“So, when I came in, you and Ben were spooning and dozing. I was so pumped full of endorphins myself, I saw no reason I shouldn’t snuggle in. You sleepily wrapped your arms around me and we hummed and dozed happily for a few minutes, and then you said ‘Gotta pee!’ and gently extricated yourself from our puppy pile. Hours (or was it minutes?) later when you came back – time that night was so fluid – you found Ben and me tightly spooned and sound asleep, yes?”

“El, I loved seeing you two sibs wrapped together, something I always imagined. And I did need to pee, but then I was restless and charged up, and wanted to write my feelings while they were fresh. I didn’t give a thought to you and Ben naked in bed together.”

“Me neither. Ben seemed pretty used up and unconscious, and being skin-to-skin with him felt unexpectedly right. When he wrapped his long arms around me and snuggled close, I just nestled back against his comforting presence and dove back into my busy dreams. You starred in my dreams, and Ben, Alice, and Richard were there too, a wonderful tumble of lips, fingers, cunts, cocks, and tender pink petals – one of those dreams where I was only half asleep, and I could steer the story wherever I wanted to go, you know?”

“Oh, I do. Remember those Yeats lines,"

When sleepers wake and yet still dream,
And when it's vanished still declare,
With only bed and bedstead there,
That Heavens had opened.

“That’s the poem about ‘profane perfection of mankind’, right? But don’t distract me with poetry!”

You paused to recapture the story’s thread, then continued, “Six decades later, I’m still of two minds about what happened next. In the dream, I was luxuriating in the aftershocks of feeling Richard inside me while Alice licked my clit – so intense that when I felt a throbbing fullness teasing my pussy lips and my vagina’s introitus, I fitted it right into my dream: sweet, gentle, and in harmony with the feelings of fullness that were still coursing through my whole body. I opened myself to the intensifying sensations as I dreamt of a presence entering me.

“Suddenly, Ben exploded, recoiling away from me, shocking me starkly awake: ‘Oh, shit!’ he exclaimed, flinging his arms from around me, babbling ‘Oh Sis! I am so sorry! I was dreaming, half asleep, and feeling so good, and then I realized you weren’t Grace.’ My own dream state shattered, but the feeling in my pussy didn’t. Having his welcome presence suddenly withdrawn from my body left me feeling empty and wanting. And extremely disappointed. Oh, my God! That hadn’t been a waking dream at all, but Big Brother Ben’s delicious dick inside me! Now that I’d had him inside me, I wanted him back.

“And you know, at that moment, on that magical night, under the influence of the openness and guiltless sharing that had flowed between us all, there was absolutely no sense of incestuous wrongness, and a pervasive hunger to explore joyous lifting of taboos. As you know, our little family was always hugging, and, as I’m sure you remember, a good hug with young Ben often included awareness of the growing bulge in his pants (the horny devil!) Always before I shied away from ‘forbidden’ thoughts about him.

After his backyard show, I transferred those thoughts to you and him together. But just then, ‘that magical night,’ boundaries and judgments dissolved. Of course, we weren’t intently making babies; we were simply embodying our love in nothing more or less than a perfect, thoroughly intimate hug, an inevitable next level of the family closeness we’d shared all our lives.”

You took a moment for retrospective reflection, as if you were listening to your own words. After a pause you continued, “Grace, isn’t it funny how I’m waxing so wordy about something so simple and natural? We have belabored this slippery notion of ‘incest’ all our adult lives. We’re sister lovers, and I treasure the visions of us, then and now, black and white, breast and cunt, lips and tongue, and we never felt wrong.

Surely on that night of nights we weren’t following some biological imperative to produce a latter-day remake of in-bred European royalty, then or ever. When you and I make love to each other, or in those occasional threesomes we’ve had with Brother Ben over the years, procreation isn’t on the agenda. Our whole lives we’ve been exploring the deep and various layers of human sexuality. The way our bodies solemnize and elevate our love seems, at least in our lifetimes and in this over-populated world so, well, sensible? Isn’t it possible that we’re evolving that basic biological imperative to a higher purpose?

“Even aged nineteen, before our decades of discussion, I knew that I needed to reassure Ben right in that moment, and reclaim our intimate connection while we were both open and dazzled with love. I wanted him to know that what had just happened, was still happening for me – canoodling skin to skin – was much better than fine! And having him inside me felt right and really good. More to the point, not having him inside me felt lonesome and incomplete!

“So I turned to face him, and put my hands on his cheeks, locked eyes with him, and told him I was okay. We were okay. More than okay: really nice, in fact. So nice, I think I said, that we should really do it properly. And I unleashed my most thoroughly passionate kiss on him, on the lips, a generous helping of tongue, and before he could protest I rolled him onto his back and climbed aboard. When I touched his nipples, they erected. Rubbing my breasts across his chest, my nipples replied in kind. Leaning down to kiss him, our nipples brushed against each other and I felt an immediate and fiery response in my cunt.

