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Archive name: toptips.txt (mf-teens, inc)
Authors name: Holly Rennick (jlrennick@yahoo.com)
Story title : Cindi's Top Tips for Sibling Success

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Cindi's Top Tips for Sibling Success
by Cindi Barton with Holly Rennick 
(jlrennick@yahoo.com)

***

Cindi shares suggestions about getting along with your 
brother. Being Cindi's ghostwriter (she being better 
with concepts than with a keyboard), I can only 
apologize for her lame jokes and warn, "This material 
should be tried at home without parental supervision." 
(mf-teens, inc)

***

GHOSTWRITER'S NOTES: My friend Cindy Barton, supporting 
character in my fledgling "Writer's Notebook" may have 
usurped my role as leading lady. Her science-teacher 
flippant friendliness was, I'll admit, sometimes a 
challenge to transcribe. But readers seem to appreciate 
frank advice.

At the request of the critics (plural being a possible 
inflation), I've collected her "Notebook" insights on 
brotherly love and added what didn't make it into that 
blockbuster. Royalties roll to writers who sell the 
same story over and over (Harlequin romances come to 
mind.), so there's precedent for combing through my 
earlier effort, though no royalties to double.

Note the authorship's "by" and "with". Cindi has the 
ideas. There's really no end to my friend's banter, of 
course. I do the work. Guess who gets famous and guess 
who drafts her book-tour lectures?

'Twas I who found the scholarly citations and persuaded 
Cindi to include them at the end. I also slipped her 
the Thurber quotation, which she thought was pretty 
good. She didn't, of course, know who James Thurber 
was. She had the Woody Allen and Simpsons quotes, as 
you might guess.

This piece has the plot of a telephone directory and 
the character development of zip codes. It's just a 
bunch of thoughts.

Some of you readers have one-track minds. I'm not 
referring to you perverts, but rather to those of you 
who expect life to be sequential. So here's some 
guidance on four tracks. There are a couple dozen 
TOPICS, related, of course. Most contain four parts.

(1) Cindi's thoughts and dialogs, mostly 
conversational, sometimes a bit pedantic. The first 
couple of topics lean toward the serious, but then 
Cindi loosens up.

(2) [Ghostwriter's whatever: My (Holly's) inability to 
hold my tongue about (1). Square brackets.]

(3) A hint that Mom might know something: Those seven 
words. Colon. Girls need moms.

(4) Psychiatrist: "Bla, bla, bla," and Sister: "Bla, 
bla, bla." Sorry. You'll see why.

Per always, my social life is stalled but my literary 
life's a work in progress. Let me know your edits, 
suggestions and irritations. I'm talking about writing, 
not content. If you have a problem there (which maybe 
you should have), I'll pass it on to Cindi, but she 
won't care.

Thus, according to my friend Cindi...

MY LITTLE PONIES

Remember My Little Ponies, those cutesy pastel equine 
figurines that cluttered our dressers?

[Ghostwriter's admission: Cindi stopped at the comma, 
but I'm an English major.]

Each horsy (there were dozens) was of rubbery plastic 
with an exaggerated silky mane and tail begging to be 
combed. Today's action figures involve mutilation, but 
girlhood wasn't always so modern.

Being little then, the event itself sticks with me. 
Mom, Kyle and I were at a yard sale. Probably nobody 
made $30 for the effort, but income wasn't the reason 
for driveway commerce. Reclamation of closet space was. 
The collectible darlings smiled from the 25-cent box. 
The ponies probably went for $3.99 at K-Mart the year 
before. What makes the toy industry run is, of course 
the "year before". This must have been just after the 
fad peaked.

Mom was always good for a quarter. My Little Pony 
"Blossom", purple with purple hair and white flowers, 
was the best, the only one worth having. I shouldn't 
have announced it, though, because revealing my 
preference invited sibling challenge. Kyle didn't even 
want one because he's a boy, but then, of course, he 
had to have Blossom. Brothers!

I do know we ended up distraught and Mom said that Kyle 
got first choice for some stupid reason. Kyle smirked 
and I ended up with Cotton Candy, which I hated as soon 
as we drove off. When we got home, Kyle made an animal 
a parade with Blossom as leader. He invited dumb Cotton 
Candy to march as well because he knew I'd say no. To 
seal his victory he announced that the parade would be 
free to the public. I didn't even watch Sesame Street 
with the jerk.

That night after supper, Kyle interrupted my Lego 
tower. Each row of bricks was just one color. "Cindi, 
Blossom feels sad and wants a friend to live with. If I 
give him to you, can he be Cotton Candy's best friend?"

I didn't even know how to answer. Kyle didn't even know 
that Blossom was a girl, but that wasn't why. "OK, if 
you help me make them a little barn," as I started to 
disassemble my tower. "Or should we make it a fort 
against the bad wolves?" If my Blossom was to be a boy, 
he'd be more interested in battlements.

It didn't matter that we lacked the Legos to give the 
castle a watchtower because we made them a secret 
escape door.

Psychiatrist: "Freud speaks of repressed memories."

Sister: "But doctor, I had sex with my brother just 
yesterday afternoon. I remember everything."

Psychiatrist: "But what if your mother finds out?"

Sister: "We're pretty sure that she does it with Dad 
already."

[Ghostwriter's disclaimer: Cindi insisted on these 
jokes. You may opt to skip them.]

WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT?

Everything.

Why do you think I started off about My Little Ponies 
instead of an orgasmic true fantasy of feigning slumber 
while brother ravaged my nubile body?

[Ghostwriter's note: Cindi said, "Fucked me," but I 
found that verb overly simplistic. After a while you'll 
sense where I've upgraded her literary style.]

Kyle was a pain in the butt, but I love the guy like a 
brother. After all, he is. Blossom told me that Kyle 
loved me too, that he'd never rape me, though at that 
age, of course, sex wouldn't have even been in our 
imagination. Making love with Kyle, when it happened, 
had everything to do with My Little Ponies.

So let's be very clear. My thoughts deal with mutual 
affection between caring siblings.

You probably love your father too, but that's not the 
same. You and he aren't equal in deciding. If you're 
sexually active at home, odds are that it's with your 
father or other older male. Saying OK doesn't 
legitimize a damn thing; he's still raping you. I said, 
RAPING YOU. Find a safer place to live. If you have a 
younger sister, go to your school counselor or the 
police. This is major.

[Ghostwriter's confirmation: This is major.]

If your brother is coercing you, it's hardly mutual. 
Tell Mom. Nothing that follows applies to bullying.

If we're just horny, there are millions of studs. As 
Woody Allen observed, "Sex without love is an empty 
experience, but as empty experiences go, it's a pretty 
good one." So go to a singles bar. Put an ad in the 
paper, "Enjoy sunsets, classic rock, California wine 
and intercourse." If the "Women seeking Men", listings 
don't like that last word, then, "Ford trucks". You 
probably don't want to look for your guy at a contra 
dance.

[Ghostwriter's lament: When I phoned the one who 
responded, I said I just love the commercial where the 
guys drive their Silverado to fight the forest fire. He 
lost interest. Cindi's just being snotty about contra 
dancers. They just work so hard at their software firms 
that they sometimes don't have time to shower.]

Brothers and sisters get smashed and fuck, but what 
results isn't worth much. If you bed your brother the 
first time you get itchy, maybe you're a natural 
rabbit. That's too bad, because you'll end up eating 
lettuce. If it takes a while to share intimacy, let it. 
That can be just as exciting as proving it. More 
exciting, even.

Unless there's love involved, you might as well just 
study some sex manual. Ever tried the Indonesian 
Helicopter? I'm not here to discuss mechanics. My whole 
theory, actually, is that the mechanics usually work 
out just fine.

My thoughts apply to those of us who were willing first 
time and remain so today. Enough romantic schmaltz. But 
it's true.

Psychiatrist: "So maybe this is about unrequited 
affection."

Sister: "Maybe so. We get real noisy when we're home 
alone."

[Ghostwriter's I-told-you-so: I told you so.]

JOURNEYS AND DESTINATIONS

Sibling sex should be smart sex. Your IQ exceeds his 
penis length. Try this little survey on your 
girlfriends.

(1) Describe your first intercourse.

(2) Describe the foreplay that got you there.

You'll be lucky to get more than a few clinical 
sentences for (1). They move their penises in our 
vaginas, hardly much story there, other than for 
English majors to rouge up, "It was my first orgasm, 
drenching me with warm ecstasy, shivering me from toes 
to crown, leaving me limp." If she's honest, she'll 
admit it was actually one big letdown. Mostly an 
exercise in cleaning up after him.

[Ghostwriter's retort: Cheap shot about English 
majors.]

Question (2), however, will invoke paragraphs about 
zippers, straps, kissing, lubricating, on and on, 
tactile memories mostly. When did he first touch her 
nipple? How were they pressing when she realized what 
it was? You'll hear how her underwear came off, how she 
got the courage to reach into his pants. See what this 
says? Sex is a journey, a continuum of delights, not 
just a penetration.

[Ghostwriter's amplification: His testicles can be very 
traumatic.]

So let's travel with our brother.

Psychiatrist: "This journey theme might be significant. 
Perhaps you feel abandoned in this world, longing for 
the security of home."

Sister: "I'm sure I put my address on the insurance 
form. It's the same for us both, of course."

HESITATION

Of course you've got trepidation. If you didn't, you'd 
have the integrity of that rabbit. Love's scary 
sometimes. And of course your brother has his doubts 
too. It's not your job to make up his mind, but it's 
something you can help by encouraging progressive 
possibilities.

