Date: Tue, 22 Jan 2008 10:18:15 -0800 (PST)
From: Gale Adams <tothestable@yahoo.com>
Subject: f/f  incest-young sisters "She Came To Me"

She Came to Me
       By
    Gale Adams


And there was blood on her white pastel gown. She woke me with her
shadow. She lit the candle next to my bed, and was crying, frightened. I
woke slowly to her tears, to her shadow, to her breathing hard, to her
blood. I rose up and touched the wet part of her gown. She asked me if
she was going to die. Her shoulders hunched and huddled.

I rose up immediately and gathered her into my arms. I felt her collapse
against me, weeping. I told her no, darling, this just means you have
your first period. I pulled her from me and took a tissue from the box on
the table. She asked me what the blood was and what was a period. "Like
the end of a sentence?"

I wiped her tears and took her hand, which she held to mine, as I got out
of bed and took her to the bathroom to clean her up. Melody was ten that
summer. She was a soft sweet girl. She looked at life as a happy thing.
She loved summers especially. I helped her remove her gown, as she asked
how we could keep that from mama, and I told her not to worry as I
proceeded to clean her up and tell her what was happening to her and why
it would be a thing of great beauty to her one day.

I looked at her body as I helped her with her toilet and thought she was
fair of body and gold of hair and her crease had not sprouted any pubic
hair yet; was this not wrong to look at her in such a way? Was this not
early and immoral for her to start her bleeding? I washed her with warm
water. I soaped her all over, when through. Then I put her in the bath
and ran warm water round her.

I poured the buckets of it in that I had heated before I went to bed. I
always did that because I might wake up in the nighttime hours and feel
the refreshing luxury of a bath, or isn't that wrong? But how could it
be with Daddy Father president of the bank and this the loveliest and
most modern house in the whole of the town? No. I asked for very little
in life. Therefore, I would take a bath at night, late, with votive
candles burning, if need be.

She asked me, as I put her into the water and began soaping with lye soap
as gently as possible her chest that was that of a boy's of course, my
own breasts being that of a budding fourteen year old girl, as she held
her arms to me and I soaped them and washed them as well, would she be a
fallen woman now? I smiled and told her that this was purely natural,
even the Bible and Rev. Johan tell us these things happen to girls, that
it is called a curse.

She bridled at that and asked was that meaning like she was Varney the
Vampire? I laughed, I have been told my laugh is a sweet one, and she
looked up at me, the candlelit room round us, as I said, "No, silly
head, it just means your body is getting ready to have a baby."

"Oh sweet Lord," she began and her eyes filled with tears again.

"No, Melody, it is just that your body is^×practicing-for it-but that
will be a long ways away and will be determined by your husband."

She was even more frightened then. So I comforted her and stopped talking
for a while, for I was doing this explaining part all-wrong, so it
seemed.

"Ivory," she said. "I shall never marry." She had a determined look
on her face. And her jaw was set in that familiar highly delicate, highly
childish, determined way. I did not laugh at her. I said that was of her
choosing. And did not add that she would be singled out if she did not
marry. It was of some concern to my standing in the community as well,
for I had no desire to marry. Not ever.

I was in my own gown and sleep had gone from my head and my eyes. I had
never thought of this happening to her. She looked at me and asked if I
would mind taking off my gown because she loved the feel of my hands on
her body and wanted to feel me too. I knew secretly she wanted to know
how my body looked. How my loins looked and how large my buds were and
though I wanted her to see me too as I did her, I held back and
considered mama and Father daddy, then decided, yes, I would like to do
this thing.

I was always a good girl, as was Melody. There was nothing wrong with two
sisters doing this. It was only a bath after all, and I washed Melody
between the legs very carefully, though she said that hurts, so I ran
water from the rag down to the sore spots and she said that felt much
better.

I pulled off my gown swiftly, so I would not find myself lacking courage
to do so. She looked at me up and down as if apprising a goose in the
window of a butcher's shop for Thanksgiving dinner, and I laughed as she
touched a tiny hand to first one budding breast and then another. She
sighed like in awe. She was suddenly aware she was so much younger than
me and so much underdeveloped. And yet she had her menses and I had to
convince her this did not mean witchery was afoot, but that God works his
ways and chose to bless her with the curse (we laughed, both of us, at
the ludicrousness of that phrase^×quiet laughter of course, though this
was a big drafty house and our parents slept on the far other side of the
house) as she leaned over the tub rim to examine my pubic hair.

