Rachel's Research Ch. 01: Debbie & Phil

Even now I remain amazed just how many people are prepared or even eager to talk under the right circumstances and, once the conversations have started, just how much intimate detail they are prepared to disclose. It's almost as if they have been bottling it up inside themselves for years, desperate for an opportunity to share what in most cases are the deepest, most emotional secrets of their lives.

When that opportunity to talk in safety finally arrives, there is no holding them back.

To my even greater surprise, several of my case studies asked if their real-life experiences were worthy of making into an erotic story and publishing online. To be fair, most of these requests came from those correspondents I had found via those story sites, but they were still cases I believed to be genuine.

For these people, the idea of seeing in print one of the most important and most secret aspects of their lives -- anonymised of course -- seems to have a huge, almost cathartic appeal. After a few back-and forth conversations, I developed several stories whose narratives either exactly or very closely followed my new friends' real lives.

When published, these stories attracted more correspondence which in turn produced more stories until I had a good solid set of examples with which to begin the qualitative, behavioural side of my research.

The soft 'ping' sound that told me a message had just arrived on my desktop pc, drew me back from my musings. I carried what remained of my coffee back into the study where there was a small blue box in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen.

I sat on my swivel chair, took a long sip of the warm drink then maximised the window and read its contents.

'Hi Rachel. Good news, I'm finally happy with the article and the story. As long as you don't put in any references to our real names, go ahead and publish them both. I can't believe I said that. Better do it quickly before I chicken out. Thank you SO much. Love Debbie x.'

I smiled in relief and delight then immediately logged into both my erotic author's and my anonymous incest-support website accounts. Within fifteen minutes, both documents had been prepared for submission for Editor's approval and I sat back in my chair, relaxed for a final read through.

***

Debbie had been one of my most recent discoveries; or rather, she had discovered me. Similar in age to me happily married and with three grown up children, Debbie had made contact after reading one of my anonymised contributions to a specialist website for people in or with a history of consanguineous relationships.

After a hesitant start, first by email then over many instant message conversations, Debbie had revealed that for many years, she had been involved in a deep, loving, sexual relationship with her older brother Phil. It had started while they were both at school, had continued sporadically when she had gone to University but had ended when he went to college too, in a different part of the country.

They had both met other people and for a while had both been happily married. Her brother's marriage had since broken up, but Debbie and her husband were still very much a couple.

It was a story not uncommon in the world of incest and like so many with similar secrets, she had been desperate to tell someone for many years. I had been a safe, non-judgemental ear into which she could pour, whisper or even shout her secrets and true feelings.

I looked again at the documents still on my screen. The plain, research-based version had already been filed in my academic folders within the University's secure server. The article was mostly factual and contained little more than hints at the detail of the sex that had taken place.

The version on my screen was very different; This one was specifically designed to be published on the erotic story websites I routinely used.

Written in the first person, I had tried to replicate Debbie's tone of voice in the words I had chosen and to bring to the page the intense desire she still felt for the longest-standing love of her life.

Listening to her talk and putting her passion into words had been profoundly arousing and deeply distressing for me at the same time. I hoped that this would also shine through in my writing.

I checked that the house really was empty, poured myself a glass of white wine and began to read for the last time before publication, the story Debbie had related in so much pleasurable detail.

***

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

"Yes! Oh yes!"

I screamed wildly into the pillow, hoping my wailing voice was muffled enough not to be heard outside the open bedroom window but quite unable to hold myself back. Beneath my knees the ancient bedsprings bounced and complained at the treatment they were receiving for the fifth time in only three days.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

"Fuck me! Oh yes, fuck me!"

Philip's fingers dug hard into the fleshy part of my hips as he pulled me back onto his violently thrusting cock, its head pummelling my cervix as it had so many times over the last forty-odd years.

I could feel the front of his hairy thighs rasping against the soft underside of mine, feel his tight sack slamming against the base of my clitoris, my sagging boobs dangling down as, on all fours and in the bedroom I had slept in as a teenager, my brother fucked the living daylights out of my fifty-five year old body.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

"Don't stop! Don't stop! I'm soooo clooooose!"

My voice sounded almost hysterical as once again, Phil used all the moves and angles that he knew made so much difference to me and my pleasure. An orgasm was close -- very close -- and I wanted it so badly; wanted him to have his own climax too; wanted to experience again the incredible sensation of being inseminated by a fit, strong man with whom I was completely and utterly in love.

Well beyond the age of fertility and with complete trust in my lover, it had been years since I had needed the pill. Apart from our first few months together all those years ago, we had never used condoms either, so all of our couplings had been flesh-to-flesh; the only real way to express how I felt about the love of my life.

"Can't hold on much longer Debs..." the voice behind and above me croaked.

"Okay... nearly there... nearly there..."

I clamped down on his cock as hard as my abused pelvic floor and well-used vagina would allow.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

"Almost... there..."

'Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!'

"Now... now...noooowwwWWWWYYEEESSSS!"

