7 comments/ 26797 views/ 16 favorites The Book of Ruth: Before Ruth By: Hypoxia Author's note: This introductory episode of an extended romantic memoir includes punishment sex, and incest (coupled and group), and mezcal. Each episode can stand alone. The story is probably fairly fictional. All sexual acts involve live humans of age 18+. For readers' convenience, most non-Anglish language communications are presented in loose Anglish translation. Your feedback is appreciated. ***** THE BOOK OF RUTH: Before Ruth ***** -- 1978 -- early summer It is all my big sister's fault. If only Jill had been dumb, or cautious, or sedentary, or asexual, my life would be totally different. I could have lived a nice calm ordinary mainstream sub/urban Gringo existence. But that did not happen. I was always smart as a whip. Jill was always smarter. I was always adventurous. Jill went to seemingly reckless extremes. I always had a travel lust. Jill was as peripatetic and restless as a cranked-up ferret. I had good ears and eyes. Hers were better. I look pretty good. Jill looks super. Everything I am, Jill is always more of, except taller and physically stronger. At least I exceed her there. Jill was way ahead of me on domination. "Oh, don't be a whining wussy, kid! You know you'll love it!" "But Jill, we'll get killed or raped or robbed or worse!" "That's not gonna happen, little brother. And you are NOT ducking out of this." "But why does it have to be me? Why don't you take that asshole Alan?" "Alan is out of the picture. And this is shit YOU need to learn and do. Now, get your stuff together. We'll be up at first light. Be ready, or suffer." And so she forced me into her faded blue Volkswagen Bug. Well, she did not force me at gunpoint or anything, but I really had no choice, not when Jill gave orders. Like I said, she knows how to dominate. She will probably be a dictator some day. No, I am NOT a wuss. But with Jill, obedience is the better part of survival. ----- I will admit I was both apprehensive and excited about our upcoming adventure. Worried, because it was in (to me) strange, exotic, dangerous foreign territory. Thrilled, by the prospects of delving into the unknown, and meeting and fucking new people, and spending lots of quality time with Jill. The equation: Fear vs Fun. It is sort of like rock-climbing in the high desert. I love scrambling over big piles of monster boulders. But a prudent rock-scrambler always carries a stick. Before stretching for the next handhold just over a ledge, poke and tap that spot with the stick. Listen for signs of life. We don't REALLY want to reach the rattlesnake curled up there, marginally out of sight. Any adventure is like that. We want the thrill, but prudence dictates caution. The name of the game is Survivable Adventures. Don't grab the rattlesnake. So, I let Jill maneuver me into this journey. It should be fun, and exciting, and I just hope we manage to avoid the (metaphorical) snakes. ----- As the song goes, "Please allow me to introduce myself..." and my big sister. I am Randy. (And I am randy a lot, too.) She is Jill, except in Spanish-speaking lands, in which case she is Julia, because Jill is pronounced HEEL and she does not much like that. South of the border, we are just Randall y Julia. Jill and I are tall slender youths with dark brown hair and hazel eyes that shade from dirt-ochre to chlorine-green, depending on our moods. She stands almost six feet high and I have a few inches on her. We are said to be good-looking. We are both firmly muscled. We have sharp features, high cheekbones, dimpled chins, good teeth, and all-over tans. Jill has great firm tits and I do not, so we are pretty easy to tell apart. Her deep walnut hair is rather longer, too. Jill is my slavemaster, and my muse, and my best friend forever and ever, amen. Jill has always been crazy. When she was younger, she raised tarantulas, which was okay until they got loose and infested our house. No, they are not poisonous or dangerous to humans. But I sure lost a lot of friends because they or their parents freaked out and/or pissed or shat themselves. I do not know how Mom took it for so long. Jill has also always been bossy, and a bit sneaky, and quite determined. When Jill wants something to happen, it happens. Not always as planned, but something happens anyway. She sure keeps life frightening, and exciting. --- Across Southern California --- This trip began in late June 1978. I had recently celebrated my 18th birthday. Jill and I had both just graduated, me from our high school's AP program, she with a junior college AA business degree. We had the whole summer before us. We were stepping out. Jill and I packed and lounged till Mom returned home from her 11pm-to-7am dispatch shift, and we showered. We all embraced in a nice full-contact bare-skin hug under the swirling spray. I felt so loved! And only a little randy. I should mention this: We had been raised naked. We did not wear clothes inside our home. We had slept together naked all our lives, Jill and I, and often with Mom. No fucking, just cuddling, warmth, and togetherness. Our little family was close, very close, even closer since Dad ran off with a Thai waitress ten years earlier. We kissed Mom goodbye, then dressed in our usual summer clothes: huarache sandals, cutoff jeans, tees. A long black-and-silver Led Zeppelin tee draped my tall torso that dull morning. Jill's impressive chest was covered by a bright orange PHI KRAPPA ZAPPA tee of naked Frank Zappa squatting on a toilet. Yeah, slightly retro. As the sun oozed up through the polluted skies to shine feebly on the smogberry trees, we left our little family bungalow in Santa Monica, near the Pacific Ocean. We