Rose with thorns (experiential story adult novel)

When I look back on everything that happened, I am very grateful to my mother. It was she who brought me into this world, raised me to adulthood, and gave me the most important gift in my life - even more important than the crazy three months my mother and I spent together. That was the birth of my sister Rose, a year after I was born.

Rose and I seemed to be natural enemies. From the moment she was born, she liked to go against me. Many of my relatives said that I often bullied Rose when she was little and that I behaved in a very mean way, but I didn't take it seriously, thinking it was just a typical friction between siblings. Just ask yourself, which family has several children and they all quarrel with each other? It's the same with us, just a little distorted. I mean, we argue and even fight about almost everything, even things we both like but we won't admit. But Rose has a secret weapon, which is crying. Almost every time she loses an argument with me, she bursts into tears. Although I hated her to the point of gritting my teeth and sometimes even wanted to kill her, I hated to see her cry the most. As soon as her eyes turned red, I had to slip away before her tears came out, so as not to be soft-hearted and comfort her instead. Of course she also had her moments of laughter, which were when we weren't arguing, especially as we grew into our teens, when we stopped attacking each other. She seemed like a different person, becoming very shy and depressed, but too depressed. She had a sad face all day long, which made me very uncomfortable.

But if you get in touch with her deeply and give her encouragement, she will give you a smile in return. I firmly believe that my sister's smile can charm everyone. Her smile is like the rising sun, like the innocence of a child, like the sweet first kiss, giving people a radiant feeling. Anyone who has seen it once would rather die than see it a second time. Unfortunately, although I often bullied her when I was a child, I had to work hard to win my sister's smile every day when I grew up, and I had other ulterior motives. I don't know when I fell in love with my sister, but it must have been early, probably around the age when I started having erotic dreams and masturbating.

When I was young, I masturbated frequently, but the heroine I used as the object was not my mother, but my sister Rose. It’s not surprising to think about it now. Although I like my mother very much and respect her, my interest in her is largely due to my admiration for my father, and later it was my mother who took the initiative to seduce me. I think the reason why I finally decided to break off my relationship with my mother was because I subconsciously believed that the person I truly loved was not my mother. I often see my sister naked in my dreams. She takes the initiative to offer her pure body to me and suck my cock... One day, I was about to walk out of the room when my sister came in. I was thirteen and she was twelve. We bumped into each other at the door, and naturally, we reached out to support each other. sosing.com

I used too much force and pulled my sister into my arms. Her small, firm breasts were immediately pressed against my chest. Our stomachs hit each other with a bang. We looked at each other face to face, our breath connected. My cock suddenly became hard and poked my sister's vagina through her clothes. My sister's face turned red immediately, she broke free from my embrace and ran away like a flash. I think this might be the initial fuse between us. I was so dazed that I stood there and didn't feel my sister leaving at all. I really hope that kind of soul-stirring feeling can happen again.

That night, I orgasmed for the first time by masturbating. I lay on the bed, rubbing my cock hard, recalling the feeling of my sister's small breasts against my chest. I really wanted to know how my sister felt at this moment, and how fascinating it would be if the two of us played this sex game together. Sometimes, Dad and Mom would leave us home while they went shopping or to church for mass, and I always took full advantage of these opportunities to spy on my sister's actions. At that time, there was a popular sexual game among children in our school: find an opportunity to go home with a girl, and then ask her "Do you feel it?" ', and when the other party answered no, he took the opportunity to touch the woman's body and said, 'Do you feel it now? It took my sister a long time to understand this game, so I took advantage of the limited opportunities to feast on her body, especially kneading her breasts. It seems that I was deeply influenced by my mother and I am particularly interested in women's breasts.

