The River's Crossing

The River’s Crossing

Prologue: “I live not in dreams but in contemplation of a reality that is perhaps the future.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Poet

Wyoming, 1820
What I remember most about my grandpa was that he was a big man; big and gruff. Wesley Clay Ashburn stood well over six feet with a face like hawk and skin creased like aged leather and bronzed to a dark brown by the blistering sun of the open plains. He had an unrelenting spirit which had prevailed over the challenges of a wild frontier and a heart steeled by the vagaries of an unforgiving terrain.

His cousin, Jacob McAlister, and he had come west looking to make their fortunes. They were young and wild and as untamed as the land they had come to explore; a lawless place filled with rough and savage men given to an independent and violent way of life. But there were few, if any, who were as intransigent and obdurate as Wes Ashburn and Jake McAlister. In a few short years they had amassed huge fortunes and amidst rumors of connivance, deceit and intimidation, they had laid claim to over a hundred thousand acres of pristine Wyoming land. It was more than any man had a right to own but though times were different, land remained the currency of power.

It was here on either side of the Bighorn River which divided the property, that they had set up homes and as fate would decree, married sisters – Tilley and Beth, the Morgan Twins.

My father, Jeff Ashburn, was Grandpa Wes’ only child while Old Jake and Tilley had seven children. It was my uncle, Adam McAlister, the eldest, who took over the large ranch after his father had been killed in an altercation with a drunken miner.

Now Adam McAlister was a devious and cunning man with a streak of meanness which made him far more dangerous than Old Jake. The tale of vengeance whispered in hushed tones is part of local folklore and over time has become legend. It was said that he had tracked down the irascible miner who had stabbed his father to death, following him up into the hills and torturing him for days before finally putting him out of his misery. There are myriad versions of the story but what most agree on is that it was a vicious and cruel event even by the callous standards of the frontier. Yes, Adam McAlister was a dangerous man and the McAlisters were a clan of tight-knit, ruthless men and if you picked a quarrel with one you had better be ready to deal with them all.

Wyoming, 1848
My father Jeff Ashburn’s saving grace was his wife, Angelina Corbett, the daughter of a Frontiersman, and with whom he had had six children. Josh, Marybeth, Judith and me, Edan. There were two others, Abe and Wesley, but they had died of the Asiatic cholera when they were still babies. Josh was the eldest. Beth and I were fraternal twins and were two years younger than Josh while Judith, the baby, was a few years younger than us.

What people didn’t come to know, until much later, was that my maternal grandmother was a full blooded Arapaho Indian whose brother, Deaf Eagle, had ridden with Geronimo, fighting to defend the encroachment of their lands by the onslaught of the Whiteman. She was a Chief’s daughter and came from a long line of Indian aristocracy who had lived free and in harmony with the land until she met her husband, Jonas Corbett. It was her daughter, my mother Angie, who inculcated an appreciation for nature and the deep sense of independence in each of her four children.

Josh and I shared the genetic hybridization of chromosomes which produced the incongruence of thick silky, black hair and the copper-brown skin of the Arapaho which contrasted dramatically with the sky-blue eyes we inherited from our father. Like dark Orchids amongst a sea of Lilies, we stood out from the rest of the pale skinned, blond-blue-eyed brood; miscegenetic oddities, neither Arapaho nor White.

But despite the similarity in coloring, there was little in our physical appearance which would have suggested that we were brothers. Josh had soft, androgynous features - large almond shaped eyes, a small nose and full lips which gave him the sultry, feminine appearance of a pretty-boy while I had inherited my father’s thick eyebrows, thin mouth, aquiline nose and square chin. There was no mistaking me for anything but my father’s son. I was also like Pa in other ways; quiet and slow to anger and deliberate in my actions and built broad and thick like he was.

Josh, on the other hand, was impetuous - born with a wild streak in him, wild as the Bighorn River itself and like some soaring eagle he lived free and untethered by the shackles of society with an innate indifference to the whims of others.

Even as a young boy he was often gone, wandering the hills and plains for days, much to the worry and chagrin of my father and would return to us unrepentant with stories of the forest people he had lived with and the animals they had tracked and killed. There was more of the Indian in my brother and in time, my father came to understand and appreciate that and allowed Josh far more freedom than he might have normally condoned.

It would have been a grave misjudgment to assume the boyish, almost effeminate, demeanor for weakness or naiveté. He was as dangerous as the Western Rattler with a short fuse and a nasty disposition accompanied by a total lack of self preservation. He often engaged men much larger than himself in bloody fistfights outlasting them by his indomitable will and as his reputation grew, the men gave the blue-eyed breed, for that is what they would call him, a wide berth.

Josh had the uncanny ability to remain expressionless except for his eyes – they would cloud over turning an intense blue before narrowing to slits, and like a Rattlesnake’s menacing rattle, it was a none-too subtle warning to back off.

He was tall and rangy and gifted with natural ability and inordinate physical strength which was disproportionate to his lean and slender build. He had learned to handle a gun at an early age and was faster than anyone I had seen. He could shoot a deer through the heart at a hundred paces and there was no one better on a horse, bareback or saddled.

My brother was a rare amalgam of grace and violence with an edge to him that we couldn’t fathom and wildness that nothing on this earth could tame. I loved my brother dearly but I must admit that I was also frightened for him.
*******

Then there was my cousin Todd McAlister, Adam’s second son. Todd may have been the only person I had seen who was as good with a gun as Josh. He was the same age as Josh and about the same height but that’s where the similarity ended. Todd was pale with freckles and wavy, light-blond hair which hung loosely around his narrow face. Where Josh was lean and muscular, Todd was thin and gaunt. His eyes were like hollow, translucent chips set deep in his head with a wide, lipless mouth and a hooked beak of a nose. He had long, thin fingers and had the habit of pushing back his hair off of his forehead. He was a quiet person by nature and seldom, if ever, spoke. He was born with an inherent suspicion and dislike for strangers and to him there was no one more strange or alien than my brother Josh.

This instinctive dislike only intensified as they grew older and the rift deepened further when they competed for the affections of a local beauty that Todd had fancied. But like most girls in the area, Maggie Lafourche was infatuated with my brother. After a brief and torrid affair, Josh, true to his nature, moved on to other women and other things leaving Maggie pregnant and broken hearted. Then one dark, stormy night she was found dead in a gulley by the outskirts of town. She had been shot through the abdomen and her face beaten in with a rock. Despite the attempts by the McAlisters to cast aspersions on Josh, the general consensus was that it was Todd who had killed her.

Her death had angered Josh and led to an inevitable confrontation between the cousins, a confrontation which had ended badly for Todd. He had taken a brutal beating and if it wasn’t for my father’s intervention, Josh would have surely killed him. It had taken Todd a long time to heal but he swore that sooner or later he would exact his vengeance. He would end the life of the blue-eyed, Adonic breed.

Adding to the aberrant dynamics was Elsa … tall and beautiful Elsa. She was Todd’s younger sister who was blessed with a beauty that was uncommon in these parts. Growing up, she had been a happy, cherubic child with laughter and mischief dancing in her sparkling blues eyes and a zest for life which attracted all who came in contact with her. She was her father’s favorite and being the only girl in the family, she was guarded jealously by her brothers who protected her like a prized jewel.

But Elsa was cursed with a single flaw – like the heel of Achilles, her weakness was Josh Ashburn. Ever since she was a toddler she had an inexplicable fascination for Josh and like a puppy dog, who needed the affection of her master, she would follow him around hoping that he would notice her and would bask in the slightest attention he paid her.

As she grew older she grew more beautiful and her fascination grew into an obsession until nothing existed for her but her desire for Josh. Theirs was a wretched relationship which was doomed from the very start but over which we had no control. It was a catalyst, percolating like a volcano; portending the havoc which was to come.
*******

I could feel them gaining on me as I ran recklessly through the woods, bending low, crisscrossing through the Maple and Fir trees, their branches whipping against my face and arms knowing that the river was my sanctuary; the only way I was going to save myself.
“There he is! Come on … this way! I’ve got him!”
No sooner did I hear the excited cry than I felt the whisper of the bullet scream past my ear and splinter through a Negundo Maple just to my left. It made a discernible “thawp” as it exploded through the soft trunk sending fragments of bark, sap and wood billowing like a puff of ash through the air. I ducked lower and protecting my face with my arms I crashed through the final thicket and made a mad dash for the river’s edge, dodging the jagged edges of the rocks and without hesitation dove into the freezing waters.
When I breached the surface I swam a short distance before instinctively looking back; I saw my uncle, Adam, looking down the long, blue barrel of his Henry rifle. There was a blinding, yellow flash followed by the cracking sound of gunshot and then, everything went dark.
*******

New York, 2009
Clay Ashburn woke up with a start, heart pounding and drenched in a cold sweat. The nightmare that had haunted him as a child was back. It was always ended in the same manner and no matter how hard he tried he hadn’t been able to shake it. There were snippets of bloody scenes set in dark and dingy places back in an unfamiliar time. The people and events seemed to bring back an era he couldn’t quite identify but was as real to him as the morning sun.

