Chapter 1

The memories started when puberty struck, and for a while I believed I was surely going bonkers. I mean, jeez, it’s bad enough to be forced to deal with periods, tender titties, and body hair and odors, not to mention some pretty powerful sexual urges I wasn’t ready to handle. Add a lot of strange memories that made no sense but were vivid enough they had to be real, and I was ready for the funny farm.

Mom had been helpful with the standard puberty stuff, even the sexual urges, although I honestly didn’t see abstinence as the way to go, but she wasn’t equipped to help me with the memories. You see, she’s very religious, a Mormon, and reincarnation and Mormonism just don’t go together. For that matter, reincarnation and Christianity clashed - period. I figured if I couldn’t talk to my mom about what was happening to me, I couldn’t talk with anyone, so I zipped my lips about the memories and tried to act like a normal teenager.

The memories invading my mind were from past lives - my past lives, I finally figured out - and they weren’t fleeting, a vignette here or a passing thought there. The detail from my past lives was huge in scope, including the various languages, professions, religions, and the general cultures I experienced with each life. I also remembered the men and women I knew, and the children - especially my children. To confuse me further, I wasn’t always a female. I was a male in about half my incarnations.

What perplexed me more than anything at first was the order in which the memories arrived. I didn’t remember my immediate past life first. Uh-uh, that would’ve been way too easy - less confusing, too. Instead, the memories started way back when, and the first to arrive was my death - my first death I figured out later. Now that scared the bejesus outta me.

I died. I don’t know how or when, but I died, and nine months later, I was reborn as Al-Biruni in 973 AD. I died in that incarnation in 1048. Al-Biruni wasn’t subjected to a whole bunch of memories like I was in this life, except he remembered that death I mentioned, and like me, he experienced his demise during his previous incarnation at the onset of puberty. He shook it off and went about his business.

I decided his approach was the best way to handle the memories, but I’ve often wondered if he would’ve reacted so nonchalantly if his memories included twenty-two complete lives over one thousand plus years.

Al-Biruni was an Arab scholar, quite an accomplished man for his time. That incarnation gave me fluency in the Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Hebrew, Sanskrit, and Syriac languages - a pretty good start in life, huh? I won’t bore you with the details of that life, but if you’re interested, look him up. He’s in the history books.

My next life was a short one. I was born in 1049 and was killed in the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Yes, I was a man in that life, too. You can’t look me up in the history books because I wasn’t very important in that incarnation, but check out the Battle of Hastings. The Normans kicked butt, and the battle changed the course of European history.

I lived my next life as an Icelandic female from 1067 to 1118. Again, I’m not included in the history books for that era, but check out Ari, the Icelandic historian. He was my brother-in-law.

As a female and a Jew under Muslim rule, I lived in Córdoba, Spain from 1119 to 1178. I named my first son Moses. My last name for that incarnation was Maimonides. My boy made me proud. Look him up if you want. He was a pretty good philosopher.

Are you starting to get the picture? I’ve been a man and a woman, rich and poor, lived long lives and short ones in many places on our glorious planet. And I remembered ... everything! I wasn’t a seventeen-year-old girl; I was a thousand or so years old. Wild, huh?

The memories could be troublesome, though. For instance, I could speak about twenty languages, write some of them, too, but like English, the languages had evolved over time since I learned them as a child. One day I sat next to a Frenchman at a restaurant. I could make out what he was saying, but when I spoke with him in his language, he asked what part of France I came from because my French wasn’t his French. I couldn’t tell him I learned his language from 1589 to 1611 when I was a girl living in Paris, France.

I also learned the hard way not to correct my history teachers about some of the wrong facts they presented, and because I’d been many races over the years, I was way too quick to denounce prejudice of any sort, which frequently put me at odds with teenagers and adults alike.

But the biggest problem for me at my current age in this life was sex. I was a virgin, but I wasn’t, if you get my drift. I knew a lot about the subject, not only from the female but also the male perspective. And surprise, surprise! I was bisexual. Hah! Experiencing life as both a male and a female over the last thousand years made bisexuality a given. I lusted for pretty girls and women as much as sexy boys and men. Yeah, both genders, young and old, well, not too old or too young. The age of the recipients of my lust didn’t matter all that much as long as I was attracted to them. The lust I felt wasn’t new, either. I’d been just as randy during each of my previous lives, but satisfying my current urges was a huge problem. Remember, I told you my mother was a religious woman, a Mormon, and Mormons, like most Christian religions, espouse a pretty rigid code of sexual conduct. I loved my mom and didn’t want to hurt her, and my dad was an even bigger problem. He was the Bishop of our ward.

Still, taking any religion seriously was difficult for me. In past lives, besides being a Christian, I’d been a Buddhist, Taoist, and followed the teachings of Confucius. Toss in Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, several pagan religions, and a few other well-known or obscure faiths, and you can understand my reluctance to give myself over to one religion. In some past lives, I didn’t have a choice. I toed the line or else, but I figured I had a choice in this one. The question in my mind was whether to give lip service to my loving parents’ religion, or openly defy them. Right or wrong, I elected the former course.

I mentioned earlier that I wasn’t a seventeen-year-old girl, that I was a thousand years old. That’s true, but the real truth reflected the reality that I lived in the here and now, not the nebulous past. I had the experience of a courtesan, but at the same time I was an innocent girl, a frustrating dichotomy, I’m here to tell you.

If you’re wondering, yes, during past lives, I’d been both a thinly disguised gigolo and a renowned courtesan. Also from 1880 to 1916, I lived for thirty-six years in Brazil where I plied my trade as a common prostitute for four of those years. The beaches of Epanema and Copacabana were my corners. That I became a prostitute was not entirely by choice, more by the accident of my birth - la Vida, the life, or a daughter following her mother into the oldest profession. I used the stake I saved by selling my body for four years and combined the money with the knowledge I gleaned from my memories to improve my social and economic status.