I tried so hard to let her know how I felt about her, but it was impossible for me to just tell her that I loved her and that I wanted to spend my life with her. However, that is as far as I can go for now. I don't want to simply declare that I have done it after having sex with my sister. I see us as lovers, husband and wife, and even parents. I had envisioned our wonderful first time and had even planned every step: we would go to the beach together in the afterglow of the sunset, and I would slowly take off her clothes. First the shoes, then the pants, then the top, then the bra, and finally the panties. At this time, the sun had already set, and the western sky was filled with blood-red sunset glow. She stood between me and the sea, facing the beautiful sunset glow sideways. I could only see her beautiful outline. Her plump, beautifully shaped breasts outlined a perfect curve in the afterglow of the setting sun, and then she lowered her body and sat down, looking expectant, with her hairy vagina faintly visible. I couldn't help but walk over, gently laid her body down, and then...

Unfortunately, my sister doesn't seem to like this kind of "Do you feel it?" ' game, every time I asked her 'Do you feel it? ', after letting me 'feel' her for a few times, she would suddenly break free from my entanglement and run away. During that period, Dad loved her the most. I never envied my mother and father's union, but I had to worry about my father's favoritism, and I even suspected that my father and sister had already had one. Of course, all this happened before my mom and I had a secret relationship. Because of my experience with my mother, I became more and more determined to take further action with my sister. If she refuses, then I will be completely screwed, and she might obey Dad, which will definitely destroy our family because Dad is an upright and traditional man. I could even imagine my dad getting mad, my mom trying to protect me, and me just watching, and then our family falling apart.

When I was in middle school, in addition to learning some knowledge and building up my confidence, I also had many opportunities to interact with the opposite sex. In school, I was neither a playboy nor a nerd, so I dated many girls, but at best we just went out to play, watch movies, hold hands, and kiss on the cheek. But sometimes I had the chance to put my hand inside a girl's shirt or shorts, which was quite satisfying. But after I had a relationship with my mother, I became tired of these fake contacts. I am confident that if I touch a girl again, I will be able to make her take off her panties. However, I didn't try these things again. After graduating from high school, I was admitted to university and settled down in the school dormitory. This was also the first time I lived away from home. I missed my home a little, but I found that university life suits me well. For me, this is a good place to enrich my knowledge and liberate my thoughts.

In late autumn, the pastor from my hometown came and brought bad news: my family had been in an accident, a traffic accident. But he didn't tell me the details. Although I was preparing for my final exams at that time, I drove home immediately after receiving the news. While refueling on the way, I called the police to ask, but they were hesitant and just told me to come back quickly. I had a feeling that misfortune had finally befallen our family. When I rushed to the hospital, I saw my sister Rose crying hysterically. The pastor was also there, and I learned the details from him. At that time, our family was returning home from church after mass in the caravan that my father had just bought. When passing through a canyon, we were hit by a private car. Neither my father nor my mother was wearing seat belts, and they died on the spot. Although my other sister was wearing a seat belt, unfortunately the car hit her from the direction she was in, and of course there was no chance of survival. Both my brothers were seriously injured and lost a lot of blood.

Fortunately, Rose was not with them. The pastor said that my mother was very upset that day, and when asked why, she just said that she had a fight with Rose and she said she didn’t know what would happen in the future. At dawn, my two younger brothers also died. I took my sister back to the empty home, but she was absent-minded, as if she didn't exist. She didn't eat, talk, or pay attention to anyone.

I took good care of her and I was worried that she might commit suicide. The funeral was held on the third day after the accident. My sister was present in person, but her dull eyes and lifeless expression contrasted sharply with her neat black clothes. After burying the remains of our loved ones, we silently accepted the consolation and blessings of our acquaintances. I could hardly hold on, but my sister looked expressionless, as if she didn't exist.

I took her home and, exhausted, lay down and fell asleep. About an hour later, I woke up and needed to go to the bathroom. When I passed by my sister's room, I suddenly smelled a strange odor. I hurriedly knocked on my sister's door, but there was no response. In desperation, I started to bang on the door hard. After the door was kicked open, I fell into the room and immediately smelled the pungent smell of gas and the hissing sound of the stove. Thank God, my sister was sleeping on the bed near the door. I quickly carried her to the living room, laid her flat on the sofa, then ran back to turn off the gas and stove, opened the window wide, and then returned to my sister.