You'd never ask, "Shall we have sex? Yes or No?"

But you might try, "A part of us wants to finish 
together, but a part of us is used to how it was 
before, as I see it. We're not trying to prove 
anything; we're just showing how we feel, right? Don't 
push in unless you want to. Just a little bit."

Or, "There are so many things to think about, right? 
But you know? Knowing that we want to do puts the rest 
of it in perspective. We can figure things out when we 
need to, right? So should I pick up some condoms in 
case we'd ever want to think about using them?"

Or even, "Part of you wants to love me like a woman, 
like I want to love you as a man, but part of you knows 
how I'm a girl too. Can't I be both? You should go 
really slowly if I'm a girl to help me get ready."

Did you catch how to elicit positive progressive 
responses? Psychology? You bet! Is psychology a 
science? No way! We don't have to convince chemicals to 
react.

[Ghostwriter's suggestion: Those of us both hesitant 
and unpsychological can just slip a chemical into the 
cocoa. We each have a cup]

Hesitation isn't a one-time issue. You'll deal with it 
over and over, but each time hesitate about something a 
bit closer to where you want to end up.

The thing is, your mom's hard to fool when the two of 
you are wondering about having sex. It would depend on 
how she grew up, if she had a brother herself, maybe. 
Mom's easier fooled when you're doing it than when it's 
in your eyes.

A hint that Mom might know something: She points you to 
the progressive possibilities. "The thing is that you 
kids have a lot of years ahead, much less a long ride 
tonight. There's lots of ways for two to sleep in the 
back seat. Like it's the end of the world if you two 
might actually touch? My brother and I, we'll snuggle 
now, but it took time. Why not give each other foot 
rubs? There's the blanket to get under if the heater 
doesn't do it back there."

Psychiatrist: "So deep within, you hesitate about your 
brother having sex with you."

Sister: "Actually, that's where I like it best."

Psychiatrist: "A moment of hesitation is, of course, is 
natural when a doctor, say, rests his hand on a girl's 
knee like this."

Sister: "It beats getting bonked by that little rubber 
hammer."

Psychiatrist: "You're psycho-developmentally where when 
I move my hand inward, your reflex moves your knee 
outward. See?"

VIRGINITY

When you and your brother first have sex, there are but 
four possibilities.

[Ghostwriter's frustration: Can't you just see Cindi 
making this a two-by-two matrix on the board?]

(1) Virgins Both

The stuff of stories. If the two of you learn together, 
you're luckier than hell. The act itself may be a 
disaster for a while, but you'll love figuring it out. 
Oh, the grins you'll share in later years! It wouldn't 
be more rewarding just because one of you knew 
something Indonesian.

Ever see Blue Lagoon? Brook Shields was just 15 when 
she played the role in the nude! But then, she posed 
naked when she was 10, so maybe 15's no big deal. When 
I was 15, I looked about 10, so she beat me for the 
part. Anyway, seeing the movie will make you and your 
brother want to lose your innocence together.

[Ghostwriter's amazement: I never realized that Cindi 
was a child actor!]

A hint that Mom might know something: "Look, Cindi, I 
found Blue Lagoon in the Half-Off bin! You can't go 
wrong with these National Geographic ones."

(2) Virgin Brother, Experienced Sister

They say that guys find solace in not knowing too much. 
A lesbian lover, so I'm told, wants to know all your 
history. Fortunately, your brother's not a lesbian 
unless your mom's a transvestite or something.

You say that you've already been professionally reamed 
by a studly cock that drove you to twenty minutes of 
unabashed ecstasy? Well hot shit! That fucker's 
probably right now wagging his magical dick for some 
slut who says she's twenty-one but rouges her nipples. 
Your brother has to start somewhere and you should be 
honored.

Don't instruct. A novice won't know about your clitoris 
(and even if he's ridden a few mares, so to speak, he 
might not know much). He'll learn about yours in good 
time, given a few pelvic thrusts when he's getting 
close.

Put your other relationships on hold for a while. Your 
brother's not going elsewhere yet, so reciprocate. 
He'll improve in bed a lot faster if you need him.

A hint that Mom might know something: "If you want a 
boy, say, to carry your books, leave your backpack in 
your locker. Maybe Kyle just needs some experience 
about not being awkward with girls."

(3) Virgin Sister, Experienced Brother

As sexist as it sounds, dear brother was just doing 
what society expects guys to do. If you're part of his 
newly discovered "manly nature", though, adios. He'll 
be cavalier about you as well. "Oh yes, you're Kyle's 
sister," you'll hear from some leering drunk trying to 
look down your neckline. But if you find comfort in his 
care, give him you love.

A hint that Mom might know something: "I wouldn't want 
you spending the day there with just any guy, Cindi, 
but Kyle will take good care of you."

(4) Virgins Neither

This is the most common starting point. If both are 
already comfortable with sex, you'll know what signals 
to pass. Dating closer to home, so to speak, enters the 
menu. Sibling sex is nature's refuge from exhaustive 
casual sex with hardly-known partners. Though you still 
have the drudgery of being in two beds by morning, at 
least you can doze knowing you'll be resting your cheek 
on his little mole forever.

Sexual prowess makes game playing less necessary. Too 
bad, but it's the price we pay for lost innocence. The 
adult thing would be to discuss intercourse from 
informed vantage points and then execute the agreement. 
"Kyle, we've got 17 minutes and we don't do oral on 
weekdays." Well, we don't have to be so grownup, for 
goodness sakes. Leave room for some seduction, some 
vacillation, some novelty. It's your demarcation 
between being kids and being lovers. "Oh, Kyle, if we 
pretend it's Saturday, I won't have to go to my ballet 
lesson." So it's still sort of a first time.

A hint that Mom might know something: "You're both 
pretty grown up. You'll wash your dishes while we're 
gone. You'll not have friends overnight. You'll both 
head for bed at a decent hour. You'll help each other 
stay safe, you hear?"

Psychiatrist: "Incestuously loosing your virginity can 
scar your psyche."

Sister: "Well, I guess I was sore for a couple of 
days."

ODDS

[Ghostwriter's disclaimer: I explained to Cindi that 
math anxiety will make everybody stop reading. I'm very 
displeased. Just skip this section.]

You think I'm just making this up? In "Brothers & 
Sisters" (St. Martins, 1991), J. Mersky Leder estimates 
that 2.3 percent of us have sex with a brother before 
18. Check me! Don't buy the book, though; just go to 
Borders and read it where they sell coffee.

I've summarized some other sister-brother studies at 
the end of what you're reading. One suggests that it 
might be 2 percent prior to age 14. Another estimates 
17 percent prior to age 13. Another suggests 15 
percent. And another, that 12 percent of our household 
partners are brothers. The last figure doesn't even 
approximately fit, but it's published. I like to study 
things, but let's not argue numbers here. We know we're 
out there.

[Ghostwriter's research: Finding all the numbers and 
doing the divisions on my calculator.]

If you hate math, sorry. I teach science and like to 
illustrate how numbers fit together. Seventy-three 
percent of boys and 56 percent of girls have 
intercourse by age 18, according to the web (as if that 
makes it reliable). As 2 to 17 percent still isn't much 
compared to 56 percent, those of us who've slept with 
brother are way in the minority.

So take a moment to decide where you fit when you first 
made love together (or will fit when you do).

(1) Virgins Both

(2) Virgin Brother

(3) Virgin Sister

(4) Virgins Neither

How does our sorority divide into these four groups? 
We'll start by assuming that our brother's behavior is 
not related to ours (we call this "statistical 
independence"). We'll illustrate with 100 families, 
randomly pairing 73 sexually-experienced brothers plus 
27 virgin brothers with 56 sexually-experienced sisters 
plus 44 virgins. We'd statistically expect to find 12, 
15, 32 and 41 sister-brother couples in my 1-4 group 
order. See if you can figure out how I got those 
numbers.

It surely varies by age. My math shows the Virgin 
Brother group count to be 16, 15, and 14 when brother 
is younger, the same age, and older. There are fewer 
older virgin brothers for younger experienced sisters. 
Makes sense to me. Actually, no matter the age 
difference, our Virgin Brother group isn't that large.

But wait, you say! We aren't independent. If my brother 
wasn't sexually active, maybe it's tied to our family 
values and I'm more likely to be a virgin too. So let's 
push that to its limit. Out of 100 sibling couples, 
you'll get 27, 0, 17 and 56 in my 1-4 group listing.

Q: Why are there now no brothers loosing their 
virginity to experienced sisters?

A: Because of the 73 already-experienced brothers, 56 
sleep with already-experienced sisters. The remaining 
17 experienced brothers get the virgins. Poor fellows!

Real life falls somewhere between pure statistical 
independence and perfect correlation. Do you really 
care? OK, no, if you're just into prose. On the other 
hand, it's kind of fun to see where you fall into the 
spectrum.

[Ghostwriter's disclaimer: I have no idea what she 
said. I just wrote what she told me.]

A hint that Mom might know something: In her desk you 
found hard copies of articles cited at the end of this 
document. The finding "Those with positive sibling 
experiences after age 9 have more sexual self-esteem." 
was highlighted.

Psychiatrist: "Why are you so numeric about sibling 
sex?"

Sister: "I am not! I just have one brother."

Psychiatrist: "Speaking of numbers, I'll just need to 
cup you here to monitor your heartbeat. Its intensity 
tells me when we're touching on your most repressed 
desires."

