Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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I started this story back in 2005 although back then it was very different from what I am now offering: even the storyline is very different.
When I re-read the story I decided to delete all but the first few paragraphs. Enjoy!
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With a huge sigh, I turned onto the long driveway to the old homestead. It had been a horror drive; the day was so hot that even with the canvas roof of my old Series two Landrover rolled back it still seemed as though I were in a blast furnace. As I wound my way down the narrow dirt track, I noticed the signs of recent heavy rain taking note of a landslip that would create trouble for anyone in a road car.
I should take this opportunity to introduce myself ... I am Sonya McPherson and will be twenty-five next January: unlike most other women in my extended family, I am just five foot three with hand-sized breasts. My mother says that I am pretty but personally 'uninteresting' would be a better word to describe me. My head is oval in shape and I possess a very broad brow which my dear departed grandmother said indicated high intelligence. I have freckles below my eyes that ride over the bridge of my way too big nose and my lips: if that's what you call them are almost nonexistent.
Having found my schooling rather easy I traveled back to England to complete a degree in English language. Again, I found the work quite easy and graduating with first-class honors decided to continue on with my masters. I have now managed to get a position as a tutor at the local university in order to complete my Ph.D.
Being very academic my appearance never concerns me too much and to my mother's dismay I like to dress in khaki green slacks with a matching khaki tan shirt with the sleeves rolled up on hot days while on very cold winter days I wear a men's mismatching tartan woolen waistcoat. Another fad of mine is wearing plain cotton boy shorts usually tan or jungle green because I hate the restriction of women's thongs and the like. I don't go much with makeup believing that we should keep our natural looks but use a little gloss to highlight my lips especially if I am going out. This will be my first Christmas back since I had gone to university in the UK. Almost six years have flowed under the bridge and I was looking forward to catching up with my younger cousin Karen who has just finished her first year studying Rural Science at the local university. Although her parents were happy to send her to an English university Karen couldn't bear to be away from the station life.
Making the top of the mountain I could see the old homestead nestled in the dingle which led down to the jetty and houseboat on the north arm of the river. I paused for a moment taking in the view: it was stunning with the weeping willows that our grandfather had planted casting their shade across the calm water while a large flock of Sulphur Crested Cockatoos alighted with a raucous cry. As with the storm damage along the track I noticed that the river was still very muddy from the recent deluge with logs and other debris marking the high-water line.
Fifteen minutes later I felt my body relax as I drove into the shade of the old slab shed. It used to be the smithy's shed but with the changes of time, modern technology, better roads, and transport the smithy's shop fell out of use, so it became extra parking space for visitors. Walking across the soft wet grass I noticed that other than my car there was only a small white Sierra parked in the three-bay garage beside the house making me wonder where everyone was just three days before Christmas.
Opening a beer at the kitchen sink I noticed my cousin Karen getting out of the pool: it didn't take long for me to see the change that six years had made. When I left, she was just a fifteen-year-old kid but here she was slim and athletic in a designer bikini that left little for the imagination. Although she's not as tall as the rest of the family she is still three inches above me and with her dark hair cascading over her bronzed shoulders, pouting lips and small hand size boobs she was a real eyeful. Looking down her wide hips I could see her pussy outlined on her wet bikini. Sipping my beer, I felt my pussy tingle as she lay back on the big swinging lounge seat her feet falling over the edge making her wet pussy even more obvious. Standing by the sink it became obvious that she had noticed me, and I realized that the little show had been my welcome home. Seeing her jump up from the sun lounge I turned to grab a beer for her.
Karen's parents own the sheep and cattle station next door to my parent's property. The original huge two hundred-thousand-acre property was broken up when it got too big for my grandfather to manage ... my uncle taking one side of the river while his brother who is my father taking the other.
Karen is nothing like me at all. She is incredibly beautiful: some say model material. Standing five feet six inches with long black hair cascading in ringlets over her broad shoulders which seems to highlight her broad intelligent brow and green eyes. Her breasts although not big are much better formed than my baby bumps.
Karen has incredible dress sense loving pastel shades and designer labels, Italian leather shoes, and boots. Not being interested in cheap serviceable jewelry Karen goes for the more expensive fashionable brands ... where I wear a cheap digital watch that I found in a Paris supermarket Karen wears a beautifully designed Danish gold watch with a Swiss movement and of course Italian leather wrist strap. I sometimes wonder why she's doing Rural Science when marketing would be much more in her line. I put that question to her once and she told me that first, she is her parent's only child and hence would one day need to run the station and second because rural science fascinates her. Hearing it put this way I understood where she was coming from because I have a brother who will take over the station management one day leaving me to doing what I have always fascinated me.
Although in looks and career interests Karen and I are so different there is one thing that I believe marks us as very much the same. I am and I believe always have been lesbian: even from year five, I knew that although boys made me laugh girls were much more interesting to hang with. While in London I had two long term relationships with women very similar in both dress code and temperament as my cousin Karen.
Although Karen is five years my junior, we have always been the greatest of friends. Where I was more the tomboy type Karen was the feminine type dressing in pretty frocks and shorts where I preferred what has become my uniform of khaki greens and browns. When I say Karen was the more feminine, I don't mean she liked to preen her feathers to attract boys it was simply because she likes the feel of this style.
From the earliest age, Karen always used me as her confidant telling me things that she wouldn't even tell her mother whom she idolized. They say opposites attract well if that's the case then Karen and I was a great example. Although I was the tomboy Karen was the loud kid with an infectious sense of humor: it was Karen who always got us in trouble.
I have always been attracted to Karen although I didn't understand this until my last evening before leaving for London when I said goodbye to her ... it was horrible because we both cried floods. Thinking about it as the plane was racing down the runway I realized that I was sexually attracted to my cousin deciding then and there that on completing my studies I was returning to Karen. As for her sexual persuasion, I am not sure but having spent almost six years around the London LGBT community I am pretty sure she's either lesbian or bisexual. Anyway, these two weeks over the Christmas break I intend to put my feelings to the test.
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Before Karen could make the kitchen door, I was waiting, beer in hand on the broad shaded veranda. Screaming my name so loud that three kookaburras began their wild laughter she launched herself and we both hugged and kissed with tears of joy. Having dropped the two beers, we grabbed fresh ones before returning to the shade of the tumbling purple wisteria flowers covering the poolside gazebo. Speechless we simply sat on the swinging sun lounge looking at each other.