It was dark and silky soft and had grown into a right pleasant v shape
all of its own. She asked if she could touch it, as I drew back a bit,
no, of course this was not right, and yet there was this chance and maybe
this chance only for I did not quite know what, so I nodded, as she
touched my loins and my hair and caressed it like the light fur of a
friendly woodland animal. I felt at the rubbing of her fingers, a certain
thing happening there, that had happened before at the touch of my own
fingers and the fingers one time only of Barnaby O'Gill before I slapped
his face, though I did not wish to slap his face at all.

Then, Melody touched her index finger tip to my opening and to my bud
inside and I lurched for a slight second and felt a fury in my heart and
in my stomach, as she looked at me and asked if she had done something
wrong. She had withdrawn her hand entirely of course, for she was a good
girl and knew not of such things. I told her, almost as though someone
else in me was telling her, did she not remember when she was a babe and
suckled at our mama's teat? She said that was a long time ago. We spoke
conspiratorially and I felt guilty at the realization of that. She asked
me what I meant.

Kneeling down further to her, putting my puffy left breast at her mouth,
I asked her didn't she remember feeling contentment at the suckling, but
she said almost as though she knew why I was asking this, the real
reason, for even I knew not that, she being this time smarter than I, you
are not mama and there be no milk in your teats. I said, here, take it
and put it in your mouth, you shall feel safer then and a little girl
again, though of course she was not that little anymore, menses and all,
but she said, all right and put her mouth to my small nipple.

She bit and sucked on it and stabs of funny pain went through my breast
and my body, as she automatically reached up her right hand and began to
fumble at the nipple of my right breast, and as she did, I felt this
sexuality organ music in my body as though I were being played like a
piano, as though she were forming me into something I was, yet, something
I had never been before, or seemingly, oh say not so, would never be
again.

As I put my hand to her boy tits and touched them and pinched them a bit
as she sucked my nipple deeply as I looked at her somewhat chaffed but
pleasant to look at slit between her legs as I put my right hand to that
slit and began to tickle it as she took her mouth from my breast and
sighed and shivered all over though it were very warm in this house and
in this room, very warm as to too much.

I felt inside her tiny slit and I touched the little bump there, as I
carried her now to a sexual release that I had experienced only as I've
admitted the deed a few times, the one time with Barnaby was nothing but
his feeling it briefly and under my dress and underwear, but I felt the
same thing now, I felt wet down there and my sister took her hand from my
breast and her mouth from the other, what uncommon goodly feelings she
was gifting to me, and put her hand and fingers to my vagina, and found
the right spot, just as I had found hers, and I pulled my body next to
hers, and my breasts felt against her sweet chest as though the breasts
could taste of that chest and those vague little rose buds.

And we did the thing and we felt the fever build and sweet and become a
roaring in us, each the other, or as least I imagined she felt it
something like mine^×for we were never to talk about it ever
again^×though we did it a few more times later on till the guilt pushed
us away, and my vagina issued warm liquid on her fingers and my Melody's
legs and torso began to shiver happily back and forth as she and I felt
like, in my mind, liquid gold against each other.

I helped her finish her bathing and she asked if she could suck me a
moment more, so I thus let her, and then we both dressed and were
presentable again, as I led her back to her room and tucked her under the
light, pink coverlet. She held her arms round my neck and said "Thank
you for making me so much less scared," and I leaned down and kissed her
cheek and said, "It was you who made me less scared." She looked up at
me somewhat astonished, for I had always been big sister, looking after
her.

"Really?" she said, somewhat shocked, her mouth open.

"Really." I snuffed the candle and said goodnight, I love you, which
she repeated to me, as she gentled under the covers and was almost
instantly asleep. I went through the darkness to my bed, and did not go
to sleep for diverse hours, for I had much on my mind, and needed to
carefully think things through. I touched my loins and my breasts. I
closed my eyes. I began.