F2: We Gotta Stop Mom!

FAWC 2: "We Gotta Stop Mom!"

(Author's note: This story is a submission to the second Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge (FAWC). The true author of this story is kept anonymous, but will be revealed on August 16th, 2013, in the comments section following this story. Each story in this challenge is centered around a random determination of four "mystery ingredients." There are no prizes given in this challenge; this is simply a friendly competition.)

(The mystery ingredients for this story were: Ambition, Time of Day/Year, Ignorance, Color.)

* * * *

"I don't like that fuckin' bastard," Tiffany said, storming into my room.

"Knock much?" I snapped.

"Whatever, numb nuts. What're you worried about? Afraid I'm gonna walk in on you spankin' the monkey again?"

"What the fuck's your problem, Tiff?"

"That asshole boss from Mom's work. Why's he sniffin' around all the time now? And why does Mom let him get away with the shit he does?"

"What shit?"

"Fuck, Bret. You are so clueless. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

I had no idea what she was talking about. Then again, for the last several years it seems I never did.

I don't know about this 'special bond' that twins are supposed to have. My older sister - by about 8 minutes - Tiffany and I fought like cats and dogs. She knew how to irritate me, just as I knew how to press all her buttons. Sometimes we went weeks without speaking. Ever since middle school.

I'd been getting the silent treatment for over a week now, which made this outburst all the stranger. The truth was, I didn't mind the silent treatment. I liked being left alone. It gave me time to work on what really mattered. For now, that was maintaining the GPA that would make me Valedictorian. Finish out this semester, and there'd be only one more to go.

"What was I supposed to notice?" I said, closing down the browser, since I wasn't gettin' any more studying done until she was dealt with.

"Mom's fuckin' around. With that ugly fat fuck."

That's my sister. Mouth like a sailor, and always jumping to conclusions. "You know that? You caught 'em?"

"If I did, don't you think I'd be talkin' to her instead of you? I wish. You must have noticed how she walks out of the room to take the calls on her phone. Disappears for hours with about a dozen different excuses. Started dressin' slutty. C'mon, are you that fuckin' stupid?"

Come to think of it, I had noticed the change in Mom's dressing habits. Skirts, heels, tighter shirts. Kind of embarrassing. Not that Mom's bad looking, or looks skanky, but some of my friends had been dropping the MILF bomb. Sick.

"So she dresses up? What's the big deal?"

"The way he stands so close to her, touching her. Whispering. The way she looks at him. Fuck, why am I talking to you? Class virgin. You wouldn't have a clue what flirting looks like."

"As the class slut, I'll have to defer to your expertise on this."

"Fuck you, dickless. I'm not a slut."

"Dickless? That's not what you said last time you came in unannounced."

She blushed. It had been out of character for her, to say the least. She walked in on me, squeezing one off, and stood staring in my doorway. I was so pissed at her, I didn't stop. I just glared at her, and stroked away.

She had blushed then, too. "Sorry," she had mumbled. Then she'd given me a little grin. "Guess I can't call you 'little' brother anymore." She'd actually left with a modicum of grace. Of course within the week she was giving me grief about it.

"What are we going to do about Mom, Bret?" She came in and sat down on my bed, and I could see this really bothered her. "Dad may be as clueless as you, but even he's going to figure out sooner or later. That won't be pretty. You want to spend our Christmases in two different houses? Dad has to pay for two households, there won't be any money for us or for college. Not like Mom makes more than chump change working for that asshole."

I turned my chair, facing her directly. "You really think it's that bad?"

She nodded sadly. "I do. I can't believe she'd do this to him. To us. She must know she's got it good. Why would she fuck up everything? I'm so pissed at her I could spit!"

"Alright, I believe you. Tell me again, why you think something's going on. I need details."

Tiffany and I were the opposite sides of a coin. I was the logical, calm, brainy one, a lot like Dad I guess. Pretty average looking, and not much of a socializer. Tiff was the explosive, emotional, wild one. Even though she's my sister, I can't deny she's good looking, a lot like Mom. Huge social network, tons of friends, always on twitter, facebook or messaging. Never pulls her face out of her phone; it's a miracle she noticed anything.

She was surprisingly detailed, giving it to me lock, stock and barrel.

1) Three times now she'd seen the bastard's - her words - car in our driveway when she came home from school early. She had PE last period, and often cuts, or leaves early, instead of cleaning up at school. He'd leave as soon as she arrived.

