(This is a story about trust lost and then earned. It is a story about lust, love and the many shades in between. It is a story about family, some who you are born with and some who you earn.)
Chapter One (Lies)
*You never really know where you are going until you get there.*
To provide a not too short background here:
My Father is Conrad Cullen. He's a highly successful OBGYN who loves his career more than everything. Everything is about his practice, his colleagues, his conventions, and other social functions that come with profession. He's an athletic fifty year old, with gray hair gone to white.
My Mother is Ilene Cullen. She owns a printing company that has eaten up much of her time since I was still a teenager. She's forty-four, but looks ten years younger. Her being gone didn't affect me much, seeing how she wasn't too motherly when she was around. Her only saving grace in my opinion is that she's terribly hot. She's five-foot seven, around one hundred and thirty pounds, large, full C-cup breasts, an ass to die for, and silky black hair. He is mildly tanned, more beige than coffee brown. Her face is wonderful, with sculpted cheekbones, full lips, and deep brown eyes that seem to soak up the light. Too bad she's such a bitch.
Finally, there is my younger Sister is April Cullen, seventeen and growing into Mom's younger doppelganger, physically that is. Her only physical difference is that her eyes sparkle, especially when she laughs. Personality-wise, she is virtually the polar opposite. She's friendly, out-going, optimistic, and has been my friend since she could say the words 'Brother'. How she has remained so has always amazed me since Dad ignores her – the past three birthdays, he wrote her a check at the breakfast table and told her to 'have fun.' Mom resents her, for being a younger, fresher her. The last compliment I heard my Mom give her was to hear her say, "Dear, don't you look nice today; not your normal slutty self at all." My sister has leaned on me since she was five.
I'm Damien Cullen, twenty two, six foot two, and one hundred and seventy five pounds. I have a thick head of black hair, am clean shaven, and I have my Mother's dark, stormy eyes. Since my favorite sport is swimming, I have a good all-around tan and a compact body. My penis is large, but I've never felt the urge to grab up a measuring tape and measure its length or circumference. Throughout high school and college I never had complaints. Since I was fifteen, and my Sister was ten, I have taken care of her. I made sure her homework was right, her projects got turned in on time, and I let the first few guys she dated knew I could pound them into the ground if I even suspected they'd tried anything. I wasn't jealous. I never thought of my Sister that way. She was my friend and I was her older Brother.
My Dad never made it to a swim meet, asked me what I was doing when he saw me in my tux on prom night, and his only dating advice was to pull out and shoot on her stomach, which is something every fourteen year old needs to know, right? He was nice enough to get me a car on my sixteenth birthday – Mom got one as well, so I figured how that had been worked out. I had to get myself lessons to learn how to drive and an older friend of mine took me for my driver's test. I swear that in the past ten years when I've called my Dad's office for something, I've never talked to him, or heard back from him. I took my Sister to his PA to teach her the facts of life and how do work those feminine products. Mom couldn't be bothered and my Sister was really starting to freak out. Basically, my Dad was the sperm donor and that was about it.
Mom was a more difficult case. Around the age of twelve, I discovered that all my male friends didn't want to hang out at my family's pool because it was the nicest one in the neighborhood. Mom trended toward the most modern swimwear and had worked her body so that she put many swimsuit models to shame. Even when she threw herself into her business, my weekends were filled with some very sexually confusing time for me and my friends. Seriously, how often does a sixteen year old want to hear just how they would do my Mom? Anyway, at fifteen, Dad loaned – yes loaned – my Mom the money to start her own card publishing business. If I often missed her at breakfast, I wouldn't see her until well after dark on a weekday unless she was being drug off to one of Dad's functions. If she hadn't arrived by the time I went to bed, I left her a status update on her pillow, so she could at least pretend to know what her children were doing.
Finally, I graduated high school and my family was good enough to send me to a very nice university were I rewarded them by getting an engineering degree in four years. I was never the smartest kid in the room, but I made up for it with a drive to succeed in whatever I put my mind to. I only had two regrets about college. I had to leave my Sister to fend for herself – she did well and we talked on the phone about her day each weekday night around nine – unless she was on a date, then she called me when she got in. If she needed anything, I found a way to get it for her, but I hated being away. My other regret happened right before graduation. I was helping a friend with a project that was going to take me out of town for three days, but thing fell apart at the last minute, so I decided to go back to the apartment I shared with my long-time girlfriend and surprise her. She was surprised alright. So was I. I found her in bed going at it hot and heavy with one of her college professors – one of her female professors – one of her married female professors.
Here I was, camcorder in hand, about to say "Hey Honey, I'm home," when I see her in between the legs of a woman twice her age, going at it like crazy, while the naked professor is twisting one of her own nipples with one hand and grinding my girlfriends head into her pussy with the other. According to the recording, I stood there seven minutes and twenty one seconds before I backed out. I went back to the front door and slammed it. I called out like nothing was wrong then made my way back to the bedroom. She was sitting in the bed, female cum on her face, tits exposed and smiling at me as if nothing was wrong. There were too many articles of clothing on the floor, and too few places to hide. I went to the bed and sat down.
"Chrissie, who's in the closet?" I said with as much calm as I could muster. My girlfriend, Chrissie, stammered. For thirty seconds no one said anything. The closet door opened slowly and my naked instructor stepped out. She couldn't look me in the eye. Instead she shuffled toward the door.
"Wait," I tell her. I hand her the bra and panties from the floor. "You may want to put these on before you leave. It is cold out." Chrissie gave a hysterical giggle.
"Chrissie, I am going to go now. I'll be back tomorrow at noon and I expect you to have your things gone. We are through."
"Damien," she said softly.
