hot night. Philippe and Tanya lived across the street from me. There
were brother and sister. They were 14 and 15 respectively. I came up on
them, one summer evening, and there were making love. I don't know what you
think about but incest, to me, it had always been so repulsive. But, as I
looked at them, through her bedroom window, they were naked in all their
bodies, and he was sucking her labia, he on his knees and she masturbating
him.  On her bed surrounded by her Snoopy dolls and pin ups and books and
teen zines.

I didn't know the technical terms then, and in truth, I was not sure what
they were doing, or why. I was 9. I watched some and I looked at both of
them as closely as I could. We were friends, as much as they could be
friends with a little kid like me. Philippe's long penis was being rubbed
hard, as he proceeded to lick her and eat her. It seemed.they were in a
frenzy. I've never seen anybody naked before. Or, so excited, so feverish,
and at the same time. So troubled It made me excited. And sad.

I don't know why the sad part; I guess it's meant growing up. He had no
chest hair. His legs, long and thin, had down on them. But always so nice
to touch, I imagined, like a soft rabbit. Tanya threw her head back in her
pink room, and she screamed softly and she was beautiful. As was her
brother. She dug her fingernails long in red into her brother's
shoulders. He kissed her small cupcake breasts seemed to be biting her
nipples, which would seem to me to hurt her, but she smiled and she said
something to him as she rippled front and back as if an odd kind of dancing
to music slowly in their minds. And slowly, they had sex, then fast and
hard driven.

 Tanya. Of course, I had a crush on her. Her brother was my
idol. Everything he said was true, and I believe them both. Now, they
looked like nobody that I do. They both had brown hair. Hers long, and to
her shoulders. His cut short. He was manly; he worked out; he had abs. But
he was still shorter than she, only a slight bit and that bothered him
immensely. Which made me feel happy. I've never seen or imagined or read
about what they were doing in that little pink room. I had never been it,
but was sure it smelled like talcum powder, and perfume. Then, he took his
teenage penis out of her hand, pushed her down on her back on her bed, then
put himself on top of her, and proceeded to put his penis, which had black
pubic hair, in her pussy, without her help, which meant this was nothing
new for either. The blind was up. Were they hoping for an audience?

Would they be disappointed to know that it was only me. With much fanfare
and groaning and grimacing, from the both of them, as Tanya spread her legs
wide and he went with definiteness, and deftness, as he pushed himself
deeply inside her. It appeared her body in some way burped as he did
this. Pain lasted on her face as he raised himself like a cantilevered
bridge and seemed much taller than he actually was. His penis pulling and
pushing in and out, as they both broke out in sweat this hot summer night.

My own penis was quite hard, those still quite small. I watched his butt,
muscular, as was his spine. And, his legs learning inside of her legs that
were now wrapping around him and pulling him in as deeply as she could. I
could have covered this over. I could have left and gone home. The cicadas
were buzzing. No cars were passing. I heard television in the other part of
their house. Kids down the street playing late-night basketball.

It was her short pajamas on the bed next to them. It was for a girl, this
room, though it had become larger, to fit him in too, He looked so foolish
as he concentrated on fucking, his sister. And smiled a huge smile, so
satisfied, so right. I looked at her body, and his. Then I looked at her
face. As he hunched his back and pumped her and humped her, her face did
not have passion, or sexual lust; he was not looking at her and she showed
what she felt -- boredom. I did not understand it at the time. But the
nakedness was in my eyes. Her lack of interest. In her eyes and in her face
pushed up mostly a need to check the time, to get rid of Philippe, to
dress, to go to bed, to go to sleep. They call that the sexual act. For
good reason.

But to say that was all that ever was or would be is untrue.  How many
years had they been doing this? Do many brothers and sisters do it too? And
giant I was not, neither mentally nor physically, yet I felt a proprietary
need to help them in some way. Of course I couldn't. I was a kid brother, a
kind of family pest, though unrelated so them. And in time, her brother
pushed 123, then he held, pushed twice, more than his face was made in
ecstasy, as he both closed their eyes tightly. And I was experiencing the
very first time. That I was on the outside looking in, as with few
exceptions, I would always be.

In those days, I called masturbation rubbing my penis. I waited till I got
home, to my room, locking the door, and proceeding for my 5 second
happiness. I could do it again in about five minutes. It does a
comforting. And five minutes again. I never looked at her window again, but
the imagery of it all, kept me going for a long time. Yet, when I saw them
again. I was able to divide them from last night. There was such a
demarcation, and it did not bother me in the slightest to be around them,
or to even think to break the confidence of the to strangers from last
night. She was as delicate as China, slender, pale, tender. Her brother,
strong, somehow with calculations as graceful as she.

So, I use them as fantasy and somehow made them not a part of it. I can
shut people out too. So that's my story. It happened a long time ago. I
think and know there was something more to it, there was a complexity in
her, in me, and in her brother and the thing itself is a spider web, shiny
deep dark that sometimes quietly scares me now. I escaped just in time. I
don't know. Just, sometimes late at night, I wake in a cold sweat. I
wondered if there were other boys, otherwise, like me, they made sure
watched them and perhaps more; I would like to think not. I try not to.