2) Mom's been secretive about her phone calls, sneaking off to answer them. She's been texting, which she never did much of, now it seems to be all the time.

3) She's been working extra hours at her part time job, about two times a week. No big deal, except she never worked late once, until the last 5 or 6 weeks.

4) The clothing. New, tighter, nicer. Heels. Makeup. Hair done every couple of weeks. Nail polish.

5) The way that Mom behaves around the bastard - again, Tiff's words - the few times she'd seen them together. All chummy and close. Too close.

6) Passwords on her phone and computer, which were never there before.

7) Way too good a mood, most of the time.

Now I knew she was really worried. She must have been hashing this out in her own brain for a while, to be able to give me an organized, point-by-point breakdown.

Afterward, she sat there anxiously. "What do you think? I'm not crazy, am I? I wish it weren't true."

I sat down beside her on the bed, looking at the list. "I don't know, sis. A lot of circumstantial evidence, but nothing solid. Doesn't look good though."

"What're we gonna do, Bret? Seriously. You've gotta be able to figure out something. Put that damn big brain of yours to some good use for once."

I gave it some thought. "Cracking her passwords shouldn't be any trouble. Tapping the front door video monitor would let us know who comes in the house. If I adjust the camera, we can probably see enough of the driveway to see when she's coming and going."

"Hard to do?"

"Nah. Tap the feed, and save it to hard-drive, I imagine. If anyone was lookin' for it, it'd be easy to spot, but around here?"

She nodded. "You don't think I'm nuts do you?"

God, for a moment she seemed like the Tiffany of old. Vulnerable, caring. I put my arm around her waist, and gave her a brief hug. "No, not at all. I'm glad you noticed. You're right, I probably never would have until it was too late. A little wrapped up in my own concerns at the moment.

"Let me see what I can do about tapping her phone GPS. I'll need to borrow your cell."

"Mine? Why?" she looked nervous.

"Yours is the same as hers, just the newer version. I can test it on yours. Don't worry, I'm not going to snoop on you."

"That's not what I was thinking," she snapped angrily. "I just don't want you messing with it."

Always so difficult. That's my sister.

I grabbed her hands in mine, and I noticed her palms were sweaty. She looked at me in surprise.

"Listen. This is serious. You're right about that. I know you don't like me, and you get on my nerves, but we don't have time for that right now. Truce, Ok?"

"Truce?" she mumbled.

"Please. At least until this is over. Then you can go back to torturing me. Truce?"

She nodded slowly. "I don't mean to torture you, Bret. I swear I don't. It's just, I don't know, the way you don't seem to care about anything, other than your grades, it drives me nuts. Like you're too good for everybody else."

I chuckled, giving her hands a squeeze before releasing them. "I get it. The way you care about everything, except your grades, does the same to me. This time it paid off. If it really is a problem, and we can stop it, I'll owe you."

She grinned. "Term paper, owe?"

"At least. It's our family, Tiff."

"Yeah. This is really fucked up." She stood. "Sorry to barge in on you. And you're definitely not dickless." She gave me a parting smile.

"Sorry I called you a slut. I know you're not."

She turned at the door. "Do you?"

The enigmatic comment had me wondering. What did I know about any of my family, including my sister? Shit, she was right, I

was

clueless!

* * * *

I got up, long after everyone had gone to bed, and went to work. I booted her computer from my OphCrack LiveCD. Twenty minutes later I had cracked her password. More complex than I would have thought from her, she must be a little paranoid. I logged in, testing it, and enabled the Windows Remote Desktop Connection. Pwned.

The Pattern lock was even easier. Took all of about 10 seconds to recognize the smudge pattern on her screen protector. Had it in two tries. 'M' for Mom I guess. How original.

Tapping the front door camera looked like more work than I wanted to get involved with, once I'd researched it. I went the lazy route and put my webcam in the window. Yawcam let me record a still every 3 seconds so it wouldn't eat up my hard-drive. Not the greatest resolution in the world, but more than enough for my purpose.

Now with that information, what to do with it?

The PC was easy, with Remote Desktop Connection enabled and her password. For the Phone, I needed to get it out of her control for a bit. There might have been other ways, but I don't know of them, or they cost money, and I don't have that much to spare. Webcam pics were timestamped, I'd just have to review them to see the comings and goings.

Enough for the night. I needed my rest. Third period AP Calculus exam.