And with that, my middle-aged body went into spasm, my insides melted in a pool of heat, the vagina that over twenty years ago had given birth to two children began to pulsate, gripping the shaft moving within it as hard as it now could...

Seconds later, Deborah Cartwright, married, middle-aged mother of two, occasional golfer, respected partner in a well-known local firm of Solicitors, collapsed face-down on the bed in another helpless orgasm brought about by the presence of her older brother's cock inside her body.

Seconds after that, the cock within her began to throb and pulse as millions of that brother's sperm were pumped deep into her vagina, smeared across the smooth pink peach of her opening cervix and directly into her womb as they had been so many times over the last forty-odd years.

As his climax overtook him, I felt the weight of Phil's body on my hips, pressing me into the rumpled sheets and the heat of his downy chest against my tingling back as we both panted for breath.

"God yes!" he gasped, laughing out loud. "Fuck me, that was good!"

A minute or two later, his softening cock slipped from my tired body and my spent brother rolled onto the bed alongside me.

"You're still hot as hell, Debs!" Phil laughed as he snuggled up to my still-trembling body and kissed me on the ear. "It's getting harder to keep up with you."

"Shut up and let me sleep," I mumbled into the pillow as the aftershocks of my climax faded, tired but for the moment satisfied and very, very happy.

***

Not being able to marry or even live with the person you love most in the world is one of the hardest things that human emotions can deal with. The world is littered with songs and poems about every kind of love; concealed love, unrequited love, forbidden love; the list is endless.

But it is rare to find anyone publicly lamenting the pains and agonies of the love most forbidden; that of romantic, sexual love between close relatives.

And yet history is full of it; mythology is full of it and increasingly, our real world is filling with it.

All around us, taboos are being broken down one by one; divorcees are remarrying in church, abortions can be obtained on demand, homosexuals can get married; transsexuals now have rights. I could go on. But as yet, no-one stands up for those of us involved in what the world sneeringly describes as incest.

Most people are revolted by the idea of physical love between fathers and daughters, mothers and sons or as in our case, brothers and sisters but they don't understand what this special kind of love can be like.

Philip is older than me by just over a year. It was supposed to be longer but Mum became pregnant by accident soon after giving birth to him. He and I started having sex when I was just legal, but our romantic, non-sexual relationship began long before his penis actually entered my body for the first time.

Indeed, it had started long before either of us recognised it for what it was.

In our early years, we had spent many days and holidays staying with our Grandparents while Mum and Dad worked on their new and growing business. We weren't a rich family, so when we stayed with either set of Grandparents, Phil and I had to share a bedroom. We had separate beds at Mum's parents but when we stayed with our father's parents, we had to share a double bed.

This was fun when we were very young, and indeed wasn't much of a problem as we grew older, but as puberty arrived, things began to change.

It wasn't long before Phil started taking himself off for long visits to the bathroom once I had gone to bed, and for him to get extraordinarily embarrassed at strange times, especially if we had been cuddling close.

I was too naïve to understand what was going on until, in the end, two predictable things happened.

Firstly, Phil got an involuntary erection right in front of me, sticking out through the fly in his pyjama bottoms. He did not know it was so clearly visible until he saw the look on my face. To my inexperienced eye, it was very large, very obvious and I stared at it, amazed until he ran out of the room in horror.

Second and most crucially, he had a massive wet dream while we were both asleep, cuddled up in the double bed like two spoons. His groin was pressed against my bottom, which must have accidentally stimulated him too much as we slept. However it happened, we woke in the night, both covered in sticky semen and had to sneak into the house's only bathroom together to wash it off.

Doing this silently involved exposing a lot more of our bodies to each other than had ever happened before.

Phil was almost in tears with embarrassment as we climbed back into bed wearing the previous day's underwear. Even though it had been sticky and smelly, I told him it didn't matter. On one level, being covered by your brother's semen is a revolting thing to have happened, but on another, I found the strange functions of my brother's body fascinating.

I asked exactly what had happened and why. Phil told me. I asked if it had hurt, then told him I had seen his penis hard and sticking out before and wondered if it hurt when that happened too. He told me this too.

As an icebreaker it was crude but very effective. The heart-to-heart that followed changed the way we saw each other completely, forever and although nothing else happened then, I suppose that's when the whole thing between us really started.

After an episode as intimate at that, we could no longer be as self-conscious and secretive about our bodies as we had been before. Being semi-undressed in each other's presence became much more frequent, much less embarrassing and without either of us realising it, the whole 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' thing had started by accident.

With so few physical secrets between us, it seemed only natural to share other secrets too, and we soon became each other's confidants. We both knew who the other fancied at school, how far we had gone with our respective boy and girlfriends, and what we planned to do about it in the future.

By the time we were both in the sixth form, I had seen my brother fully naked and with an unintended erection. He in turn had seen me naked too and had had plenty of opportunity to study my tiny breasts and the complicated collection of flesh between my thighs.

But at that stage, neither of us had done more than look and tentatively touch.

Meanwhile at school, we were both tentatively exploring the dating scene, me more tentatively than my brother.