“Damn! That was fuckin’ weird!” He muttered, tumbling out of bed and shuffling lazily towards the bathroom.

He squinted against the brilliance of the fluorescent light before washing his face, the coldness of the water snapping him out of his drowsy somnolence. He looked in the mirror, running his fingers through his thick, black hair, his large blue eyes shadowed with sleep as he smirked playfully at his reflection, distorting his boyish good-looks. The birthmark over his left eye ran like a jagged scar into his eyebrow and as he touched it gingerly, the crack of gunfire exploded in his brain, a flashback from his nightmare.

“I need help … this is getting too damn freaky,” he said to himself as he ambled back to the bedroom.

He picked up the phone and though it was early, called his sister, Alicia.
******

Wyoming, 1866
I had just finished bailing the hay and was about to get down from the loft when I heard the soft, peals of girlish laughter. I recognized it immediately; it was my sister Beth.

“Here … come in here! Quick!” she said her voice breathless and excited.

I ducked back, hidden by the bundles of hay and peered through the cracks curious to see who it was that she was talking to. We had several young cowboys working on the ranch and all of them would have killed to be with Beth.

I watched as the dark silhouette slipped in from the shadows and they ran, holding hands, to the far side of the barn. In the dim light I recognized the rangy profile of my brother, Josh, and the easy grace with which he moved and even before they reached the sanctuary of the hidden stall, she leaped impatiently into his arms kissing him passionately on the lips causing them to stumble awkwardly into the wooden cubicle.

Leaning back against the wall, he held her to him, gently stroking her face before kissing her softly on the mouth. At first they were playful, tender kisses which grew longer and more passionate then lingering indefinitely until they were fused as one.

I could hear her moaning, her fingers running through his hair as he held her tightly to him. His hands running down the length of her back towards her ass, cupping and squeezing her, while he continued to kiss her face and neck. It was evident that this wasn’t the first time that they had indulged in their incestuous game. And as I watched their indiscretion with abject fascination, I felt myself harden inside my pants.

“Hurry … let me do it.” She breathed, anxious to please him and to get what she had wanted, adding, “Ma wants me to go with her so we don’t have much time!”

She unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down but as she crouched over, I lost sight of her and could only see my brother’s torso. His head was thrown back with his eyes closed and an expression of sheer bliss etched on his face as he held the back of her head giving in to the pleasure radiating from his core, spreading gradually to the extremities of his body.

For a while all I heard were the muffled, urgent moans and soft cries of salacious pleasuring mingled with the slurping sounds like that of a suckling lamb. The moans and clandestine acts filled my mind with lewd and chimerical thoughts urging me to get closer to them. I had wanted desperately to get a better look but that would have been too risky; Josh had senses keener than a that of a Tennessee mountain dog so I waited, watching as my brother took his pleasure from my sister, shocked yet thrilled by the discovery of this new development.

As she continued to pleasure him, his expression contorted and I heard him groan loudly, doubling over, almost like he was in pain.

“Oh, ahhhhhhh …,” he hissed grabbing her head and pulling her into him.

I heard her mumble as she continued to suckle him, drinking hungrily as he flooded her mouth with his seed.

“Mmm … mmmmfff … mmm …” she moaned.

He shuddered violently, thrusting with urgency into her face and then almost in relief, he leaned back wasted and waiting as she continued to take her pleasure from him until finally she stood up, licking her lips suggestively. And then they kissed.

“I want more, dear brother, but I have to go,” she said, “… promise me you’ll come back once Judith’s asleep!”

He just smiled and kissed her again.

I was stroking myself watching them embrace and shot my spunk into the hay just as they parted. Josh hadn’t spoken a word through this entire encounter and slipped out, melting into the evening like a ghost.
******

New York, 2009

“Hi … are you awake?” Clay asked his sister.

“I’ve been awake,” Alicia replied and then added, “I just got off the phone with Kim. She had a dream which was pretty weird.”

Kim was Alicia’s closest friend. They were like sisters, almost inseparable and from the first time Clay had met her he had wanted to ask her out. There was something about Kim that he was attracted to but wasn’t quite sure what it was. Unlike his sister, who was gorgeous, she was cute, not really his type so it couldn’t have been just about looks.

“Between the two of you I’ll never get any sleep!” Alicia complained, feigning irritation.

“Weird like what … funny, strange?” Clay asked, ignoring the petulant act.

“Weird like weird!” Alicia answered and giggled, “You played a major role in this one, Clay!”

“I did? Well, that is weird but it couldn’t have been stranger than mine,” Clay replied, “Nothing gets as weird as my fucking dreams!”

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you hers.” Alicia said, adding, “It’s not the same one where you get shot, is it?”

“No … but I not sure I can share this one!”

“Why not? What’s so different about this one? You’ve told me all the others!”

“Yeah, but this one’s really strange, Ali … even for me, this one takes the cake! Now, you … you played a role in this dream!” The last part slipping out before he had a chance to consider the effect it would have on her.

“Me?” she asked genuinely surprised.

“Yes you!”

She was quiet for a moment and then her curiosity got the better of her.

“Tell me, please,” she begged him using her little girl voice, “Pleeeaasssee, Clay, come on don’t leave me hanging!”

“You go first … tell me what her dream was about and I’ll think about it … maybe I’ll tell you mine! No promises but I’ll consider it”

“Okay, fair enough.” Alicia said and then began, “You know that Kim has no brothers … she has a younger sister and that’s all.”

“I didn’t know that but okay … so what?”

“Well, in the dream she’s in a large room where she is waiting excitedly for this man, her lover, to show up. And when he does arrive Kim is sure that he is her brother … I’m not sure how she knows but she knows.” Alicia said and then continued, “Now get this, he looks exactly like you … a clone, if you will!”

“Freudian, baby, she wants me!”

“You’re so full of it … I knew you’d get a big head!”

“Sorry, go on.”

“Well … er, this is where it gets weird,” she paused then added quickly, “she’s crazy about him and they begin kissing passionately before she … ummm … she goes down on him … she gives her brother a blowjob!”

“Wow! I don’t believe this … this is too fuckin’ weird! What time period was it?” Clay was shocked; this had to be more than a coincidence.

“What do you mean? She had the dream last night!” his sister replied not quite sure what he had meant.

“No … like, was it today, modern times, or was it like some other era; like the days of the Wild West?”

“She didn’t say … she only said that it felt very real and got her all excited and that she’ll never be able to look at you again without reliving that dream!”

Clay was quiet. He was struggling with the decision whether or not to tell his sister about his dream involving her and the eerie similarity to Kim’s hypnagogic experience.

“She wanted to know if I ever had thoughts or feelings for you … you know … er … sexual feelings!” Alicia continued, her voice turning tentative and soft, “since Kim doesn’t have a brother she was curious if this was something sisters and brothers go through … you know, like a rite of passage or something.”

He was genuinely shocked. He hadn’t counted on the turn this was taking.

“And what did you say?” he asked, his mind racing back to when they were younger.

“I wanted to be honest but then I chickened out and changed the topic!” she replied and laughed; a nervous, tentative laugh.

He wasn’t sure what she meant but this thing about Kim was a strange coincidence and especially since he had always felt connected to her but had never been able to nail down the connection. And now she had a dream in which they were siblings and one that was almost identical to his! How improbable was that?

His mind buzzed with questions - was Kim his sister from a previous life? He had never believed in any of that reincarnation bullshit but these incidents, because they were so real to him and not just dreams; were driving him nuts and he was getting desperate enough to consider any explanation.

“What do you mean, ‘chickened out’?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, never mind! How about your dream?” his sister quizzed back.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Clay started, pausing to find the words and then continued, “but I had pretty much the same dream as her except I think it was you in my dream. We were in a barn doing things … sexual things!”

“Like what?” she asked, her voice sounding curiously excited.

“Like … like Kim’s dream except it was you; you were doing these incredibly sexual things to me but this was set in another time with Cowboys and Indians. You were beautiful, Ali … you looked like you do now except for the dress; you were wearing a long, embroidered cotton dress, you know, like Little House on the Prairie …” His voice trailed off realizing that he was rambling.

Clay wanted to kick himself; he should’ve kept his mouth shut.

“You don’t think I’m some sort of pervert, do you, sis?” he asked, unsure of what she was thinking.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” She asked, ignoring his last question.

“You are the most beautiful girl I know!” he said, almost too quickly.

The ensuing silence was deafening and Clay was certain he had gone too far. He loved his younger sister; he always had and didn’t want to jeopardize their relationship.He was having serious misgivings about his decision to confide in her when she broke into his reverie.

“Do you ever think about it … I mean … about us?” Alicia asked her voice going suddenly very soft.

“Are you serious?” He acted shocked and incredulous.

“Yes. Have you ever thought about us … like that?” She persisted.

“No!” He blurted out.

“You’re such a liar! All those years, do you think I didn’t know that you were peeking in on me when I was taking showers? And that hole you made in the wall of my bedroom? Didn’t you think it was strange that I’d put my finger through it to tease you but never covered it up? What about my panties … have you forgotten?”