Sister: "Gee, doctor. I guess it did just pick up 
speed."

BRA

[Ghostwriter's relief: Whew! That last section was 
heavy. Math! So let's get to the physical stuff.]

Probably nothing has really occurred between you 
before. You just like each other and you think thoughts 
that come with age. There's sure nothing weird about 
being attracted. So what makes something happen? It's 
our breasts that win them over. Brothers may initially 
shy away from sex with his sister, but none will miss 
the opportunity to check her out. So we start by making 
our breasts available.

Imagine asking your brother what color of blouse you 
wore yesterday? "Orange maybe." You don't even own 
orange because you're a Winter. Then ask what color of 
bra? "Black, I guess." It's no guess; he remembers 
exactly: lace trim, shows a little nipple, straps that 
slip. He checks out your back every day before school, 
but there's no way to catch him.

Cups drive boys wild and it usually only takes a 
button. He'll never get tired of your bra as long as it 
pretends to be covered. If you're small, hunch your 
shoulders enough together so the cups fall away to show 
the real deals. I loosen my strap for it to work well.

Upstairs, casually walk around without your blouse. His 
imagination starts with what you reveal. But don't go 
walking around topless, Miss Perky. Leave his 
imagination room to travel. If it's dim in the hall, 
though, it's fun to streak from the bathroom with a 
towel just around your waist. Say, "Don't look."

When the folks are away, ditch your bra in favor of 
thin tops. He'll notice, but won't comment. It's not 
just to show off, though. Once he makes the connection 
between folks out and bra off, he'll salivate like 
Pascal's dog. (Well, one of those dead white male 
scientists.) Act like it's no big deal when you lean 
over to pick up a magazine, but watch his eyes.

[Ghostwriter's remorse: For some of us, this go-without 
option becomes uncomfortable if we have to run or 
anything.]

A hint that Mom might know something: She got you some 
cute Coldwater Creek crewneck tees a little on the big 
side. Or the time you, she and Uncle Rob were in the 
kitchen and she pulled off her sweater and put on a 
sweatshirt. Or when she and her brother went to shop 
for a lawnmower. When they got home (never having found 
the right one) there sure was nothing beneath Mom's 
sweater but Mom. She was trussed, though, before Dad 
came up from the basement..

Psychiatrist: "Perhaps if we unhooked your strap, you 
could lay back more comfortably."

Sister: "It's neat how you can dim the lights from 
right here."

Psychiatrist: "It's for eye exams. Can you read my 
license?"

Sister: "It's cool you're approved by the Office of 
Equal Opportunity."

Psychiatrist: "Picture a quiet pond, little nipples 
washing upon the sandy shore. I mean little ripples."

Sister: "Were women shorter when Freud came up with 
this couch design?"

FEELINGS

Fucking can be quite rapid. Lovemaking, on the other 
hand, takes time. It sounds silly, but something like 
teaching yourselves to dance can be a sweet way to 
start.

"No, it's your right arm you wrap around me, dummy."

"You said it was my job to lead."

"And your left hand goes out here, except the last 
dance when it comes here."

"What if somebody sees?"

"I cover your hand up with mine, like this."

"You sure?"

"At the Prom, I'd have a low cut, so there wouldn't be 
the fabric."

Maybe it's the first time he's gotten hard against a 
girl and it's the first time you've felt a boy against 
you. We're talking fun!

Take his arm when you're in public. Everybody seeing 
makes it better. People think that because you're 
related, neither of you is paying any attention. Big-
breasted girls can deliver some nice shoves from the 
outside. Girls like me, however, are designed to push 
straight on. Give him a brush that draws his arm up 
your outside and down your inside. Bra or no bra works 
the same.

[Ghostwriter's addendum: Many males prefer those of us 
who are pleasantly soft.]

Feeling you up should give him an erection. Let him 
catch you noticing, but button your lips. If he seems 
anxious to let you rub it, he'll figure out a way. 
You'll be amazed how much smarter he gotten, now that 
he's older. We'll get to the fondling part in a bit. 
This is just about introductions.

A hint that Mom might know something: She's teaching 
the two of you to tango. When she tangos with Kyle, she 
holds him the real way. "Chest forward, neck back. Feel 
each other's tension." She can feel his erection, you 
figure. You sure can, anyway, when she hands him over. 
You even made him come one time when Mom was talking 
you through the quebrada, where you hang on him. "She's 
all yours, Kyle." As he began to climax, "Eyes 
together. Communicate." When he sagged, Mom said that 
sometimes the "milonguera" (that's you) has to keep 
things on course, just don't tell the judges. 
Fortunately she had to go check the stove before you 
separated. It's OK that Dad has two left feet, she 
says, since Rob's a natural. "But even your uncle 
looses track sometimes of where he is sometimes." Maybe 
the four of you can go to the tango convention in Las 
Vegas next year when Dad's off to the national Elks.

Psychiatrist: "Once you understand your earliest 
feelings, we'll make some progress."

Sister: "OK. The first one, he was reaching across me 
for the syrup while Mom was watching the waffle iron. 
We could tell how long we had by the little red light."

PANTIES

If they think they're seeing something that nobody else 
gets to see, it hardly matters what. Brothers don't 
expect exotics; they know we prefer cotton. A little 
contrast of color does wonders, though. A dark triangle 
behind pink briefs looks better than just the triangle 
sometimes. The detail is for later. Like they can't see 
everything when we wear our little panties anyway?

If your nightgown rides up while watching TV or 
whatever, him seeing your panties doesn't matter 
because you're in your own house, tell him. If they've 
pulled up into you, just matter-of-factly pull them 
down.

And sometimes leave your door a little open. He 
shouldn't enter your room uninvited with you half 
dressed, but so what if he happens to be passing? Watch 
how often he's in the hall when he figures out your 
routine. "Hey, Kyle, when you come back from the 
bathroom, bring my hairbrush? The red one." Stand in 
front of your mirror combing and ask him about who gets 
picked up when from school tomorrow.

Upskirt peeks are overrated; they really can't see 
anything. Whatever we wear, it's their job to take it 
off when that time comes. They'll never complain that 
our panties wasted an extra minute before getting us on 
the bed.

A hint that Mom might know something: While you were 
combing your hair and telling Kyle that he had to 
bicycle if he wanted to stay for Astronomy Club, Mom 
came in and helped with your part. She agreed about 
bicycling. Like you, she was in her bra. Unlike you, 
though, not in her panties, since Kyle was there.

Psychiatrist: "So why do you say he slipped off your 
'petit culottes'?"

Sister: "Because we were practicing vocabulary for a 
French test."

Psychiatrist: "I'm wondering how they say 'button' in 
French."

Sister: "Maybe 'but-tone'. Why?"

Psychiatrist: "These must be so inhibiting."

CONFIDANT

Become his confidant, competitor and comforter. These 
three C's are what these sections are about.

[Ghostwriter's contribution: Cindi had "Secret Person, 
Enemy and Friend", but I made them all C.]

Become his confidant. If we catch them in some 
transgression, we sympathize, not threaten. He may be 
mortified, but he'll know that his secret will be kept. 
There are a million stories about interrupted 
masturbation as the entr‚e to sex. Coercion might get 
you a fuck, but you'll loose a lover.

Think about this transaction.

"Get out!" He'll be horrified.

"OK. I didn't see anything." You'll be as embarrassed 
as is he. You really will.

But he'll know you saw. You wouldn't deny seeing what 
you didn't.

So confess, "It's natural. Everybody does it." Then 
causally add, "It's just different for girls." The key 
is to put yourself there with him, as if you'd been 
caught side by side.

Or some day when you're hauling laundry, "Kyle, there's 
this problem, I think," like sometimes you don't want 
to know stuff.

"What problem?"

"Your pajamas and bottom sheet sort of, well, show 
stuff."

"Like?"

"Well, you know. I'll wait to take stuff down when I 
can stuff it in the washer so Mom can't tell." You're 
his guardian, even.

"Oh," as he won't know what else to say.

"Could you use a towel or something?" Leave it at that, 
just a problem to be solved.

It's pretty easy to implicate him electronically. Check 
his browser history for sexually-explicit websites and 
open one when he's watching. "This one any good?"

He'll ask what you're talking about.

Ignore the question and give an opinion. "It's too 
posed. You gotta be made to think a little."

He'll still pretend not to understand, so just go back 
to whatever you were doing.

Pretty soon he'll return; it's too dangerous to leave 
open. "Are you going to tell?"

"Shoot, no." Don't infer that he owes you one.

Then add, "You try these links yet?"

Or, when the time is right, "I have a book."

"A book?"

"A book about doing it. How people do it different 
ways," to expand the subject.

That evening, put "The Joy of Sex" under his covers and 
tell him to put it back under yours the next night. 
It's too early to exchange it personally. Leaving it in 
each other's bed is sort of personal, anyway. Use 
bookmarks to show where you're reading. Don't discus 
the contents, though, until after you have sex. Don't 
make your first time, "No, stupid, page 34 shows your 
knee goes here, not over there."

[Ghostwriter's bibliophilia: The sketches are of the 
book's hippie art director, Charles Raymond, and his 
wife, Eldetraud.]

A hint that Mom might know something: The bookmark 
moved when Kyle was away. If you changed the book's 
hiding place, she'd know she was caught, so you just 
used a second bookmark, sometimes just trailing behind 
hers. When Kyle was at camp, the bookmark led you to 
the section on female masturbation.

