Arriving Home

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Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

I started this story back in 2005 although back then it was very different from what I am now offering: even the storyline is very different.

When I re-read the story I decided to delete all but the first few paragraphs. Enjoy!

***

With a huge sigh, I turned onto the long driveway to the old homestead. It had been a horror drive; the day was so hot that even with the canvas roof of my old Series two Landrover rolled back it still seemed as though I were in a blast furnace. As I wound my way down the narrow dirt track, I noticed the signs of recent heavy rain taking note of a landslip that would create trouble for anyone in a road car.

I should take this opportunity to introduce myself … I am Sonya McPherson and will be twenty-five next January: unlike most other women in my extended family, I am just five foot three with hand-sized breasts. My mother says that I am pretty but personally ‘uninteresting’ would be a better word to describe me. My head is oval in shape and I possess a very broad brow which my dear departed grandmother said indicated high intelligence. I have freckles below my eyes that ride over the bridge of my way too big nose and my lips: if that’s what you call them are almost nonexistent.

Having found my schooling rather easy I traveled back to England to complete a degree in English language. Again, I found the work quite easy and graduating with first-class honors decided to continue on with my masters. I have now managed to get a position as a tutor at the local university in order to complete my Ph.D.

Being very academic my appearance never concerns me too much and to my mother’s dismay I like to dress in khaki green slacks with a matching khaki tan shirt with the sleeves rolled up on hot days while on very cold winter days I wear a men’s mismatching tartan woolen waistcoat. Another fad of mine is wearing plain cotton boy shorts usually tan or jungle green because I hate the restriction of women’s thongs and the like. I don’t go much with makeup believing that we should keep our natural looks but use a little gloss to highlight my lips especially if I am going out. This will be my first Christmas back since I had gone to university in the UK. Almost six years have flowed under the bridge and I was looking forward to catching up with my younger cousin Karen who has just finished her first year studying Rural Science at the local university. Although her parents were happy to send her to an English university Karen couldn’t bear to be away from the station life.

Making the top of the mountain I could see the old homestead nestled in the dingle which led down to the jetty and houseboat on the north arm of the river. I paused for a moment taking in the view: it was stunning with the weeping willows that our grandfather had planted casting their shade across the calm water while a large flock of Sulphur Crested Cockatoos alighted with a raucous cry. As with the storm damage along the track I noticed that the river was still very muddy from the recent deluge with logs and other debris marking the high-water line.

Fifteen minutes later I felt my body relax as I drove into the shade of the old slab shed. It used to be the smithy’s shed but with the changes of time, modern technology, better roads, and transport the smithy’s shop fell out of use, so it became extra parking space for visitors. Walking across the soft wet grass I noticed that other than my car there was only a small white Sierra parked in the three-bay garage beside the house making me wonder where everyone was just three days before Christmas.

Opening a beer at the kitchen sink I noticed my cousin Karen getting out of the pool: it didn’t take long for me to see the change that six years had made. When I left, she was just a fifteen-year-old kid but here she was slim and athletic in a designer bikini that left little for the imagination. Although she’s not as tall as the rest of the family she is still three inches above me and with her dark hair cascading over her bronzed shoulders, pouting lips and small hand size boobs she was a real eyeful. Looking down her wide hips I could see her pussy outlined on her wet bikini. Sipping my beer, I felt my pussy tingle as she lay back on the big swinging lounge seat her feet falling over the edge making her wet pussy even more obvious. Standing by the sink it became obvious that she had noticed me, and I realized that the little show had been my welcome home. Seeing her jump up from the sun lounge I turned to grab a beer for her.

Karen’s parents own the sheep and cattle station next door to my parent’s property. The original huge two hundred-thousand-acre property was broken up when it got too big for my grandfather to manage … my uncle taking one side of the river while his brother who is my father taking the other.

Karen is nothing like me at all. She is incredibly beautiful: some say model material. Standing five feet six inches with long black hair cascading in ringlets over her broad shoulders which seems to highlight her broad intelligent brow and green eyes. Her breasts although not canlı bahis big are much better formed than my baby bumps.

