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THE PICNIC
Date: 2/9/2017, Categories: First Time Mature Taboo Author: brianbigdogsmith
... gone." We walked out of the picnic area, toward the lake, my arm entwined in hers and her curvy body jostling against mine as we walked. That, and smelling her natural, feminine fragrance so close to me along with the scent of mown grass and wild flowers, was having a stimulating effect and causing those memories of my s****r and I, as horny teens, to return. DID she ever think about it? I asked myself again. Was it in her memory, right now, that she had once given herself to me and that I had actually fucked her? What with her so close and hugging my arm to her so tightly, I really wanted to know. "Ellie?" I asked as we walked, suddenly very nervous about the subject matter that I was about to bring up. "Yes, Danny?" "Do you ever think about... you and I? When we were k**s?" "Sure I do," she laughed, "all the time. Don't you?" "Yes," I went on, "but do you ever think about... you know... the time when we were teenagers and we..." "Oh, look Danny," Ellen said excitedly, stopping and letting go of my arm so that she could point, "wild flowers. Just like we'd pick for Mom when we used to walk here." And she left me standing there as she ran straight into the sunny meadow filled with yellow, white and purple flowers all swaying, with the tall grass, in the warm, summer breeze. I watched her sexy ass wiggle as she ran in that odd, marionette-like manner that women do. "Come on," she yelled as ...
... she reached the flowers and got down in the center of them. "Look at all these." Uninterested in flowers, I walked slowly to where she was, down on her haunches, picking daisies with her right hand and gathering them in a bunch in her left. Standing above her, I could see the cleavage of her firm-looking ample breasts down the neckline of her pink top and I could also see, in her squatting position, the evident curves of her wide, feminine hips below her thin waistline. The sight caused my cock to stir in my shorts as the memories swirled in my head. Ellen smiled sweetly up at me now as I leered down at her, "Aren't they lovely, Danny? Mom will be so thrilled!" I suddenly felt those pangs of guilt like I used to feel as a teen when I found myself thinking those impure thoughts about my own, sweet, little s****r. What was I doing? I asked myself. Wasn't the fact that she changed the subject and ran off evidence enough that my s****r either remembered what we did and didn't want to talk about it, or did NOT remember and my pressing the subject might bring back painful, repressed memories for her? What the hell was wrong with me? I scolded myself. I was suddenly aware of something Jeff Foxworthy was famous for saying; but in my case it goes, 'You know you're a sick, fucking bastard when you hit on women at your f****y reunion.' "Danny!" Ellen yelled up impatiently, "you're thinking again. Come down here and help me pick some flowers for Mom!" ...