“At first he responded stiffly, unsure, but then ...” A wry laugh. “His body took over – men are all alike, y’know? Another part got stiff. He put his hands on my hips and gently guided me, sliding his ready cock along my cunt, lubricating himself with my pussy’s juices before his cock found its way between my engorged nether lips. Goddess, it felt good! To this day I can summon a full-bodied memory of that moment, there on the brink of what we both always thought ‘the forbidden’: the look in his eyes, the swelling and welcoming by my soft wetness to his hardness. Hunger, recognition, and joyous surrender. I nestled back, craving the feeling of him burrowing inside me.

“Slowly, so slowly, I slid him inside me, until we were as connected as a man and a woman can be. I could feel – I feel it now! – his penis fitting perfectly into the fornices beside my cervix, his fullness drawing my clitoris down to rub along his engorgement. On top of him, I felt powerful, in control, and I could see the welcoming assent in his eyes. To use your word, I engulfed him!

“For minutes then, we hardly moved, and held each other’s eyes intensely, watching, I’m sure, for any hint of doubt or fear while storing up the passionate oneness we’d just found. I didn’t feel a stitch of regret then, nor have I ever regretted that first carnal connection with my brother – as you know! I was whole-heartedly, whole-cuntedly, engaged in loving him, and felt a wave of relief that all vestiges of reserve between us were set aside, and our sibling intimacy made complete. I was beyond fulfilled, feeling him all the way inside me. I think I always longed for that union. Can you, without a sib of your own, imagine the relief of exploding those taboos? What a terrific release, being able to show him how wonderful making love with him like this made me feel!

Ella, you paused then, and I could tell you were feeling him inside you all over again, across these many decades. You recovered yourself and went on: “We barely moved, just enjoying the sensation of his hot firmness socketed deeply into my soft welcoming wetness. Our eyes locked, and our breathing synchronized. Time stopped, but not the sensations: so different from the striving passion with Richard, but more, I don’t know if ‘mystical’ is the right word, but other-worldly. Unlike any space I’d ever been . . and have seldom revisited despite years of trying.

“Thinking back, I didn’t know anything about tantric sex then, but I guess that’s what we were having. My whole consciousness centered on the feel of his cock throbbing, and my cunt responding involuntarily, squeezing him gently, and the thrills coursing out to my nipples, my earlobes, my third eye. ‘Careful,’ he warned. ‘I don’t want to come inside you, but Jesus, El, this is better than a dream.’

“We stayed locked together like that for a long time, taking turns rubbing each others’ chests, backs, then kissing deeply, his cock softening and then hardening again, discovering each other at a level of closeness I think we had both yearned for ever since we became aware of each other as sexual beings. Finally, exhausted, we collapsed and rearranged ourselves so he was again behind me and barely, reassuringly, inside me. That’s how you found us.”

Another loving silence while you and I gazed at each other and let remembrances of our full, sexy lives dance through our minds. A particular memory made me smile: “When I came back to bed, you were uncovered, tightly spooned, and asleep. I wanted to get as close to you as I could, so I covered you up and snuggled in close behind Ben, reaching around to hold you both. I was only a little surprised to find Ben’s big hands covering your breasts. A phrase popped into my mind: ‘Ben sandwich.’”

“Lucky Ben!”

“Indeed! Did you know we’d been making love, and he was still inside me?”

I gave you my best Mona Lisa-knowing smile but replied “I could tell you were very close, but I didn’t know you had, um, connected.” After a long loving look, I said, “Thank you for telling me.”

In the evening glow, our bodies still radiating the sun and the heat of these recollections, we couldn’t keep our hands and mouths off each other, kissing, sucking, dozing, teasing. Loving.

– o –

Grace’s Turn

Hours later, in bed and basking in the afterglow of a mutually satisfactory 69 but not ready for sleep, you recalled us to our task, “That was a refreshing interlude! This retrospective story-telling seems to wind us both up deliciously. Wouldn’t you like to write this down? I think reading it one day would restore us, and others might enjoy reading it, too. But now, Grace, you promised to tell me about you and Ben.”

“Writing it down would be a treat, thank you for your permission. But you’d be my only audience. If others read it? Oh well!” I put on my remembering face and looked at you squarely. “You and I talked about some of this at the time, and have told bits along the way. I agree, this, and so much of our lives, has the makings of a pretty good erotic story, so why not write it? El, you’ll have to be my editor.”

With a wink and after a lingering kiss, you replied, “With pleasure!”

And so I picked up the story: “At nineteen years old, having male lovers was so new for us both, and had so many unanticipated consequences! As I recall, we seldom left each other, staying nights at each others’ homes. We were getting set to move in together and start our freshman year at UC. I remember we made fervent love to each other, so much that our daily lives, cooking, washing clothes, sleeping, seemed secondary while we enjoyed the easy familiarity of coupling. No one’s ever been easier for me than you were, and are!