Karen has incredible dress sense loving pastel shades and designer labels, Italian leather shoes, and boots. Not being interested in cheap serviceable jewelry Karen goes for the more expensive fashionable brands … where I wear a cheap digital watch that I found in a Paris supermarket Karen wears a beautifully designed Danish gold watch with a Swiss movement and of course Italian leather wrist strap. I sometimes wonder why she’s doing Rural Science when marketing would be much more in her line. I put that question to her once and she told me that first, she is her parent’s only child and hence would one day need to run the station and second because rural science fascinates her. Hearing it put this way I understood where she was coming from because I have a brother who will take over the station management one day leaving me to doing what I have always fascinated me.

Although in looks and career interests Karen and I are so different there is one thing that I believe marks us as very much the same. I am and I believe always have been lesbian: even from year five, I knew that although boys made me laugh girls were much more interesting to hang with. While in London I had two long term relationships with women very similar in both dress code and temperament as my cousin Karen.

Although Karen is five years my junior, we have always been the greatest of friends. Where I was more the tomboy type Karen was the feminine type dressing in pretty frocks and shorts where I preferred what has become my uniform of khaki greens and browns. When I say Karen was the more feminine, I don’t mean she liked to preen her feathers to attract boys it was simply because she likes the feel of this style.

From the earliest age, Karen always used me as her confidant telling me things that she wouldn’t even tell her mother whom she idolized. They say opposites attract well if that’s the case then Karen and I was a great example. Although I was the tomboy Karen was the loud kid with an infectious sense of humor: it was Karen who always got us in trouble.

I have always been attracted to Karen although I didn’t understand this until my last evening before leaving for London when I said goodbye to her … it was horrible because we both cried floods. Thinking about it as the plane was racing down the runway I realized that I was sexually attracted to my cousin deciding then and there that on completing my studies I was returning to Karen. As for her sexual persuasion, I am not sure but having spent almost six years around the London LGBT community I am pretty sure she’s either lesbian or bisexual. Anyway, these two weeks over the Christmas break I intend to put my feelings to the test.

++++++++++++++++++++

Before Karen could make the kitchen door, I was waiting, beer in hand on the broad shaded veranda. Screaming my name so loud that three kookaburras began their wild laughter she launched herself and we both hugged and kissed with tears of joy. Having dropped the two beers, we grabbed fresh ones before returning to the shade of the tumbling purple wisteria flowers covering the poolside gazebo. Speechless we simply sat on the swinging sun lounge looking at each other.

I think if it hadn’t been music from West Side Story suddenly coming from the radio, we would have sat in awe of each other all night.

“Fuck Karen it’s wonderful to be sitting here once more with you. You don’t know how much I have missed you.”

“You and me both: what do you think of the music I knew you would love it.”

“You remembered after all this time my love for Leonard Bernstein and especially his West Side Story. You are such a dear. Why aren’t your folks here: I hope it’s not serious.”

Having asked this question and seeing the cheeky twinkle of Karen’s eyes I knew she had done something to annoy her folks big time.

“I love my parents but fuck they can piss me off. It was the final Christmas social at the university bistro and somehow, I was seen in a very passionate but nothing embrace with one of my lecturers. All shit hit the fan and whoever saw us reported it to my folks.”

“So, what’s wrong? I would have thought your folks would be impressed you were hanging out with some young guy who lectures in rural science.”

“Problem is that he happens to be a she. Look I don’t know where I stand: I like men, but I have never been attracted to them. Sonya, I think I’m like you and more attracted to women.”

This news was music to my ears and feeling my pussy lips become wet I made a silent promise that soon I was going to test her theory. Regardless of Karen’s sexual feeling she still hadn’t explained about her parents not being here.

“So where are your folks?”

“Sorry I got carried away. As I intimated, they were not only cross they were very embarrassed because it was all around town before I had even left college. I am being punished and am to care for the property over the Christmas break. I hope you haven’t told your parents that you are home because when my folks hear the punishment will continue once bahis siteleri you have gone.”

“Don’t worry I wanted to surprise you and if I had written to tell you the world would know that I was home. I even returned the backway bypassing the town.”

