Inspired by the person who sent me anonymous Feedback claiming to know who I was, but didn't seem to know my real name. Whoever you are, thanks.
Chapter 1
I scanned the words on the screen of my computer monitor. I felt pleased with myself for having completed my endeavour. However that was tempered with some anxiety and more than a little guilt.
Why though?
They were just pixels that formed letters, that formed words, that formed sentences, that...
I had finally completed what I had spent months talking myself out of, then ultimately into doing. At that point I was still the only person alive who knew what I had done. I could easily delete the text file and forget about it all. What prevented me from doing that was a combination of my ego and my libido -- a dangerous brew of endorphins and hormones. Even as I perused the lines I had written I could feel my cock begin to harden.
I had been a frequent visitor to the Literotica website for close to a year. After growing bored with the familiar themes and machinations of the stories I was seized by the notion that I could write as well, if not better than, many of the authors whose stories I had read. I had never written a piece of fiction in my life, save the brief descriptions of myself I had given while chatting to women (or men pretending to be women) online. That did not count. I needed a plot and characters -- men with totem pole-sized cocks that grew so hard they could nail a railroad spike into a board and women whose breasts rivaled the Goodyear blimp, who were so tight that they could crack a walnut inside them.
For the next week or so I began mulling over plotlines in my mind. My favourite category amongst the many erotic stories I had seen posted was Incest. Somewhere in the back of my dirty mind I knew that if I were to ever submit a story it would be under that category.
I was almost nineteen and still a virgin. Sure, I had gotten a few blowjobs and several clumsy hand jobs in the front seat of my parents' car, or behind hedges at house parties, but that never qualified as sex -- any staunch Democrat could tell you that. My greatest sexual exploits and conquests had all occurred within the confines of my mind while masturbating. What I was even more averse to admitting to anyone (except you, and you don't know who I am. Right?) was that my nightly fantasies usually revolved around my sister, Alison.
Alison is four years older than me and the most lovely young woman I have ever cast my eyes on. She is a few inches shorter than me, about 5'5", with curly dark red hair. It flows down her slender back past her shoulder blades and shimmers in the afternoon sun when she tans in our back yard. She is what most people would consider average build. I don't think she could ever get a job at Hooters, but I've noticed many of my friends' eyes following her around, so I guess I'm not the only one who finds her attractive. Her hips are slender, but always seem to have a mesmerizing sway to them as she walks. Whenever I find myself staring at them my eyes always gravitate to her firm, round backside. It looks as though you could crack an egg on it. My sister doesn't work out at a gym and has never been involved in sports, but somehow Alison was blessed with a body that could straighten out a corkscrew. For me, she was the epitome of beauty and desire. Unfortunately she was also off-limits to me because she was my sister. Yet that never stopped me from making love to her in my mind almost every night.
My story was finally completed. It revolved around a teenage guy who lusted after his older sister. After a prolonged period of teasing and flirtation the siblings consummate their lust for one another, once the elder sibling accepted her feelings of lust for her brother. Readers seemed to crave happy endings and I was more than happy to oblige. I had followed the hoary advice of writing about what you know about. This was what I knew about, except for the happy ending. I named my characters Kathy and David.
To say that Kathy was inspired by my sister wouldn't be completely accurate or even honest. The character was more like a clone of Alison. I even went as far as writing a scene where David leers at his sister's breasts down the front of a blue floral sundress she wore. Alison owned a dress exactly like the one I clothed Kathy with in my story. I, like the fictional David, had often glimpsed my sister's breasts down the front of that very dress as she bent over. On a few occasions I had even been fortunate enough to catch a fleeting glimpse of a dusky nipple protruding from her swaying breast. During these occasions my arousal was always mixed with fear that Alison would notice me ogling her. Often I waited for an angry rebuke from her for my illicit actions. That never happened.
I had also set up an email account at Hotmail to receive Feedback (good or bad, should anyone feel my story warranted it) with a username that no one could possibly ever trace to me. My greatest fear at this point was that someone would discover that the story written by Bad_Bro_69 was in fact written by me, Andrew D. I comforted myself with the realization that of the dozens of stories I had read I had no idea who any of the authors were. They could be my neighbours or one of my friends for all I knew. Had I written something I considered more pedestrian I would not have been so concerned with anonymity, but given the subject matter of my story, "Kathy's Epiphany", I felt it essential.
My right index finger trembled as it hovered over the left mouse button. I stared at the Submit Now icon. It was an adversary, testing my will. I held my breath and pressed down on the mouse button.
Now it was too late to change my mind.