Her complexion was better and her breathing was somewhat normal, but very weak. I shook her hand vigorously, and kept saying, "Wake up, little sister, wake up quickly. Oh, don't scare me like this, little sister, don't leave me, wake up, little sister, I love you, don't leave me, wake up quickly." She moaned, "Leave me alone for a while, I want to die, I should die, you won't love me, I'm scared, let me die!" "No, little sister. Don't leave me alone, I have lost a lot like you, maybe more. Don't scare your brother anymore, I don't want to lose you as my sister again."

She opened her eyes and cried for the first time: "You don't know, I killed them, it's my fault!" "What are you talking about? Brother knows you wouldn't do that." She shook her head and said, "If it weren't for me, they wouldn't be on the road, and nothing would have happened." I tried my best to comfort her: "Okay, so what did you do?" "Dad called me and said that Mom had told him about our fight and they were on their way back. I also heard Mom and Dad arguing on the phone. I think they must have had an accident because of the fight on the road." "Okay." I said, "You and Mom had a fight, Dad wanted to make up for it, and then the accident happened, but it wasn't your fault. Okay, tell me, why did you and Mom have a fight?"

"Because of you!" she said and buried her head deep in the cushions. I was stunned. What does this have to do with me? I questioned her immediately and finally found out the whole story. It all started when my younger sister discovered my mother's diary. Our whole family likes to look back at the past, and from time to time we want to look through some of our old stuff. That time, my sister had to do homework related to family, so she went to the attic to look for materials and accidentally found my mother's diary. Although she knew it was wrong, she still peeked at my mother's diary. The terrible thing is that Mom’s diary starts when Dad went to work on the West Coast, which was the day Mom and I had our first experience that summer.

Although the diary recorded sweet things, it was undoubtedly the beginning of a nightmare for my sister. "I remember recording in detail in the diary everything that happened after Dad left," she said. "Mom was depressed in the first week, but soon she became happy. She wrote in her diary that she was very happy that night because she found out that you had grown up." She suddenly smiled. Oh, that's a good sign, she smiled for the first time in days. "Do you remember that night? That night she taught you how to play cards?" she asked me. Of course I remember. "I said. "I suspected from then on that something unusual was going on because she never taught us other children that. I remember her eyes following you when you went back to bed until you disappeared down the hall. I wanted to know what happened to you later, so I read Mom's diary." I was surprised that my mother was so careless that she not only recorded our relationship, but also put such an obscene diary in the attic. Of course, I also want to know how detailed her records are and whether she really regards me as her lover. "My heart broke when I saw the record of your first time making love." She turned her face to me, very angry but also very sad, "You know? I always thought you loved me!" God, how could this be?

I almost collapsed to the ground. Is my sister jealous? My sister spoke very quickly at this point, as if she wanted to get everything off her mind before she lost her courage. "I thought I could control myself. I mean, I've long suspected that you and mom had...that kind of relationship, but when the facts were laid out in black and white in front of me, I was going crazy." "I ran to find mom and used all the dirty words to insult her. I called her a slut, a whore, and a pervert. I asked her why she came to steal the only man I loved when she already had the best husband in the world." Damn it! She said stealing, so she has nothing to do with dad at all.

"Wait a minute, little sister." I quickly interrupted her, "What did you say just now? Why did I always think you were not interested in me?" "I love you, brother, I have always loved you." She was a little shy, "Do you remember the time when we bumped into each other in the aisle and hugged each other for five minutes?" I smiled and said, "Of course I remember, as if it was just yesterday." "Do you know why I avoided it at that time? I was soaked down there at the time, and I was afraid that you would think I was still a child and had wet my pants. I didn't want you to think of me as a child."

"I see." It suddenly dawned on me. "Then why did you always hide from me when we were playing the 'Do you feel it?' game? I thought you hated me." "Did I run away when you touched my breasts?" she asked unconvinced. "Later I avoided you because I wanted to see if you had the courage to chase me. You are really a little childish, you know that?" As she said that, she smiled at me, which made me feel much better.