Clay felt his cheeks burning hot. Damn! He had suspected that Alicia had known about his sordid proclivity but hadn’t been sure. He was only sixteen when it had started and hornier than a Bhrama Bull in heat and jerking off into his sister’s panties had been a way to quell those desires raging in him. He remained quiet not sure what to say.

“I’m sorry, Clay, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Alicia said and added gently, “I was flattered and used to think about you all the time! It was easier for me … I used to pretend that you were adopted and not really my brother because you look so different from Ellie and me!”

Ellen was their sister who was six years older than Clay and had married and moved out by the time the two of them had hit their teens.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he said, sounding dejected.

“You’re such an idiot! I’m opening my heart to you and you insist on playing games!” She retorted, angry that he wasn’t being honest. He had always avoided dealing with the real issues when it came to their relationship.

They were quiet for a while. Each of them lost in thought about what had just transpired between them. Clay knew that there were thoughts which once spoken couldn’t be taken back and could redefine their relationship in ways which couldn’t be undone. This was beginning to get to that point and just at that moment, on impulse, he decided to come clean.

“That’s all I thought about back then … and yeah, I spied on you every chance I got; when you were changing or taking a shower. I was obsessed with you,” Clay admitted, then continued, “I still remember when you had turned sixteen and Dad threw this party for you …”

“I’ll never forget it,” Alicia joined in, “You came into my room when I was changing and all I had on were my panties. We just stared at each other …” her voice wafting softly at the memory and then she continued, “I thought I would die! I had wanted you to be my first, Clay, did you know that? And I wanted you to see me and just as I turned towards you, Mom came in ruining everything! You ran out and I didn’t see you again that evening … I looked for you everywhere and cried myself to sleep convinced that you thought I was ugly!”

Clay remembered the incident almost like it had happened yesterday. Ugly? How could she ever think that? He had indeed fled the place to a friend’s house determined not to ‘screw-up’ his sister’s life and as fate would have it, he had run into his friend’s sister and they began dating and thoughts of Alicia were relegated to cold nights when he needed a fantasy to get him off.

“Clay?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you thinking about?” her voice had turned low and husky and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“I was thinking about you and that evening,” he replied truthfully.

“Did you want me?”

“Yes!”

“Do you want to come over now?” It was that little girl voice again.

“Alicia …” he started.

“Please … baby!”

There was a silence as he contemplated the implications.

“Okay, I’ll be there,” he said, then paused, “Ali, are you sure?” he asked, a part of him hoping that she would stop him and bring them to their senses.

“Come over now and hurry … I want us to do what we should have done when I was sixteen!” She whispered into the phone.

He knew this was this was crazy but he was unable to contain himself any longer. He slipped out the window onto the fire-escape and climbed the stairs towards the top. He could feel his cock throbbing with anticipation as he took the stairs two steps at a time. She lived a few floors above him in the penthouse apartment and he couldn’t get there fast enough.
*******

Wyoming, 1866
Beth sat by her mother her body swaying to the gentle rhythm of the train. They were off to Hyattsville; a town which one station over from Laramie, to meet with her Aunt Mary and her cousin Elsa. Elsa was closer to her than her own sister and considering the hostility between the men folk, it was strange that her aunt and her mother were the best of friends.

Each week they would meet in town to share a meal and spend some time together away from the festering animosity of their sons and husbands. There was a discreet hotel with an eatery where they were undisturbed and indifferent to the politics of the family.

Beth couldn’t contain herself – she was bursting with anticipation and excitement and couldn’t wait to tell her cousin about the latest episode with Josh. She shivered as the image of him licking her flashed through her mind and she quickly glanced over at her mother.

“You seem happy, Marybeth,” her mother noted.

“I am, Ma, I have so much to tell Elsa!” Beth replied wondering what her mother would say if she knew what Josh was doing to her.

“She is a silly girl. You mustn’t encourage her wild notions; your brother is not for her! Do you hear me, Beth? They are cousins and her father would kill him!”
Angelica Ashburn was very aware of Elsa’s obsession with her older boy.

“Oh, Ma … she can’t help it,” Beth said and looked away, feeling inexplicably guilty about the implications of her own relationship with Josh.

“She had better help it! Why doesn’t she consider Doctor Conway’s sons, Hiram or Joel? They are such nice boys. You are not children anymore and this thing she feels for Josh will get them both into trouble!” her mother snapped, confused and angry about her niece’s strange fascination for her son.

Elsa was Beth’s confidant and the only person who knew about her incestuous relationship with her brother. In fact, the girls had schemed to have him for themselves and often spoke about Josh’s cabin in the hills where the three of them could live far away from the madness of family. Beth, like Elsa, was consumed by her feelings for Josh, and couldn’t think of anything else. It was the single most important motivation in her life.

Her younger sister, Judith, sat quietly across from her looking at her with that knowing smile. It was inevitable that they would have to begin including Judith in their implausible machinations concerning Josh – she had already seen too much.

The previous night after everyone had turned in, Josh had come to her like a wraith floating in the darkness, slipping into her bed so silently that she didn’t realize that he was there until he began fondling her and pushing up her nightgown.

The room that she shared with Judith was right next to her parent’s room and she was terrified that they would be discovered; that their incestuous secret would be found out and it would bring shame to them all. But her unbridled desire for her brother overrode any logic or common sense. It had been unbelievable, this crazy tumbling ride she was on, and she felt lucky to have experienced him.

He had kissed her for the longest time, kneading and squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples. She had to bite her lower lip to stop from screaming out in pleasure. And then he did the unthinkable – he slithered down her body, placing soft kisses and gentle nibbling bites on her long, naked torso, working down the gentle swell of her abdomen, spreading her creamy thighs until his mouth covered her slit. She was so shocked by what he was doing that she froze, lying stiff and still like a log. There was a part of her that needed him to go on and another that was conditioned to believe that she was unclean down there and he would be repulsed by her. But she needn’t have been concerned or worried.

Her brother was a true cocks-man. He loved the taste and feel and smell of a woman and the fact that she was his sister only made it more intriguing to him. Overcome by her heady fragrance, he licked her like a kitten lapping at a saucer of milk; applying just the right amount of pressure to excite and tease her. He was experienced in every nuance of what it took to pleasure her, to bring her to the edge without letting her topple over. He was a master, using his tongue like a fluttering butterfly, to keep her lingering on the precipice and just when she thought it couldn’t get better, he sucked her little node into his mouth, holding it in between his teeth and lashing it rapidly with the tip of his tongue. The results were predictable.

Her body jerked and twisted, her hands pulling his face into her liquid, venal gash until the ripples of pleasure peaked, exploding like millions of lights in her head, her mind turning blissfully dark as she floated, weightlessly, cresting down the slopes of her sexual intoxication.

And, while she recovered from this new, enticingly addictive experience, he was on top of her pushing his steely manhood into her slit, spreading her open and with one quick thrust she was impaled, filled completely by her brother’s throbbing flesh.

He was buried deep inside her, pulsing lewdly, holding her pressed to him by the cheeks of her bottom; their breathing heavy and ragged like the symphony of rutting animals she had witnessed so often on the ranch. They lay still, thrilling in the wet warmth of each other with her legs wrapped around him, the nexus of her body and mind struggling with the immensity of feelings surging through the gateway between her legs to the portal of her soul.
Then he began to piston into her, slowly at first and gradually building his tempo until each stroke was long and hard, driving her relentlessly into molded softness of the thin mattress. She was moaning in response to each savage thrust, her fear forgotten, suffocated by the pressure expanding inside her as the waves a pleasure began to wrack her body, running from her cock-filled cunt to her extremities. Her arms and legs began twitching disjointedly as her hips bucked defiantly back at him, their crotches slapping lewdly, and then he groaned and erupted, shooting his sperm deep into her belly.

At that very instant she shuddered, the pressure bursting in her while her body convulsed wetly around his scepter drawing him deeper into her. They had experienced the rareness of a mutual climax and in the afterglow he kept ploughing into her, laboring in and out, in and out, in and out, trying to extend the ecstasy they felt until there was nothing left except the squishy, wet sounds of their swollen flesh.

They were both covered in sweat, their bodies fused by the fluids of the their passion with him lying motionless on top of her, licking the wetness off her neck savoring the taste of her like morning dew drops within the petals of a flower. It was then that she noticed Judith, awake and watching, her eyes wide and bright and a knowing smile on her lips.
*******

New York, 2009
Clay Ashburn had slept like a baby. He had shared a night of passionate lovemaking with his sister and as he lay there, basking in the sunlight flooding through the large glass windows, he wondered why they had waited this long. This was the first time in months that he had managed to sleep through the night, cradled in his sister’s arms, without waking up to those troubling nightmares.