Chapter 2
The FAQ at the website said that my story should be posted within a week. I was nervous. I had put my submission through a spell check twice and read it over a few times, scanning for obvious mistakes of any sort. Everything seemed in order. After four days my story had still not been posted. I grew anxious. The information on my Submissions page indicated that my story was still Pending. At least it had not been rejected. Hope flourished.
That Thursday afternoon when I arrived home from my afternoon classes at college I wanted to race up to my bedroom and check the status of my submission. Discovering that Alison was already home was bittersweet. Any time spent with Alison was wonderful, but at that moment I wanted privacy.
Alison worked at a mall downtown. She was a sales representative for the local phone company. Her job essentially consisted of dealing with customer complaints and answering stupid questions, but she earned a commission on new customers she was able to sign up. She had been doing this for almost two years and seemed to like it -- as much as one can like a job with little hope for career advancement. She had Tuesday and Thursday afternoons off. Somehow I had forgotten this as I hurried home that afternoon, planning on checking to see if my story had been approved.
"How was school?" my sister asked.
Alison was sitting at the kitchen table eating a slice of watermelon. For a moment I allowed myself to believe that this was a clever ploy by her to frustrate or tease me. Juice ran down her chin and her full lips were shiny wet with it. She held the rind between her slender fingers. They too were coated with the juice of the watermelon. I noticed that she had painted her nails a blood red. My heart beat faster, pumping my blood to my cock. It began to thicken and rise.
"Okay," I grunted "I just wish I didn't have to take English."
"I can help you if you want," my sister offered "that was my best subject in school."
I barely heard Alison's reply. My eyes were riveted to her pursed lips as she pushed out a watermelon seed between them. Moments later they were sucking at the rind again, drawing every drop of juice out of it. I imagined her full, moist lips wrapped around my cock as she sucked on it until my cum was running down her chin. Her brown eyes moved up until they met mine. She smiled and I felt myself blush.
"How was work?" I asked, eager to avoid any silence.
"Okay," my sister replied with a shrug "we had the usual stupid people calling who don't know how to use call forwarding or set up voicemail."
I nodded, still staring at my sister's mouth.
Alison dropped the watermelon rind on to the plate in front of her then examined her fingers. They were wet with the juice from the watermelon. It ran down towards her palms.
"I'm all sticky with juice." she remarked as she got up and moved towards the sink.
It wasn't the words as much as the way Alison said them and the look in her dark eyes as they met mine that made my cock thicken even more. I scanned the shape of my sister's ass covered by her blue skirt as she rinsed her hands off at the sink. Her skirt stopped a few inches above her knees. My eyes moved up from her black shoes, past her well-toned calves to the hint of her soft thighs below the hem of her skirt. I was stricken with the thought of bending her over the counter and pulling her skirt up around her hips. When she tore off a strip of paper towel and turned around towards me as she dried her hands I forced myself to concentrate on the present.
Alison had a peculiar look on her face as she dried her hands. I wished I knew what she was thinking, but I was equally hesitant to ask. I noticed her eyes flit down to the front of my jeans, then back up to my face. Never before in my life had I ever been so self-conscious of my erection.
"So, what are you up to?" Alison pulled open the cupboard door below the sink and tossed the paper towels into the garbage can.
"I was going to check my email before supper." I replied, growing more nervous.
Alison nodded. For a moment it seemed to me that her expression was incredulous, or maybe that was just paranoia on my part.
When my sister never replied I turned and left the kitchen. Once I was out of her sight I hurried up the stairs to my bedroom.
My palms felt sweaty as I waited for my computer to start. Immediately I navigated towards the Literotica site to check the status of my story. I really don't know if a person's heart can literally skip a beat or momentarily stop, but mine definitely did something unexpected when I saw my Submissions page. My story had finally been approved. I smiled, partly out of relief, but mostly out of pride.
The next thing I did was surf to the front page of the site. Although I had read my story many times, there was something about seeing it once it had actually been published online that filled me with a sense of gratification. I read all three pages, smiling to myself the entire time.
Once I had finished reading my story I decided to check my Hotmail to see if anyone had sent me Feedback. I don't recall if I was more surprised or apprehensive to discover that I had two emails. I felt the same sense of apprehension as when I had submitted my story as I clicked on the first email. I read it quickly, wanting to find out if the reader liked or disliked my story. I smiled and leaned back in my chair once I realized that the Feedback was positive. I opened the second email. This too was reassuring. The sender essentially said that my story was a good first attempt and encouraged me to write more. I noticed that the first email was sent by a reader who had chosen to remain anonymous, but the other sender had been brave enough to supply a return email address. I made a mental note to reply later and thank him for his response.
I was lost in an ego trip and never noticed Alison for a few seconds. She was leaning against the doorway to my room, smiling as she observed me.
