(Note: All of the characters in this story are fictional, bearing no resemblance to anyone living or dead, and they are all at least 18 years of age. Also note: This story contains graphic descriptions of incest.)
It took several weeks for Nancy Kittridge to succumb. She'd personally witnessed her brother and his girlfriend fornicating orally on a number of occasions. One cannot witness human copulation without wistfully wondering after one's own participation in the Mating Game.
Nancy was not a virgin. Unlike her brother's public confession, she'd fallen from grace as a seventeen year old, repented quietly without consequence, and stayed within the good graces of the Church. A good number of Jehovah's witnesses repent their sins silently without being publicly reproved.
In Nancy's case, she'd given up her virginity to one of Tony Gangel's uncles repeatedly over the course of a worldly holiday. She'd enjoyed the experience in the moment, and repented her sin after the man went home. From that time to this, she worked on her spirituality while struggling to refrain from delving back into the sensuality that experience had unleashed. Seeing Jules and Delphia fornicate so lavishly caused her to lose her battle against masturbation. She was almost twenty years old now. Like most young people, her loins were afire from the moment she awakened daily.
Jules' ex-communication left him in a precarious position. As an eighteen year old, technically he was grown. His parents had no obligation to keep his sinful ass up under their roof. On any given day Jules knew that he could return from school and find his bags packed and on the curb. Indeed, his father Bill Kittridge faced subtle pressure from the other elders to treat the boy thusly. It was generally agreed that such discipline would be useful in bringing Jules back into the Christian fold.
Bill Kittridge agreed with this assessment. Instead of implementing it, though, he made Jules and Nancy swap rooms. Bill felt that having Jules sleep upstairs would severely curtail his nightly extracurricular activities. Surely the boy didn't have the cajones to fornicate in the room right next to his parents' bedroom.
"I need to keep a better watch on him," Jules' father surmised.
Additionally, Jules was shunned at home. He was allowed to sit thru family Bible study but not allowed to comment or question. His parents and siblings enforced a very limited subset of conversational topics, usually school and Jules' plans for getting a job. Jules faced the imminent danger of being involuntarily emancipated.
Jules took all this in stride. His most immediate concern was the loss of sexual relief. He wasn't allowed to stay late after school anymore. He wasn't allowed to attend football games. He'd lost Delphia. His only choice was to skip classes in order to wetten his dick, which he did at every opportunity. His grades suffered. When his parents found this last bit out, Jules was sure he'd be out on the streets. But what could he do? Once you start fucking you can't just stop cold turkey.
Jules and his sister Nancy remained secretly close. When their parents were around, Nancy made sure to regard Jules with the smarmy, high-handed disdain JW's reserve for the fallen. Her comments to him were short and snippy, dripping with church ooze. In private, however, she and he commiserated. Jules told her of the agony he suffered borne of his sudden celibacy. Nancy confided that she, too, felt those pangs of loss. In their unguarded moments, she held her brother tenderly as his rampant biology unfolded before her. Jules seemed to be possessed of perpetually unaddressed erections. Even his sister's touch caused his penis to rise. Nancy noticed it. It was so big!!
As children, Jules and Nancy had bathed together often. This stopped when Nancy began to develop secondary sexual characteristics. Nancy had seen Jules naked since then, but the reverse was not true. Beneath those plain JW outfits, Nancy had developed into a voluptuous woman with swinging tits, a svelte waist and a rounded ass. In profile, one could see her protruding pubic mound.
Nancy never wore tight clothing. Her clothes were often baggy, hiding her feminine assets, like most JW women. The only chance to see Nancy in profile would be on those rare occasions when she streaked from the family bathroom to her bedroom in her panties and bra.
Nancy was sexually curious. She began to seek opportunities to see Jules' penis rise. It was a personal fetish. She'd be lurking in the hallway in the mornings when Jules exited his bedroom and made his way into the bathroom. His morning woodie was always evident. It was always hidden in his boxer shorts, protruding like a third leg. Nancy wanted to see the real thing. She'd seen it in the darkness of their backyard, just before it was hidden again inside Delphia's vagina. The glimpse of her brother's cock helped as she toyed with her own genitalia.
Jules now informed Nancy that he was skipping some classes to fornicate with Martha Castillejo, Paula Fowler and Sandy Metusek. Nancy insisted that he describe each interaction in detail, taking pains to describe what each girl did to make him cum and how it felt to have their buttocks pressed against his pelvis. She made sure to give him the smarmy JW look of disapproval. But she listened intently nonetheless.
"You'd better make sure mom and dad don't find out." she cautioned.
At night Nancy would imagine herself to be Martha, Paula or Sandy. She imagined Jules atop her. She imagined his penis thrusting deeply in her vagina, masturbating to this vision. She would cum. Afterward, Nancy felt embarrassed and ashamed at her incestuous diversion. But her devolutions into this magical fantasyland occurred with ever greater frequency. Her prayers did little to assuage her lust.
Nancy wondered if Jules harbored similar prurient thoughts. Try as she might, she could not rid herself of the vision of lying prone, mounted beneath him. Jules was the only person she'd ever witnessed having sex. Sure, she remembered her encounter with Joey Strong in great detail. But as time went on it was Jules' sweaty face growling his lust atop her, not Joey's. Jules was the only person she knew that might understand her fetish. They could never be in love. They simply shared a love of having intercourse. Nancy listened intently as Jules described his angst at being celibate. He was not. No, Jules had occasional relief. Nancy had none. She yearned to tell him of her predilection, but could not bring herself to do so.
Instead, she found every occasion to surreptitiously measure his endowment and compare it against her own. She even made it her business to give him "unintentional" nipple slips and/or pussy shots. She then watched his reactions, always proud to see that her efforts bore fruit. Jules' penis tented at the drop of a hat.
Finally and inevitably, this little dalliance came to a head. Nancy chose a weekday in which Jules' complaints about his lackanookie peaked. She waited for the moment when Jules stepped into the shower and their father was at work. Mrs. Kittridge was downstairs cooking. Nancy gathered her courage, stripped her clothing (except for a bathrobe), and slipped into the bathoom as he showered.
Jules didn't hear her come. The radio was playing, the shower was loud, the bathroom was steamy. Jules lathered himself from head to toe. He began to stroke himself. Jules masturbated languidly every time he bathed. He had to.