Psychiatrist: "It's good for his mental health to share 
his darkest secrets with someone he can trust."

Sister: "If you say so, doctor, but I don't understand 
Doonesbury either."

Psychiatrist: "No, I was thinking that maybe you should 
tell me how you and your brother masturbate each 
other."

Sister: "Like we learned in 'The Joy of Sex'. The 
pictures helped a lot."

Psychiatrist: "You can share your innermost fantasies 
with me, like how you imagine what I sleep in. Want to 
guess?"

Sister: "Red plaid PJ's like Dad's? With a pocket."

COMPETITOR

It's sibling nature to compete. I can think of nothing 
more intimate than orgasm between kids who once fought 
over the 64 Crayola set Mom said to share.

Invent little private games. Kyle used to tease about 
how flat I was. He wasn't trying to be mean, but I 
didn't like it. He told me that he had growth lotion 
that was one hundred percent guaranteed. When I 
pretended to believe it, he put some cold cream in a 
green jar and had me take off my shirt. I must have had 
ten treatments. He knew that I wasn't that dumb. We 
were just having fun. After then, I wasn't as shy about 
him looking down my top or maybe doing a little 
something if we were horsing around. A few years later 
I offered to apply some guaranteed growth lotion on him 
and we laughed at his trickery.

It's neat when nobody else knows the games you're 
playing. One time at a picnic I was minding my own 
business and Kyle squeezed a wet watermelon seed 
between his fingers and shot me right in the tit. I 
don't know if he was even aiming there or not, but he 
thought it was pretty funny how nobody around us saw. 
So I took a seed and when he stood up, popped him right 
in his crotch. Nobody saw that either. No great sex 
story there, just two kids shooting watermelon seeds.

Wrestle. If he touches your breast in the match, raise 
your arm before trying to escape. If he touches your 
butt, giggle that he better not spank you. He'll brush 
between your legs when he's pinning you, but not long 
enough to do anything. His touches aren't all 
accidental, you know.

If a button comes loose and a boob pops out, claim it 
doesn't matter because you used to take baths together 
anyway. Say he undid it on purpose and make him button 
you back in. He'll deny and comply.

Work your leg between his, or maybe your arm will get 
there. Like with your chest, if it seems accidental 
he'll go along. End up with your thigh on his cock, his 
hip against your mound, more-or-less even for a 
makeout, anyway. Watch his breathing to see what's 
working. If he comes anyway, play it be ear.

"Oh, Jesus!"

"Hey, Kyle, it's natural."

"I didn't mean to."

"It happens to girls too when they get more 
particularly rubbed."

I just don't think that strip poker or some party game 
where couples have to kiss, etc. works for two people. 
Those types of games need others watching.

Whatever contests you two might devise, think of them 
as games, not foreplay. I'm all for close cooperation 
when the stadium lights go out, but let's leave a 
little room for competitive spirit getting there. You 
and your brother have competed for about everything 
over the years. So keep it up. You'll win each other.

A hint that Mom might know something: She showed Kyle a 
Scientific American article claiming that females are 
stronger than males, pound for pound excluding fatty 
tissue. She's studied the male ego for years.

Psychiatrist: "Don't feel alone. For so many sisters, 
victimization is by power and dominance."

Sister: "Oh, but I try to let him win half the time."

COMFORTER

There's comfort in proximity. Here's a family camping 
example. They say that more sibling relationships start 
in sleeping bags than on beds.

[Ghostwriter's question: Who are "They"? Cindi 
considers this a source, apparently.]

There's something liberating about fresh air and change 
of venue. The folks will have put your tent away from 
theirs, as fresh air and change of venue invigorate Mom 
and Dad too. It will be dark enough to get into your 
PJ's without seeing, no problem. The two of you can 
whisper whoppers after lights out.

"Cindi?" Let him start.

"What?"

"There was this guy with an axe who'd chop the heads 
off people." It might be a pretty short tale, but so 
what?

"Why?" to keep it going.

"I don't know. He was a psycho."

"Like the one that just escaped from jail?" you 
suggest. He's just making his story op.

"I think so." He won't want to sound uninformed. "He 
had a really, really a big axe and would sneak around 
at night." Brothers are quick on details.

"Would he peek into tents?" you wonder.

"I think so."

"It's not windy and the flap just moved," you notice. 
He'll look behind him, but it will be gone.

"Maybe it was a owl or something," he'll offer 
hopefully.

"It sounded more thumpy, like steps," signing him to 
listen. But the danger will be too quiet.

"Cindi?"

"What, Kyle?" knowing that you'd pulled it off.

"Can I scoot over there a little, in case you need 
anybody?"

"OK, but don't mess up how I arranged my shoes, in case 
I have to go to the bathroom."

"I won't."

"Night."

"Night."

"Did you hear that sound?" Just whisper.

"What sound?"

"Probably nothing's out there. It's crowded in here, 
but there's room in mine if you're cold," you the 
accommodating sister.

"Good idea. Just ask me if you want me to shine the 
flashlight anywhere."

There will definitely be some "thump thumps" out there, 
but you'll find no tracks in the morning.

He'll be warm and cuddled in your sleeping bag. Sure 
he'll end up with an arm around your chest and your 
butt will probably feel the lump in his PJ's. That's 
plenty.

Think about it. In normal dating, you've probably 
already had sex before you take the time to figure out 
how to share a pillow. With a brother we have years to 
learn about holding each other, whispering stories, 
giggling. Proving our love thus has all that to build 
upon.

A hint that Mom might know something: She told Kyle 
that she's really proud how he's watching out for you. 
When the two of you figured out how to zipper your bags 
as one, she noted that it makes a good cushion for when 
you read after lunch. She never asked if you separate 
them for sleeping.

Psychiatrist: "So you've become his mother figure?"

Sister: "No, because then I'd by my own mother too 
because he's my brother and that would be very 
confusing because I don't know psychology."

Psychiatrist: "I'm thinking of Pachamama, the Mother 
Goddess, her breasts the mountains, the Earth her 
womb."

Sister: "Well I'm pretty flat, as maybe you're noticing 
from my heartbeat."

PEEING

We're to the delicate step of deliberate fondling, the 
transition from non-erotic touch to intercourse.

So let me share a few hands-on snippets.

[Ghostwriter's compliment: Her "hands-on" adjective I 
call it Cindiesque.]

It's next year's camping trip. Your tent will be just a 
bit smaller in relation to the both of you. Scoot your 
pad right against his because you need room on the 
outside for your duffel. You probably brought too many 
clothes.

After marshmallows and a trip to the smelly restroom 
and you've zipped the flap shut, remind your brother 
about the psychos. "Remember how we heard one last 
year? Well, we have to stick together is all."

When he finally drifts off, poke him awake, "Hey Kyle, 
do you need to go pee?"

"No."

"Well I do, but I'm not going out there alone."

"Why not?"

"Weirdoes. You come too."

"To pee?"

"Just to the place."

"Go yourself."

"I'm scared," which, of course you aren't.

"Just go."

"Then I'll pee in the tent," as best you can pout.

"You better not!"

"We should pee together." He'll wear down.

"You can't because there's a Men's and a Women's," if 
he's a by-the-book boy.

"No, I mean do it in the woods. It's closer."

"Well, I don't need to."

"Well, I do. Come on!"

So you sneak over in the trees. You squat and he stands 
where each can hear the other. You want him to think 
about pajamas being down.

"Can I aim you?" ask in your most natural voice.

"No." That's a for-sure answer.

"I'll hold it really carefully," tell him. Him in your 
hand is the idea you're fostering.

"No, I said!"

"When you're finished, can I practice aim?"

"No!"

"Then I get to hold it in the tent." Don't even bother 
to justify why.

"You better not!"

"You have to let me. You can touch mine," not a 
concession you'll mind giving, actually.

"Your what?"

"You know. Where I pee?"

"For how long?"

"We'll take turns, the same."

"You won't tell?"

So back to your tent you creep. Let him go first 
because you woke him up. Put his hand on your chest and 
undo some buttons. Your tits will be hard and pointy. 
After a minute or two, put his hand on your stomach and 
push it to the elastic. Then guide him to what makes us 
girls. Let him touch while you free his underpants. (So 
much for the take-turns agreement.) Play together until 
you get sleepy, which mightn't be that long because 
camping takes lots of energy.

A hint that Mom might know something: She suggested 
that you two "tent mates" pitch your shelter in the 
next campsite so you'd have more room. When she'd get 
up to pee, she'd never use her flashlight and sometimes 
quietly stop at your picnic table to enjoy the stars.

[Ghostwriter's observation: Could her mom's choice of 
"tent mates" be a subliminal acknowledgement of "tent 
mating"?]

Psychiatrist: "The role of urination very significant 
here, especially if feces were also involved. You 
didn't, per chance, urinate on each other, did you? 
Just a small amount, even. Sometimes you forget such 
incidents until a licensed professional like me reminds 
you. You might have even been talking about something 
else and hardly noticed. Think so?"

Sister: "I pee in the swimming pool, I guess."

Psychiatrist: "So tell me how it makes you feel."

VIDEOS

Some night when the folks are at the Elks, slip into a 
summer nightgown and put on a videocassette. Wear your 
bra. Just hop into his lap in the middle of the movie 
and get him to wrap his arms under your boobs. Snuggle 
deeper so his erection fits against your crack. He'll 
get one.

To get more comfy, move his arms up. If he cups you 
through your nightie, he won't act intentional. He can 
bump your nip, but shouldn't squeeze, if you get the 
difference. Tug your neckline out enough for him look 
over her shoulder. He's seen your bra a million times, 
but not when you're laying back into him. Let him see 
that you're looking too.

