Once again, many thanks to my editor-in-chief, Gary, for his corrections and suggestions.
*
Gloria lay on top of me, breathing hard, another sob held back. I just held her, stroking her hair, stroking her back. Gradually her breathing returned to normal; she sat up and rolled off, saying she needed to clean up. She left a lake of cum and semen on my pelvis; I got up and followed her into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet in the bath and squatted, I used the sink to clean myself, returning to the bed to wait.
She looked at me with a touch of hesitation, obviously not knowing what I was thinking. Lying down beside me, she snuggled into my arm which I wrapped around her, hopefully in a welcoming move. She didn't say anything, nor did I. I could feel her start to speak then stop, then again; finally she spoke.
"You must think I'm a pervert or something."
I stroked her back, cuddling her for a moment. "No, you're not a pervert."
"I can't stop it. I've told myself it's wrong, she's my daughter for God's sake. Just so you know, I've never done
anything
sexual with her or with any other woman for that matter. I like you; I like sex. You've shown me there's so much more than I ever knew. It's just that I feel so -- perverted, doing all these things that have always been, you know, forbidden?"
"You know when I told you my fantasy? About being sucked on everywhere?" I nodded. "I've had that fantasy for years. But what I didn't tell you before, ever since I saw them through the window... somehow, no matter how I try to think about something else it always comes back to...." She lay quietly for a while, leaving the sentence unfinished. I understood; it always came back to Melissa going down on her.
"Are you disgusted with me or something?"
"Why would you say that?" I answered. "It turned me on too."
"But, Melissa? My daughter? You don't think that's perverted?"
"Tell me," I answered, "why do you think that's perverted? Is it that you're fantasizing about your daughter or that you're fantasizing about a woman?"
"You don't think incest is wrong?" she asked, puzzled. I lay there silently for a minute, thinking about how to answer.
"Look, I'm not one to say it is right or it is wrong. That's a moral judgment, which means someone else is telling
you
how to think. Someone else is putting their right, or their wrong, on you. Physically, human beings are sexual in nature -- every other animal is capable of having sex with a relative, and commonly do. Man has decided that sex with close relatives is wrong, and we teach it and preach it. But the reality is, it's always been there. Hell -- the European monarchies were famous for having incestuous marriages -- it's how they kept their claim to being God's chosen ones. And the price they paid was with birth defects; continuous inbreeding does that. Doesn't matter whether it's dogs or parakeets or humans, if we don't mix up the gene pool we reinforce the bad things.
But family members being attracted to each other? How many times have you heard about brothers or sisters experimenting together, finding out what it's like to have a penis, or not have a penis? What do we mean when we say that word, 'Experimenting'? How about brothers peeping on sisters? Sisters peeping on their brothers? Sons peeping on their mothers or daughters peeping on their fathers? Masturbating in front of brothers or sisters, or masturbating together? My first "experimenting" was with my cousin; she taught me where the female body parts are and gave me my first hand job. Is that so much different than if it was a sister?
Look, you can't get Melissa pregnant, she's an adult female, she's doesn't seem averse to at least touching you intimately - and shaving your pubic hair is damn near as intimate as you can get. Seems to me you're indicating you're more than just a little curious about what it would be like to be with a woman and what woman would you be more familiar with than yourself or a close facsimile of yourself? Her voice certainly sounds like yours." I stopped but she didn't say anything.
"Do you think she knows?"
"I don't know, I... I think she might."
"Why?"
"When she shaved my heart for me... I kept trying to think of other things... but she was touching me, and I kept thinking "what am I going to do if she goes down on me like Barb?" And she touched me, making sure I was smooth... and I was thinking "I want her to go down on me," and then she said she thought it looked good; and after she left, I looked in the mirror, my nipples were hard, and my pussy was wet, she'd been touching me and I knew she had to have seen. I barely touched myself and I came. If she'd touched me, I'd have cum... She didn't say anything, but I think she knew."
"Umm," I acknowledged. She suddenly rolled off the bed, retrieved her purse and pulled out her wallet. She opened it up, thumbed through it and pulled out some pictures. She handed me one.