But I had to ruin the atmosphere because her guilt had not yet been eliminated. "Tell me what happened next." I continued to ask, "Why do you think the accident was your fault?" Her face suddenly became gloomy again.

"I know that Mom told Dad about our quarrel, and she may have confessed something. I also heard Mom's voice when Dad was driving and calling me. She seemed to say something like 'Don't you know enough?' I think Mom may have revealed something, but she didn't say... about..." Her voice suddenly became very low, as if the wall had ears, "... your incest." "I was worried that Dad was angry and kept arguing with Mom, and didn't notice the other cars. I reminded him, but it was useless. If I hadn't argued with Mom, this wouldn't have happened."

I finally understood what was going on, and I grabbed her shoulders and brought us face to face. "Listen to me, you seem to have forgotten that Dad is a strong-willed, strictly trained, and principled man. He knows how to distinguish between feelings and responsibilities, and no one can do this better than him. No matter what Mom said to him at the time, he would not lose control." "Do you believe your brother, little sister? I talked to the police officers who investigated the accident, and they told me some facts. First of all, Dad saw the car coming from the opposite direction. Judging from the trajectory of the car sliding after Dad braked, Dad did not accelerate at the time. He made every effort to avoid a car crash, but there was a cliff on the right side of the road and there was no way to go. Dad had tried his best." "Also, even if it wasn't because of you, they had to come back from the church." I stared into my sister's eyes and said, "You just asked them to come back a few minutes earlier, but the fact is that even if they came back a few minutes earlier or later, they would run into that drunk driving bastard on the road."

"So, it's not your fault." My sister looked at me and seemed relieved, but suddenly she said anxiously, "So, what should we do now?" "What do you say?" "I said I love you, brother, and I need you. When you shook my hand just now, I heard you say you love me, so do you also 'need' me?"

I took her hand and walked her to my parents' bedroom and laid her down on their bed. To her surprise I simply picked out a nightgown for her to wear and then gave her a sleeping pill. "I brought you here because we are going to sleep together tonight, but that's all." I whispered in her ear, "I don't want anything to happen to you after what happened this afternoon, so I have to keep a close eye on you." "But, I won't touch you tonight. I have a lot of things to think about." After watching my sister fall asleep, I returned to her bedroom to find my mother's diary. When I find her, I'll go back to her. Due to the effect of sleeping pills, my sister fell into a deep sleep.

I sat in the easy chair that my mother used to sit in and began to read her diary.

Although I once had a deep crush on my mother, I could never really understand what she was thinking, what position I held in her heart, how she viewed our relationship, etc. I wanted to know, and I had to satisfy my curiosity. The first thing I saw was the description of our first time, and one passage caught my attention. "...He licked my pussy and brought me to orgasm once, but I had to pretend three times. He tried hard, he needed confidence..." I felt a little embarrassed by my mother's description, but her love for her son was evident between her words, which made me feel warm inside. It wasn't until three weeks later that I felt much better.

"...He came five times today! This child learns really fast..." I finally found the problem that had been bothering me from my mother's diary - my mother actually wanted to have my child. This was a shock to me, but also a relief. The diary revealed that she really wanted to have my child, but was never able to do so. As I said, Mom also had some condoms, and she wasn't on birth control, but she never let me use them. She had thought that if we did it four or five times a day she would have a good chance of conceiving, but by the end of our three months, Mom had not gotten pregnant, so Mom wondered if I was infertile.

After reading my mother's diary (which actually only recorded the three months we were together), I felt deeply grateful to my mother. Not only did she bring me into this world, she also took the responsibility of raising me up, guiding me step by step and allowing me to experience the beauty of the union between men and women. After letting go of the matter of my mother, I began to think about the future life of my sister and me. Tonight, I deliberately rejected my sister's advances because I know that grief is the most powerful aphrodisiac. I didn't want sadness to mix into our sinful union, even though it would be more exciting. She asked me if I needed her, and of course I did, very much, but I wanted to think about it when we were both clear-headed.