drove east to EL Paso, then south to our destination: Taxco, Guerrero, Mexico. (Yeah, the drive took a few days. No, we did not get killed, or raped, or robbed, or worse. Yeah, we got drunk along the way, and got fucked, and otherwise had fun.) Fighting 150 miles of commute traffic took most of that first morning. Yuck. I only screamed at fucktard moron drivers a couple times. No need to pile on the stress, right? The summer sun was high and mighty by the time we crested Whitewater Pass, the two-mile-deep gap in the coastal mountains, and dropped past sultry Palm Springs into the low Colorado Desert above the Salton Sea. "Whew! It's good to be out of suburbia. I love being on the desert again." "Yeah, and someday we'll have to roll out here to Desert Hot Springs, get soaked and stroked and toked, all that good stuff." "What, you like D-H-S? I always thought it was tacky there. And all those wrinkly retirees! You know I prefer that bathhouse in Rancho Mirage." "I didn't think you swung that way?" Jill smirked. "Swung which way? I'm not queer!" I protested. "Oh, don't you know the saying? Out here they ask, 'Are you straight, or do you live in Rancho Mirage?'" Jill chortled. "Nobody in Rancho Mirage has to go without a date on Friday night." "Nobody goes without dates around here anyway. This is where they grow'em." "Not date-shake kinda dates, dummy." "Mmmm, a Medjool date shake, that sounds good. You getting hungry?" Belly-growls in stereo answered the question. We stopped in grubby sun-baked Indio for Chinese lunch, then grabbed a couple date shakes for dessert. Time to refuel, too. I bought a mummified horny toad as a souvenir. It reminded me of Dad. Heading east again, we saw a scrawny young denim-clad blond guy hitchhiking at the freeway onramp, clutching a small pack and a three-quarter-size guitar in a cheap vinyl case. I spun the wheel and pulled over next to him. "Hi, I'm Hal, thanks for the ride," he said as he squeezed himself and his gear into the Bug's passenger-side back seat. My sister twisted around to talk to him. "No problem. I'm Jill, this is Randy, and we're off to see the world. Where you coming from, where you going?" "I made pretty good time from San Bernardino. I got a summer job waiting for me in Flagstaff." "Well, we can get you to Phoenix, and Flag is just a few hours up the road from there. You'll make it in no time, really," I said. We passed the SEA LEVEL sign, climbing out of the sunken Salton Sea basin. "Groovy! So where you guys going?" "The future awaits us in central Mexico," Jill intoned dramatically. "Oh, you gonna be sneaking back with some keys of weed maybe?" Hal leered. "No, I have a little jewelry business. We're going to Taxco (TOSS-koh) to work with my suppliers there." "Taxco? I've heard of that place. They got silver or something there, right?" "Yeah, it used to have the world's richest silver mines. They all were sabotaged and shut down a few revolutions ago. But now some of the world's best silverwork and folk arts comes from Taxco. I find or commission designs, then bring it back to the states to sell. It's really nifty stuff." "Wow, sounds great! How did you get into this gig?" Jill took a breath and re-told her story. "I finished high school in Santa Monica a couple summers ago and Randy is just now out. We're around the beach-and-boardwalk scene around there, hanging with surfers and bunnies and sidewalk trinket vendors. Some of the surfdawgs and hodads wear silverwork with Taxco designs. I got the idea a Taxco link could bring me fun and money. "A girlfriend and I drove down. She had family there and knew who to see. I showed some surf-type designs to the artisans. The pieces sold well, so now I have this business thing going. I'm back in Taxco a few times a year, during school breaks now. This is the first time I've managed to get this big shy lunk to come along." Jill punched my shoulder and smiled. "So how do you sell the stuff you bring back?" "I have a couple things going on. I have booths at the big winter gem and jewelry shows in Quartzite and Tucson. I have a little storefront on the Venice pier. And I have a few vendors in places with high pedestrian traffic around Los Angeles. Randy here is gonna run that part of the business, once I break him in." Jill punched my shoulder again. "Quit that, or I'll tie you up on the first saguaro cactus I see," I warned. "Yeah right," she said, punching me again, then leaning over to kiss my bruises. "So there's good money in this?" I glanced in the rearview mirror as Hal asked this. His expression did not look dangerous. I was not really worried anyway; Jill and I both knew how to fight. "Well, once expenses are paid, everything I make goes into savings. Someday I'll be able to afford a better car than this old Bug. No, I'm not rich yet." No, not rich yet. But she was working on it. --- Across Arizona, With Benefits --- We crossed the Colorado River at Blythe. We spotted our first giant saguaro cactus, its bent arms reaching skyward. No, I did not tie Jill to it. But I was tempted! We dropped off Hal in Phoenix. Jill flashed her tits at him as we drove off. We picked up a couple of little Chicana hitchers heading for Tucson. One girl had to sit in the other's lap in the VW's cramped back. (My and Jill's duffels were squashed in behind the driver's seat.) We chatted about happenings around the border region. "So you're going south?" Juanita said. "You sure don't want to cross at Douglas, no way. That's a bad route right now." Her cute dark face showed worry. "Yeah," Muriel echoed, "some banditos like to set up between Piedras Negras and Nuevo Casas Grandes. That's a lonely road. The cops don't bother them 'cause they are, like, owned. The