Regarding my social and economic status for this life, I was okay. My family wasn’t rich, but certainly not poor; I wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but nowhere near ugly; intellectually, I wasn’t a rocket scientist, but I wasn’t dimwitted, either. The memories helped make me a straight A student without much effort.

I lived in Scottsdale, Arizona, with my parents and my brothers and sisters - two sisters, both older, and two brothers, both younger. Dad owned and operated a large heating and air-conditioning business, mostly air-conditioning. The summers in Arizona can be brutal - profitable for my dad, though. Fortunately, he was a good business manager and knew how to delegate because he spent most of his time tending to the members of the Mormon ward he led. He did an awful lot of praying, too. Mom was a homemaker, and a good one from all accounts. My oldest sister, Carol, was away at college - Brigham Young University, of course. She was also engaged to a returned missionary of the church. Whether she was a virgin was open to question. Jennifer, my other sister, was without doubt a virgin. She was the most infuriatingly righteous person I’ve ever known, both in this and past lives. Boring. Cal, short for Calvin, was a year younger than I. Cal was a jock and much too full of himself. Josh, my other brother and the baby of the family, was fifteen going on forty, which is better than being seventeen going on one thousand, like me. I adored Josh. He could’ve been labeled a nerd because he was smart as a whip and serious about school and learning, but he was too good-looking to be a nerd, and he certainly wasn’t shy around girls.

Witness.

“Sandy,” Josh said after knocking on my bedroom door. “May I come in?

“Not unless you want to see me naked,” I said teasingly through the door. I wasn’t naked. I wore panties and a bra, but...

The door opened, and bold as brass, he stepped into my room. “Liar,” he said with a boyish grin.

Did I shriek with indignation or embarrassment? Nope. I struck an alluring pose. “Close enough to get your motor runnin’, young fella.”

He laughed. “That’s for sure. Got a question for ya.”

“Close the door and have a seat. I’ll throw on a robe.”

“Shucks,” he said as he plopped onto my computer chair at my desk.

I belted the robe loosely and sat on my bed. “Ask away.”

“Can you sense what other people are feeling?”

“Sometimes. Facial expressions and body language help. And eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul.”

“That’s not what I mean. Can you sense what someone is feeling even if you can’t see them?”

I frowned. “No. Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I’m an empath.”

Did I laugh? Uh-uh. I believed I could remember my twenty-two immediate past lives, so I wasn’t about to scoff at Josh’s incredible claim that he was an empath. I could empathize, no pun intended, with my brother’s plight, but the boy had always been imaginative. He’d had an imaginary friend when he was a child. So, I did have a few questions.

“Have you spoken with anyone about this ... ah, ability of yours?”

“Sort of, but ... ah, heck! I brought it up with Bill as something that could be possible, but he laughed at the concept.” Bill Robb was Josh’s ex-best friend. He and his family had moved away recently, leaving Josh as a loose end.

“You said you could sense what someone is feeling even if you couldn’t see that person. Give me an example. No, wait. Let’s talk about feeling first. Are you referring to emotions?”

“Yeah, but I feel sensations, too.”

“Aren’t sensations and emotions the same?”

“Uh-uh. I looked them up on the Internet. Emotions involve the whole body, but sensations are related to a specific part of a body. Happiness, for example, is an emotion. If you cut your finger, you feel pain. That’s a sensation.”

“Gotcha. So, your empathic ability includes both emotions and sensations?”

“Yep. Cool, huh?”

“Way cool. How long have you had this ability?”

He shrugged. “It started about three years ago, but it was intermittent and not very strong for a while. Now it’s all the time and ... Well, it’s so strong now that it’s becoming a problem.”

“How so?”

He blushed. “I walked by your bedroom about an hour ago. Jeez, Sandy! When you climaxed, I did, too. In my pants!”

Talk about blush! I must’ve been a bright red. An hour earlier, I’d been joyfully playing with my pussy. My door was shut and locked. Except for subdued gasps, I was quiet about it, too. There was no way Josh could’ve known what I was doing unless...

I gulped and took a couple of deep breaths. His statement required a response, and I figured I could react in a number of ways. I could act indignant or furious because my privacy had been invaded. In truth, his astonishing assertion had produced both emotions, although they were fleeting. Did he feel them? On the other hand, I could stonewall him, deny giving myself a couple of comes earlier, and call him a liar. Or...

I chose honest acceptance, the response I would’ve liked from Mom when I tried to tell her about my memories. I chuckled and said, “In your pants, huh? Good. That’s what you deserved for invading my privacy.”

He hung his head. “I didn’t...”

“But because you invaded my privacy without a conscious effort on your part, I forgive you.”

His boyish grin melted my heart.

I asked, “Is a climax an emotion or a sensation?”

He frowned. “I think it starts out as a sensation, turns into an emotion, and becomes a sensation again.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. Starts in the genitals and spreads through the whole body. What about sexual arousal?” I asked because that’s what I was feeling at the moment.

The little shit grinned at me. Little? Hardly. An inch over six feet, he towered over my five eight. He wore his dark, curly hair long, and his large, dark eyes glinted with passion. I glanced at his crotch. Yep, he was feeling what I was feeling, and the bulge in his pants didn’t do anything to dampen my libido. Just the opposite. It dampened my panties.

Incest. In all my past lives, save one, incest was verboten, a crime against nature and God, whatever God was worshiped at the time. That didn’t mean incest didn’t happen, and I’d committed the crime quite a few times in my past lives. The exception I mentioned happened from 1550 to 1588 when I was a female member of an indigenous tribe living in the Amazon rainforest. According to custom, I married my brother during that incarnation - happily married him, I might add. I shivered when some sexy images from that life flashed through my mind, and my panties became wetter.