Before leaving for work, Alicia had left a note on the pillow by his head. It was short and sweet and simply said: ‘I love you – call me, xxxoooooo, A’.
He read the note several times running his fingertips over the letters and smiled, thrilled by the added dimension to their relationship. And as the memory of the previous night danced in his brain, he felt himself getting aroused again. He reached for his phone and was about to call her when he decided against it - he wanted to prolong this euphoric state he was in and didn’t want anything to spoil the moment. Nothing in his life so far had felt this good or this intrinsically unique. There was no regret or revulsion and the fact that he had committed incest didn’t bother him a bit. He reached under the sheets and stroked himself to the memory of her mouth sliding along his shaft, the smell of her lingering in his nostrils and the taste of her sweet pussy still in his mouth … yes, it had been awesome! Sweet … and awesome!

He wallowed in bed for a while flipping through the channels before calling in sick. He couldn’t explain it but he felt like a kid falling in love for the first time and wondered if she felt the same way. As far back as he could remember he had been attracted to his sister and there was good reason – she was incredibly hot! But it was more than that; he had loved her deeply even when she was a scrawny, little brat. He didn’t know why but he knew for sure that they would forever remain connected. His feelings for his older sister was not the same … he couldn’t explain it.

Alicia was also a natural born tease and when his friends would come over, she’d parade around in the skimpiest of outfits, flaunting her developing body, driving them all, including him, crazy! What he didn’t know was that she as doing this for him; using his friends as an excuse to show him her body, letting him know that she was ready … ready for him!

He wondered where this was heading and the role Kim would play in it and smiled to himself. It was all good. For now, nothing mattered but his sister.
*******

Alicia couldn’t concentrate. She had wanted to stay home this morning but the meeting was mandatory and she had to literally tear herself away from the arms of her sleeping brother. She looked around the conference room and saw Kim and as soon as they made eye contact she rolled her eyes and smiled. She felt a twinge of guilt because she knew that Kim had more than a passing interest in Clay. It’s not cheating if he’s your brother, is it? She smiled to herself and tried to focus on the forecast for the next quarter.

The VP of Sales was running the projected numbers with the enthusiasm of a convict heading for the gallows but it wouldn’t have mattered, her mind was lost in thought and she couldn’t get over the events of the previous night.

Her brother had made love to her three times, or maybe it was four, before they dropped off to sleep out of sheer exhaustion. They had sucked and fucked each other like over stimulated bunnies seemingly unable to satiate their desire for one another. She closed her eyes savoring the taste of him in her mouth. The memory of those sensual events sending a tingling sensation between her legs and she instinctively reacted, squeezing her thighs together while her mind wandered back to the days when they were younger.

Their games had begun long before the incident which was forever burned into her psyche. She would never forget Clay’s seventeenth birthday. He had wanted a motorbike and her parents had refused wanting him to wait a year until he was eighteen. She recalled how angry he was, locking himself in his bedroom and refusing to speak to anyone. Then that night when they had all gone to bed she was on her way downstairs to get a late night snack when she noticed that his bedroom door was slightly ajar. She hadn’t spoken to him all day and was about to go in to make sure he was okay when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Clay was lying on his bed, eyes closed and his pants pulled down, totally oblivious of everything and everyone. He was stroking his cock fervently sliding what looked like her panties up and down the thick, engorged shaft. The dome of his penis looked grotesquely bloated and red and then, almost as though it had been choreographed, his breathing quickened, his face contorted and he let out a soft, guttural groan as a wad of ropey cum jettisoned high into the air before splattering onto his chest.

She felt her knees go weak as she stood transfixed by the sight of her first real creaming. He kept rubbing the angry head grunting with each short, compact stroke, releasing another glob and then another and another until only a milky dribble trickled down from the tip of his throbbing cockhead.

She remained rooted to the floor, unable to take her eyes off of her brother’s shimmering root hypnotized by the physical act of his orgasm. Her heart was pounding in her ears; her breath, deep and heavy, as she continued to watch him slowly drain his cock of all his seminal juices. He lay there playing languidly with himself, squeezing his shaft like a straw, starting at the base, milking it upwards forcing the remnants of the viscous ejaculate out of the crimson tip. He used her panties to wipe himself clean before repeating the process until there was nothing left.

And each time he did this she felt a tingling between her legs, her cuntal spasms timed to the stroking of his fingers accompanied by an inexplicable urge to taste his cock. Then, just as he rolled off the bed to get up she turned on her heels and tip-toed back to her room, trying to keep as quiet as possible. She never knew if he had seen her or whether he was too engrossed in the aftermath of his climax to have noticed but it hadn’t mattered.

She was confused by the sudden wetness in her cunt and without thinking she lay back on her bed and spreading her thighs, began fingering herself. The image of his cock kept drumming in her head; racy snapshots of the bloated, purple dome as it swelled and spewed his cum high into the air … it was an incredible sight, way too much for her and sent her crashing quickly into orgasm. It was one of the most intense climaxes she had experienced in the short time since she had discovered her clit. Her young body had twitched and turned overcome by the deep surges of pleasure washing over her like waves, crashing repeatedly, over and over, until she lay still dissipated of its energy, having run the ragged course of her climax. Then, with her fingers stuffed into her pussy she drifted off into fitful sleep, her brother’s cock playing in her mind like the echoing melody of a lecherous flute.

The sharp ringtone of her cell snapped her back to reality and she got up and walked out of the conference room aware of the slippery dampness of her panties.
*******

“Ali?”

Alicia walked towards the ladies room, hoping to get some privacy.

“Hi!” She answered, happy that he had called, “Did you just get up?”

“No, I’ve been up for a while,” Clay replied, “I can’t stop thinking about last night!”

She waited, a sense of relief flooding through her.

“That makes two of us!” She whispered.

There was a short awkward silence.

“Are you okay with it … with us?” her brother asked tentatively.

She was quiet, unsure of what, if anything, she should say to him. She had walked into the cubicle in the ladies room and dropping the toilet seat cover, she sat on it hiking her skirt up and spreading her thighs.

“Ali, please tell me you are okay … please, baby?” he asked again, misconstruing her silence.

“I’m not okay. How can I be? Last night, you … I can’t stop thinking about it. It just keeps playing in my mind … I’m so wet, I wish you were here, Clay, and if this makes me a slut then so be it! I am praying that I don’t repulse you … that you still want me!”

Her words tumbled out quickly, her thoughts fragmented and urgent.

“Oh, baby … I want you more than anything in this world … keep talking to me … I’m close, sis, I can feel your mouth on me, suck me … suck me, baby …” he moaned, stroking himself faster.

She knew exactly what he needed and played along, eager to please him.

“I’ll suck you dry, brother dear, give it all to me! I’ll suck you for as long as you want me to. I love the way you feel in my mouth, the way you taste, mmmmmm … I have always loved you, darling!” she moaned into the phone, her fingers running instinctively to her slit.

And then she heard him grunt.
*******

Wyoming, 1866
Jeb McAlister, the eldest of Adam’s children, was in town chaperoning Elsa and as soon as I saw them I knew that nothing good was going to come of this. Elsa looked more beautiful than ever and waved at me as their carriage went by. I surely envied Josh as I’m sure that ever red-blooded, skirt-chasing cowboy did. Her obsession was not a secret and all I could say was that he was one lucky hombre!

Her brother Jeb was a big, scruffy looking man who was as tough as nails. He had a reputation for using his fists at the drop of a hat along with an overbearing presence which instilled fear in most. I say ‘most’ because the one person he had wanted to scare was the one person he frightened the least. Josh could have cared less if a quacking duck had waddled into town.

As soon as Elsa spotted Josh by Mrs. McGill’s supply store, she ran over and like some obsequious little puppy she stood there staring at him like she was in a trance.

“You never call on me, Josh,” she said, shyly gushing with childlike naiveté, twirling her long, golden tresses around her fingers.

Now Elsa was as beautiful a girl as was seen in those parts and was used to men attending to her every whim so it was unusual to see a man who was impervious to her charms.

“I was away by Sheridan’s Knob and only just got back,” he replied extraneously in his soft, purring voice which oozed seductively like dripping honey.

He seemed to be speaking almost to himself before he looked away into the distance at the hills beyond town. He gazed out for a while, ignoring Elsa, scanning the dendrologous skyline as though blessed with some prescient insight to the mysteries that lay within those forests before eventually looking back and right into her big, blue eyes.

It was unsettling for her, the way his eyes seemed to pierce her soul, and she began fumbling nervously, fussing with her dress and hair. And then in awkward desperation she blurted out:

“Meet me tonight, Josh, meet me by Whistler’s Glen … promise me that you will be there?”

Whistler’s Glen was a clearing by the river very near the McAlister’s Ranch and one that was off limits to anyone but the McAlisters.

“I’ll be there,” he smiled and reaching over pushed back a rebellious strand of her hair that fell across her cheek, running his fingers down her pretty face and gently over her full, red lips.

Elsa’s knees almost buckled and she was trembling with excitement but at that inopportune instance, Jeb strolled in and the sight of Josh touching his sister sent him into a blinding rage.

“What do you think you are doing, you yeller bellied dawg?” he screamed, his obsidian eyes, bulging from his head.

And with two long strides he stepped in between them and pushed Josh back forcefully.

“Keep yer hands off her or I’ll gut you like a pig!” he snarled.