* * * *

Tiffany popped into my room the following afternoon. Surprisingly she knocked first. Didn't wait for a response, but it was progress.

She shut the door behind her, conspiratorially. "When are you going to start?" she asked.

I sighed, closing my textbook. Studying was becoming nigh impossible with my sister on the rampage. "Done. Stop by tonight after everyone's in bed, and we can review everything on her PC and the camera pics."

"Done?"

"Yeah. Last night, late. We'll want to grab Mom's phone after she goes to bed. Can you manage that?"

She nodded. "You really did it that fast?"

"Sure. Around midnight?"

She grinned. "I guess all that time studying is good for something."

* * * *

It was midnight when she slipped into my room. Grandma's grandfather clock started its distinctive striking of midnight, deep and ringing. People sleeping over for the first time always commented on it. When you lived with it every day of your life, it was no big deal. It became part of the background.

The sonorous reports covered the noise of her moving around. She slid in the door, closing it behind her. Without knocking of course. I had the bedside light on, and a towel across the bottom of the door so nobody could see the light.

"Put the towel back," I told her nodding toward the door.

She didn't give me any lip, or ask why. She leaned over and stretched it across the gap. The t-shirt she slept in gave me a peek at her pink panties. She might not be a slut, but she certainly had the body of one. Nice butt.

Eeew! Did I really think that?

I scooted over on the bed, and patted the space beside me, shifting the laptop in my lap. "Bring the phone?"

She held it out to me.

I unlocked the pattern and gave it back. "Check her messages. Call history too."

I was reviewing Mom's emails. They were pretty damning. I looked over at the phone to see how sis was doing. She was sitting cross legged, her phone in her lap. I had a pretty good crotch view. That pretty pink swatch called out to me. I reached over and tugged her t-shirt down to cover it.

"Hey!" she snapped, slapping at my hand.

"Shhh," I whispered. "Sorry about that, but I don't need the distraction."

She looked at me oddly, then grinned. "You little sicko, you were checking out my cooch!"

"Cute," I said, scanning the emails. "But not something you need to be showing your brother."

"I wasn't showing..."

"Truce, remember? I had an accidental eyeful, Ok? I thought it appropriate to cover it. No big deal. I probably should have just told you, I wasn't thinking, alright? Sorry."

She adjusted the bottom of her shirt. "No, I overreacted. Kind of cool, really. My brother the fuckin' gentleman. Most guys would have enjoyed the view."

"Most guys didn't bathe with you naked for years."

"Pervert," she whispered, but she was smiling. "Bet you wish you still did."

"Wouldn't get much washing done," I teased.

"Oh my God! You didn't! You really are perving on me!"

"Just teasing, Tiff. I may be clueless about women, but even I can't help but notice you have a smokin' hot bod."

"You think so?"

"Duh."

She was scrolling through the texts. "This is bad. You got anything?"

"Some pretty raunchy emails, mostly from him. But she just laughs him off. I don't think Mom's doing him yet, but from the looks of these, it probably won't be long."

"Yeah. Same here. The bastard's telling her how hot she is. How smart and pretty. Misunderstood. He'll be there for her, whatever she needs. What a team they'll make. Yuck."

"I know. Listen to this reply. 'Greg, don't be so naughty! You'll get me all hot and bothered!! Then what am I supposed to do? Wait another two weeks before he does his duty?'"

"Did he reply?"

"Yeah. 'Why wait, when with one little yes, you could get two hours of serious satisfaction, with a real cock for once.'"

"Fuck. What a jerk! What could she possibly see in him? Dad's a lot better lookin' and from the sounds of things coming out of their bedroom, they don't wait two weeks between rounds."

Tiffany was still reading. "Fuck me! This is bad."

"What?"

"'Can't stop thinking about those amazing tits of yours. Are you sure you're 43? You have the titties of a teenager. And those nipples! Don't get me started. Sweeter than gumdrops. When am I going to get to taste the rest???' The bastard's been playing with Mom's tits. What the fuck is wrong with her?"

"Her reply?"

"'Behave you sweet man. You know that was an accident. Should never have happened. (giggle) I do have to admit, that's some nice lumber you're packing away in your Jockeys. Don't you DARE whip it out like that again. I don't care HOW hard I make you.' I think I'm going to throw up now."

"FUCK! I'm blind!" Tiffany whined a few seconds later.

"What!?"

She turned the phone so I could see. "'This is how hard you make me, sugarnips. All the time.' That's lumber? Skinny ugly dick like that?"

