My Loving Family Ch. 01

Willa's story

Chapter One

I was born and raised in a very religious family on a small farm in Manitoba. One brother was several years older, but my other brother, Sam, was my twin.

We were home schooled by Mama so we had very little contact with other children. As a result, Sam and I were very close. We played together and quite literally grew up knowing only each other.

The result of that closeness occurred one spring evening with awful results. Sam had been pestering me for a long time to see what my boobies looked like, and how they felt. To be honest about it, I was equally curious about the thing he carried between his legs, so we made a promise to each other. I promised to let him see my bare chest if he would drop his pants and let me see his thing.

One thing led to another until that awful evening. We had promised to meet in a secret place only we knew about down by the river. I'm blushing as I tell this, but the awful truth is, Sam and I were looking at each other when we heard a roar, "What the hell!!!?"

Papa was standing, like a bearded avenging Jehovah, on the edge of our secret clearing, a tree branch held over his head. Sam turned white and attempted to cover himself with his hands while I instinctively closed my eyes and curled myself into a tiny ball.

I heard the swish of the branch coming through the air and braced myself for the blow. Sam cried out instead as the heavy limb fell across his bare chest. He attempted to roll out of range of the next blow, but Papa was demented with rage, and as he pursued Sam, I quickly leaped to my feet and snatching my dress off the bush, began to run for home.

When I was out of sight of the two struggling men, I slipped my dress over my head, and continued to run for the safety of Mama's kitchen. The kitchen proved not to be so safe, after all. Mama knew something was wrong the minute I ran through the door and closed it as if the demons from Hell were after me. "What's wrong, child?"

I didn't know what to say. How could I explain what had happened? I turned and ran up the stairs to my room, but she followed me. Her voice had a harder edge as she strode through the doorway. "You'd better tell me what happened, child!"

I still couldn't find the words. The enormity of what Sam and I had been doing was beginning to surface in my mind. I threw myself into Mama's comforting arms and began to cry. "I've been awfully bad, Mama," I sobbed. "God will strike us both!"

Mama was not a fool. "Us? Who is 'us'? Just who are you talking about, child?"

"Me and Sam," I whispered.

Alarmed, she held me at arms length and studied my face. "What did you and Sam do?" I couldn't respond. The shame was simply too great! "You'd better tell me, girl, before your father comes home!"

For the first time, I wondered if Sam was still alive, and began to cry anew. This time I was mourning my lost brother. "Papa was beating Sam and I ran away," I said.

Mama suddenly realized I was wearing no undergarments. "Did you two have your clothes off? " Her voice was hard with suspicion. Dumbly, tears streaming down my face, I nodded.

SMACK!!

A white flash of pain accompanied the jolting blow as Mama slapped my face! SMACK!! Again, she hit me, and yet again and again. My nose was bleeding and my cheeks were numb. She eventually tired. "You're to stay in your room until I tell you you can leave," she ordered as she left, slamming the door behind her.

I flung myself on my bed where I cried myself asleep. The door burst open. ". . .RIGHT NOW!

The room was dark, but I could see it was Papa standing in the doorway. "The Deacon's waiting for us downstairs, you little Jezebel," Papa said contemptuously. "That's your mother's doing. If it was left to me, you and Sam would no longer belong in this house! But she sent Fred for the Deacon before we got home, and since he's a good Christian man, he came to see if either of you is worth redemption."

I was stunned. The Deacon, I understood. But Papa had never spoken that many words to me before in a single conversation. He turned and left. I padded silently behind him.

When I came downstairs, I was immensely relieved to see Sam. He was on his knees, his head bowed, as he and Deacon Nies prayed together. Fred was also on his knees, praying. Papa sat stony faced at the table watching the deacon and listening to his son pray for redemption.

I sat silently next to Mama, who wore a scarf over her hair. Little wide-eyed Rachel sat on the other side of her. I knew my turn would be coming next, but I was more concerned about the dried blood on Sam's face. I hoped nothing internal was broken.

The men's voices droned on and on, seemingly for hours. Then, abruptly, they stopped. Deacon Nies looked up in my direction. Mama handed me a scarf, and I joined the men, kneeling in front of the Deacon next to Fred. My memory of that next hour, mercifully, has disappeared. All I recall is how dreadfully my knees hurt and how my face stung where Mama had slapped me.

I do recall, however, the funeral atmosphere at the table that evening when Papa looked at Mama and said, "It's time she was married." No mention was made of Sam, who had disappeared while the Deacon pleaded with God to forgive my sins. Rachel later told me that Papa had ordered him to "live in the barn with the other animals," and that he was no longer a member of the family!