From my admittedly shallow investigation on the Internet, the primitive tribe no longer exists. Whether inbreeding or logging or other reasons caused its extinction is open to question.

So, from my perspective, inbreeding was a problem, but sex with a close relative wasn’t that big of a deal for me as long as a child didn’t result from the sex and no force or coercion was involved. Knowing how I was, I’d talked Mom into putting me on the pill about a year ago - to regulate my periods, was my excuse. So, I wouldn’t have a baby if I let Josh fuck me. Force or coercion wasn’t in the picture, but...

How did Josh feel about incest? And did I want to complicate my close relationship, my friendship, with him by adding sex to the mix? Not to mention what would happen if Mom or Dad found out two of their children were fucking each other like minks.

“Sexual arousal is a sensation,” he said.

“Really? It’s quite diffuse, at least it is in me.”

His grin widened. I wanted to hug him, fuck him, too. “Yeah, I know, but it’s centered in ... ah, in your...”

“Pussy?” I said when he hesitated.

The bold lad said, “I was thinking cunt, but pussy works for me, too.”

I looked him in the eye. “You’re pushing this, aren’t you?”

He nodded and had the humility to blush. “Sort of.”

“Why?” I wanted a glimmer of his expectations. His answer should give me a clue about how he felt about incest. Like me, he’d been conditioned to the teachings of the LDS Church. Unlike me, he didn’t have the memories of twenty-two past lives to counter that conditioning.

“Hey, I didn’t start this. I came in to tell you about the weird feelings I’ve been having and ask for...”

“Hogwash. You started it when you boldly announced that you came in your pants while walking by my room and connecting with my emotions and sensations when I was masturbating.” I eyed his crotch again. A wet spot had developed at the apex of the bulge. “Okay, here’s the deal.” Was I out of my mind? “I’m going to test you, Josh. If you’re telling me the truth, you know I’m hot, very aroused, so I’m going to get under the sheet on my bed and masturbate again, but you’re not going to be walking by out in the hall. You’re going to sit right where you are.

“The way I see it, you have two ways to go. You can either come in your pants again, or you can drop your pants to avoid the mess. Your choice, but either way you go, you can’t touch yourself. If you come when I come without touching yourself, I’ll believe you, and I’ll help you figure out how to handle and control this amazing paranormal ability you say you have. Do we have a deal?”

He swallowed nervously. “Yeah, we do, and I’m dropping my pants, so if you don’t want to look, turn your head.”

“Lock the door first.”

He locked the door and pushed his trousers and briefs down to his ankles before settling back onto the computer chair.

Did I look? You bet I did. I looked, and what I saw made my mouth water. “Beautiful,” I gushed as I dropped my panties, flashing my naked backside before I slipped under the top sheet on my bed. My knees made a tent out of the sheet, but I let the linen droop far enough between my legs that Josh could see the busyness of my fingers from the movement of the sheet.

I eyed his wonderful cock. “Jeez, little brother, you sure aren’t little in the dick department.”

He groaned but grinned. “From what I saw before you hurried under that sheet, your booty is a beauty, Sandy. I sure would like to see your cunt.”

“Uh-uh.” I chuckled. “That might nullify the test, make you come without touching yourself.”

With another groan, he said, “Could be. Okay, we’ll do it your way.”

“What are you feeling?”

“You! Your sensations! Your emotions!”

“Tell me about ‘em.” I’d had a lot of sex over the last thousand years or so, but this situation was unique. I loved it.

“Your sensations are centered ... ah, in your clitoris, I assume, but you’re feeling mighty good pretty much all around your cunt. Emotionally, you’re pleased ... happy, which seems strange to me, so I could be wrong.”

I didn’t need to be an empath to know what he was feeling. His eyes, the windows to his soul, were full of lust.

“You’re not wrong, Josh,” I said and moved a hand from my breast to my pussy to join the other hand already busy playing with my clitoris. I pushed a finger inside my cunt until it bumped up against my hymen. I also continued to strum my hard, little nubbin with other fingers.

Yes, I was pleased, pleased that my first sexual experience with another person in this life was so unique, and I was happy, happy to have Josh involved in what until now had been a lonely but otherwise rewarding habit.

He moaned. “You are so hot!”

“Uh-huh. Should I come or stretch it out a while?”

“Stretch it. I want this to go on and on. I suspect this’ll never happen again, and I don’t want it to ever end.”

“What do you mean? I give myself a come almost every day, Josh, some days more than one. Are you saying you think that now I know you’re feeling what I’m feeling that I’ll stop the happy habit? If so, you’ve got another thought coming. This is the only sexual outlet I’ve got, and whether you connect and share my sensations and emotions or not, I’m not stopping. So there!”

He snickered. “Fine by me. I was referring to being in the same room with you while you’re doing it.”

“Oh.”

His cock was as hard as any cock I’d ever seen in a previous life, and the first I’d seen in this one. I wanted it in my mouth, in my cunt. I wanted to fuck it.

His hips started to wave, matching the movement of my hips.

“If this isn’t grossing you out, we’ll do it again, Josh. I’m enjoying myself. Having you sit over there takes the loneliness out of an essentially lonely act.”

He grinned and then grimaced. “So hot! How can you stand it?”

“Humph. I like staying on the edge. Staying on the edge for a long time makes the sensations much stronger when I fall off the edge into an orgasm. Have you connected with Mom and Dad while they’re fuckin’?”

I’d used the “F” word for two reasons. One, I like talking dirty when I’m hot. Two, I wanted to see how Josh would react? I satisfied reason number one. Number two remained elusive because he sort of ignored it.

“Yeah. Mom comes like a house afire.”

“Ooh, that’s hot! What about Jenny?”

“As far as I know, Jenny doesn’t play with herself.” He snickered. “She gets aroused, though, and then feels guilty about it.”

