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Keeping My Sisters' Secrets PDF Free Download

  1. Keeping My Sisters' Secrets Pdf Free Download Free
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  3. Keeping My Sisters Secrets
  4. Keeping My Sisters' Secrets PDF Free Download

I have wanted to share this story for many years, but have never really had the proper venue. I’ve thought about writing it out as a story and submitting it to an erotic fiction site, but I’ve always been pretty unimpressed with the contrived stories I read there. I like the idea of telling my story in a place that, while allowing me to remain anonymous, also lets me get feedback from a community of likeminded people. I am 38 years old today, so some of this stuff happened more than three decades ago. Sharing this here allows me to tell the story the way I remember it, and lets me add things as they come back to me. There are things that stand out in my mind clear as day, but smaller details will emerge, I’m sure, as I write out these memories.

This is a very personal story, one that I am actually a little afraid(and a little excited) to tell. I don’t know how to tell the story without revealing some very personal details. By that I mean that, without revealing identifying things like names and locations, some of the things I will narrate are just too specific to have come from anyone but me, and I worry that someone from my family will read this and know it is me. This is, by all accounts, an irrational fear. If anyone that knows me well enough to know who I am based on these stories, and also reads r/incest, then I guess it was meant to be. You must understand, I have kept these secrets for many, many years. This is, without a doubt, the biggest secret of my life. To tell this story, even here amongst strangers, takes me well outside of my comfort zone.

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I honestly don’t know where to begin, since I can’t really say that I remember the first time I did anything sexual with my sister. I guess the best thing to do is start with a little backstory, which I will do in comments.

I grew up in a semi-rural part of Pennsylvania, about an hour outside of Pittsburgh. My parents bought a 6 acre piece of land on a busy two-lane highway when I was two years old. It is the only place I remember living as a child. There are pictures of me at our previous house, but I only remember that house on route 40. My parents were very religious in those days. Since I can remember, we were in church whenever the doors were open. My dad worked in a steel mill as an engineer. Mom worked for awhile as a waitress when I was very young, but for most of my youth she was a stay-at-home mom.

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My father was a strict disciplinarian. The church we attended, a fundamentalist baptist congregation, dictated that the father is the head of the household, and the wife and children are subservient to him. When we got out of line,it was a scolding from mom, but the real punishment was waiting for dad to get home. While we would occasionally get away with only a withering lecture, most times we ended up in our respective bedrooms, waiting on daddy and his belt. I wouldn’t go so far as to call these spanking abuse, but they were unpleasant to say the least. I never doubted my father’s love, but these punishments were severe.

My sister is 22 months older than me. We both loved our parents dearly, but given the harsh atmosphere of our home, my sister took naturally to the role of my protector. We formed a deep bond looking out for each other, and skipped a lot of the sibling rivalry type behavior that I hear about from others. I wouldn’t say that were living in fear of our dad, but we always found ways to work out disagreements ourselves rather than have a full-blown fight that would require adult intervention. Whatever the reason, my big sister and I were very close.

Our parents’ religious views also meant we lead very sheltered lives. Because my parents didn’t think my sister or I needed to hear about things like sex-ed and evolution in school, they withdrew us from public school and homeschooled us for a few years (1-4th for me, 3rd-7th for my sister.) While homeschooling does afford a bit of limited social interaction with other home-school kids, it really does deprive kids of some very basic socialization experiences. Instead of learning dirty words from my school friends, I learned them from my sister. Instead of picking up little bits of information from other kids about the birds and the bees, my sister and I would end up talking about them.

A natural part of child development is talking your way through confusing subjects with your friends. These conversations take the form of joking, teasing and outright questioning. When the only person you have to learn about these things with is a member of the opposite sex, and that person is someone who is your closest ally and confidant, it is natural that instead of just talking and teasing, your just start investigating the differences between your own body and theirs. This is where (and why) our story begins.

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A lot of what happened in those early years is mostly a blur. It’s not that I don’t remember everything that happened, so much as I just don’t always remember a chronological sequence of events. I’m just going to keep writing, and spitting out memories as they come to me. I’m sure I will end up jumping around in time, but I will try to tell this story in a manner that progresses from these earliest experiences, until our later teen years, when we clearly knew what we were doing.