Calling Josh a dog was a mistake but pushing him sealed the big man’s fate. Regaining his balance with the dexterity of a cat, Josh came in low and fast, throwing his forearm in a short, compact arc catching the big man on the bridge of his nose with the point of his elbow. There was a sharp, crunching sound as skin, bone and cartilage separated from the face and blood spurted out in a red mist gushing like an erupting geyser.

Jeb’s head snapped back and he groaned, stunned by the force of the sudden impact. He staggered in a dazed stupor while clutching at his bloodied face, his senses disoriented by the pain shooting through his damaged septum. Most men would have crumpled but he was a hard man used to brutal combat and the survivor of hundreds of saloon brawls. Fighting through the searing agony, he struggled to steady himself, groping blindly and just as his head began to clear, Josh struck again. This time he stepped to the side and pulled the big man forward, like a dancer twirling his partner, and at the same time hit him in the throat with a short, explosive strike crushing the hyoidal bone in the tracheal pathway and sent him crashing to the floor.

That was it – it was over just that quickly. If you had looked away for an instant you would have missed it.

Elsa hadn’t moved. She stood there staring at Josh, her eyes wide with astonishment and fright.

“I’ll be there tonight … don’t be late,” he whispered to her and then placing a gentle kiss on her neck, he sauntered away as though he had not a care in the world.

There was blood everywhere as Jeb laid thrashing around on the floor, wheezing like a mortally wounded Buffalo who had been shot through the lungs. I tried holding him still while Elsa pressed her handkerchief to his hemorrhaging nose but he was too big and too strong and we couldn’t keep him subdued.

“Jeb … Jeb, are you okay? Please … please, try and be still,” she pleaded with her brother while trying to hold the kerchief to his mangled proboscis.

I could hear him choking on the blood draining down into his throat gurgling as it trickled out from the sides of his mouth. His barrel chest heaved desperately for air while his body began to spasm and curl into a fetal position.

Both Elsa and I were covered in blood and I was overcome with an ominous feeling of doom, that he was going to die, but shortly afterwards, I saw the big man’s body jerking in ischemic reflex and thankfully he passed out, lying still. He took two or three deep breaths and then his breathing evened out.

Someone called out, “Get Dr. Conway, hurry!”

Mrs. McGill and some others came over to tend to him while her son went to fetch the doctor.

I looked down once more at the carnage before running home to warn my father and felt the fingers of fear squeezing at my heart. Even though Jeb had survived, the McAlisters would want vengeance; especially Todd.
*******

Whistler’s Glen, 1866
The McAlister Ranch was made up of several small, log cabins which were built in close proximity to the main house where Adam McAlister lived. Distracted and agitated by what had happened to Jeb, the brothers, cousins, uncles and other kinfolk had gathered there to offer their support. Most of them couldn’t believe the rumors and accounts of the fight that had spread like wildfire through the small town. They were unable to envision a scenario where the slender, young breed could have inflicted so much damage to someone as strong and fierce as Jeb. It just seemed too improbable. To the McAlisters, Jeb was like Hercules, invincible, and to see him felled was a blow to their invulnerability.

Surely Edan or one of the others must have helped Josh; snuck up and struck Jeb from the back but when Elsa had corroborated the events as they had occurred, her father had sent her to her room angered by what he perceived as a lack of loyalty. How dare she take the side of an outsider? Though Josh was blood it didn’t matter, he wasn’t a McAlister and he would have to pay.

Back alone in her room, Elsa seized the opportunity and had managed to sneak out of the back window. She was all but forgotten while the men were deciding what was to be done about Josh. She could hear them arguing and knew that she had to warn him, that was obvious, but what was really compelling her to meet with him had nothing to with the fight … it was to find out more about that lascivious act that Beth had described to her. How lusciously titillating it had sounded, how astonishingly wicked! The thought of his tongue delving deep in between her legs, kissing her there was driving her insane. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it from the time her cousin had confided in her and now she had to experience it even if it got her killed.

She ran across the meadow trampling the blades of silvery grass, dodging the molting shadows stirred by the auriferous moonlight, her long legs carrying her quickly past the fence and through a small thicket of trees and then carefully down the slope of the grassy knoll into the shallow ravine. She had almost slipped coming down the uneven descent of the rocky embankment but had caught herself and followed the narrow stream to the open place they called Whistler’s Glen. She was amazed that she had made it undetected and now she needed to find Josh.

She heard the eerie hooting of an owl followed by the rustling of leaves in the breeze and then he was there, emerging from the shadows like a wraith, watching her as she went past him. And just that quickly, he had her wrapped in his arms from behind, surprising her.

“Ohhh … whaaa …?” she gasped, startled out of her wits.

“Whoa! Easy, girl, it’s only me,” he said, whispering into her ear.

“Josh! Oh, Josh … you came!” she exclaimed breathlessly, unable to hide her excitement and relief.

“I told you I would,” he said and smiled.

He held her tightly to him keeping their bodies glued together, her bottom pressing into his crotch with his hardness throbbing lewdly against her through her clothing. He had his face buried in her thick golden mane inhaling the clean scent of her and then leaning down he kissed the curve of her neck, placing gentle, soft kisses working slowly up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. As she shivered in response, he ran the tip of his tongue along her jaw line until he found her mouth and turning her face towards him, he kissed her. It was a delicate, tender kiss; his tongue gently probing the entrance of her mouth, prying it open …

She twisted towards him, her heart pounding and legs trembling while she opened up allowing him access to her, their tongues wrestling wetly against each other taking turns, swirling and sucking on the other. This was all new to her and felt so much better than what Beth had described to her, oh yes, so much better.

She let him lead using her fleshy intuition to guide her while replicating every move he made. When he ran his tongue along the sensitive underside of her pallet, she did the same and when he drew her lower lip into his mouth sucking tenderly on it, she returned the favor. She thought her heart would explode – it was finally happening; she was going to possess the one man she had always wanted.

And, then she felt him fondling her breasts, squeezing one and then the other, pinching her hard nipples through the frilly front of her clothing sending jolts of pleasure shooting through her body. But as she gave in to him, she remembered her father and the rest of the family.

“Josh, wait … Oh, God … I have to warn you …” she sighed.

It was then, trough the quiet of the night, that they heard the splitting snap of a twig. Josh turned towards the sound moving her so she was behind him, away from any danger.

“Well, well … what do we have here? Tsk, tsk, tsk … Elsa, Elsa … what will we do with you?”

And though it was a whisper it carried like a Viper’s strike; the sound of a death knoll shredding the warmth of their embrace.

He looked paler than a ghost; his thin body stooped oddly and eyes, glittering like chipped aquamarine in the diffused moonlight. Todd stood there, a sickly smile on his thin bloodless lips and with his hand resting ominously on the handle of his gun.

“I’ve been looking for you, Josh, but you are not always easy to find,” he said in a strangely cajoling manner.

There was a moment’s hesitation, where she stood still and then without any consideration for her safety, Elsa stepped in front of Josh.

“Don’t! Please don’t hurt him, Todd … if you care for me at all, don’t do this!” She pleaded with her brother.

“I can’t believe you care for this … this … this half breed!” Todd spat back, “You are breaking Pa’s heart and Ma’s and mine … you know that, don’t you?”

Elsa threw her arms round Josh and announced, “I love him … I don’t care what any of you think, Todd, I love him! You wouldn’t understand … I can’t help it!”

Todd stared at his sister unable to fathom her feelings and the years of hatred, coalescing with the memory of Maggie Lafourche which had festered in him like an infected sore, came boiling to the surface.

“You had better move out of the way, little girl, because I’m gonna kill this no good vermin, that’s for sure!” he hissed, his voice shrill and tinny, his emotions beginning to get the better of him.

But she remained steadfast in between them.

They could hear the horses in the distance and knew there wasn’t much time before the others found them. Elsa was praying that her father would get there quickly, to intervene, to stop this madness.

“It’s time … time for us to settle this between us,” Josh murmured softly.

He stood legs apart, arms hanging loosely by his side staring at Todd with an air of amusement. He was unperturbed by the heated exchange between the siblings and secretly tickled by Elsa’s proclamation of love. The only thing Josh had ever loved was his family. Women were things he used for pleasure and had never considered loving one. This was new and he liked the way he felt about his cousin.

You could hear the sound of footsteps making their way towards them.

“What are you doing, son?” Adam McAlister asked Todd as he walked into the clearing.

“I’m going to kill this half-breed, Pa … I’m going to rid us of this foul, ungodly disease once and for all!” Todd replied, his eyes glued to Josh; his voice a sinister whisper.

There were seven or eight men with the older McAlister and they had gathered on one side of the antagonists, fanning out so that they would avoid being bunched together. These were tough, battle-hardened men and they were not stupid. They knew that even though Josh was outnumbered, he was still very dangerous. And having Elsa standing right in front of him put them at a severe disadvantage. There was no clear line-of-sight without hurting her so they edged outwards looking to gain position something which was not missed by Josh.

“Elsa, step away now child … come here, by me.” Adam said extending his arm out to her, coaxing his daughter gently and then continued, looking towards Josh, “You had better leave, Josh … you can leave now and I’ll not hold it against you. The thing with Jeb; if it was man to man then it is between you. It is none other’s business!”