“So, you are getting a break to the drought?”

“What drought it’s been raining like this for three weeks now. Fell the heat and humidity it’s going to storm tonight and if so, I will have to get the stock up off the flats to higher ground and because your folks are with my parent’s I am to do the same for your stock. If you hadn’t arrived, I was going to be working from the early hours of tomorrow. “

“What about the river flooding?”

“What you have seen happened three weeks ago: although its forecast to storm tonight we don’t expect big rain until Christmas Day. Anyway, enough for the gossip lets swim before the storm breaks.”

Saying this Karen jumps up and seeing I don’t have a costume strips off before diving into the water. Swimming to the shallow end she stands waist-deep watching me remove my khakis. Although the water was warm it was still refreshing and swimming up to Karen, I stood starring at her perfect breasts.

“You are naughty: starring at my tits. Why don’t you like knickers and bikinis? I thought you would have grown out of that in London.”

“You have obviously forgotten … I like the freedom boy shorts offer. Women’s knickers and bikinis are too stuffy and restricting. I usually wear board shorts and a singlet when swimming. Also, I am not being naughty starring at your breasts because I am jealous: look at what God presented me with.”

+++++++++++++++++++++

That evening we had a simple dinner of cold roast mutton and salad and because Karen hates white wine, we shared a bottle of chilled Rose. With rain drumming on the metal roof of the veranda it was cool and with Karen’s radio playing the evening selection of baroque music it was the perfect first evening. As we sat Karen quizzed me about the past six years. How does one break six years of life into a few sentences on returning home, after all, there was so much to tell and explain.

“Karen there’s so much to tell. I think first I will talk about my studies and where that’s taken me. As you know I went to Oxford with the aim of gaining a Ba. in English language but as you know I decided to continue on for my master’s because by this time I had decided to become a lecturer at a university back home.”

“Don’t you like station life?”

“Of course, I do and although it’s going to be hot humid and very muddy, I am looking forward to moving the stock tomorrow but it’s not the kind of work I want to devote my life to. I love academia and seeing I have managed to get a position at our local university I do have the best of both worlds: academic life during the semester and station life during times off.”

“And by the way, I have been given one of the two units in the old chancellors’ residence: apparently it was broken into two very nice three-bedroom apartments for university staff. I imagine I got preference because the chancellors house was named after our grandfather Rory Macpherson who donated the money for building it. Now Karen here’s where you enter the story. We are not allowed to sublet but, in your case, because we are family and if you wish … you are allowed to live with me. We are responsible for the rent which is minimal and power and water but that’s all. As you realize we can walk to our respective faculties in ten minutes.”

“Is that fair dinkum? Count me in, fuck I can’t believe it my parents will love it too because I will save so much money.”

We sat in silence after this listening to the rain which although not as heavy still drummed on the roof and then for reasons only known to Karen, she asked about my two affairs in London.

“I wasn’t going to raise that until tomorrow but seeing you have asked here goes. I met Meg who happened to be Canadian at a gay nightclub not far from campus. Like me, she was at Oxford doing first-year history. We danced all night together and shortly after that we were lovers sharing an apartment some forty minutes from campus. We were very much in love and in the early days I hoped it would last a lifetime. We broke up three years later mostly because I had decided to continue with my masters while she wanted to return home to teach history at school.”

“The second relationship only lasted six months and it was because of my working for the masters that we broke up: her name was Sharon and she came from Glasgow. She loved me in much the same way I had loved Meg: I still get letters from her.”

“Will you get back together?”

It was getting late and I had had a three-hundred-kilometer drive in my ancient Landrover, so I decided to ignore the question until later.

Being the older of the two brothers Karen’s father got the station with the original homestead. Although my parents built a lovely new homestead the veranda wasn’t anything like what the original had. Karen’s bedroom was on a corner of the veranda where it had been screened off with roll down canvas blinds to keep the rain or cold bahis şirketleri out. The door was a simple fly-wire door of slightly more solid construction. Seeing the room had a ninety-degree angle to it Karen had a big king size bed on one angle while the other had Turkish rugs on the floor with a small television and sound system. As kids, Karen and I had always slept together in this room, so it seemed natural that we walked hand in hand to the old room. Hearing the screen door click shut Karen asked if I minded if she slept naked saying that during the hot months it was the only way she could get to sleep. I told her that I had been sleeping naked for the past six years partner or no partner.