The picture wasn't all that flattering. Disturbing that he sent it. More disturbing that Mom kept it.

"Shit. If Mom thinks that's lumber, she'd have a heart attack if she saw the Giant Sequoia you're sporting, bro." She scrolled through more texts. "You're not raging one now, are you?"

She said it casually, but I saw her glance over.

"No, but if you keep talking about it, it won't be my fault."

She giggled. "Big sister gettin' you all hot and bothered, talking about big hard cocks and tasty nipples?"

"Truce? Remember?"

She pouted. "I'm not being mean. Think it's kind of cool that little bro ain't so little. You hard yet?"

I sighed theatrically. "Yes, happy?"

"Prove it."

"Tiff!" I hissed.

"You saw my cameltoe. Let me see your lump."

"No way."

"C'mon, Bret. I never got a really good look that one time. You wouldn't stop beatin' it long enough. I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," I told her in my infinite, lust shrouded, clichéd wisdom.

"That curious thing might not kill the pussy, but I bet it could do some serious damage to it."

"Enough Tiff. We've got work to do here. This is really bad. Dad gets wind of this, and we're talking serious trouble."

"Spoilsport." She reached down and pulled her t-shirt back, exposing her naughty pink panties. "I don't mind."

I moved my laptop to the side, and turned to face her. "Seriously. I can't think straight. Please don't tease me."

She turned partway, and put her hand on my knee. "Sorry. I wasn't teasing. I would like a look, but if it bothers you so much, I'll drop it." She looked disappointed, maybe even sad. "Do I disgust you that much? Is it 'cause you think I'm a slut? Because I'm not."

"You don't disgust me at all. Just the opposite. That's the problem. And I don't think you're a slut. Popular, yes. Slutty, no."

"I'm not a virgin, but I don't sleep around."

I could feel my face burning up.

"Two guys, neither very good, to be honest. Johnny four times. Dave twice. That's it. Your slutty sister's had sex six times. Hasn't had a good fucking yet."

It was her turn to blush. "Pretty small dicks, too. I guess that's why yours has me curious."

"Jeez, Tiff! It's not huge or anything."

"A lot bigger than the ones I've seen. All five."

"Five? Suddenly we've gone from two to five?"

"Two handjobs, and a blowjob. I'd just as soon forget the names."

"Slut," I teased. I nudged her knee so she knew I was joking.

"Geek," she responded. "Big dicked Geek. How big, bro?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Bullshit. All guys measure them, then add at least an inch."

"I haven't. I swear."

"Liar."

I got a little irritated. "Not everyone is as concerned with their sexual apparatus as you."

"'Sexual apparatus.' God, you're fuckin' unbelievable." She got up from the bed, and walked out of the room.

Great. Well, at least I should be able to finish reading the emails.

Or not. She returned after just a couple of minutes. She sat down next to me again, facing me this time. "We're going to measure it."

"No."

"Yes. You can fight it, but if you do, truce or no truce, I'll torture you 'til I get my way. You

know

I always get my way. Let me measure it, and I swear I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night."

"The rest of the night?"

She nodded, grinning. "Best offer you're gonna get. Don't make me get physical with you." Memories of us wrestling together as kids flooded my brain. Good memories. We'd been so close once. Sad, that we'd lost that closeness.

Fuck. I put the laptop to the side, and slid my shorts down. I was already standing tall. Truth be told, I'd been working with one hand while she was gone, the other in my shorts.

She grinned, and before I knew what the hell she was up to, she shed her t-shirt, letting me see her full tits uncovered, for the first time since before they were big enough to dent her shirt. Damn, she had some fine titties.

"Little reward for participating. Thank you. Now take off yours, it's in the way."

I sighed grievously, but pulled off my shirt, leaving me naked, next to my sister, who was only wearing very small panties. Simple pink triangle, that looked almost innocent. Almost.

She unrolled the measuring tape with a flick of her wrist. She leaned over, pressing the end to the base of my cock, just below my stomach. Her hand moved under my cock, pressing my balls back, while her thumb held the end of the tape in place. She slowly stretched it out, her delicate hand cupping the head of my cock, while her thumb and forefinger held the tape stretched out. The sensations were driving me nuts.

She moved her face closer, until I could feel her breath on my aching hardness. "A little over 8 inches. Maybe 8 1/2. I thought it was bigger, like 10 inches. It looks huge." Her hands were moving slightly, not letting me go.