Pious bitch, I thought unkindly.

“If you’re wondering about Cal, he jacks off a lot, not as often as you, but almost.”

“Do you come when he comes?”

He looked embarrassed. “Yeah. I can’t help it, Sandy. That’s one of the problems I want to solve. Coming with him makes me feel like a homo, and I’m not. I like girls - period.”

“Women, too, I’d wager. Women, like Mom.”

“Yeah, but I’d like to stop that connection, too. Coming with Mom or Dad makes me feel guilty.”

“What about coming with me?”

He grinned. “No way. I love coming with you. When you start in, I usually head for the bathroom or my room, drop my pants, and join you.”

My fingers squished in my cunt, and my eyes rolled back in my head. I couldn’t remember being so hot without coming.

“Go ahead,” Josh said. “I know you can’t hold back anymore.”

To prove him wrong, I lasted another four or five seconds before the wondrous sensations gathered and exploded as a massive, rapturous orgasm. I don’t know how, but I kept my eyes open and fixed on Josh’s cock. At the onset of my climax, I watched a long stream of semen jet from the end of his shaft. Both of his hands gripped his thighs tightly, and his cock jerked and gushed another stream of come that fell back around his throbbing shaft, his balls, and the chair. He came again, and then once more, the last one was mostly a dribble, though. That’s when I closed my eyes and shuddered through the rest of my climax, by far the best I’d experienced in this life.

When I opened my eyes a minute later and looked at Josh, he was slumped in the chair, his beautiful cock still standing tall and hard - messy, though. Semen oozed from the eye at the end. I wanted to jump from the bed and lick him clean.

“There’s a box of tissues behind you on the desk,” I said.

His eyes snapped open, and he blushed, which made me giggle.

“I won’t apologize,” he said gruffly, twisted in the chair, and grabbed the box of Kleenex. He jerked three or four from the box and wiped the end of his cock.

“Why do you think you need to apologize?” I asked and rubbed my sticky fingers across the bottom sheet. My butt moved through a little puddle of my juices. “Toss me the tissues. I made a mess, too.”

He took a few more tissues and lobbed the box to me. Still covered by a sheet, I wiped my pussy and dabbed at the puddle.

“Because I invaded your privacy,” he said and dropped the tissues he’d used to clean up the mess he’d made in the wastepaper basket.

“Oh.”

“Coming with you, it’s ... well, it’s indescribable, Sandy. Your climax overwhelms mine. I hardly feel mine because yours is so intense.”

“Oh.”

He pulled up his trousers and buckled his belt. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“About what?”

“About doing this together again.”

“Did you feel gross doing it?”

He flashed a wide grin. “Nope, not a bit.”

I think I did a little grinning, too. “Let’s see how you feel about everything tomorrow.” To test him further, I pushed the sheet off me and hopped off the bed. The panties on the floor were wet, so I walked bared-assed to my dresser and pulled out another pair. He watched as I faced him and pulled them up my legs and settled them around my hips. Surprisingly, my brazen act tented his pants a little. That’s when I remembered how quickly a youthful male could recover.

“Hoo boy! I’ve finally seen a real, live pussy,” he exclaimed, thoroughly pleased with himself.

I laughed heartily. “And I got to see a real, live, beautiful cock.” I pulled on the robe and tied it tightly around my waist. He’d knocked on my door because he needed to talk with someone about what was happening to him, that and to ask me for help. “Sit, Josh. Let’s talk about your ability and the problems it’s creating.”

All the air whooshed from his lungs, and he fell back onto the chair. I sat on the bed facing him. “You mentioned a couple of problems - coming with Cal and the parents. Tell me about the other negatives your unusual empathy generates.”

“I have to avoid crowds, Sandy. Feeling all the conflicting emotions of everyone around me drives me batty. I was in the mall a week ago, and a little boy lost his mother. He was crying his eyes out, and tears streamed down my face, and I was just as frightened as the boy.

“And the hate! The anger! I didn’t realize how much hatred and rage so many men and women feel. I enjoy the happy emotions others share with me, but the negative ones take me down. Before I started to feel the emotions of those around me, I didn’t have a lot of hate and anger in me, Sandy, but that’s changing. I’m starting to hate the haters, and I get very angry with those who share their rage with me. This ability - I’ve been calling it a curse, lately - is changing me, and not for the better.”

“Hmm. ‘Around you,’ you said. From that comment, I take it that your empathic ability - I won’t call it a curse - has a range. Correct?”

He looked contemplative, and then grinned. “I guess it does.”

“What’s the range?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out.”

“How?”

“Use the scientific method. Test it. Walk away from a strong emotion you’re feeling coming from someone. Does it diminish as you move away, and at what point do you stop feeling it?”

“Makes sense.”

“What about obstructions, like walls? Do they affect your connections?”

He scrunched up his expressive face. “I don’t think so. I felt your climax earlier, and you were in your bedroom behind a closed door.”

“Test various obstructions like brick or concrete block walls.”

“Okay. What else, and more to the point, why do these tests?”

“Logic. It’s logical to assume that in order to control your ability, Josh, you’ll need to understand it thoroughly, and it seems to me that control is what you need, an on/off switch for lack of a better way to say it.”

“That’s exactly what I need!”

“Either that, or a way to turn it off once and for all.”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I’ll learn to live with the problems first.”

“Good for you, little brother. I appreciate your spirit of adventure.” I walked to my dresser and picked a safety pin out of a box where I kept various odds and ends like fingernail paraphernalia and lotions and potions. With my back to him, I stabbed my finger with the pin.

He grunted. “Hey, that hurt! What did you do?”

I turned to him and held out my bloody finger. “What happens if you’re connected with someone and they have a heart attack, Josh?”

His eyes widened with fear when he looked at his finger and saw blood oozing from its tip. “Fuck! That’s scary!” he breathed.