I don’t know why but as I began to strip out of my clothes Karen simply sat looking at me. Noticing this I deliberately took my time: first unbuttoning my shirt before bending down to remove my shoes and socks. Standing back up I held my shirt open allowing Karen an eye full of my small breasts: seeing her suck her teeth I eased it off my shoulders before folding it and placing it on her coffee table. Once more I stood allowing her to look upon my naked stomach and breasts. Watching her carefully I took her little glance at my trousers as the request to undo them.

As with my shirt I took my time undoing the buttons of the fly before removing my belt and undoing the button on my waist. Holding my trousers wide I again gave my cousin the chance to take in the scene of my boy shorts which had a small gap with two buttons holding the shorts together. Once more noticing her lift her gaze to my now sweaty breasts I dropped my trousers and bending in front of Karen eased them off before meticulously folding them.

Fighting to keep my blank expression I stood before my beautiful cousin in my boxer shorts at first standing at attention but seeing her intent gaze I dragged one foot away giving her a better view. You could almost cut the atmosphere with a knife as I undid the two small buttons in the fly of my boxers. Achieving this I stood back up but spreading both legs wider enabling Karen to get a glimpse of my shaded sex.

I stood like this looking with an enquiring gaze into my cousin’s beautiful green eyes as she looked upon my clean-shaven pussy with its barely visible tattoo of a damselfly just above my mound. At last seeing her almost breathe a question I eased my shorts down until they pooled at my feet where I left them watching for Karen’s appreciation: hearing a quiet moan I bent down to remove my shorts folding before placing with my other clothes.

Now naked I stood with my legs scissored watching for Karen’s move which this time didn’t take long. Breathing an almost silent statement of how perfect I am Karen stood and quickly stripped her yellow cotton bikini off and not waiting for me went to her bed where she lay in the center with her legs open allowing me to see the beads of moisture on her crinkled pussy lips. Saying nothing I lay on the bed and kissing her silently turned out the light.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

We arose with the sun the morning being clear, hot and humid. After an early breakfast, we set out on our quad bikes: due to the muddy conditions I had opted for a pair of British Army shorts that I bought at an OXFAM shop matched with my khaki shirt and hiking boots. Karen, on the other hand, wore a trendy pair of lycra bike shorts with a cream singlet and her elastic-sided work boots.

Following Karen, we traveled slowly along the broad river flats with her two kelpies running on the up-hill flank. Although we had recorded seventy-five millimeters the river was still within its banks but the ground close to the riparian area although well shaded by native eucalypts and a few weeping willows was very muddy from where the sheep had been feeding.

Suddenly Karen stopped when we heard the excited barking of the dogs and sitting to get her bearings, we took off up the hill to be met by a large mob of sheep being brought along the fence line to where the gate had been left open. It was easy because the sheep seeing fresh dry pasture bolted through as the dogs kept running behind to catch any stragglers.

Once the gates were closed Karen said that we had to return home so that we can cross the old bridge which spans the river where grandfather had dragged two huge logs across a high bluff. We then turned back up the low river pasture searching for my father’s sheep.

The pasture here was not as flat and hence was better drained but once again it was only half an hour before the dogs moved them off their night camp bringing them back to where we were waiting at the open gates. Knowing this paddock, I sat back on the lower side of the gates as a block to the sheep that always seemed to bypass the gates in this paddock. Sitting there I got a glimpse of my cousin with her lycra shorts cutting into her butt cheeks thinking how incredibly sexy she looked: only changing my mind when I saw her turn towards me her shorts cutting up into her camel toe with one errant breast poking out from her singlet which had been caused when she had to lift a cast whether onto the front of her bike. It may not be usual mustering practice, but I felt my pussy become very damp as I thought about what I intended to do this evening. Once all the sheep were on the hill pasture, we indicated for the dogs to jump onto the bikes and we rode slowly home.

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