Maybe you'll have sex right away, but probably not. 
Enjoy your little movie watching routine for the movie 
too. Most X-rated stuff tends to gross; R is 
sufficiently engaging. In X, they really have sex. In 
R, they just act like they are.

Heck, there's enough in a PG-13. Wasn't it fun to watch 
how Tom Hanks played Forrest Gump?

Jenny: "Have you ever been with a girl, Forrest?"

Forrest: "I see them in my Home Economics class all the 
time."

Would you have rather watched a truly handicapped 
fellow? Of course not. We enjoy the art of drama. Sort 
of like you two, right? Am I stuck on some sort of 
theme here? Your brother needs ideas is all. Jenny gave 
Forrest enough of an idea for him to start her baby.

[Ghostwriter's review: But Tom Hanks was really good in 
the way he fell in love with Meg Ryan in "You've Got 
Mail." To show you what she knows, Cindi says that his 
worst movie since "Sleepless in Seattle", which was 
also very romantic.]

A hint that Mom might know something: The video store 
wanted an extra dollar because the last rental wasn't 
rewound, but you know you did. And it sure as heck 
wasn't Forrest Gump! You and Kyle watched it Tuesday 
and you returned it on Thursday. Wednesday when you 
were at school was when Uncle Rob delivered all those 
apples that you kids had to peel.

Psychiatrist: "I have 'Cheerleader Countercharge' right 
here on my machine. You're going to go to college, 
right? I'd like to participatorally observe how you 
react. Let me cancel my next appointment."

Sister: "We saw it. My brother thought theirs were 
real, even. You can tell where they ran out of money 
and had to splice in another film for the alien 
impregnation part."

DRIVING

Sex can get going in the strangest places, say in the 
back of your car, dozing on a long trip. He's up 
against you, his arm just a little too much across your 
front. Your knee's a little too much against his. It's 
nervy at first and you'll both be cautious, but after a 
bit you'll both figure that the other's asleep and 
you'll get closer. When your nipples get hard, he'll 
realize you're letting him.

It's quiet, except for the car radio. Dad will be 
calculating the last possible place to get gas. 
Probably you should pull a coat or something over your 
laps. Your brother will be cautious because he's still 
not really sure. Undo a button to tell him where. It's 
a magic moment when he slips up inside your camisole. 
His giveaway is when he rolls toward you, knees apart. 
Brush a finger beside his zipper; he wants you to know. 
Like he'd be stiff if he weren't pleased?

Leave him zipped. If you can pull a blanket over, rub 
him really slowly, just fingertips on the outside, not 
push-pull. Don't stop, even if he shakes his head. It 
takes longer on the outside, but he'll love you for it. 
His pulse is a good way to tell what's coming. Did I 
say that? Naughty me! The pulse thing only works when 
he's motionless, not a normal boy-milking. Help him 
hide his wet spot when you get out of the car. You made 
him do it, right?

A hint that Mom might know something: When caught 
glancing back, she told Dad something like, "They're 
cuddled up just like when we'd put them in the stroller 
together. Remember?"

Psychiatrist: "We know that the automobile is the 
modern world's phallic symbol, just like obelisk in 
Egypt."

Sister: "Well Dad always buys American cars, so we do 
end up with a little extra room in the back."

Psychiatrist: "Speaking of phallic symbology, you're 
aware, I sure that a man should never be judged by his 
size."

Sister: "Shoot, doctor. My brother was tiny when we 
started, but we learned where to rub it."

AT THE MOTEL

I'll stick with the family trip venue, since I can 
envision it pretty well. But basically I'm moving us 
from touching to the act itself. My main point is that 
it's seamless. It's where the journey leads, not some 
starting or stopping point.

If it's a family vacation, the motels usually have two 
queen-sized beds, one for the folks and the other where 
the two of you glare and stake out very opposite edges. 
Nighttime changes things. It's really risky doing it in 
the same room, but kids are a little stupid sometimes. 
Dad sleeps like a log after all that driving; Mom's 
your challenge.

[Ghostwriter's warning: Describing risky behavior gives 
it some legitimacy, I fear. I would have chosen not to 
document this episode.]

Run the air conditioner for the hum. They say that for 
every sound, there is a frequency that will cancel it. 
Claim the bed away from the window, since light from 
the parking lot can silhouette you if you get two deep, 
so to speak. Quietest is you on your back, one knee up, 
his thighs under it and scissored around your other. 
Your heads are way apart. You're in good positions to 
coordinate. Plus it doesn't hurt your back. By the 
third night you'll have it to a science. TV off after 
the weather. Thirty minutes till Mom's out of it. 
Underpants down. The main thing isn't that you screw; 
anybody can do that. It's that you pull it off 
together.

Whatever gets the bedding wet doesn't matter because 
the motel people deal with stains all the time. The 
maid never knows who was where. As if she doesn't 
change other kids' beds afterwards!

If you're not on the pill, you should be using a 
rubber. Just leave it in the sheets for the maid to 
toss. She'll hardly speak English, anyway. If you threw 
it in the wastebasket, Mom would see it right off. Dad, 
if he ever looked in the trash, would probably fill out 
that little "How'd we do?" card on the table and note 
that this is supposed to be a family motel.

[Ghostwriter's apology: Hospitality staff are often 
undocumented because American citizens prefer higher 
pay. Cindi is being somewhat condescending regarding 
linguistic ability. All the custodial staff at our 
school really like her, though, because she goes to the 
religious ceremonies for all their kids and dances at 
the fiestas afterwards.]

A hint that Mom might know something: She'd always 
claim the side of their bed next to yours, blocking 
Dad's view. For sure she'd know the one-knee-up. When 
you checked out, she'd never pull down your sheets to 
see if you'd forgotten anything.

Psychiatrist: "You know? There's a Motel 6 not far from 
here. Sometimes it's good to do therapy in a less-
formal setting."

Sister: "Kinda like being in a tent?""

Psychiatrist: "It might give you a sense of male 
security to rest your hand right here."

Sister: "I see what you meant about the size thing. My 
brother is hardly starting his growth spurt and already 
he's..."

Psychiatrist: "So tell me a dream or something."

ON THE BED

Wherever you started, you'll end up on your bed or his. 
Sibling love is about being at home. Know why we know 
all the John Denver songs? Because they're about home. 
Have any of us actually lived in West Virginia? I 
started off with "What's love go to do with it?" Well, 
let's make that, "What's home got to do with it." Same 
answer. Everything.

A sister and brother can sleep together a bunch if 
their folks' bedroom is downstairs.

(1) Avoid creaky floorboards.

(2) Whose bed is the quietist? You may have started on 
good motel springs, but your set's been in the family 
forever. If need be, do you have a thick rug?

(3) Set an alarm to get back, especially if Dad gets up 
early to read the paper.

(4) Mom does the sheets, so put something down like a 
dark towel.

(5) One time, turn around so your heads are at the foot 
of the bed. For some reason, it's amazing.

An established bedroom routine ensues. Codeword it 
something like, "Upstairs." "Did you use my towel 
upstairs?" or "I'll bet I left that Newsweek upstairs," 
casually at the dinner table suffices.

A hint that Mom might know something: She dutifully 
washes the dark blue towel that's never on the towel 
bar but keeps turning up in the hamper. At the odd use 
of "upstairs" in your table talk, she smiles and her 
nipples show.

Psychiatrist: "Close your eyes, pretend that you're 
floating and murmur to me like you'd murmur to your 
brother. Visualize that this is his hand holding your 
lovely breast."

Sister: "OK, doctor. Kyle, just because you didn't help 
rake the leaves doesn't mean that I have to bag them 
all by myself. And don't pinch so much!"

THE UPS AND THE DOWNS OF IT

Did you catch "Top Tips" in the title of this document? 
Take turns who gets to be on top. Being the guy doesn't 
make him always the boss. He may be able to kowtow a 
girlfriend, but not his sister. We owe the top thing to 
the bra burners. A guy can shoot while riding a 
bicycle. For us, it's the little changes in pressure, 
the modulation, the eye contact, how you got there, 
what you'll do afterwards. Looking down, you see the 
synergy.

[Ghostwriter's confirmation: Women of the world, 
arise!]

The first time you look down to where your hair is 
mashed together, you'll realize it's perfectly matched 
and just start laughing. Siblings don't need to explain 
stuff or act cool with each other. He'll steady your 
boobs even, not because squeezing is such a big deal by 
this point, but so you'll not get sore bouncing around. 
Mine don't bounce much because of their size problem, 
so I'm just talking generally. Plus, a guy always 
becomes a better fucker when he realizes it's not just 
a male thing.

Did you ever see Leaving Las Vegas? It's R. It's not 
about siblings, but at the end, Elisabeth Shue does a 
dying Nicolas Cage from on top in a long and haunting 
love scene. I'd said to see Blue Lagoon with your 
brother, but if you want to see an adult side of love, 
this one's sadder and better.

A hint that Mom might know something: She suggested 
that you do your book report on Lilith. The patriarchal 
scribes replaced Lilith with Eve in Genesis, she 
revealed, but made you read the book to see why.

Psychiatrist: "Being the superior is a common feminine 
fantasy. Do you think in a previous life you might have 
been a Native American princess?"