But Elsa remained where she was; standing unwavering and defiant so that she was directly in front of the McAlisters with her back against Josh’s side shielding him from them. The only one with any kind of a shot was Todd.

“That’s kind, Uncle Adam, but I think I’ll stay … I like it here. Jeb should be more careful who he chooses to fight,” Josh said, his voice silky soft but with an edge to it and then, to the utter amazement of the clan, he pushed Elsa towards Adam, “you had better listen to your father, girl, we’ll meet after this is done … I promise!”

He smiled at her, his blue eyes bright with excitement before slowly narrowing to cold and deadly slits. Now it was between them, the pale, ghostly Todd McAlister and the one man who had been a thorn in his side for as long as he could remember, his cousin, the blue-eyed breed. They stood about fifteen paces apart, their eyes locked and bodies crouched and ready and like a sign from the skies, a Great Horned Owl flew overhead casting a deathly shadow across Todd’s body, its wings flapping soundlessly as it disappeared into the trees.

“Don’t do it, son, let it go … we’ll settle this another time,” Adam said, trying to dissuade his son, overcome by a premonition sparked by the ephemeral shadow of the owl.

But it was no use. This was predestined so ignoring his father, Todd made his move, his right hand flashing downwards in a blur, drawing and shooting all in one smooth motion only it was a millisecond too late. The bullet caught him high on the head, twisting his body sending him spinning sideways; stumbling in a discombobulated trance until lifeless, he dropped in a heap to the ground.
They all watched in horror as he twitched posthumously in the arms of his father, his sightless eyes, staring vacantly in death. And in the distance you could hear the plaintive hooting of the owl, the augur, whose haunting lament was the only requiem for the dead man. It was then that Elsa began screaming and all hell broke loose.
*******

I could feel them gaining on me as I ran recklessly through the woods, bending low, crisscrossing through the Maple and Fir trees, their branches whipping against my face and arms knowing that the river was my sanctuary; the only way I was going to save myself.
“There he is! Come on … this way! I’ve got him!”
No sooner did I hear the excited cry than I felt the whisper of the bullet scream past my ear and splinter through a Negundo Maple just to my left. It made a discernible “thawp” as it exploded through the soft trunk sending fragments of bark, sap and wood billowing like a puff of ash through the air. I ducked lower and protecting my face with my arms I crashed through the final thicket and made a mad dash for the river’s edge, dodging the jagged edges of the rocks and without hesitation dove into the freezing waters.
When I breached the surface I swam a short distance before instinctively looking back; I saw my uncle, Adam, looking down the long, blue barrel of his Henry rifle. There was a blinding, yellow flash followed by the cracking sound of gunshot and then, everything went dark.
*******

2009, New York City
“Hi, just got back from the gym,” Clay said.

He was downloading his email while speaking to his sister.

“Come on over, I’ve got a surprise for you.” Alicia replied.

“Surprise? What kind of surprise?” he responded, his attention distracted by an obscure email from one of his assistants.

“Well, it’s a gift!” she said unable to hide her excitement.

“Okay, you got me … I’m hooked. What did you get me?” he asked; his interest piquing.

“It’s a surprise, Dumbo, you need to get that cute ass of yours over here and then you’ll get your gift!”

“Okay, give me twenty minutes … I’ll shower and be right up.” He hung up and headed for the bathroom wondering what that sister of his had bought him.

*******

Clay squeezed his body through the half-open kitchen window smiling at his sister who was by the stove cooking a sizzling dish that smelled like Chinese stir-fry. She watched him with amusement – it was just like him; everything was a game or a challenge. He could’ve very easily used the front door but that would’ve have been too easy. She was a good cook but until they began sleeping together, he rarely spent much time at her apartment. Now, he was here all the time. They were becoming much more like lovers, a couple, sleeping together; eating together … she wondered where it was all leading to.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked hugging her from behind.

Their bodies molded perfectly together with the curve of her ass pressing into his crotch. She felt his cock hardening and working itself into the rise of her cleft. She had just gotten back from work and was wearing a short, tight, silk dress which clung to her body like a second skin.

Clay couldn’t help himself; his sister could excite him like no other woman could.

“Mmmmm … feels nice,” she sighed, leaning back against him and wiggling her bottom slowly into him.

They fit so well together and it was moments like these that drove the doubts from her mind. How could something that felt so right be wrong? She sighed and closed her eyes enjoying the feel of him.

He reached up and began kneading her breasts, toying with her nipples through the satiny material and leaning over, placed tender kisses on her neck trailing deliberately up to her ears. He sucked gently on her earlobes and could feel her excitement growing. He knew from experience that her ears were her “it spot”.

“Oh, God … Clay … oh, baby …” she moaned softly, reaching back between them, her fingers groping blindly for him.

“Let’s have dinner later,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire and guiding her towards the bedroom.

“I want to, baby, more than anything else but don’t you want your present first?” she said and pulled away from him, “And, I need to get this off the burner before I ruin it.”

She forced herself back to the stove and began stirring the chicken and vegetable concoction when he came over and hugged her to him again. Then reaching around her, he tried picking up a piece of chicken but she slapped his hand away.

“No! No picking … off with you! Go into the bedroom, your gift is in there!”

Clay turned his sister around and kissed her on the mouth squeezing her tightly against him, letting his tongue swirl in her mouth, enjoying the fresh taste of her, before stepping back and letting her go. He knew from the telltale flush flaming up her cheeks that she was aroused and excited.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he asked softly not needing an answer to his rhetorical question.

“Not nearly as much as I love you, darling!” she whispered back and added, “Now go on … get your surprise.”

He smiled and walked towards the bedroom wondering what the big deal was with this gift.

*******

As he made his way down the short corridor leading to the bedroom he got the faint whiff of a familiar perfume but he couldn’t quite place it. It smelled of lavender and spice and wasn’t a fragrance his sister wore but he knew he had come across it recently.

The bedroom was dimly lit and it took a moment before his eyes adjusted and only then did he notice the person sitting on the bed. It was Kim.

“Hi, Clay …” she greeted him softly and stood up.

She was dressed in a short, see-through nightie with an oversized red bow tied around her neck and even in the dim light he could see that she was naked under the negligee. She had an incredible body, the kind he liked; firm and fleshy and curvy – all woman.

He didn’t say anything; allowing himself to adapt to the surprise. He could feel his heart begin to quicken with excitement as the realization sank in that Kim was the gift his sister had referred to. There were a thousand thoughts racing through his head but the implication of having both women was a fantasy more exciting than anything he could have ever conjured up. It was overwhelming, this feeling that he could possess his sister and the one woman he had felt so connected to.

As she walked towards him his senses went into overdrive making him acutely aware of her. He took her in – all of her; her face, her body, the way she walked, the enticing sway of her hips, the subtle fragrance of her, the soft rustle of her camisole – the entire sensory experience was laced with overt eroticism. But it was her body that was amazing. Her breasts were full and firm, quivering with each step like gelatinous grapefruits while her torso tapered to a narrow waist and flared out seductively at the hips blending within the gentle swell of her abdomen as it disappeared into the nebulous V of her thighs. Her legs were long and shapely nesting the blurry outline of a trimmed landing strip pointing towards the glistening slit of her pubis.

“You like?” she said softly as she got closer.

That odd feeling of familiarity came over him again – it was like he had done this before … with her.

“Unh-huh! Very nice but what does Alicia have to say?”

“I say ‘enjoy’! Just enjoy her, darling brother!” it was a husky whisper.

His sister had come in behind him, pressing herself against his back hugging him tightly. Then without another word she undid the drawstring of his trousers, pulling it down, letting his cock spring free like a thick, rubber hose. His penis was larger than average, curving slightly to the left with a mushroomed, purple dome and thick, corded veins running the length of his shaft. He throbbed shamelessly overcome by the newness of this erotic game when his sister took a hold of him and stroked him slowly, pulling his foreskin back offering the glistening, distended plum to her friend - a gift to propitiate the sensual hunger that was building in them.

Kim got to her knees and without the slightest hesitation sucked him into her mouth with a familiarity she couldn’t explain.

“Ohhhh …” Clay let out a groan and instinctively held the back of her head.

His sister continued to stroke him while Kim focused on the tip, manipulating the mushroomed ridge in and out of her mouth as quickly as she could. Then holding onto his thighs, she slowly took him in deep relaxing her tracheal muscles until her face was pressed into his crotch and she had swallowed his knob. Incredibly she was able to control her gag reflex as his cock went down her throat and he felt the pharyngeal constrictions of peristalsis gulping at his cockhead trying to swallow him whole. Then ever so slowly she released him, sucking slowly back up to the bloated helmet. He could feel her swallowing the muculent, pre-ejaculatory juices flooding into her mouth and heard her moan as her fingers reached down to work her slit.

This was too much – none of the women in his life, not even his sister, had ever been able to swallow his cock! He threw his head back and closed his eyes as the surges of pleasure shot through his core, his feelings made excruciatingly intense by his sister’s presence. When he looked down, Alicia had undressed Kim and was holding her head, pulling her hair back so Clay had a clear visual of her mouth sliding along the length of his turgid shaft. He felt the familiar tingling emanating at the tip and shooting down his shaft but he didn’t want this to end so he leaned down and pulled her up to her feet. When he looked around his sister was gone.