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The number one thing that always stands out in my mind is that my sister was always in control of the situation. Before I hit puberty, and didn’t have the sexual needs that I would experience later on, I mostly just liked to play with my sister. I adored her, and always wanted to make her happy. A lot of the time, like I’ve explained before, the two of us were just working through learning about things that we maybe had heard a little something about. I remember that for a little while, our thing was pretending that I was kidnapping her. I would grab her and “overpower” her. I would drag her into her bedroom, while she pretended to scream for me to stop. Mostly these little games were just an excuse to end up in a bed together. Once we were there, things usually started with her having me rub her back. By this point, we were a little older, old enough that she had begun to develop breasts. I remember she wore this blue training bra that had these criss-crossing tennis rackets on the front, where the two cups joined in the middle. Sometimes I would stand off to the side of the bed and brush my fingers over the part of her back that was exposed by pulling her shirt up. Sometimes, things would end there, with me rubbing her back. Like I said, she always drove the bus. Nothing happened unless she initiated it. If she was done and not in the mood for more, she would just sort of pull her shirt down and turn away. The times when she wanted to fool around, she would have me crawl up onto her bed and straddle her butt and rub up underneath her shirt (or nightgown). After awhile, she would either reach behind and unfasten her bra, letting it just fall loose, or in some way or another suggest that I undo it so that I could get to her back better. After the bra came loose, I would continue to rub her back, but now that I knew I was allowed to explore further, I would soon start to caress her skin with my fingertips the same as before, but I would let my fingers roam a little further down her back, as well as up and down her sides. This was always a slow process. I think neither of us wanted to just come right out and say what we wanted to do. This was our way of arriving at the point we both wanted to get to without having to verbalize it.

Eventually, she would just start to rock her hips around, and maybe lift her chest up a little, and I would get my cue that I was allowed to reach around and start feeling her up. I don’t want to get too explicit here, but I will never forget how gratifying it was to finally reach my hands down around her, under her, my hands pressed between the bed and her, cupping both little breasts with each hand. We would sort of lay like that for a little while, me on top of her, my little erect penis pushing against her butt, my hands groping at her tits. Eventually, she would turn over and we would kiss and make out. I would suck on her nipples and maybe rub my underwear covered dick against her underwear covered pussy. I was too young to have an orgasm early on, and I don’t think my fumbled groping and rubbing ever brought her to orgasm, but I knew that I liked all of this very, very much. For me, it wasn’t like all of this was foreplay. For me, just getting to the point that she would let me touch her breasts was a home run. I wanted to do it every single night. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel the same way. This sessions were generally spaced a week or so apart. At this point, there was no turning back for me – I was hooked. I tried pretty much constantly to make something happen. I never missed an opportunity to go into her room to say goodnight, always lingered around her if our parents were out of the house. I would have spent every waking minute in that canopy bed of hers if she would have allowed it.

The time in between I had a lot of chances to peek at her. We had two showers in the house. Because we lived in an old country house with a shitty pump, we all pretty much preferred taking our showers in the basement, since the water pressure was infinitely better down there than in the bathroom on the second story of the house. Luckily for me, the basement shower was right below the kitchen sink. The hole cut out for the kitchen sink drain pipe was big enough that you could see what was going on in the basement below, but still small enough that you could do so without being seen (especially if you kept the kitchen light off.) If my parents weren’t home, I was either going to be catching a glimpse of her naked, or in her room having the time of my life.

We went on the way I described for quite a long time. Looking back, I think a lot of it was because my sister didn’t want to pressure me into anything I didn’t want to do. I was young and pretty much willing to do anything she told me to, and she knew that. Being raised in an extremely conservative christian home, there was a considerable amount of guilt associated with what we were doing. Usually, the guilt came after we were finished, and I was back in my bedroom alone. One sure thing to make me swear to God that I would never do anything with her again was if we got close to getting caught.

There were a few times that come to mind. There are the run of the mill situations, like me running back to my room after hearing the creaking of the floor boards when my mom would wake up and come downstairs (my parents’ bedroom was a story above my sister’s and mine.) There was a time when, for whatever reason, we were in the basement fooling around, and my grandma came over unexpectedly to take us to lunch or whatever. It was an especially awkward moment because this time she had panties only on, and I was naked, I think. We were rubbing together and fooling around, and I realized that a little of my precum had gotten on her panties. Being ignorant kids, we both sort of freaked out, thinking she might get pregnant from that. She jumped in the shower, and I think I was kind of hanging around and maybe trying to work my way into the shower with her when I heard the sound of my grandma at the top of the stairs. I don’t remember what sort of explanation I gave grandma, but I remember being really spooked. We had the benefit of living in a very old house, so if someone was coming up or down stairs, we could easily hear them coming. There was a close call one time when we were home alone. We weren’t alone very long, but I remember that it was dark outside, but I think it was winter time, so it was still pretty early. We were sitting in the living room watching tv. I had my hand under the blanket playing with my sister’s pussy. I don’t think we were very old – she was maybe 12 or so – because I recall it being a big deal that we didn’t have a babysitter. Anyway, my dad thought it would be funny to sneak up and knock on the window (right next to the couch.) That was a moment of sheer terror. I can only imagine the look of guilt that must have been on my face once they came into the house.