“Yeah, my sentiments exactly.” Would he die if he were connected with someone experiencing the pain of death?

Chapter 2

I’d greased my body with sunscreen and was lying out by the pool, improving my tan when the patio door opened. Jenny and a friend of hers named Peggy Black walked out and sat at the patio table. An umbrella offered them some shade.

“That swimming suit is obscene, Sandy,” Jenny commented, looking as if she’d just chomped down on spoiled food.

I was wearing a new bikini. It was sexy but certainly not obscene. With a grin, I rose to my feet and struck a pose; you know the kind, with one hand resting on a cocked hip and one leg slightly in front of the other. “What do you think, Peg? Do I look obscene?”

Peg chuckled. “Yep, but obscene becomes you.”

“Peggy! Don’t encourage her,” Jenny said. “She doesn’t have a modest bone in her body.”

“What can I say, Jenny?” I said. “When you’re right, you’re right.” I dove into the pool. The suit wasn’t obscene when dry, but when wet, obscene wasn’t far from the truth. Opaque became translucent. I wanted to give Jenny a bad time by flaunting my near nakedness, and I wanted to test Peg Black. In the past, I’d noticed Peg looking at me with some lust in her pretty eyes, not a lot, but some, and with her fantastic figure and big, dark eyes, she jump-started my libido whenever I saw her. That Jenny and Peg were friends defied all logic. Jenny was as uptight as an old spinster, and Peg had some bawdy in her.

Was Peg interested in girls? Maybe, but she was a member of my dad’s flock, so she’d probably ignore any urges she felt. Still, a little test wouldn’t hurt. I walked up the stairs out of the pool.

“Sandy!” Jenny exclaimed. “Your suit! It’s...”

I looked down and feigned shock. “Oh, my!” My stiff nipples and darker areola were clearly visible through the wet fabric of the suit.

Peg laughed. “Don’t wear that swimming suit to a pool party, or someone will jump your bones.”

Someone, huh? Like you, Peg? I noticed movement in the house behind the sliding glass door to the patio. Josh was home. He’d know what Peg was feeling. After quickly drying myself with a towel, I stepped inside.

“Love the suit,” Josh said with a leer.

“Thanks. Are you close enough to Jenny and Peg to connect with their feelings?”

“Sure. As you suggested, I experimented and determined that I can feel emotions and sensations if the sender is within approximately fifty feet of me. The feelings diminish rapidly beyond that distance, and obstructions of any kind block all emotions and sensations if they’re between a sender and me and farther away than about thirty feet. Within thirty feet, they have no effect at all. Let’s see, Jenny’s feeling guilty because she’s turned on, and Peg ... my, my, Peg’s not just aroused. She’s hot!” He looked at me and then back outside. “What’s going on?”

I grinned. “I think Peg likes what’s in my swimming suit as much as you. Wanna share a coke?” I snagged a can from the refrigerator and poured cola into two glasses full of ice.

“You mean...? Are you saying Peg’s a lesbian?”

“Don’t know about that, but she might be bisexual.” I handed Josh one of the glasses and gulped at mine. Working on a tan in the Phoenix heat builds up a big thirst.

He grinned. “Like you?”

Did my jaw drop? Yeah, it did.

“I’ve been trying to figure out which turns you on the most - good-looking guys or gorgeous gals,” he said.

“Let me know when you come up with an answer,” I said dryly. “Why is Jenny turned on?”

“Hah! She liked what was in your suit, too. I figured Jenny out a while back. Girls turn her on, not guys.”

“My, oh my,” I quipped and giggled. “Is she aware of her preference?”

He scrunched up his face. “I don’t think so. I think she’s in denial. What’s more, I think she’ll stay that way. When the time comes, she’ll follow in Carol’s footsteps and lasso a returned missionary, get married in the temple, and the two of them will give lip service to a basically sexless marriage and devote their lives to the church. Oh, she’ll do the deed to have children, but...” He shrugged.

“In addition to being a sensation voyeur, are you also a soothsayer?”

He blushed. “No, just using a little logic.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right about Jenny. What about me? What do you see in my future?”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh, I wouldn’t venture a guess. I’ve tried, but I can’t figure you out. You’re an enigma, Sandy. Connecting with you is always a treat for me. Most teenage girls’ emotions are all over the place, rarely static, sailing high and plunging low, easily affected by momentary circumstances. Connecting with girls other than you is like hopping on a roller coaster. You’re ... no, you might take what I was about to say wrong.”

“Say it anyway, buster.”

He groaned but said, “I mean this in a positive way, Sandy. Your emotions aren’t ... darn, I don’t know how to get my point across, so I’ll just say it. Your emotions aren’t young; they’re sort of old.”

“Are you saying emotions have age?” I asked, perplexed. Aging emotions wasn’t a concept I’d ever considered.

“No! I’m saying that each person’s emotions seem to be a function of that person’s age. Your emotions aren’t girlish, like Jenny’s or Peggy’s. They’re not even womanly, like Mom’s. If I didn’t know you, couldn’t see you, and connected with you for the first time, I’d think you were a hundred years old, not seventeen. Your emotional reactions seem to imply that you’ve already experienced whatever caused the reaction, and then you proceed to handle the emotional situation with ease. Not that you don’t feel passionately about everything. You do, but ... ah, I know the word I want to use. You’re serene, Sandy, and because I can experience your remarkable serenity, I’m a better person for it. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve used your calm acceptance of our hurly-burly world to calm the turmoil in my soul after connecting with so many men and women full of hate and anger.”

“Ah, that’s nice, Josh. Thank you.” I gave him a heartfelt hug, which gave him a partial hard-on. I didn’t back away, but rather rubbed against the exciting lump some more. I gave him a big grin. “I think you like my swimming suit, too.”