army ain't around, they're busy chasing rebels in Michoacan." "You'd do best to cross on the main El Paso-Juarez bridge. The Federales keep that route pretty clear and safe," Juanita said. "And they only want little bribes." Muriel twitched her skinny butt in Juanita's thin lap and sighed. "Nothing happens without la mordita. It's all pay-for-play. Keep a pile of dollars handy." First rule of exploration: Gather as much local information as possible. We dropped the girls in Tucson, stopped at a seafood place for dinner, and zoomed on -- well, as zoomy as a fairly stock VW Bug can go. We ended our first long day just over the Arizona-New Mexico line in Lordsburg. ----- We took a one-queen-bed room at an offramp motel. We drank some wine, showered together, drank some more wine, and crawled into bed, pretty damn tired. Jill's naked body felt good as she spooned into me. I love to feel her breath on my neck. Neon flickered dimly through the Lordsburg motel-room window's thin faded curtains. Truck and train noises echoed across the night. We were not quite asleep yet. "Where are you directing your dreams tonight, sis?" Sure, we had read about directed dreaming, and practiced it for a while. Focus on what you WANT to dream about. That sure is better than trying to sleep with futile fretting over yesterday and tomorrow. Jill wrapped me tighter in her arms and spooned closer. "Well, I'd thought I'd maybe focus on mazes and labyrinths. They make interesting designs and good dreams. But I have a better idea. Reality, not dreams." She tweaked my nipples. I twitched and chuckled, and reached back and tweaked hers, harder. She pushed my hands away and I laughed. Jill pulled me onto my back. She rolled on top of me and straddled my waist. Her damp bush dusted my navel. She leaned down and softly kissed me. "Sorry I wasn't there for your eighteenth birthday party; I just had to be in Reno then. I couldn't give you your reaching-adulthood present then. I'll fix that now, okay?" Jill leaned down again and kissed me more thoroughly. Her warm wonderful breasts pressed against my chest. Her vulva slid downwards; our pubic hair mixed together. I moved my lips away from hers. "Umm, Jill girl, I'm a bit nervous here. You sure you want this?" "Nothing to worry about, guy. Really. Happy coming-of-age!" "Well sure sis, we aren't newbies or naive," I pontificated. "We've had our lovers. And we've been close, and touched each other -- but nothing further yet." Jill's lips brushed my cheek. My lips said, "You're my big sister. Where are we now? Where are we going?" "Where we're going, little brother, is ALL THE WAY!" "Well yeah, that's kinda obvious," I whispered. "Randy, you know I've loved you since forever. I know you really love me too. We don't need to seal our love; it's ours, it's there, it's forever. We're just going to another level. We're both adults now. I want this. I know you want this too, 'cause you're not stupid, not nuts, and you ARE really horny." Truth be told, I was more nervous than freaked, more startled than guilty, about where we were headed. We had not been brainwashed about sex and arbitrary rules. Yes, we DID have rules. The moral values Mom had inculcated in us were simple: Do not be assholes. Do not hurt others. Be respectful, responsible, and caring. And do not blab. But Mom had not taught us the usual sexual neuroses. She encouraged masturbation, and up-close anatomy study, and being comfortable with our own and each other's bodies as they are. No anorexia, no body shame, no fear of sex, not in THIS house. So I was not really surprised my sister wanted to fuck me, and I should not have been surprised by the timing. Now was as good a time as any. It's just that before now, fucking each other had not been an issue either way, not to me anyhow. "Nothing to get hung about..." as the song goes. So yes, Jill wanted to fuck me, and I wanted to fuck her, and we were both adults, and we were naked in bed together, and she was rubbing her pussy on me, and... ...and she picked herself up, held my stiff cock in position, and lowered herself onto me. I gasped. She gasped. She stared intently into my eyes. I nodded to her. She nodded back, and raised herself up again, and dropped again. Her beautiful butt rested atop my thighs. Our breathing and pulses synchronized. Our bodies throbbed in time to our hearts beating together as one, a deeper beat, a primordial rhythm. My heart pounded and felt like it would explode. My blood roared in my ears. "I love you, Jill," I whispered. My big sister leaned forward, her breasts against my chest, and kissed me softly. "I love you too, baby." I thought Jill and I wanted to fuck each other. I was wrong. We did not fuck. No, we joined. We made love. Long, slow, physical love. Deep, infinite, mental and spiritual love. We merged fully. We stayed joined all night. With our mouths and groins locked together, we drifted away into our shared dream. Zzzz... --- To Mexico And Back --- We put on less flamboyant clothes the next morning, suitable to slide past the icy-eyed border guards. We spun down through Las Cruces to El Paso and Ciudad Juarez, did the needed paperwork, passed the needed bribes -- and we were IN! I will omit the details of the drives to and from Taxco and the border. Not relevant here. Suffice to say, we made it to Taxco's location on a steep mountainside way west of Mexico City with no major hassles, and none on the return trip either. (Well OK, so we stopped over in a few towns, and got cheap rooms, and got drunk, and fucked a lot, and maybe scared some burros and goats and turkeys staked to graze outside our windows. It is not like that has never happened before, right?) We shared driving the