A week later, I was introduced to Mr. Enders, who Papa had invited to dinner. He was a member of the congregation, of course, a middle-aged widower whose wife had died in childbirth six months earlier. When I met him, I knew I was meeting my husband, and I saw a heavy set man with thinning reddish hair, a large mustache, crooked teeth and bad breath. Two weeks later, we were married. He, I later learned, was 46. I was barely 18.

I'd rather not dwell on my wedding night. Let's just say Mr. Enders was accustomed to getting what he wanted and was impatient with things, like my maidenhead, that temporarily stood in his way. Like the ordeal with the Deacon, my actual memory of that first penetration is lost. I only recall his enormous satisfaction when he saw my bloody night dress and the stains on the sheet. I also remember his comment. "I was taking a chance on you, little Miss. I knew about you and your brother, and I wasn't sure he hadn't beaten me to it!"

I met his brood, my ostensible step "children," the next day. Nels was the oldest and was several years older than me -- he was 22 or 23, I think. He was hired out to a farmer across the valley and I saw him only at rare intervals. Julia was next; she still lived at home. She was two years older than me, and all she could talk about was getting married. In that place and time, a girl who remained unmarried at 20 was getting dangerously close to spinsterhood.

Janice and I were almost exactly the same age, but she was mean and spiteful and watched me closely, looking for any missteps she could gleefully report to Mr. Enders.

Then there were the two little ones. Hester and John. Hester reminded me of Rachel at home. She was a shy child and needed mothering that neither older sister could or would provide. John was a delightful six year old who quickly began following me around like a puppy.

Mr. Enders also employed a hired man who took care of the farm while Mr. Enders was away on business. The hired man -- everyone called him Paul -- ate with the family but slept in the barn. He was a strange man who rarely spoke and never looked anyone in the face. In a rare confidential mood, Julia told me one day that Mr. Enders had arranged for Paul's release from jail and that if Paul ever gave any of us any trouble, we were to report it to the sheriff who would put Paul back in jail. Julia continued in her role of family cook, while I became the maid, washing dishes, waiting on Mr. Ender's children and trying to keep the house neat and orderly. Mr. Enders gave me an allowance each week to cover the family living expenses. Julia made the shopping list, while I was expected to harness the team and drive the wagon into Virden for supplies. Janice usually rode with me. The rest of my life lay before me like a well beaten track. But then one day, a kindly Providence intervened.

On that Saturday morning, after Paul left for the woodlot, Janice began complaining of cramps, so I was left to harness the team. Breeching harness is heavy and this was a job that required more lifting, tugging and adjusting than one small pair of hands could easily handle but I knew she disliked the smell of horses and anything involving manual labor, so I wasn't surprised.

I expected her to recover as soon as the team pulled the wagon out of the shed, but when I stopped at the back door, she shook her head and waved me on. That was the Saturday when, as I was loading my purchases in the wagon, I saw Sam.

He saw me at the same moment. As our eyes met, an instant tiny spark of lightning ignited between my thighs and a remembered itch began to plague my breasts and especially my nipples.

It had been almost six months since that awful day. He had been sent away to relatives in the next county. He was even more handsome, taller and heavier than I remembered. I had changed, too. I was then in my fourth month with Joseph and was just beginning to show.

"Sam!"

"Willy!"

Indifferent to the fact that we were standing in the center of town, or that we were surrounded by people, I flew into his welcoming arms, and he, equally recklessly, gave me a passionate kiss that had no resemblance to a brotherly peck. The spark between my thighs ignited a sharp yearning and I felt suddenly very moist and very empty. My breasts ached for his touch, and as we clung together, I could feel his member stir and begin to grow.

"Let's find somewhere so we can talk," I said breathlessly, although I'm not sure talking was all I had in mind.

"I know a place," Sam said. "I'll get my team. You follow us."

I began working myself into a frenzy as I waited for him. There was never any doubt in my mind about my feelings for my brother, but now, especially following the brutality Mr. Enders had subjected me to, I longed for his gentle touch, his soft mouth, and yes (dare I admit it?), his beautiful member! I only hoped he shared my thirst.

"Come on, Willy!"

Jolted out of my reverie, I shook the reins and spoke to the horses. They swung behind Sam's cart and followed him to the edge of town. The road, little more than a grassy track, was new to me. It passed through a stand of cottonwood trees, then dipped to the bed of a small stream and up a shallow climb on the opposite bank.

Sam's team unhesitatingly splashed through the shallow water but instead of going on across the ford, they turned downstream and were quickly lost to view around the bend. My horses were uneasy at first, but then I let them stop and drink their fill.

"Over here, Willy!" Sam was standing on a boulder in the stream. Even as I swung the horses to follow his track, a vision of his beautiful rigid member with its purple head peeking from behind its loose skin flashed through my mind. I shook the reins again to hurry the horses.