Sister: "Nah, my job was to torture captive braves, but 
it doesn't fit in our school's multicultural 
curriculum. Anyway, what I'd do was get this flaming 
hot tomahawk and dance naked in front of him until he 
got, you know, and then chop off about an inch and then 
do it all over again. If he was really brave, I'd let 
him do me with his last inch and that would make our 
next Chief. Then I'd take...."

Psychiatrist: "That's surely enough. So show me how 
fast you like to go by raising your hips. I'll need to 
slide my hand up a little to help steady you. ... That 
was a very good reflex you just showed."

Sister: "My other job was to have ceremonial sex with 
buffaloes."

THE INS AND OUTS OF IT

Don't let some wet-dreamer trick you about orgasms 
suitable for the back shelf at Video World. If you were 
counting on verbosity about unfettered male 
penetration, female liquids and star-studded visions, 
skip to my thoughts about the Internet. Your brother 
probably doesn't have a throbbing 14-inch cock dripping 
with tasty pre-cum, anyway. So let's just stay real, 
girl.

You'll have a great time, even if you muff the climax a 
little at first. The guy's your brother, for heaven 
sakes, not some implanted actor. This I promise: it 
will get better and better and better. And I'm not 
talking for six times (my average, I suppose, before my 
date and I get a little tired of each other's 
personalities). I'm talking about for six years. Better 
and better.

Basically aim for about half speed. The best thing 
about with your brother is that caution forces you to 
find the quiet ways. You'd never get a regular 
boyfriend to go slow with you because you're probably 
in his apartment. At home there's maybe someone who'd 
wonder about thumping sounds. You can't be vibrating 
your bed around the room.

As siblings are genetically the same, you naturally 
climax right at the same minute even while you're 
learning. DNA is the reason. We have a double helix 
model in my classroom that we made with foam balls and 
wires. Visuals are very important for their learning 
experience. Genes explain why twins can sometimes tell 
when the other one is in trouble. If you don't climax 
at the same time, other factors may be involved.

[Ghostwriter's disbelief: I don't care if Cindi does 
teach science. Our hormones make us do it, not our DNA. 
That spiral thing somehow vibrates?]

Keep in mind that as a female, you can climax and 
climax. His orgasm is about six squirts worth, so 
getting there was most of his fun. A brother will stick 
with you all the way up and all the way down. It's 
about caring.

A hint that Mom might know something: She put some 
water-soluble lubricant in your medicine cabinet in 
case you new pumps chaff your toes.

Psychiatrist: "It must be difficult for you."

Sister: "Well, not so much after we got to puberty."

Psychiatrist: "I mean that it's not normal."

Sister: "We realized that, trying 'Lizards on the 
Ceiling', so we stick with positions 1, 2 and 4."

Psychiatrist: "So tell me about your brother's penis. 
How long, how thick, how he likes it held, that sort of 
thing. Sometimes it's good to psychoanalyze both 
partners, I find. I could fit him in Tuesdays and 
Thursdays until we set up something regular."

Sister: "Do you have an itch down there, or something?"

PARENTS' EVENING OUT

(1) On the couch, or hand-in-hand up to your room? It's 
more special where you can see all your girly things 
like Raggedy Anne.

(2) Use Mom and Dad's bed because that's where they 
made you two. Squeak City!

(3) If you try new stuff, now's the time. Untested 
ideas sometimes turn out to break items like lawn 
chairs.

(4) It's bath time. You did it together when your were 
little. Put towels around the tub because you'll slosh. 
Turn off the lights and burn a candle so it doesn't 
look so much like a bathroom. It's romantic, even if he 
is your relative. There'll be bubble bath in the 
cupboard from when you were ten. And if you spill your 
wine in the tub, who cares? If your brother's cool, 
he'll let you finger-paint a tux on him first. Get him 
really soapy. It's hard to use a rubber, though, so 
bathe together at the right time of the month.

A hint that Mom might know something: She made a big 
racket at the front door when they came home earlier 
than expected.

Psychiatrist: "On your parents' bed makes it Oedipal."

Sister: "I think it still tastes yucky."

[Ghostwriter's admission: Of all these ridiculous two-
liners, this one is OK.]

GIRLFRIEND

"Kara? Hi, this is Cindi. ... Not much. ... Hey, our 
folks are out this evening and Kyle and me were 
wondering if you and Andrew wanted to come over and 
watch a movie? ... Blue Lagoon, I was thinking. ... 
Maybe that's smart. We'll say Rocky VI and change it. 
... I agree. Brothers can be so unromantic sometimes, 
but as they say, they're convenient. ... No, I read it 
somewhere. ... OK, but just four cans. We've got 
Pringles. ... I was thinking maybe together on the 
sofa, right with the movie. Whattaya think? Let's try 
to hold hands... You wearing your black one? We should 
be the same. ... Whenever. Sooner the better, though."

Hey, girls, I get to dream a little too.

[Ghostwriter's admonishment: Cindi, my friend, if you 
didn't dream so much, you'd have finished your M.Ed.]

A hint that Mom might know something: She found Kara's 
bra on the floor the next morning and acted like it was 
yours that must have fallen out of the basket on the 
way to the laundry. Kara's already a C.

Psychiatrist: "Are you saying that you'd deceive them 
about the movie?"

Sister: "Is that bad?"

Psychiatrist: "Morality is one's own construct. What 
I'm suggesting is that if you don't see Rocky VI, 
you'll not understand Balboa's angst at the start of 
Rocky VII."

INTERNET

Want brother-sister pictures, movie clips and stories? 
Hello, www. You'll find the graphical stuff near the 
grandmother+dog selection. Talk about bullshit! Do they 
look like siblings? Why would siblings want to get 
filmed? We're talking class B porn where they just 
changed the title. Sick. Worse thing is that people pay 
to see it. "Wow, man! Here's a jpeg where the brother 
is shoving his big black dick right up the wazoo of his 
gorgeous blond sister! Look at her tits! We can talk to 
her while she's doing it at this phone number!"

Sex story sites have captured the market for unlikely 
similes and metaphors. In science we just say what 
happens. "The rotifer eats the bacteria," not, "The 
slathering voracious rotifer pulls the weakened and 
trembling bacteria into its consuming jaws." They like 
that last style for sex stories. Pretty stupid, if you 
ask me.

[Ghostwriter's response: To the contrary, the imagery 
of such microbial terror is gripping.]

For explicit sex prose, who gives a hoot if they're 
related? So strip out all the pathologic paragraphs 
about big cocks and hungry holes. What's left in 
brother+sister stories is that watching a dirty movie, 
or whatever, somehow makes brother start screwing 
sister and she discovers that she loves it. Am I right? 
Only the pre-copulation stuff and the post-copulation 
stuff can make it a sibling story. Only one out of 50 
even tries.

I did come across a questionnaire from the early web 
days, discussion group style, about siblings' personal 
history. There were frank responses for a while and 
then the perverts started sending fantasy fiction. 
"From this close, the aroma is making my head spin into 
total euphoria. I move even closer and lick gently up 
and down. I can hear Linda moan, so I jerk upright; her 
eyes are still shut tight, although she is writhing and 
humping her lower body slightly." Verbatim. Those young 
Earnest Hemingways killed the survey.

[Ghostwriter's correction: I read the complete 
Hemingway and never found it.]

Anyway, the responses indicated that:

(1) Almost always it's the brother responding,

(2) The sister was the older nearly half the time, and

(3) There are few regrets.

Conclusion (1) surely biases (3). Let's wonder about 
(2) because most other studies suggest that the girl is 
usually the younger. So let's not call this scientific.

[Ghostwriter's concern: Cindi surfs when the students 
are working at their desks. Somebody's going to see. 
She says that a few have and they trade http: 
addresses.]

No camera. Things can travel electronically. Your 
brother e-mails his digitals to somebody who "doesn't 
know you". This somebody has a distribution list. You 
discover yourself on the Internet. Why you'd even be 
looking, I don't know, but it would be terrible, 
especially if you've got a give-away tattoo on you tit 
or someplace. An ex-boyfriend of mine found his sister 
in "Russian Nymphets". She had this little log cabin on 
her ass because they were from Illinois. Maybe the 
Webmaster thought it was a dacha. I'm not sure how my 
boyfriend knew she had it, though.

The web has lots of sites dealing with abuse. If you 
were sexually abused, you've got resources.

A hint that Mom might know something: The sibling sex 
site cookies on your computer keep being modified when 
you and Kyle are at school.

Psychiatrist: "I suspect you may have been influenced 
by http://www.familyincest.com/brother-sister.htm."

Sister: "Didn't fool me one bit. A real sister would 
undress before her brother did it."

CHURCH

I am a good Catholic, and not just because I went to a 
parochial school (which I did) and go to Mass every 
week (which I do). The Church has some very good values 
and basic truths. Where would civilization be without 
them? Being a good Catholic includes being (or at least 
trying to be) a good person. So how to deal with sex? 
Two points:

(1) God created it.

(2) Do it in love.

So why's what a brother and sister do a religious 
issue? Two reasons:

(1) Biblical mention. But wait! Almost all the Biblical 
prohibitions deal with girls and fathers, boys and 
mothers. There are just a few references to siblings, 
to wit, "The nakedness of thy sister, the daughter of 
thy father, or daughter of thy mother, whether she be 
born at home, or born abroad, even their nakedness thou 
shalt not uncover." (Leviticus 18:9) "Uncovering" his 
partner is rape, perhaps. Everything I've talked about 
deals with mutuality, how sisters might encourage the 
process.