whole way, of course. Gotta stay alert at the wheel. We spent three weeks in the decayed hilltop Taxco hotel Jill partly owned. Yes, her business had done well already, enough to make her a patrona. Her slightly decrepit owner's suite was the perfect place for interfacing with locals. Ah yes, interfacing. Business, yes. And some close personal interfacing. Jill knew people here now. People worth interfacing with. Jill's owner's suite had living space and two bedrooms. The main room was her office, with desk, cabinets, one of those new costly electronic calculators, and even a phone. The bedrooms held noisy beds. Beds that stayed busy every night of our stay. We arrived in Taxco whipped from the long drive. We only had strength to eat and shower and crash. We crawled into bed and talked for just a few minutes before we passed out. "After we do business during the day, you can expect guests every evening." "Yeah? Who's coming tonight, Jill?" "Getting antsy, huh? Carlos is my buddy here. He's bringing his cousin Lucia for dinner with us, and for after dinner, too. Be nice to her, okay?" "Hey, I'm always nice. Especially to girls. Especially when they look good. She look good? Better than you? Close, maybe?" "Don't go there, kid. Just be glad I have friends." We settled down and soon filled the room with our gentle snoring. ----- Carlos and Lucia were nice young folks. Slim, dark, good-looking. And horny. We kept those beds creaking that night, and following nights too. After the hotel's kitchen staff had served a great dinner and cleared the debris from the outside table on the owner's suite's rooftop terrace, we four lounged and sipped and toked and chatted, and gazed down at vertical Taxco's night lights. The jewel-like parrochia is the city's shining gem, a spindly masterpiece of Mexican Baroque church architecture, looming over the tiny central plaza. A deacon at a nearer church launched the evening's skyrockets with explosions echoing off the steep villa-lined hillsides. We heard the engine rumbles and tire squeals of Volkswagens climbing the near-vertical cobbled streets. Various musics drifted in from unknown sources. I not-so-sneakily refilled our Mexican coffees, easy on the mezcal. Jill was engrossed in conversation with solid stocky Carlos. His dark eyes often locked on hers, which had gone nearly candy green with suppressed excitement. I focused on Lucia's olive aquiline features as she sipped at her loaded cup. The Book of Ruth: Before Ruth We had been talking of art and culture between tokes. "LACMA just had a major show of Pedro Coronel and Diego Rivera. I'm blown away by the ways they use line and color to imprint patterns into the subconscious." "They're building on centuries of Mexican graphic traditions, guy. You can see those designs reflected in paintings and inlays all over the country." Lucia's jet-black eyes scanned across the tilted townscape below us, then burnt into my vision again. I mentally traced her visage, engraved into my memory. "And I see the countenances of Aztec goddesses reflected in your face, Lucia." Lucia blushed, looked down, and then looked up into my eyes again. She unconsciously swept her long black hair back over her left shoulder. Her lips pursed slightly. "You know I am no goddess. And, as tall and handsome as you may be, you are no god either. Do not blaspheme." "No, we may not be divine nor supernatural. But maybe I can take you to heaven?" Lucia laughed. "Oh, is that what you call it now? How about if we just go to bed?" Jill and Carlos had already adjourned to a lounge divan and were clenched together playing tongue-tag. I took Lucia's hand and led her to my bedroom. Lucia neither wore nor needed a bra under the embroidered white blouse I slipped over her head as she raised her arms. I lifted my own arms and she peeled the red Rolling Stones "big tongue" tee off my torso and bent to lick my nipples. I twitched. She grinned. I grinned back and leaned in to kiss small circles around her dark wide aueroles. I dry-rubbed her thick nipples with just the edges of my lips -- no tongue, no sucking, no pressure, just teasing as we stood close. And then: the bite! (And not a bribe, heh heh.) Lucia jumped. I grinned, and bit the other, then started slow deep sucking, while finger-tweaking the first, and fingering her alluring slippery slit through her thin pink panties. "Oh, mijo, baby, that's so good, oh yeah, right like that..." We fell together onto the bed, me still sucking and tweaking and fingering, Lucia still moaning and shivering. My right hand pressed against her pubes. She pushed and writhed against me. I pressed harder and further. One finger slid into her slickened slot, then two. My second finger did the trick. Lucia thrashed and flailed her arms and legs. Her moans were loud and continuous when my thumb went brushing her clit. I slid Lucia's soaked panties down and off her legs with my unoccupied left hand. I left my right hand in her pussy and replaced my thumb with my tongue. My left hand reached for her right breast. Lucia had never stopped moaning. I sucked hard, then bit down on her clit, and she screamed hoarsely, and flowed, and convulsed, and passed out briefly. Lucia opened her eyes, and saw me, and grabbed my hair, and pulled me to her with her legs spread wide, muttering incoherently. I took this as an invitation. I rolled atop her. I looked deep into the infinite dark wells of her eyes and slid my questing cock completely into her wet welcoming womb. "Oh shit," we murmured in unison. I fucked her. I fucked her good, and thoroughly. No slow romanticism, no tender mercies, just continuous hard pounding, pistoning, until my balls boiled, and her vaginal muscles rippled, and