*******

Alicia couldn’t control herself, her fingers drifted to her core, rubbing around her swollen crease, stimulating her clit while she squeezed and pulled on her nipples. The warmth of the water cascading down her body only heightened the state of her arousal. She was strangely titillated by the knowledge that her best friend and her brother were fucking on her bed and could hear their muffled cries of pleasure wafting in over the gushing sound of the shower. She was surprised that she felt no jealousy and the fact that she had orchestrated this union thrilled her even more than she had anticipated. She turned off the water wanting to join them as quickly as she could

When she got back to the bedroom, they were lying inverted in a sixty-nine with Kim on top and Clay on his back. Alicia stood by the side of the bed and watched the erotic burlesque, her eyes wide and bright, her fingers buried inside her pussy, her mind drowning in the myriad sensations coursing through her before seeking refuge by slithering onto the mattress next to Kim.

At first, she was just a voyeur watching as her friend pleasured her brother. But then unable to resist the siren’s tantalizing melody of whimpering moans, she squirmed lower and joined in, licking his balls and sucking on the base of his shaft, working gradually upwards until she usurped the lead and forced the tip into her mouth. She sucked on her brother’s cockhead, bobbing up and down over his crotch, sucking hard, circling her tongue around the sensitive ridge before offering it back to Kim with a big smile on her face. The two women shared the purple, distended root taking turns licking and sucking on it like a pulsing lollipop.

Each time Alicia took him into her mouth, Kim watched, fascinated by the sight of siblings engaging in the most intimate of acts.

“Brother and sister … oh, shit … this is too much,” she whispered into Alicia’s ear while she fellated her brother, “suck him, Ali, suck him … hard … make him cum in your mouth!”

“No, he’s yours this time … go on, do him, girl, fuck him … fuck my brother!”

You didn’t need to tell her twice. Kim straddled his thighs and guided him into her, impaling herself on his throbbing, saliva-coated scepter while Alicia moved up to his face, presenting him with her moist, sticky slit her hips rocking back and forth searching for the contact she so desperately needed.

“Lick me, darling … please … mmmmm …” she murmured as his tongue pried her tumid lips apart, forcing its way up her swollen quim.

She loved the way he took his time eating her. He was deliberate, dwelling on the different aspects of her sex. He could never get enough of her - the mildly intoxicating redolence of her musk, the spicy taste of her, the silky texture of her lips; it was all addictive to him. He spread her open with his fingers and ran the tip of his tongue over the tiny nodes and ridges which lined her inner petals. She shivered as his tongue flicked and licked over her little nub. She could feel him swallowing the incestuous nectar flowing from her cunt as he continued to lap at her swollen pussy. Her hips bucked disjointedly, grinding her crotch against his face forcing his tongue deeper and deeper into her. She could feel her clit swell with paroxysmal anticipation as the pressure built in her chest. It wouldn’t take long now …

The sounds of their discordant moaning drummed in his ears as he lapped at his sister’s cunt and when he glanced up he saw her leaning back, her head resting against Kim’s shoulders. She was holding onto Kim’s hands as her friend squeezed and pinched her nipples fondling her without missing a beat. Kim was riding his cock her cuntal muscles relentlessly constricting around the length of his turgid shaft, milking him into her until he could feel the tremors of pleasure nudging him closer and closer to the edge. And though he struggled to hold off, this tableaux vivant was overwhelming. His cock stiffened, quivering as the enraged head expanded and pulsed and then groaning into his sister’s humid, dripping cunt, he climaxed. His body arching upwards off the bed as the first stream of thick, ropey ejaculate shot into Kim’s belly. Then as he bucked with uncoordinated urgency he pumped glob after milky glob of his viscous semen deep into her hungry cunt.

*******

Clay woke with a start and looked over at the clock on the dresser. It was 9:30 in the morning. He was lying sandwiched between his sister and Kim their arms, legs and bodies all intertwined in a jumble of hypnagogic flesh. It had been a night of unrestrained, carnal profligacy.

The beams of light, like stilettos slashing in through the drapes, morphed the aura of somnolence and he felt his sister stirring beside him.

“Shit! I’m late! I have to get to Derrick’s place,” he said, extricating himself from their careless embrace and scrambled quickly over his sister’s naked body.

Derrick Hollister was Clay’s friend from High School. They had been roommates and buddies through college until Derrick had gotten himself involved with drugs. It had led him down the tormented path towards the living hell of addiction. A never-ending cycle of chemically induced highs followed by the inevitable spiral downwards until overcome by manic desperation, he would search for that elusive high again doing whatever he needed in order to chase the elusive dragon. It was his only reality. He had become a leper, an outcast to most of his family and friends but Clay had found it hard to desert his friend altogether.

“Now what’s he up to?” Alicia asked sleepily.

They had been through Derrick’s shenanigans so many times that it had become cliché. Like the boy who cried wolf, there was no sense of urgency anymore. That is, for everyone except Clay.

Alicia, more than the others, had very little patience for Derrick but she wasn’t going to ruin this thing with her brother; not after last night, no, maybe never. She was beginning to hatch a plan where the three of them could live together. Kim and she would share Clay and no one would be the wiser.

“Don’t sweat it … you girls sleep in and I’ll be back soon. We can do lunch if you’d like,” he said softly as he tugged on his trousers.

She leaned up on her elbow and watched him dress. She loved looking at his body, the way his muscles flexed like threads of corded silk from the years of martial arts and sports. He reminded her of a thoroughbred parading in front of the Grandstand. Even as a little girl she enjoyed watching him walk around the house without a shirt; it had always thrilled her. All her reactions were tied to the embryonic stages of her sexuality and all of them were beautiful. She couldn’t understand them but they never failed to make her feel good.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked not wanting him to leave.

“No! It’s better that I go alone … I may take him to the rehab center,” he replied giving her a quick kiss on the lips as he headed out.

She watched him leave and then looked over at Kim – she was fast asleep. It had been a night she would never forget. Now, she needed to work on that plan …

*******

Back in his apartment, Clay quickly changed into a Tee and a pair of casual khakis. Then from under the bed, he pulled out his collection of guns. As far back as he could remember he had been fascinated with weapons. His father had taught him how to use a gun when he was only ten and over the years he had achieved the proficiency of a military sniper. He had an extensive assortment of weapons including swords, knives, rifles and handguns but his favorite was the Glock, an Austrian pistol, which he had recently purchased. The model 19C was a 9 millimeter caliber weighing a little over pound which made it easy to carry under his jacket. It was engineered for close range fighting as a self defense weapon and true to its Teutonic lineage it was a beautifully crafted gun. After only a few rounds at the shooting gallery, he had fallen in love with it. The barrel length of just over 4 inches allowed for accuracy and the 124 gram, full metal jacket cartridge could stop a grizzly – just what he needed today.

He pressed the catch located on the side of the handle ejecting the clip and after making sure that it was fully loaded he snapped it back in place. He slipped a spare magazine into his pocket for the ‘just in case’ scenario. The only thing left was the money – he swung by the bank on his way to Grand Central Station and made the withdrawal. Now, he was ready and it was time …

*******

Clay caught a train on the New Haven line and got off at the first stop; the 125 th Street Station. He took Park Avenue towards the Metropolitan Hospital, a few blocks north of 96 th street, to the apartment building where Derrick stayed. Though he tried to focus on his friend and the mess he was in, he couldn’t shake the events of the previous night. The scenes played tantalizingly in his mind; random images of their bodies flashing in lascivious detail … mouths, breasts, asses, hands, fingers, cock, cunts … the incredibly sensual games they had indulged in! It was a ménage a trois that had exceeded his wildest dreams. He wanted to take care of this bit of nasty business so that he could hurry back to his sister’s apartment and continue where they had left off.

This was it - after this, Derrick was on his own! Damn! He had vowed a thousand times never to get drawn into this mess again but he was incapable of deserting his friend. All his life, he had been a person you could count on when the chips were down or when your back was against the wall and deep down he knew that Derrick was like the brother who was always in need. This sense of loyalty could never change – it would be like bleaching the stripes off of a tiger. It couldn’t be done. Then just as quickly the anger dissipated as memories of their college days filled him with melancholic nostalgia. He had to get Derrick to the rehab center … it was the only solution to this madness.

He noticed a couple of kids chatting in the lobby and nodded perfunctorily as he walked past them to the stairway. Derrick’s place was on the first floor, 106B, so taking the stairs two steps at time he made it quickly up the landing and through the dark, narrow passageway to the apartment door. He knocked using their code, a six-beat, two-pause-four rapid tempo knock that Derrick and he had come up with in college. He heard the sounds of faint movement in the apartment and knocked again, his knuckles wrapping loudly against the aged wood. The door opened a crack.

“Yes?”