Adam and Eve begat Cain and Able and they had to have 
begot some daughters too, when you consider that there 
was a next generation. So sex with sister is a Biblical 
fact. Figured it out in Sunday school. After the Flood, 
eight people populated the world again, but cousins 
could have done that.

(2) It's about power. Matt Groening (creator of the 
Simpsons) says, "When the authorities warn you of the 
dangers of having sex, there is an important lesson to 
be learned. Do not have sex with the authorities." The 
Pope regulates sex to enhance his own authority. If you 
let him decide who you can make love with (or in case 
of clergy, that you can't make love at all), you've 
made him your master. He's not God, just His 
spokesperson.

Parish priests don't have much of a problem about 
lovers as long as you aren't already married. Just 
don't confess which lover. Have your brother use 
another confessor, just in case both of you let slip 
something like, "We were just picking plumbs and..."

Like we're going to get out of bed with our brother, 
rob a bank, file a fraudulent 1040 and park in the 
disabled zone? We've got bigger issues to worry about.

[Ghostwriter's disclaimer: Like the math section, I 
don't follow this part either. The Catholic religion 
seems very complicated.]

A hint that Mom might know something: She's adamant 
that the Church needs to halt this priest pedophilia. 
"And if we're going to build our new Parish Gym/Drug-
Rehabilitation Outreach Center, we can't keep making 
our Church a weekly guilt trip."

Psychiatrist: "What about the Church, a self-imposed 
impediment to our actualization?"

Sister: "We just have wooden pews."

Psychiatrist: "I was going to be a Priest, but they're 
so worried about lawsuits these days. Here, let me help 
you with that button."

BIRTH CONTROL

That inbreeding thing is exaggerated. Everybody's DNA 
is pretty much the same anyway. Did you know that 
humans and chimpanzees are 99.4 percent identical? When 
I say so in my class, some parent always complains to 
the Board that I'm advocating sex with animals. 
Ridiculous! That's why we've got each other.

You don't want to get pregnant because you don't want 
to get pregnant. But if you really need sex and he's 
afraid about a baby, tell him you're on the rhythm 
method. Basically, we're not fertile a bunch of the 
time.

Brothers subconsciously want to get us pregnant; it's 
natural instinct to expand the clan. I heard about this 
guy who would give his sister a sleeping pill so she 
wouldn't know who'd knocked her up. She'd have an 
orgasm, though, even asleep. If your brother brings you 
a nice hot chocolate and you're having these wonderful 
dreams, it's maybe too late.

[Ghostwriter's correction: The account I heard said 
that she was simultaneously pulling the same stunt on 
him. It depended on who got to the kitchen first to 
make the cocoa.]

He won't always remember to bring a condom, so keep 
some handy. It's a pain to have to dig under your 
sweaters every time, though. Look for someplace more 
convenient. Big girls still put their doll on their bed 
and I had my favorite Raggedy Anne. I used her drawers 
and put the foil and the used ones back in the same 
place. It was easier than having to get rid of the 
stuff every time.

A hint that Mom might know something: She gave you the 
"When a girl starts heavy dating, she's in charge of 
consequences" talk when you weren't even going out. She 
suggested using the pill just to make your periods more 
predictable. "When I was your age, sometimes it would 
just happen when I wasn't expecting. When I got on the 
pill, planning got simpler. Want to give it a try?" And 
no matter how many times she's moved Raggedy Anne to 
change your linen, she's never suggested putting 
Raggedy up on your shelf. "Girls like our doll where we 
can always find her, right Cindi?"

Psychiatrist: "Do you take precautions? Like something 
you might have brought in your purse?"

Sister: "We always, always lock the door."

Psychiatrist: "What about your genes?"

Sister: "We always take them off."

Psychiatrist: "Well, I think you have a psychosis."

Sister: "No way, because we practice safe sex."

LOVE AND MARRIAGE

Go together like a horse and carriage. In a poem, 
anyway. You can still date around because of course 
you'll never marry each other.

Then sooner or later one of you will probably say, "I 
do."

Say you get married. James Thurber wrote a great line, 
"She said he proposed something on their wedding night 
that even her own brother wouldn't have suggested." If 
sex with your brother is still more fun than sex with 
your husband, we're talking sibling addiction. (It 
being an "addiction" may qualify you for some sort of 
mental health benefit. Ask your HMO.) You can't claim a 
headache forever. Get creative with hubby.

Say your brother ties the knot. If you like your 
sister-in-law, stop screwing her husband. You may be 
better than she is, but you're not worth a marital 
disintegration, sister. So for sure, anyway, don't get 
caught in her bed. If you end up there anyway 
(engrained habits are so hard to break), don't let him 
compare the two of you. Of course you're more 
understanding or whatever; you don't have to deal with 
him 24/7. We can tell our brothers to get real with 
their fantasies. Women are smarter about reality.

Your brother just won't be your "hot date" any more. 
He'll be the someone you can fall back to for something 
a bit more relaxed.

[Ghostwriter's request: Maybe if some girls didn't take 
both a husband and a brother out of circulation, the 
rest of us would have a better chance. It's kind of 
like bigamy.]

A hint that Mom might know something: She reflects how 
wonderful it is to be married to Dad and how lucky she 
is that your Uncle Rob lives so close. "It's so easy 
for him to stop by to help out when Dad's tied up." If 
there's a late movie on HBO that conflicts with "the 
guys" (that means Dad and Kyle) watching WWF, she can 
just run over to his place. You know that she keeps a 
toothbrush and a few of her favorite CD's there. "Your 
dad and Uncle Rob, the both treat me like their Queen."

Psychiatrist: "So what would you tell your spouse about 
your intrafamilial dalliances?"

Sister: "Positions 1, 2, 3, and 4. I'll pretend that we 
stumble onto 18. What are you doing now?"

Psychiatrist: "This is what we call the Mammarial 
Fulfilment Test to see if you have anxiety about (how 
can I phrase this?) breastfeeding. I'm not sure if I 
remember 18."

INCEST IS FOREVER

So they say. We're going to keep seeing these brothers 
of ours for a long time; it's not like a relationship 
we can dump. We're talking about a bond. How very 
Egyptian!

Think thirty years, slipping away from the family 
reunion for a half-hour. You'll catch his eye across 
the living room. Even if they see you go in the bedroom 
and shut the door, they'll assume it's to discuss 
something like Uncle Rudy's alcoholism. You'll be 
entwined on the guest bed, going nice and slowly, 
giggling about that early time on the sofa when the 
folks came home early. He didn't have time to put his 
underpants back on, so you stuffed his drawers into 
your jogging pants.

If someone passing the bedroom door hears panting, 
they'll assume that the two or you are rearranging the 
furniture or something. They call our affection "a 
hidden love". Well, it's not because we hide it that 
well. It's because they hide from knowing.

So take care of the guy and let him take care of you.

A hint that Mom might know something: The more you 
listened, it sure didn't sound like she and Uncle Rob 
were discussing Uncle Rudy. Mom wouldn't breath that 
way if she were moving furniture. So when Dad appeared 
at the end of the hall, you sent him back to look for 
an extension cord. You'd come to realize that Rob was 
not competing for Mom's affection. Her love for Dad 
would never waver; it made you happy how sweetly your 
folks enjoyed each other, culminating in their 
unabashedly ill-disguised sexuality. Mom would sneak 
you a wink when Dad would say it's been a long day and 
she'd take his hand as they retired. Her brother was 
part of her essence too, a youthful part that needed to 
be preserved. As they say, you can't run out of love.

Psychiatrist: "So you don't want help stopping? My, how 
petit are your coquilles!"

Sister: "Culottes. It's weird how this couch bends my 
head up."

Psychiatrist: "It's therapeutic for you to watch me 
release your sexual tensions."

Sister: "What I really need therapy for is my consuming 
urge to automatic weapon my fellow Postal Service 
employees."

Psychiatrist: "So how long did you say your brother's 
penis is? I need to complete my file, is all."

Sister: "Seven inches maybe. Does K-Mart still sell 
ammo?"

Psychiatrist: "Just hang your skirt on the chair. But 
before you stretch out, why don't you bend over the end 
of the couch so I can check for carcinogenic moles. Me 
being in psychiatry, I can eliminate the psychosomatic 
ones."

FINAL THOUGHTS

So there, you know what I think.

[Ghostwriter's clarification: Thanks to my thematic 
organization, word choice, paring of redundancies, 
elimination of objectionable allusions, source 
confirmations, dialog compression, etc. I don't mind 
Cindi getting all the credit.]

A hint that Mom might know something: Actually, we're 
pretty much beyond hints, aren't we? To wit:

Mom didn't want to go to the Elk's convention in 
Denver, so Dad flew ahead and you three drove to pick 
him up for camping afterwards. Uncle Rob helped drive 
to Colorado and flew on to Salt Lake City because he'd 
become a Latter Day Saint. So the first night on the 
Interstate, you and Kyle claimed opposite sides of your 
queen size, glaring distance. Mom took the near side of 
the bed by the window.

Since Mom watched Cheers in her bra and changed 
afterwards into her nightgown, so did you. Emerging 
from the bathroom, her breasts swayed within the summer 
cotton, her nipples wide on their orbs. Yours were 
erect as well, but high and close. When Mom leaned 
across their bed to kiss Rob goodnight, you watched how 
she pressed against him as they drew up their covers. 
You rolled against your own brother, smacked him a 
"Sweet dreams" and to his surprise, barely rolled back.