“Uh-uh. I like what’s in it. My thoughts keep returning to the other day when you shared your orgasm with me. When...? Darn it, Mom just pulled into the garage, and Jenny and Peggy are coming toward us.”

Trying not to be too obvious, I backed away from him just as I heard the sliding glass door open. Jenny and Peg stepped inside. At the same time, the door from the garage opened, and Mom walked into the kitchen, her arms laden with grocery bags.

“Josh,” Mom said, “the trunk’s still full of groceries. Please lug them in for me. Jenny, Sandy, you can help me put everything away. Hi, Peggy? How are you?”

“Hot! We’ve been sitting out on the patio. May I have a glass of ice water?”

“Sure, if you’ll fix it for yourself. You know where everything is.”

Later that day, Josh cornered me again. I’d showered and changed into a light sundress and was curled up on the sofa in the living room reading a novel. With all the history I’d lived, I preferred fiction to nonfiction. I read for entertainment and would rather read a good novel than watch television.

“As I was saying when we were interrupted earlier,” he said, “when are we going to get together for another sexy session?”

Yup, bold as brass! I chuckled. “If I’m not mistaken, I’ve already shared one climax with you today. Don’t be a greedy-gut.” After the arousing incident on the patio, I’d masturbated in the shower fantasizing about Peg’s mouth on my pussy.

“Yep, it was a good one, too, but not in the class with the one you shared while I was in your room with you.”

“Josh, if we continue to mess around with each other, we’ll end up fucking. I don’t believe that would be wise. Do you?”

He slumped onto the large chair across from the sofa. “Probably not.” His expression drooped like the tail of a whipped puppy.

“Earlier today, you sensed Mom’s arrival, and at the same time you knew Jenny and Peggy would soon walk into the house. Correct?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you know Mom had arrived? Cal was out. It could’ve been Cal, not Mom, in the garage.”

He frowned. “Uh-uh. They have different ... ah, emotional signatures.”

Amazing. “All right. What made you think Jenny and Peg were about to step inside from the patio?”

He grinned. “I started to sense the location of each sender while experimenting with distance. Cool, huh?”

“Very cool. I also noticed that you didn’t concentrate on Jenny and Peg’s sensations and emotions until I asked you what they were feeling. I thought you couldn’t tune out a sender.”

“I can’t, not completely, but lately I can sort of tone down what I feel from some senders by concentrating on another. You were aroused when you walked inside from the patio, so I focused on you.” He chuckled. “Besides, that swimming suit you were wearing grabbed my entire attention. Wet like it was, it bordered on being obscene. I loved it.”

“Hmm, you’re already moving toward controlling your paranormal abilities, Josh, which doesn’t surprise me. Humans are adaptable creatures. Practice turning off one sender by amplifying another, and then switch. Back and forth, moving quickly from one sender to another. Your ultimate goal should be to completely eliminate all emotions and sensations but your own when you’re in a crowded room.”

“All right, I’ll practice, but why turn everyone off?”

“What would happen if you broke your arm, and Mom took you to the emergency room?”

“Ah! Gotcha.”

“Besides, it seems to me that being able to turn everyone off reflects ultimate control. I’m not saying you need to turn everyone off forever, but if possible, you should learn absolute control.”

While talking with him, I’d allowed the hem of my sundress to creep up my legs, and Josh noticed. I enjoyed his eyes on me. We made a good pair. He was a voyeur. I was an exhibitionist.

“Who’s in the house?” I asked.

“Besides us, Mom, Cal, and Jenny.”

“Where are they?”

“Mom’s in the master bath, in the shower, I think. Cal and Jenny are in their rooms.” He frowned. “Cal’s not a happy camper. He’s talking with someone on the phone. Jenny’s taking a nap ... dreaming.” He chuckled. “It must be a sexy dream.”

Amazing. “And you say you’ll know if one of them moves from where they are?”

He nodded.

I pulled my feet up to the edge of the couch and let the sundress slip down around my waist. I spread my knees wide and pushed the leg band of my panties to one side, exposing my pussy. “This is what you wanted to see again. Right?”

He gulped. “Yeah.”

I rubbed two fingers between the outer lips and dipped them into the entrance of my vagina for moisture before pulling them up to waggle back and forth over my clitoral shaft.

“Where is everyone now?” I asked.

“Mom’s out of the shower toweling herself dry. Jenny’s still sleeping. Cal’s... shit, Cal’s coming this way!”

Leaving my panties jammed to one side, I rose to my feet, and the sundress fell down around my legs. I was nearly out of the room when Cal stepped into it.

“What’s your problem, Cal?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“You don’t look like a happy camper.”

“Cathy broke our date for this Friday.”

“Why?”

“She says we’re getting too serious, too involved.”

I chuckled. “In other words, she wants to be a good, little Mormon girl.”

“Humph.”

“If you want to get laid, date a girl who doesn’t belong to the church.”

“Shows how much you know,” Cal muttered and stomped off.

After Josh and I were alone again, I said, “Tell me about Cal’s future.”

“I told you, Sandy, I’m not a fortune teller.”

“I know. Use logic.”

“Okay. Right now, he’s conflicted. He’s horny all the time - like me. But unlike me, he feels guilty about being horny all the time, and I sense that deep down he admires Cathy for backing off.”

“Have they done the deed?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. If I were to guess, I’d say they’ve done everything but fuck, and not just once either, but a whole lot of times.” With a boyish grin, he added, “Cathy’s not uptight about sex like Jenny.” He blushed. “She shared a climax with me not long ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I came home and interrupted Cal and Cathy making out on the couch. She was hot; I was hanging around, so she went into the guest bath and masturbated for relief.”

“Hmm, sexy.”

“Yeah. About Cal’s future. He’ll drift away from the church but come back to it. You and I are the only heathens in the family.”