Phil had a series of girlfriends though none ever seemed to be very serious. Even so, it surprised me how much I hated seeing him holding hands or worse, kissing another girl. The thought that he might be doing much more with her out of sight, could bring me almost to tears.

I must admit here and now that, although I did have quite a nice figure, I was a shy girl, not one of the prettiest in the school and most definitely not a girl you asked out if you wanted easy access to female bodies, boobs or vaginas. I was considered okay for an occasional snog, but a poor prospect for anything more.

Consequently, I had few boyfriends, almost all of whom gave up on me once they realised the contents of my bra were not much bigger than their own chests, and the contents of my knickers were definitely off limits.

I did not want to be pawed, fingered or slobbered on by just anyone; the only boy I really wanted to be with was Phil. Although I didn't recognise it at the time, I was already at least a bit in lust as well as in love with him.

My few forays into dating did however teach me much more about what boys really wanted and to understand my brother's desires better. Although I still didn't understand just how badly I had already fallen for him, I did know how painful it was seeing him with other girls and realised that if I was to keep him from the grasping hands of my fellow female students, I had to give him more of what he wanted myself.

I had to lower my guard and let him take the lead. The thought made me both nervous and excited at the same time.

From then on, when Phil's fingers strayed accidentally to my breasts, I no longer moved them away; when he tried to stroke my thigh or bottom, I no longer shrugged him off and frowned. It took a day or so for Phil to realise something had changed between us, but when he did, things began to move much faster.

This increased physical intimacy made us both closer and bolder, getting together after school when we had the house to ourselves, or sneaking into each other's rooms after Mum and Dad had gone to bed.

Phil seemed completely fascinated by my developing boobs and paid them a great deal of attention. It took much longer before I dared touch his most intimate places and to open my thighs fully for his inspection and touch, but once that watershed had been passed there was no stopping us.

From simply touching we graduated to deliberate, mutual masturbation. This phase lasted longer, with deeper and deeper exploration of both our bodies as we became more comfortable with each other sexually.

With his guidance, I gave Phil both his and my first ever blowjob (it was simply awful, tasted terrible but I stuck with it and eventually made him cum). In return, he gave me my first ever orgasm with his fingers. The intensity scared me so much, it was a full month before I let him touch me down there again.

From masturbation, we began deep kissing with tongues.

It seems strange that kissing should have started so late in our relationship, but that's what happened. Looking back, it was probably the moment our relationship changed from being two curious kids exploring each other's bodies, to something much more serious and long-lasting.

For the first time since we had got together, I began to feel he was treating me more like what I so badly wanted to be; not as an intimate playmate or masturbation buddy, but his real and only girlfriend.

With long, slow kissing added to our portfolio, our sessions together lasted much longer, were much more relaxed and produced even deeper and more exciting sensations in my body that lasted long after we had parted.

Sometimes Phil would hold my hand when we were out, or even kiss me on the lips in public when there was no-one around who knew us. I can't describe how good that made me feel.

I suppose it was around then that I truly fell in love with him.

From kissing and masturbation, it was inevitable that we would eventually move on to our first attempts at proper sex. Although the idea made me very anxious, my other friends at school had been having sex with their boyfriends for ages and Phil was getting bolder and bolder in our sessions together too. It was only a matter of time before he found a girl at school who would have sex with him, so I knew he and I had to do it and do it soon if I was to have any chance of keeping him.

The momentum was building; all I had to do was stop saying no and it would happen naturally; my brother would take my virginity and make me forever his.

I did not have long to wait. Less than twenty-four hours after making that decision, my brother's cock was inside my vagina for the first time. It was to be there many, many times more over the next thirty-odd years but as they say, you never forget your first.

Our first time was as most first times are: after school, on my bed, on my back, skirt raised, knickers down, after a good long fingering, to reduce my inhibitions and make me more open to my brother's suggestions.

All I can say is that if that was his plan, it worked!

Our first intercourse didn't go smoothly though, at least not at first. Although deep down I wanted it to happen, once it had started, I was terrified of the expected pain and froze on the bed. Phil was overexcited too but managed not to cum prematurely as he climbed onto my anxious, helpless body, opening my thighs with his knees and lowering his hips with their familiar weapon towards my waiting groin.

My whole body went stiff when I felt the head of his cock being rubbed along my slit in search of my entrance. My knees locked and my legs closed, but Phil had already got too close for me to shut him out.

In the end, he found his target, but my nerves had left me dry down there, so he entered me at an awkward angle. This dryness combined with the remnants of my hymen to make his penetration difficult.

But having got so far, there was no way Phil was going to let me leave with my virginity intact. He persevered determinedly and in the end, my defloration was clumsy, painful and short but eventually successful.

When Phil's cock finally broke through what little his fingers had left of my maidenhead, it was the first time any penis had entered me. I gasped with the pain and the unbelievably alien sensations but steeled myself to see it through.

The problem was that we were both virgins and, beyond the fact that his erect penis was now at least part-way in my vagina, neither of us had any real idea what we were doing. All I knew was that it hurt and that having a part of someone else's body inside mine felt really weird.