Of course, at the end of the day, our hormones always won out. No matter how close the call, we were horny and we were going to do what we had to do. My grandparents’ house was a great place to do as we wanted. Not only did they have a finished basement that we could use without them pretty much ever coming down, when we were younger we shared a bed when we slept there. They were old and once they were asleep we could do as we pleased without worrying about them walking in on us. I don’t know if it was because we felt we could get away with it, or what the reason, but that was the first time my naked penis ever touched her naked pussy. I had an idea that that was what sex was, dick and pussy touching. I didn’t have any concept that it should actually go inside (this was actually pretty early on, we were still very young.) I just remember her telling me I could rub my dick between her legs, but only real quick, because that was how girls get pregnant.

Keeping My Sisters Secrets

Of course, we didn’t have to sneak around all the time. I don’t think I ever really thought about how much time we actually spent alone in the house as children until I started writing this. Even if one of our parents were home, they were always outside working on something, my dad in the garage out back or mom gardening. In the afternoon after our home school lessons were finished, mom would go run errands and with dad at work we had the house to ourselves. Another way that we would initiate sexual contact was when my sister would be sitting at the dining room table. She was always wearing this blue terrycloth robe around the house. She would have me come over to the table for some reason or another, and the robe would be hanging loose so I could see down the front and look at her beautiful little tits. I remember them being so perfect and wonderful. She had this nightie that she also wore around the house, even when our parents were there. It was slightly see-through, and if she sat at a certain angle, you could see into the armhole and look right at her perky, pointy nipples. I know I caught my dad taking a good long look from time to time too. When she would pull the reading at the table bit, I would stand there talking, and looking down into her robe. After a little while, I would start rubbing her back through the fabric, and she would sort of pull her hair to the side and I would start rubbing her shoulders, eventually letting my hands slowly work their way down to her chest. One of these encounters led to the first time she had me go down on her. Things got started in the usual way, and she got up to head upstairs. She kind of fell over and sat her butt down on the top of the stairs. Her robe was open and her naked body was in front of me. I don’t remember the exact words that she used, but it was something about eating a woman out, and did I know about that. I don’t remember how old she was at that point, but I do remember she had soft brown hair on her vagina. She pointed at her pussy and told me that to eat a girl out you kiss her right here. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, and I suppose neither did she. I just kind of kept kissing her pussy, not licking or sucking. Whatever my shortcoming were, it didn’t stop me from getting repeat performances many, many times. I like to think that I ended up getting pretty good at it. It became a pretty normal part of our sex play. For awhile, and this part will sound a little strange, but hey, you’re reading an incest story, get over it – she used to have me lick the bottoms of her feet and suck on her toes. I don’t remember exactly how it went down, but I do remember the first time it happened. We were in the spare bedroom which had a sofa bed. I don’t know why she was sleeping in there, but she was on the pull-out bed and I was on the floor at the foot of the bed, sort of a little camp out of sorts I guess. I can’t remember how it happened, but somehow I had her toe in my mouth, and she said something like “that feels pretty good, are you that good with your mouth everywhere?” It’s kind of cheesy, but that’s how it started. I kissed my way up her legs and started kissing her pussy over her underwear. She reached down and immediately pulled off her underwear and told me to do it just like I did her toes. I’ll never forget that first time I sucked on and licked her clit. I remember that musky smell and salty taste like it was yesterday. It only went on for a minute or two, because our mom woke up and I went back to the foot of the bed and pretended to sleep. We didn’t really say anything, we both just laid there and I think I eventually fell asleep waiting for my mom to go back to bed. From then on, that was how things went, somehow or another her toes were in my mouth, then soon enough, her delicious little pussy. It’s funny looking back. We sort of had a standard position, with me between her legs lapping away at her pussy, and my arms wrapped around the outside of her legs with my hands massaging her tits. No matter how much I was discovering how much I liked to eat pussy, I still REALLY liked to play with her tits.