spasm'd, and grabbed me, and milked me dry. I bellowed. Mill-races of molten metal fountained down my urethra. I yelled again. Lucia's arms and legs were wrapped around me, holding me close, refusing to release me, and I don't blame her. I may have passed out briefly also. We recovered. We passed the rest of the night more deliberately, in slow serene lovemaking. We grew together. We shared each other. The following nights were pleasant for all of us too, in couplings and triplings and quadruplings. Maybe I'll write about the experiences someday. Just be aware that we all shared, all fucked and sucked and slurped, all came often, all had fun. ----- Daytimes, we checked with nearby artisans and ateliers, and metal and gemstone suppliers, and dealers in carvings and other crafts. Jill passed out her new designs and assigned new commissions. We loaded up on products to take back home. The carvings and other craftworks were bulky and not intrinsically valuable, so we had them crated, then shipped north with a commercial carrier. The silver and gems were another story. We had many kilograms of these valuables this trip. We wrapped them up *quite* carefully and loaded them into secure stashes inside the car. I admired the stealthy handiwork. "Hey sis, this is pretty nifty. Who modified this as a smuggling car?" "My old VW Beetle isn't as innocent she looks. Cute, huh? The previous owner moved stuff a bit more sensitive than silver, jade and amber. One of his customers was dissatisfied, and his widow needed money fast, so I got a real good deal on this." "But you've had this wee beastie for a couple years now." "Yeah, I bought it just so I could make these runs a bit safer. And it'll be even safer when I have the Bug mill replaced with a blown Porsche engine." Ah yes, more power. Turbocharged power. Va-va-voom. Once safely across the USA border, Jill called the trip a success. --- Jill Lays Out Her Plans --- We did not go straight back to Santa Monica. We detoured to Jill's base in Bisbee, a picturesque mile-high town with a huge open-pit copper mine. Bisbee sprawls over a steep mountain canyon next to the Arizona-Sonora border. One of the planet's largest deposits of copper was here until puny humans dug away at at. The mines had shut down a couple decades earlier. Historic abandoned adobe houses and miner's cottages could be bought for pennies. Jill had scooped-up a good one. Bisbee was ideally located for Jill's business. A half-hour to Tombstone's tourist traps, an hour more to Tucson's shops and its jewelry show, and five minutes to Mexico in case things got hot on the USA side or vice versa. Just in case, yeah? Over the years, we staged many trips into Mexico from Jill's refurbished hillside adobe. This was our portal to adventure, and a good rest stop. Today, we lounged naked in big comfy hand-knotted Yucatan hammocks on the adobe's Talavera-tiled front patio. We gazed down over the quaintly decayed urban heart of Bisbee, once the richest town between New Orleans and San Francisco. We chatted and sipped iced mojitos. "Well, little brother, you've seen how I operate so far. Ready for the next step?" "Depends on the next step. We're not gonna smuggle anything too illegal, I hope." "No, what's next is, we expand sales around L.A. with more locations. That means more vendors. Some will be like what we have now at Santa Monica and Venice for the daily beach crowds. Say, sales carts at Malibu, and Redondo, and Newport. I want carts at pedestrian sites every day too, like Olvera Street and on Fairfax. "And I especially want carts at weekend events and gatherings, like street fairs and festivals and parks, that kinda stuff. I already have some events lined up, with spaces reserved for our goody carts," Jill enthused. "You really think you'll make money that way? Won't you need lots of employees?" "Not employees, just part-time contractors. And they'll mostly be students, on their off-time, taking a cut of gross sales, not wages. They've got incentives that way, and we have minimal paperwork and regulations to deal with." "So where do I fit in here?" "You'll be running the network, guy. You'll be the teacher, the tough boss, the uncle with a heart, the enforcer, the gritty guru. You be The Man!" "And you'll be doing what, exactly?" "Oh, I'll own everything, so I'll just lay back on my silk divan and watch the money roll in while hunky naked slave boys finger-feed me grapes, heh heh." "You little shit!" I groaned in mock agony. "Yeah, but I don't stink," she taunted arrogantly. "Hah! I can smell you from here." "That's just good honest sweat, kid." "Oh yeah, sun-tan sweat, with a hint of Coppertone. Hard work, right." I grimaced. Jill rolled herself over in her web-like hammock. Her splendid twenty-year-old bubble-butt nakedly confronted the blue sky as she cradled her head in her arms, her swollen nipples poking through the hammock's weave. I got a mean idea. I quietly rolled out of my hammock and grabbed the water hose. I set the spray head to RAIN, aimed at Jill, and pulled the trigger. "SONOFABITCH MOTHERFUCKER ASSWIPE TURDBURGERS!" Jill yelled as she thrashed in her hammock, trying to free herself from its webby embrace. "Now you don't stink so bad, sis. You can thank me for this anytime." Just another day in our lives. ----- Jill exacted revenge upon me for spraying her, of course. Not immediately. Not during or after dinner. Not during our evening stroll through town, chatting with other wandering locals. Not when we had a few drinks at funky old St Elmo's Bar, and danced to jukebox tunes, and shouted down Brewery Gulch. Not even when we showered in the clawfoot bathtub, and rolled into the old metal-frame bed, and 69'd till we