Sex stories, Brother and sister, family taboo, My name is Wendy, Wendy Bradley actually, I am a freelance journalist and you may have seen my name before, but in this story I will tell you how I was able to fulfil a long-awaited fantasy of mine.
While I was writing my fantasy story, my brother, David Bradley, nearly two years older than me, saw my work on my computer and told me he had also recently fulfilled a long held fantasy. We shared many things over the years that we didn’t want our parents to know, but until now I did not know this story. With David, he often needs to tell some-one, but it would be imprudent to share things of this nature with his mates — so he tells me. He knows I don’t tell others. In return I have told him things of a similar and personal nature, but because he is older, and I think he is wiser, I used him to gain knowledge of sexual matters and things I found difficult to discuss, even with my mother. Sometimes, I need to confess some things I know I should not have been done, because he usually manages to apply commonsense logic to make it all sound feasible and to ease my conscience. I love him for his wise counsel. So this is the basis of the following, almost true, stories — names and places have been very much altered.
I had always had a fantasy of fucking my brother, probably because I know we are not supposed to do it. We got close to it when we were younger, but he always backed off. This is about how it all changed recently and my fantasy was fulfilled.
“David, do you remember me wanting you to fuck me, when we were teenagers?” I asked him.
“Yes, I do, but why bring it up now?” he queried my timing, because we were in his bed, I was gently stroking his cock to keep it firm and his finger was caressing my clit with occasional excursions deep into my vagina. We were both naked and just catching up on things of the past.
David was now at Riverdale University and his strange lecture times made travelling to and from home very difficult because the local bus service didn’t operate into the evenings. He was renting a small cottage from the parents of a uni colleague and was managing to pay the moderate rental because of a part-time job he had working at a camera and photographic repairs shop between lectures and practical classes. So the only time I was able to visit him was on weekends, where I planned to spend some quality time with him. Our mother knew where I was going and why, she was quite broadminded and offered only two words of advice, ‘be careful’. I said I would be.
“I wanted to mention it to you many times before, but the time was wrong as others were around. The first time was when Amanda said that her brother fucked her. Did you know that David?” He nodded affirmatively. Amanda Thompson was my best friend at school; we met at kindergarten and continued as best friends through all our schooling, but she seemed to have more knowledge about sex than other girls at school and she was only a year older than me, so I tended to believe whatever she told me.
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