“So. Back to Ben. He pursued me for a couple of weeks after ‘that night’, begging for more, but I was so enamored with you and the college life that was opening to us then that I scarcely had time for him. I thought a lot about what he and I had done, or, rather, what I’d done to him. Maybe if I’d known that you and Ben connected that night too, I wouldn’t have felt as much ethical conflict, but you know over-thinking ethics is always a problem for me.”

You shake your head dismissively, agreeing that such niceties aren’t your domain.

“Yes, sometimes I’m too serious for my own good. But it was important to me to let Ben know that he was so much more to me than just a willing cock. While his kindness and intelligence were important factors in my choosing him for my first, he was, for me right then, just a comfortably available ‘starter penis.’ That sounds so harsh, but it’s accurate. You were so much more adroit at giving me pleasure, and the complications that our love brought to my life were so minor. Looking back, I’m sorry I treated your brother so cavalierly.”

“Gracie, it all worked out rather nicely over time, don’t you think?”

“Oh my, yes! A lifetime later, having Ben in our lives still, as our strong right arm, cheerleader, and occasional lover, has enriched our lives immeasurably. But we were so naive and inexperienced then, and I was trying so hard to be completely honest, it’s a little miracle that we all navigated those difficult rapids and emerged loving each other even more.

“Anyway, on with the story: Ben kept insisting on meeting secretly and making love again, but I felt my loyalty was to you, El. That summer, you satisfied my every urge, and I didn’t want Ben to upset our balance. At the time, I think we both knew that making love with men would be problematic, something we’d best control carefully until we were ready to settle down and make babies. I have to admit, I was flattered that such a beautiful man was so smitten, or maybe ‘infatuated’ is the better word. But while he was thinking ‘forever,’ I wasn’t ready to have a follower with that much intensity.

“After a couple of ‘public dates’ – coffee at the Med, a walk through the campus to Northside – I agreed to meet him in the Rose Garden late one night. I intended to try to let him down gently with the harsh truth that I was afraid would hurt him.

“The garden was abandoned. The necklace of lights around the Bay and the bridges were a-twinkle, and I remember the waning moon just coming up over the hills made it easy for us to find a secluded bench. A tongue of fog was just swirling in through the Golden Gate.

“Ben was, I think the word is, ‘importunate,’ or maybe a better way to say it is ‘insistently horny,’ hands all over me and an uncomfortable-looking bulge in his jeans as soon as we sat on a bench. I wasn’t quite ready to say what I came to say, either. I remember nervously joking about how men can’t listen very well when their cocks are hard – something about limited blood supply, only enough to operate one head or the other at a time – so I knelt in front of him and unbuttoned him, liberating his pretty dick.

“Something in that time and place made what followed a peak experience for both of us. Not content with just his lovely shaft, I helped him slide his pants down to his ankles and clutched his bum in my hands, enjoying the contrast of white hands and tight brown butt in the moonlight. In reply, he unbuttoned my blouse enough to be able to pop my breasts out of my bra, and there, again, was the contrast. We were pretty lovers, I had to admit. Moonlight over his shoulder sparkled in the crystalline droplet of pre-cum issuing from his meatus, swelling as I gently stroked him. As the droplet quivered on the brink of running, I greedily licked it up with my tongue tip and looked up at him. Sensing the gravity of the moment, we kissed deeply, tasting his desire: a sort of valediction.

“The magic of the place inspired me, and I proceeded to give him what I think was probably the best head he’d ever had. Not, I admit, without considerable pleasure for me, too.

“He warned me when he was going to come, yet by then I wanted to take his sperm in my mouth, taste him, ‘do him the honor’ of swallowing his every drop. When he came, I thought I was going to drown. Made me think of the riddle, ‘What’s gray and cums in quarts?’”

“Ha ha!”

“Yes, but blurting that out was maybe a little disrespectful under the circumstances? You know that sometimes I don’t censor my thoughts quickly enough. One birthday you even gave me that sign, ‘Be sure brain is engaged before putting mouth in gear.’ But that hoary old elephant joke fit the mood, and he laughed, and helped me rearrange and button himself up, and I could tell he was ready to listen.

We sat side-by-side on our bench and held hands while I told him that I had chosen him to be my first because he was such a sexy, gentle, smart guy. I even told him that after seeing him demonstrating his taut body and erect cock in his bedroom window, he and his dick had starred in my dreams. So choosing him, whom I thought of as almost a brother, to be my first male lover, just seemed inevitable.

“Then I told him that I didn’t think he could be my only, at least, not then, with college ahead and who knew what after. I think by then he’d mostly figured that out, because the aura of love that covered us didn’t go away. I wanted...