leaked from every pore. More than once. But I awoke in the heart of darkness with a strange feeling. I tried to move. Oops. I seemed to be restrained. Yes, my arms and legs were firmly tied to the bed posts with soft but strong cords. Hmmm. The dim street light fitering through the room's thin white spun-cotton curtains showed me Jill, naked and beautiful, and grinning demonically, holding... a long white fluffy feather. Uh oh. NOT THE FEATHER, NO! NO! OH GHOD NO! "Hi there, little brother. Comfy, are we? Relaxed, are we?" Jill's voice was soft and smooth and evil. I tried to reply but found a gag in my mouth. How did that get there? Jill's graceful unclad dimly-lit form moved around the bed as she inspected me in the translucent draperies' faint glow. She paused at various cardinal points. "Ah, just look at those hairy armpits! Good thing you showered recently. Too bad you had sex since then. You smell bad, but not too bad. I wonder what you'll smell like if I do this..." Jill lightly applied the feather tip to my anxious axilla. (No, do not run for a dictionary. It means armpit.) I writhed in futility, my curses blocked by the gag. I could feel my sweaty reaction. Damn her! Jill moved around to the bed's opposite side. "And here's another stinky pit. It deserves some attention too." The feathering was more intense, as were my muffled screams and profuse perspiration and pulsing contortions. The feather drifted down my side. More thrashing. Jill's ghostly silhouette sashayed to the end of the bed. "Oh, little brother, what big FEET you have!" She cackled softly. She feather-stroked the soles of my size seventeens. I *know* I strained something as I vainly struggled against the inexorable restraints. Oh shit, hope I don't dislocate my shoulder! Jill moved to the middle of one side. "Your little-brother SCHLONG isn't so small either. I wonder if it gets any larger? Without other help, I mean." Oh shit. Here it comes. Jill insinuated the feather around my groin. I responded stiffly. "Ooh, it's gruesome," she murmured. She tickled my testicles. I responded further, involuntarily. "Ooh, it's grew some more," she whispered. She oh-so-gently ran the feather up the underside of my cock. I stiffened fully. "Ah, what a nice little weiner we have here! Or is it a berliner? What is this, a fat sausage or a thin jelly roll? Let's see if it's jelly-filled, shall we?" Her cock-teasing reached softly torturous intensity. She produced yet another feather, and brushed it tantalizingly along my nearest ribs, then up my side. This was almost too much. My balls were boiling. I would soon disgrace myself. But Jill wouldn't allow such wastage. "Ooh, little brother, you look a little uncomfortable. Maybe I can soothe you a little, relieve your stress -- you'd maybe like that, yes?" Damn, her words were like hot daggers in my brain. But I knew what to expect. Jill held both feathers in one hand as she crawled into bed with me, straddled my hips facing me, raised her body, and swiftly dropped her wide-open cunt onto my tall-dark-and-handsome cock. "Oh fuck," she sighed in pleasure. "Mmmmfffppmm," I groaned into the gag. Jill moved on me like a kelp frond in a rising tidepool, a slow weightless dance of liquid beauty. She shifted the feathers to hold one in each hand. Uh oh... She continued to subtly swing and sway atop me as she deployed the feathers, again drifting them up my sides to my axillae, then down to our joined groins. How did my body react to this? With paryoxisms and contortions and wild thrashing. I would have flopped around like a grounded fish and probably thrown myself from the bed. But I was a prisoner. All my exertions went to only one place: MY COCK! My hips thrust and trembled. Her hips fought back against me. Two more feather strokes across my navel and nipples, and POW! MONEYSHOT! I spewed steaming streams of swirling spurling spunk steadily into my controlling sister's willing uterus. The wild waves of wonder were just what Jill wanted and needed -- her cuntal muscles confulsed, grabbed and milked and drained my cresting cock. This gonad abuse seemed to last for hours. Lord have mercy... Jill collapsed onto me. Her wonderful breasts pressed into my bare chest. Her lungs struggled back to life. Luscious lips brushed my nose. My lips were still gagged. "Yes, definitely jelly-filled. Real peachy. You're a nice berliner, boy. So firm, so round, so fully-packed. Randy tastes good like a boy-toy should. G'nite now." Jill remained atop me, and slept, and snored, with my softened dick still caught in her captivating cunt. I eventually slept too. But not comfortably, oh no. I directed my dreams that night. I dreamt of revenge. Again. --- Homecoming --- Jill eventually untied me. We played a few more revenge-game cycles before packing for home a few days later. I decided to skip the tarantula gambit -- who knows how she would have responded? [/me shudders] We left Bisbee early Thursday morning. I drove the loaded Bug up narrow Tombstone Canyon and through the Time Tunnel under the Mule Mountains, so named because Bisbee is at one end and Real Time is at the other. Bisbee seems to exist in a time warp. KEEP BISBEE WEIRD is the town slogan. But I digress. We rolled north along the San Pedro Valley across from Fort Huachuca (wha-CHOO-kah) and through the Tombstone theme park. Do not go to Tombstone expecting any real history, folks. It is about as authentic as the Ponderosa Ranch at Lake Tahoe. We flipped cassettes into the in-dash tape deck, mostly bootlegs and mashups we had bought cheap in Mexico. A compilation of revolutionary songs about Zapata and Villa and other dead heroes. Other compilations of marimba music, rancheros and bandas, Guadalajara