TV off after the weather. Thirty minutes. Underpants 
down. But before you embraced Kyle, a headlight 
illuminated the motel window. Mom's silhouetted head 
was thrust back, the sheet rising as her hips lifted 
her brother, then falling as he drove her back down. As 
you watched them make love, her every fiber seemed to 
resonate with his every muscle. You'd never realized 
how grace and passion might so intersect. You heard 
what the air-conditioner couldn't mute -- the music of 
hungry breath, seeking flesh and yielding mattress. You 
remembered hearing Mom breathe that way before, at that 
time suspecting the sexual. But lying in the same room, 
you knew that intercourse was but a facet of their 
union. You felt the tremble of Mom's chin, the beads of 
sweat evaporate from her brow. You signaled Kyle to go 
ahead and get under your knee. Your own chin was 
trembling too. Do twin muffled melodies make a secret 
symphony?

In the morning, all four volunteered how quickly you 
fell asleep. The maid found evidence to the contrary, 
however. Mom didn't put on her bra that day, so you 
took the cue. In the backseat, you helped Kyle notice, 
almost bringing him to climax before Rob pulled into a 
Denny's. Something for him to look forward to, you 
figured.

You could have made Denver for supper, but by 2:00 it 
was hot, so you pulled into a Holiday Inn. Mom and 
Uncle Rob were pretty tired so you kids went to the 
pool for an hour. You said, "an hour." They were bathed 
and rested on you return, so they went to swim for 
their hour. Mom also announced, "an hour."

That evening, you and Mom were in panties. It felt 
weird having Uncle Rob see you, but then Mom probably 
felt the same having Kyle there. Watching Cheers, you 
taunted Kyle under your sheet, denying the finish of 
what was uncompleted in the car. His reflexive begging 
only made you tease him more. You knew, of course, that 
he'd extract his revenge. Under their sheet, Rob was 
curled behind Mom like a half shell about a walnut, her 
backward wiggles confirming their conformity. As Rob's 
view was blocked and Kyle's back was to her, Mom lifted 
the cover so you could watch her lover massage her 
breast. You drew Kyle's hand up to your own, hoping 
that Mom would read the movement of his elbow.

TV off after the weather, but no reason to wait thirty 
minutes to disrobe Mom's panties were already on the 
floor where she'd pushed them from under the bed linen. 
When you ejected yours where she'd likewise notice, she 
blew you your goodnight kiss. The two wads of colored 
cotton formed a connect-the-dots line between your 
beds.

When Kyle approached for his subdued entrance, you 
instead pulled him above and within with exhilarating 
near-violence. Kyle at first resisted, it being so 
obvious, but you gave him little choice. You know Mom 
witnessed because only after you throes subsided did 
she take Rob with equal ferocity.

Next morning while Uncle Rob was shaving, Mom went in 
the bathroom and shut the door. Pretty soon you could 
hear the shower and after a while the two, Rob the more 
sheepish, came out with wet hair. "Next," suggested 
Mom. You had Kyle give you a shampoo. Traveling affords 
intimacy beyond the erotic.

Since checkout wasn't till 11:00, you posted the "Do 
Not Disturb", pulled the drapes, hopped back under the 
sheets and turned up Discovery Channel. This would be 
their last time together before you all got back home.

You were being a stinker, remoting the TV volume down 
when Mom's breathing picked up, but she afterwards 
giggled that she had the same idea for you. At Mom's 
"Lilith," the two of you claimed top positions, breasts 
bared. You'd never discussed your book report, but you 
knew. In the TV illumination, you and she grinned and 
waved at one another before attending to your lovers 
below.

In the car, the four of you made plans for the tango 
convention next year. You and Mom really like the 
outfits, but Rob and Kyle wouldn't be caught dead in 
those tight pants. "Shoot," sighed Mom. "Cindi and I 
know a way in front of the judges' table to get you 
guys to earn us a bunch of interpretive points."

Psychiatrist: "It's so hard to keep up with all these 
scientific studies about our topic. Let's just work on 
the practical part."

Sister: "You really think this therapy works better 
naked, doctor?"

Psychiatrist: "The standard procedure for clitoral 
confirmation is digital, but I prefer visual 
verification. An overlooked clitoridectomy might 
explain your dissatisfaction with your brother."

Sister: "Who says I'm dissatisfied?"

Psychiatrist: "Your weeping inner ego. I'll play the 
role of your twin brother who got adopted away and you 
just got reunited on Oprah."

Sister: "Wow! And we're castaways, like what happened 
to Brook Shields!"

Psychiatrist: "And patient-client confidentially 
requires that your actual brother can't be told. Aha, 
this slipperiness signifies recognition of a repressed 
longing."

Sister: "I was thinking of something else."

Psychiatrist: "Is your brother's hair really this 
color?"

Sister: "Same. Maybe position 17 has this weird-shaped 
couch in mind, you think?"

Psychiatrist: "Oh no. At our therapeutic highlight, my 
healthcare-provision capacity's failing! Envisioning 
your brother requires me to meet the pederast within!"

Sister: "Actually, he doesn't collect stamps any more."

Psychiatrist: "No, no, the desire of an older male to 
engage in sex with boys. We can't even be Scoutmasters 
or anything anymore!"

Sister: "You know? The more I look at this couch you've 
got, the more I see it as guy-guy furniture anyway."

[Ghostwriter's contribution: I broke down and penned 
the doc's "Oh, no" line. If you can't beat 'em, you 
know the rest.]

JUST THE FACTS, MAM

In case you missed it, those were just my opinions. But 
what do I know? I just have one brother. Here are some 
alleged experts. Unlike real science, however, 
behavioral science is flaky.

[Ghostwriter's certainty: Cindi just skimmed the 
titles. Please don't trust these numbers for your term 
paper without confirming the source.]

Finkelhor, D., 1980, Sex among Siblings: a Survey on 
Prevalence, Variety, and Effects, Archives of Sexual 
Behavior, 9:3, June, pp. 171-194.

 In a survey of 796 undergraduates at six New England 
colleges and universities, 15% of the females and 10% 
of the males reported some type of sexual experience 
involving a sibling. Fondling and touching of the 
genitals were the most common activities in all age 
categories. One-fourth of the experiences could be 
described as exploitative either because force was used 
or because there was a large age disparity between the 
partners. Reactions to the experiences were equally 
divided among those who considered them positive and 
those who considered them negative. Females were more 
likely to have been exploited and feel badly about it. 
Few of either sex ever told anyone. The research finds 
that such experience may have long-term effects on 
sexual development. Females who report sibling sexual 
experiences, both positive and negative, have 
substantially higher levels of current sexual activity. 
Their level of sexual self-esteem may also have been 
affected, but more selec!
 tively. Those with positive sibling experiences after 
age 9 have more sexual self-esteem. However, 
experiences with much older siblings taking place 
before age 9 are associated with generally lower levels 
of self-esteem and no increase in current sexual 
activity.

Symonds, C.L., Mendoza, M.J. and Harrell, W.C., 1981, 
Forbidden Sexual Behavior among Kin: a Study of Self-
Selected Respondents, in L.L. Constantine and F.M. 
Martinson (eds.), Children and Sex, New Findings, New 
Perspectives, Little, Brown & Co., Boston.

 Questionnaire data were collected from 526 
undergraduate college students. Of this sample, 5% 
reported having had only a sibling sexual encounter, 
12% reported having had both a sibling and a nonsibling 
childhood sexual experience, 45% reported having had 
only a nonsibling sexual experience, and 39% reported 
no sexual experience with another child prior to age 
13. No differences were found between the sibling, 
nonsibling, and no-experience groups on a variety of 
adult sexual behavior and sexual adjustment measures, 
including incidence of premarital intercourse, age at 
first intercourse, number of partners, sexual 
satisfaction, sexual arousal and sexual dysfunctions. 
It was concluded that adult sexual adjustment is not 
negatively or positively influenced by typical early 
childhood sexual experiences among similar-aged 
siblings.

Russell, D., 1983, The Incidence and Prevalence of 
Intrafamilial and Extrafamilial Sexual Abuse of Female 
Children, Child Abuse and Neglect, 7, pp. 133-146.

 A random household survey of 930 adult women in the 
San Francisco area, personally interviewed by trained 
female interviewers, found that 16% of the women had 
experienced at least one incident of intrafamilial 
sexual abuse prior to age 18, and 12% had at least one 
such experience prior to age 14. Further analysis of 
the 16% revealed incestuous relationships with 
biological fathers (2.5%), stepfathers (2%), uncles 
(4.9%), cousins (3%) and brothers (2%).

Russell, D., 1986, The Secret Trauma: Incest in the 
Lives of Girls and Women, Basic Books, New York, pp. 
216.

 Of incest cases with females, uncles accounted for 25% 
of the perpetrators, followed in frequency by fathers 
(15%), brothers (12%) and stepfathers (8%). The nature 
of the remaining 40% isn't clear, but the relative 
magnitudes tell a story, in any case.

THE END

****

Holly on the Web

Wherever you found this story on the web, thank you to 
the server. My problem is that I've no systematic way 
to update the various servers. As literary errors (or 
just poor word usages) are made know to me, I'll repair 
that which is salvageable on 
http://www.asstr.org/~Holly_Rennick/. My website's not 
much graphically, I admit, but HTML isn't my native 
language.

You can contact me via the site's message form, that 
HTML code by the smart people at ASSTR.

I won't be changing the story significantly, so if you 
didn't like it before, that much will remain the same. 
But if you did like it, an update may read a bit more 
cleanly.

Holly

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 26