Sam's team was standing just above the stream in a shadowy glade. My horses whinnied a greeting as we swung next to them. Meanwhile, Sam had removed his cart cover and spread it on the springy grass.

He was standing in the middle of it as I set the brake and hurried into his arms. Again we kissed, our tongues and lips working together. My womanhood was a seething cauldron of liquid fire between my thighs that only his cock could extinguish. Neither of us hesitated. The itch in my breasts was unbearable, and as we sank to our knees, still locked together, I began to undo his buttons, while he rubbed my breasts through my dress.

"Wait," I said. I stood again, and quickly drew my dress over my head and my underclothes fell in a heap. Sam stripped just as quickly. I saw his manhood, even stronger and more beautiful than I remembered, tilting up into the air like a miniature arm held up in a salute. I couldn't help but compare the beauty of his weapon with the thick, stubby tool my husband possessed, which I had seen only on my wedding night. At the same time, he noticed my altered condition. "Willy, are you . .?"

"Yes," I said, "am I ugly?"

"You could never be ugly, darling."

Darling??? This was the first time he had ever used a term of endearment with me! I ran to him again, this time deliberately pressing my bare belly against his rampant cock. Again I raised my mouth to his, wallowing in the sensual pleasure caused by mashing my full breasts against his chest.

Again we sank to our knees. This time, I would not be denied. I rolled on my back and spread my legs. "I want you in me, Sam, right now!"

He rolled between my trembling thighs. As I raised my knees to accept him, he loomed over me, his earlier passion replaced by concern. "Are you sure, Willy?" For an answer, I reached down and seized his cock which I attempted to guide into my secret place, but he still resisted. "Are you sure it won't hurt the baby?"

I wanted to scream, "fuck me!!" except I had never heard that word before. I renewed my effort to pull him into me, this time seizing his buttocks with both hands. This time I was successful. I don't know why I'm telling you all this detail, but the minute I felt Sam's beautiful cock slide inside me, wave after wave of pure ecstasy washed through my body. I was transported to some place beyond the stars. I could never have imagined that sex would be so wonderful!

When he began thrusting himself into me, those wonderful waves of pure passion continued to ripple though my body, and I found I was lifting myself, thrusting up to greet his member as he pounded himself into me. All the pent up frustration since our youngest days when he first saw my cunny and I, his little boy erection in the hay loft, up to the terrible moment when Papa caught us lying together flowed away when I felt his wonderful penis begin to spasm as he bathed my insides with his hot seed.

After we held and caressed each other, he stroking my taut swollen belly and incredibly sensitive breasts while I gently massaged his softened and sticky penis and balls. I was horrified when I realized that I suddenly felt a strange need to taste his member; to feel that beautiful cock growing on my tongue, but I realized in time that if I attempted such a vile thing, he would be repulsed, and rightfully so. Reluctantly, I released him. We dressed without daring to look at each other.

Even without having revealed my perverted impulse, Sam was deeply troubled by what we had just done, and he put his thoughts into words. "Willy, what we just did was just about the worst sin there is."

Tears were too near the surface for me to dare speak. Instead, I nodded.

"We can't ever do this again! We'll go to Hell for sure if we do." Again I nodded. I can't honestly say whether my tears were tears of repentance, or frustration, having experienced the most glorious moment of my life only to have any possibility of experiencing it again rudely snatched away. Still, common sense told me Sam was right, if only for purely practical reasons. I sadly kissed him goodbye, and we parted.

Fortunately, Mr. Enders believed that sex for pleasure was a sin; that the only reason God allowed it was so the human race could multiply as the Bible required. Consequently, he regarded me as one might regard a brood mare. Once he was satisfied that I was "settled" as he put it, he left me alone, and I was eternally grateful for that because Mr. Enders not only lacked skill as a lover, he was almost sadistic as if he were punishing me for being a woman.

If Mr. Enders had been even the slightest interested in making love, I could better have endured his crude manners in the bedroom, but his idea of foreplay was to lift my night dress to my waist, wedge himself between my thighs and force himself into me. When that happened, I found myself thinking of Sam. I even tried to pretend that his pig-like rooting in my cunny was Sam, but even that was a small consolation. I even tried to anticipate his whim so I could prepare myself with my fingers and make his entry into me much less painful. Now, of course, I know some of the reason for his hostility. Papa had paid him $1,200 to marry me.

Fortunately, Mr. Ender's visits had ended when he realized I was pregnant. Mr. Enders also began spending more and more time away from the farm, so I spent many happy nights with my fingers and loving memories of Sam to comfort me. I didn't realize it at the time, but Mr. Enders was working on a project for an investment company in Winnepeg.

(To be continued)