This brings me to one of my absolute favorite memories. It doesn’t necessarily follow next in the timeline, but it was a significant moment. She had called me into her room after we had both gone to bed for the night. I went in and she told me she wanted me to stay in there with her. She wanted me to sleep on the floor next to her bed. The bed she had was very low to the ground, so we were still pretty close to each other. For whatever reason, I was having those old pangs of guilt again. I knew if she wanted me in her room, she probably wanted me in her bed, and I knew god was watching and that this was wrong. I think she initiated things by asking me to hold her hand. I did, and then she kind of brought my hand in under the blanket and put it near her crotch. I wasn’t able to really verbalize how I felt it was wrong and that we shouldn’t do it, but I think I just sort of didn’t show much enthusiasm. I just let go of her hand and rolled over without saying anything. Pretty soon I could hear her moaning and softly saying my name. I could see from the reflection of the moon that her legs were spread wide and I could make out the motion of her hand going at her pussy underneath. Obviously, I no longer had any will power. I got up on my knees and pulled the blanket up and saw her with her night shirt pulled up and her panties pulled down around her ankles. Her legs were spread open and she was rubbing away at her pussy. She pulled my hand down between her legs and I took over. She sort of turned her body so that her pussy was facing me and I went to town on her. I don’t know if it was me playing hard to get, but she was especially wound up that night. She didn’t exactly tell me what to do, but somehow or another she got me turned around so that we were in the 69 position. I wasn’t really accustomed to performing in that position, the angle was all weird. At first my balls were sort of resting on her neck with my dick somewhere around her chest. I think I sort of knew what was coming, but I didn’t want force it. Eventually we got the position worked out and she took my dick into her mouth. I wish I could find the words to describe how awesome it felt to have my cock slide into her mouth. She wasn’t any better at knowing how to give head than I was at eating pussy in that position, but for me instinct just took over and I started pumping away. It didn’t take long (at all) before I came in her mouth. It was the greatest thing I had ever experienced. She had a decidedly less eager reaction to it. She threw me off of her and sat up and spit into her hand. She was sort of gagging and I think some of it was coming out of her nose. I was a little embarrassed that she was so disgusted by it, but we didn’t really say anything. I put my clothes back on and went back to my room. Embarrassed or not, all I could do was lay there and think about was how good that it had felt.

Dear Ones,

The recent suicide of an acquaintance who was close to some of my friends has reminded me how connected we are in this web of life.

I’ve always been grateful for my “Sister-Friends,” women whose friendships feel like family. A few years ago, I was asked to give the benediction at a reunion of some of these friends, and this was the prayer I offered.

If you have a Sister-Friend (or four, or forty), perhaps you’ll share this with them, or at least send them a message or call to check in. No matter how much time passes, or how busy life gets, hearing from old friends is always a welcome joy. And you never know when one of them really needs to hear that they are loved and valued and needed on this Earth.

With love — Annie

Lord, bless and keep my Sister-Friends . . . You know well who they are.

In the fabric of life, they are constant threads lovingly woven by Your Hand—some bright, some earthy, some sparkly—each one adding her own unique pattern or flourish, increasing the beauty and strength of my life’s tapestry.

Lord, bless and keep my Sister-Friends . . . You know well who they are.

In the symphony of life, they are beautiful and diverse instruments of Your love, and joyful reminders of the constancy of Your mercy and grace. Each of them plays a different part, but we are united with ties that cannot be broken or worn down by distance or time.

Keeping My Sisters' Secrets PDF Free Download

Lord, bless and keep my Sister-Friends . . . You know well who they are.

In the trials and triumphs of life, they are the first responders. Through boyfriends and breakups, bridal showers and babies, depression, divorces, and dreams come true—in love, laughter, longing, and loss—they are the first to show up with words of encouragement, cries of solidarity, tears of sympathy, admonitions to “Stop ignoring the pain and call the doctor, already!” or a simple, heartfelt hug.

Lord, bless and keep my Sister-Friends . . . You know well who they are.

On the long and winding road of self-discovery, they are guardians who have kept me in their sights while I’ve wandered, keepers of my heart’s song who hum for me its melody when I’ve forgotten how it goes, and ever-supportive voices of reason, insight, humor, and understanding, without whom this journey would be unbearable.

Lord, bless and keep not only my Sister-Friends, but the friends of my Sister-Friends . . . You know who they are, too.

In the mysterious connectedness of all things, my friends’ friends are gifts to me, for they nurture the souls who nurture my own. Though we may not all be close, we are all linked in a great, intricate web of friendship. For all of these women, I am grateful.

Lord, bless and keep my Sister-Friends . . . You know well who they are.

Keeping

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Annie Reneau

Annie writes about life, motherhood, world issues, beautiful places, and anything else that tickles her brain. On good days, she enjoys juggling life with her husband and homeschooling her children. On bad days, she binges on chocolate chips and dreams of traveling the world alone.