“What? You’re not a believer?”

“I didn’t say that. Let’s just say I’m not a big fan of organized religion.”

“Do Mom and Dad know how you feel?”

“Of course not. I’d rather go to a rock fight than have an honest discussion with them about religion.”

“I hear ya. You flunked the test, you know.”

“What test?”

“I showed you my pussy to test your ability to keep us out of trouble by constantly monitoring everyone’s whereabouts. You concentrated too hard on my pussy and almost allowed Cal to walk in on us.”

He sucked in air through his teeth. “I’ll practice.”

“Do that.”

Two days later, Josh knocked on my bedroom door. After he walked in, he closed the door and locked it. “Test me again,” he said.

I laughed. “You just want another gander at my pussy.”

“True, but I think I’ve got the monitoring bit down pat. Test me.”

“Okay. Who’s home? Where are they, and what are they doing?”

“Mom and Dad are in his home office. They’re on their knees praying. Cal’s in his room. I think he’s jerking off. Jenny’s not in the house. I don’t know where she is.”

“Cal’s jerking off, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you come when he comes?”

“Nope. I’ve got that problem licked, too. Come on, Sandy. Give me another chance.”

“All right, but I want a running dialogue regarding the whereabouts of everyone in the house.”

“Fair enough.”

He looked so eager I couldn’t resist giving him what he wanted, which was another look at a real, live pussy. Ten minutes later, his hungry eyes made me hunger for more than my fingers. I wanted that big cock of his. It was standing tall and hard, throbbing and jerking, pulsing like the membranes inside my cunt.

“Mom and Dad are on their knees. They moved to the sofa in the office, and they’re talking. Cal’s close to coming.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What’s your attitude about cunt licking?”

His eyes widened. “I’m for it.”

“Wanna lick me?”

As bold as he was, he hesitated, but a second later, he moved across the room with a flurry and knelt on the foot of my bed.

“Go ahead,” I encouraged. “Lick my cunt from the bottom to the top.” I spread the lips of my pussy with my fingers.

His large male tongue felt marvelous moving up through my crease. I shivered with passion. “Oh, fuck, Josh, that feels so good!”

He licked my vulva from the bottom to the top again, and again. “Where is everyone?”

“Same place,” he muttered and licked me, this time wriggling his tongue over my clitoris.

“So close!”

“Cal’s climaxing.”

Suddenly, I felt Josh shuddering. My eyes, which had been closed, flew open. “Fuck!” Josh growled and grabbed his hard cock. Come spewed from the end, splashing onto my thigh and the bed.

He’d tasted me. Fair’s fair, I thought as I quickly twisted on the bed. I caught his second ejaculation in my mouth. I didn’t swallow right away. I wanted to savor the first taste of semen during this incarnation, but I had to swallow after his next copious spurt.

“Lick me some more. I want to come, too,” I said and moved my mouth back around his wonderful, slimy cock.

I felt his face move between my legs again, and his tongue wriggled up through my crease. He nibbled my clit with his lips, and the flat of his fantastic tongue flashed back and forth over the throbbing nubbin.

Amazingly, Josh came again when my orgasm struck, which enhanced the orgasmic sensations coursing through my body. I sucked and licked and swallowed more semen as rapturous orgasmic contractions pulsed one after the other.

I was still coming when Josh lifted his face from my cunt. “Mom’s headed this way!” He jumped from the bed, pulled on his briefs and the shorts he’d been wearing.

He looked frantic. Were we busted?

Then he relaxed. All the air whooshed from his lungs, and he slumped onto my computer chair. “She turned around. She’s returning to Dad’s office. No, the kitchen.”

“Where’s Cal?” I asked. I hadn’t moved. Being dressed wouldn’t have fooled Mom for a second. My room had to smell like a jack-off booth in a triple-X video store.

“Lying on his bed enjoying the afterglow of his climax.”

I giggled. “Me, too.”

“I know. How do you do it? Remain so calm?”

“A good come does that for me. I thought you said you didn’t climax with Cal anymore.” I rolled from the bed and used tissues to wipe his semen from my thigh and the globs scattered across the sheet on my bed. After putting on a fresh pair of panties, I donned the shorts I’d been wearing.

“I don’t normally, but ... ah, heck, I was so danged hot from licking your cunt that the sensations of his climax took me over the top. I had him tuned way down, too, but...”

“I understand. Let’s go for a drive. We need to talk.”

“How do you feel about what just happened between us?” I asked when I stopped Mom’s car at a red light. I had a destination in mind, but we’d never arrive there unless Josh gave me the correct answers to a few questions.

He grinned. “I loved it! Your mouth around me was amazing. And your cunt! Your juices! They were delicious, Sandy. I can’t wait to do it again.”

“Why?” My question obviously confused him, so I continued, “I’m your sister, Josh. You and I shouldn’t be sucking each other off.”

“Ah, you want to talk about incest.”

“Yeah. What’s your take on the subject?”

“It’s wrong for everyone but you and me.”

I laughed. “That’s mighty convenient. Explain.”

“My belief stems from guilt. If I fucked Mom or Jenny or Carol or any of the many aunts or female first cousins we have, that would be incest, and I’d feel guilty because I’d be guilty. The same would be true for you, not only with the males in the family but also the females. I don’t feel an ounce of guilt about what happened earlier between us, and neither do you.”

“Why don’t we feel guilty?”

“I don’t know your reasons. My reason is simple. All other females who’ve shared their emotions with me pale in comparison to you. I’m in love with you, Sandy, have been since the first time I connected with you emotionally about three years ago. I...”

“Not good,” I muttered.