punk, Mayan jazz, and Xalapeño hard rock. Every now and then we switched the radio to a Border Blaster. We did not pick up Wolfman Jack, though. We reached the interstate and drove through Tucson and Phoenix. A wild and wet monsoon had blown up from the Gulf the day before. Flat desert playas and sandy berms filled inch-deep with water like vast thin mirrors reflected the blue sky and puffy clouds. Eerie saguaro cacti and spiny walking-stick ocotillos sprouted from the low wind-driven wavelets. We stopped a half-hour from California in Quartzite for lunch: burgers and fries at some sandblown roadside hazard. Well, for Jill, it was maybe dessert, since *I* was her hors d'oerves. Jill had been blowing me for the latter part of the morning. Cream for her coffee, yeah sure. I managed to avoid killing us when I came. Good thing. WARNING: Letting your sister fellate you while you drive a car without automatic transmission and cruise control may be hazardous to your health. Fun, though! We picked up another hitchhiker on the California side of the Colorado River in beautiful Blythe. (Here, 'beautiful' means it is less an armpit than Yuma.) Jim was out of uniform but was definitely military. He did not seem to be armed, though. Whew. He wore traveling denims and carried a small pack. "Hey, thanks for the ride. You guys headed for the coast maybe?" Jill was driving now so it was my turn to talk. "Yeah, we're going from Bisbee to Santa Monica. Where you from?" "Bisbee, no shit? I left Fort Huachuca this morning. We must have been on the same tracks all day." "How are things at the fort?" "Sorry, I can't talk about that. Well, I could, but then I'd have to kill you." He grinned. I grinned back, and casually reached for the 9mm Ruger in the door pocket. No sudden moves, but I was ready. Jill was ready too. She'd had full aero-style shoulder-strap systems installed in the Bug. Jim was not even belted in. I quietly locked my seat back into position. Any wrong move by Jim, and Jill would stomp the brakes, hard, and Jim would soon be very very uncomfortable, while we stayed safe and cozy. Jim made no wrong moves but we found an excuse to drop him in Indio. 'Bye now. We stopped in San Bernardino ("San Boogalo" to locals) to pee, and for vanilla malt shakes, and to let the rush-hour traffic thin out. Jill blew me again, too. What a great sister! She said it was to keep me calm while driving. Sounds good to me. We pulled into home fairly late. We caught Mom just before she left for work. Her 11pm-7am dispatch shift was often quiet so she was usually relaxed in the evening. We hugged and kissed her hello. We would see more of her the next day. Jill and I were rather tired from the long drives and all the excitement (and some heavy-duty sex). We just spooned and crashed that night after a couple of strong Champipple Cocktails -- Champale malt liquor mixed with Ripple wine. Pervy stuff. Too bad we can't get it anymore. ----- Jill and I got up in time to greet home-from-work Mom and fix a nice breakfast. And to activate the hot-tub. After breakfast, we all dropped our robes and climbed in. Ah, nice and hot and soothing! We snuggled together, Mom on one side of me, Jill on the other. Jill wrapped her hand around my cock. Mom noticed. "You kids are having sex together now." It was not a question. Jill and I nodded. "You are both adults -- intelligent, caring, responsible, respectful adults. Honorable adults. And discrete." Yes, we knew discretion. What happened between us, stayed between us. "I'm so proud of how you have grown, how you live and behave and think. I love you both as my children. Now, as my grown-up children." Mom rubbed our arms. "We are all adults. And I love you both as adults." Mom leaned over me and kissed Jill on the mouth, not as a mother kisses a daughter, but as a woman kisses her lover, her hand on Jill's jaw, their tongues working. And then Mom kissed me the same way. Her hand joined Jill's on my cock. I nearly fainted -- from exhilaration, not surprise nor shock. I had unconsciously expected this moment. As with my first fuck with Jill, sex with Mom had not been an issue either way. Now we were open to each other, to love each other, as adults, sexually, fully. This may be a cliché, but Mom looked like an older version of Jill, what Jill would be when she reached her late thirties and stayed in shape. We all kept in shape, often biking or jogging or working-out or skinny-dipping together. And sunbathing -- no tan lines on any of us! Mom's lips on mine were warm and familiar. Her tongue and mouth tasted and felt much like Jill's. Mom's breasts were a bit larger than Jill's, obviously a bit more experienced, but were still firm and fit, and pressed nicely against me. I had felt that sweet pressure before, but unaccompanied by fondling. The Book of Ruth: Before Ruth Mom moved away. "Let's just soak now, and relax. Kids, why don't you sing some?" Jill laughed, "Buck fart!" So we sang the Buck-a-Vart-eth song, "Sumer ist Icumen in" (Summer is Coming), as a two-part round at split octaves in Middle English. It is always good for a giggle. Mom joined to make it a three-part canon. Our voices rebounded and flowed nicely. We sang, and stroked each other, and limped-out in the hot water till we resembled prunes. Happy, relaxed, well-tuned prunes. Somewhat horny prunes. We finally dragged out and dried off. Mom led us to her bedroom. "Kids -- wait, I shouldn't call you kids any more, you're grown up now, but it's a habit, just like you calling me Mom instead of Nina -- okay, my dearest Gillian and Randall, I want you both in my bed with me." Mom looked serious. We sat crosslegged in a circle on the Cal-King bed. We held no physical