It was a tall, thin, very good-looking black man. Clay had never seen him before but the man looked like he could have stepped out of a Ralph Lauren, Polo catalog; navy jacket, pinstriped blue and white shirt with beige trousers and a gold stud in his right ear. For reasons he couldn’t fathom the saying “left ear buccaneer; right ear queer” ran through his mind.

“Who the fuck are you? Where’s Derrick?” Clay questioned the man.

Surprised by Clay’s brusqueness, the man hesitated and that’s all Clay needed; he pushed the door in hard, hitting the tall man in the chest sending him stumbling back against the wall.

“Don’t do anything stupid or you’ll get hurt,” Clay hissed as he walked into the apartment.

Derrick was sitting on the couch with a trickle of blood running down the side of his mouth. He was pale and obviously frightened. In front of him were two men. One was a giant; a huge, heavily tattooed man with a shaved, acorn-shaped head and small, steely blue eyes. He was built with muscles like the steroid-enhanced Gorillas you saw on the Mr. Universe contest. And to his side was a short, thin Wesley Snipes look-alike except that he was light-skinned. He had a prominent, gold-capped front tooth and wore his brownish orange hair in corn-rows. There was something familiar about this man that held Clay’s attention and as he moved closer to them, he felt an overpowering sense of danger.

“Are you okay?” Clay asked Derrick and adjusted his position so he had a clear view of both the hoods.

His friend nodded his head in the affirmative and smiled weakly. He was extremely thin with the sickly pallor of people who are malnourished. He resembled a Holocaust survivor from Auschwitz.

“I’m okay … glad you’re here, man,” Derrick muttered.

“Who the fuck are you, Holmes?” asked the smaller man with the gold tooth.

Clay turned his attention towards him, intrigued by the sense of déjà vous.

“I’m his friend,” Clay said and after short pause asked, “Do I know you?”

“Maybe … see, I know lots of peoples,” he smiled, flashing his gold tooth and then leaning forward he looked into Clay’s eyes and added in an insidious whisper, “I knows you, pretty boy! Yes sir-ee, from way back, little Injun … see, we got us some fucked-up history, boy!”

Time slowed as the two men continued to case each other and almost instinctively Clay ran his fingers over the birthmark creasing into his eyebrow. No sooner had he touched it than he felt the mysterious connection to this man grow stronger along with the uneasy sense of having been through this at a different time – it was weird. He noticed a dark scar with an indentation on top of the man’s forehead and like a bad dream he felt darkness and saw the man smiling at him, the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse, Death.

“But enough of that shit! Your boy here has been snorting the good stuff, motherfucker, primo Columbian … you know what I mean? Now, I aim to get paid, you hear!” the little man spat out, his demeanor changing abruptly and turning surly.

“Well, calm down - here it is,” Clay said and dropped the wad of fifties on the coffee table, “there’s five thousand there … you can count it.”

The two hoods exchanged looks and the little one nodded to the big man who picked up the money and began counting it.

“It all here … five thousand,” he confirmed handing the money over to his associate.

“No, that ain’t no fuckin’ good. Where’s the interest, man? See, this only pays the capital and your boy was three motherfuckin’ weeks late! I’m a businessman, homie, my shit’s gotta make money … you need to cover the fuckin’ interest!” then turning to the giant he asked, “What’s the going rate for pretty boys, Bulldog?”

The big man snickered and smiled an arrogant smile which was taunting in its incongruence. He had been watching Clay and like an alpha dog checking its competition, he was sizing him up.

“I think two thousand should be fair … what do you say, pretty boy?” he asked Clay.

Just then the good-looking one, Mr. Polo, who had opened the door spoke up, “Hey man, you don’t need me … just give me the shit and I’ll be on my way.”

“Shut the fuck up, Aaron … you’re a fuckin’ pussy!” the big man snarled and taking two quick steps he grabbed the man by his flawless jacket and threw him down next to Derrick and slapped him on top of his head for good measure.

“This mo’fo likes to snort the good stuff … just like you, Derrick … he’s a faggot who wants to play but don’t want to pay! How’re you gonna pay, motherfucker? You gonna suck my dick?” the big man asked grabbing his crotch and thrusting his hips lewdly at the man.

“You’re a jerk, fatso” Clay said to the big man, “but that’s your problem. Now listen up - I’m not giving you assholes another penny … that’s it! You keep the five grand and we’ll call it quits. The three of you can get the fuck out of here … now!”

“Who are you calling ‘fatso’, punk? What are you, a tough guy? You’re dead, pretty boy, I’m gonna break your fuckin’ neck!” the big man roared and kicking the coffee table aside, he stepped towards Clay.

His associate laughed and egged him on.

“Go get him, Bulldog, kick his fuckin’ ass!” he screamed, adding, “Tear his head off!”

Things slowed down for Clay. It always had when it came to fighting … everything seemed to move in slow-motion. He was able to shut out all distractions and focus unwaveringly on the action itself. And like Prometheus, he brought fire to the game, pure liquid heat in the form of devastating strikes. As the big man knocked the table aside and moved towards him, he unwittingly entered the red-zone, within striking range and with his face exposed. The shortest distance for the first strike was a head butt. In one fluid motion, Clay leaped up a few inches off the floor and brought his forehead down using the muscles of his neck to generate the required leverage, striking the big man with the dense frontal bone of his upper cranium, like a soccer player heading the ball, crushing the big man’s nasal bridge.

The blow stunned the giant, his head jerked back from the impact and then he bent over stumbling blindly, the blood running down his face in a thick congealing stream. His hands came up to protect his damaged anatomy. He couldn’t think; his brain was fogged over in a maroon mist of pain when the second blow ended his participation in the confrontation.

Clay slid to his right, like a fencer delivering the Punta Riversa; he balanced on the balls of his feet and pivoting his hips, delivered a perfect side-kick to the side of the extended left leg. The force of his shin bone exploding on the larger man’s knee ripped the Collateral Tendon, instantly blowing out the ACL. The man groaned, then buckled over and fell in huge writhing mass.

The little man watched in disbelief – he had never seen someone move this fast or his enforcer beaten. Fear clawed at his heart as he went for his gun. It was instinctive. Clay turned and caught the glint of light reflecting off the silver barrel of Sig P250 and knew there was only a split second. He drew the Glock and fired.

The gunshots sounded like one, reverberating deafeningly within the walls of the room as the bullet tore through the little man’s cranium splattering fragments of pulpy tissue and bone in a bloody soufflé across the sofa. The very last thought going through his addled brain was that nothing had changed, Whistler’s Glen and history had just repeated itself. The impact of the 9mm ripped through his head, propelling him backwards and over the side table in a comic pantomime; eyes open, arms splayed widely apart, he was dead before he hit the carpet.

The next shots came from the side. The big man got off three shots before Clay turned and finished him off. It was only in the ensuing silence that he realized that he had been hit. He stood looking down as the blackness clouded his brain like a blanket. Then everything went dark.

*******

The Aftermath, 1866
As the word that Josh Ashburn was dead spread slowly through town there was a sense of disbelief and grief. The people of Laramie were shocked and saddened because they had adopted the blue-eyed breed as theirs; an anomaly which couldn’t be explained but something that was inherently a part of the town and one that was cherished.

The McAlisters claimed that he had drowned in the freezing waters making no mention of the fact that Adam had shot him. My father was inconsolable and my mother, heartbroken. My sister, Beth, was grief stricken but resolute – it was the optimism of youth. She was sure that Josh was alive and to prove it, Elsa and she would comb the river’s edge for hours every day.

Then one day, a month or so after the incident, I saw the girls speaking animatedly and knew that something out of the ordinary was up so I followed them that evening as they made their way along the banks of the Big Horn River and up the hills to the remote cabin which Josh kept and wouldn’t you know it, there was he was, Josh in the flesh, alive and well except for the deep scar over his left eyebrow.

“Well, and here I was thinking you were dead!” I said, surprising the three of them.

Josh broke away from the embrace of the two women and came over to me, smiling, and gave me a big, bear hug.

“How are you, Edan, how the hell are you? It’s good seeing you, little brother!” he said sincerely and then added with a smile, “I saw you a while back … you are not a very good tracker even after all I have taught you!”

We sat around the fire, Indian style, and talked and I heard how Elsa had found him, shot up and barely breathing. She had managed to pull him from the water’s edge, dragging him into the safety of the brush. For the next two days, Elsa and Beth had cared for him taking turns through the night until a group of forest Indians came upon the cave they were using. It was almost as though they knew and without a word they had carried Josh away.

When he had fully recovered, he had come and seen Beth and Elsa and had taken them to his cabin and that’s where we were. He promised he would come and see Pa, Ma and Judith and then hugged me again. I was just happy that my brother was alive.
*******

The Aftermath, 2009
In the bloody skirmish in Derrick’s apartment, Clay had been seriously wounded and when it ended, the big man and the one with the gold tooth were both dead. The good-looking one, Aaron, had helped Derrick get Clay to the hospital and if it wasn’t for him, he may have suffered the same fate.

Kim and Alicia stayed by his bedside until he was well enough to go home. Alicia was just happy that her brother was alive. Now all that was left was to live the plan …

The End.