“Sandy, please let me finish. Don’t get all up tight about how I feel about you. I’m cool with it. How I feel about you isn’t a new thing. Like I said, I’ve been living with how I feel for three years. I’ve been through the this-is-wrong phase, the this-is-incest phase, the this-is-just-puppy-love phase, the she-thinks-of-you-as-a-kid phase, and any other phase you can think of. I love you. I’ll always love you. That’s just the way it is. What’s more, I don’t expect you to love me, not the way I love you, so I won’t cause you any grief in that regard. I’ve also learned to deal with jealousy. I neither expect nor want to be your only lover, and I’m not just talking about men. I know how you are about females, too.”

“What about you? Will there be other lovers for you?”

“Yes.”

“A wife? Children?”

“No.”

“Ah.”

“With the way I feel about you, it wouldn’t be fair of me to marry another woman.”

“Fair to you, me, or the other woman?”

“The other woman.”

“Love isn’t limited, Josh. It’s possible to love me and still love someone else just as deeply.”

“Maybe.” He grinned and melted my heart. “If the improbable happens, I’ll jump at the opportunity. In the meantime, I won’t hold my breath.”

One subject down, and he passed with flying colors. “Okay, let’s talk about your astonishing paranormal talents. What do you plan to do with them?”

He shrugged and sighed. “I haven’t a clue. I’m still learning about them, how to control them, and they’re still growing, becoming more powerful. Jeez, Sandy, I’m just a kid trying to cope with being a teenager, which isn’t easy for any teenager. Add my empathic abilities to the mix, and coping with my teenage years is much harder, not easier. I’m not anywhere close to charting a definitive plan for the rest of my life. The only thing I’m really good at is drawing, but being an artist is a hard way to go and doesn’t use my empathic abilities at all.”

Josh had carried a sketchbook around with him most of the time when he was younger, pestering one and all to pose for him, especially me. He was a gifted artist, for sure, but he was right. Sketching and drawing didn’t require any paranormal talent, and whatever he decided to do, I felt intuitively that his unusual empathy should take center stage.

“Fair enough, but don’t try to kid and old kidder. Besides experiencing orgasms from the females around you, you’ve thought about how to use your talents. For instance, you could be an entertainer, put together a stage act, and go on the road.”

“Tacky.”

I chuckled. “True. Come on, Josh. You dream about your future. Everyone does. Tell me about your dreams.”

“Uh-uh. You’ll laugh at me or think I’m too full of myself.”

“Nope. I know you’re not too full of yourself. If you were, I would’ve never shown you my pussy.”

A huge sigh pushed air from his lungs. “Okay. I’ve thought about using my talents as a psychiatrist, a cop, a prosecutor, a judge, and other professions where extraordinary empathy would come in handy. Since 9/11, I even considered becoming a government spy to ferret out terrorists, but to be honest, not all my dreams have been altruistic. For example, I’m ashamed to say that I considered starting my own church for the money I could make.”

He paused and looked at me. “While dreaming about my future, I figured out that what I do can be pretty powerful, which gives me power, and the old adage that absolute power corrupts absolutely came to mind.”

He leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. “For three years, I told no one about what I can do. I told you for a number of reasons, but only one reason really mattered. I figured I could trust you, Sandy. The way you approach life emotionally led me to believe that you wouldn’t laugh at me, that you’d listen and eventually believe me, and I was right. But you did more, much more. You recognized the peril in my empathic abilities and helped me. You pointed me in the direction that would ultimately give me control over the abilities and eliminate the danger that came with them. If I hadn’t already loved you, I would’ve fallen in love with you all over again.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head toward me. “I’m putty in your hands, Sandy. I figure you’ll help me mold my talents to do the most good.”

“Uh-uh, that gives me the power behind your talents, and I’m as corruptible as you, Josh, or anyone else.”

“Maybe, but between the two of us, we should be able to avoid using the power inappropriately.”

I pulled the car to a stop in front of a warehouse.

“Why are we stopping here?” Josh asked.

“You told me your secret. It’s time I told you mine.”

Chapter 3

I used a remote from my purse, and an overhead door opened. I pulled Mom’s car into a large garage. Two other vehicles were parked inside.

“Come with me, Josh,” I said and stepped from the car. After lowering the overhead door, I pressed my palm against a panel by a regular door, and it clicked open.

“What the hell?” Josh exclaimed.

“Patience. All will be revealed.” A switch inside turned on some lights, and we stepped into a waiting area. The next security device scanned my retinas, and another door opened. Josh followed me into a cavernous space, a warehouse setup like a museum, with temperature and humidity controls included. “What you’re seeing, Josh, are artifacts from my previous lives.”

“Jesus!”

I chuckled. “My memories don’t go back that far. They start in 973 AD, not BC. Have a seat,” I said and motioned to a pair of Louis XIV solid walnut chairs with les os de moutons, or sheep’s horn stretchers. I sat in one of the chairs when he took the other. “These chairs from the early 17th century reflect my life as a French woman from 1589 to 1611, a short life, but a good one.” I rattled off some French words and then translated. “I said, ‘Your jaw is gaping, Josh.’”

“You speak French?” He looked utterly astonished.

“After a fashion. I speak French as it was spoken in the 17th century. I know about twenty languages, most of which are completely outdated, and some are as dead as the bodies I occupied when I learned the languages on my mother’s knees.”

“Jesus!”

“Your record is stuck, little brother.”

“How...?”

“How did I come by all you see?”

“To start with, yes.”

“From 1917 to 1986, my immediate past life, I lived as a man in London, England, but traveled widely. I was an anthropologist and an archaeologist. I was also very wealthy, so I used that life to gather the antiques and artifacts you see around you, and made arrangements to pass the collection on to the person who would be me in my next incarnation. That person turned out to be Sandra Johnson, Sandy to her friends. Me, Josh.

“You had me pegged a while back. You said I had old memories, but you were way off the mark when you said they were one hundred years old. If you count all my lives, I’m approximately one thousand thirty-one years old.”

“Wow! Cool!”