secrets. Mom and Jill's pussy lips were exposed and glistening. My cock was stiff, with a spot of pre-cum showing. Mom and Jill put hands on my thighs, and on each other's. A metaphorical (not metaphysical) light bulb flashed on inside my head. I touched Jill's breasts, then Mom's. "You two are already lovers, aren't you?" They nodded together. "Yes," Mom (I mean Nina) said, "ever since Jill came of age." Nina (I mean Mom) bent over and kissed the end of my cock, then leaned between Jill's thighs and kissed her pussy, her tongue brushing Jill's clit. Jill did the same, tasting me, tasting Nina, loving us. I continued the ad hoc ritual by licking Jill's cunt and then Nina's. They tasted wonderful, and similar. Okay, so I cheated, and took seconds of each for longer than necessary. Yums-a-licious! I sat up. We moved closer together and joined our mouths, merging our flavors, sharing our breaths. My hands wandered their bodies, and their wandered mine. Nina pushed me onto my back. She and Jill each had a hand on my penis. They moved their faces to my groin. They frenched, then licked and sucked my cock. My mother and my sister worked together to bring me to a fast spurting climax. Nina sat up. "Okay, that's done. Now we can take our time." She pulled Jill and me up to sit beside her again. Nina smiled. I leaned to her and suckled one breast. Jill mouthed our mom's other breast. Nina tilted her head back and exhaled deeply with the joy of motherhood. I petted Nina's face and throat with one hand, and Jill with my other. I felt Jill's right hand rubbing my side and her other reaching between Nina's thighs. Nina gasped when Jill stroked her slit. Jill's inserted fingers brought a groan. Jill replaced her fingers with her tongue. I stretched out on Jill's right. I lay my head beside hers and watched her carefully lick around and in our mother's pussy. Jill glanced at me and nodded. My tongue joined hers. We traded our focus, each variously worshipping Nina's inner thighs and taint and vagina and labia and clitoris. Jill prodded me and raised her left hand to Nina's breast. I took her other breast with my right hand. Nina moaned. Nina and Jill both tasted wonderful to me. Our tongues sang in genetic harmony. Jill and I showed no mercy. We did not drag this out too long. We steadily tongued and tweaked and fondled. Nina groaned, and moaned, and soon screamed. Jill and I licked and kissed gently as Nina cooled down. We drank her juices, and then soul-kissed, our taste buds exploding, our bodies sweating. Nina reached into my hair and pulled my head up, pulling me toward her till our faces were together. She wrapped her arms and legs around me. We kissed deeply. My cock was stiff again. She rolled me atop her. She looked into my eyes. "Fuck me." My hips were already positioned between my mother's knees. I shifted slightly, lined up with her vagina, and inserted my cock partway, then out a bit, then in fully. "Oh Randy, oh baby, oh, oh, fuck me, fuck me..." I moved in and out of her without haste. I had time, and endurance, and love. I lowered my face and kissed her mouth, then down to her breasts, then back to her mouth. My distended cock moved smoothly, relentlessly within her grasping vaginal sheathe. I felt her quaking and moaning with a series of small orgasms. Jill laid beside us, stroking and kissing our mother's body, then mine. She rubbed my face to get my attention. "We have one last step here, Randy. Push yourself up." Nina's legs were still wrapped tight around my waist. I rose to my knees, lifting my mother's torso with me. Jill straddled Nina's head, facing me, and lowered her vulva to Nina's waiting mouth. Jill settled down and groaned, "Oh yeah, Mom!" as Nina's tongue laved her loving daughter's sensitive portal. I kissed my sister's mouth and neck and breasts. Hy hands were on Jill's body, then Nina's, then back. My mother's and sister's hands and fingers moved across us all. Sometimes we held hands. Sometimes we held glands. I slid in and out of Nina's pussy, never moving too fast, too far, too wild. Jill wriggled on Nina's face. Nina moved to accompany us both, and to twitch and shake. Our three-part dance seemed to last forever. I climaxed inside my mother more than once. I kept going. Nina and Jill came more times than I could count, even had I tried to keep track of their ecstasies. Jill probably kept a mental tally. She is the bean-counter in this family. We were a pretty soggy smelly mess by noon. Happy, though! If this were a different sort of story, you would now be reading about how Nina and we 'kids' had a long loving discussion about closeness, morality, society, taboos, sexuality, prospects and options, pasts and futures, et fucking cetera. Or you might be reading an analysis of Nina's behavior and motivations. Was our Mom a patient sexual predator, preying on her children because of her own issues with adult men? I do not think so. She always gave much more than she received. We never felt used, just loved, and taught, and nurtured. But this isn't that story. I will not bore you with the philosophizing. Just know that we all fucked and sucked and loved again a few more times before Nina had to sleep. She did not work that night but she always kept her night-owl schedule. Her outside dates were always limited to other night owls. Jill and I kept her happy and centered. Yes, we were loving children. ----- NEXT: Introducing (and enduring) Ruth Author's note: Oh Gentle Readers, I do hope you are not overly bothered nor confused that Ruth, the title character, doesn't appear in this introductory tale. Have no fear -- she will dominate the following episodes, all fairly standalone stories. Yeah, stay tuned for the good stuff.