Fostered Care

Shaun and Christine stood together, toe-to-toe, buck naked in the shower. Their eyes were locked together, their chests rising and falling as they both breathed heavily, the water hot and steaming as it ran through their hair and coursed down their bodies. They were separated by inches that Shaun's cock threatened to bridge as he mentally struggled to control his arousal; all the while, he and Chris were locked into a showdown, a battle of wills - he wanted the shower to himself, and she stood pinned into the far corner, refusing to leave.

"Go on..." she whispered, expectantly. "What are you going to do?"

Oh, all the things Shaun wanted to do to her. He wanted to take her. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and embrace her, softly and passionately. How he loved her, how he wanted her, how he wanted nought and nothing else but her.

But he couldn't. She was his sister. His foster-sister, his adoptive-sister, yes - but they were brother and sister in their hearts, they knew it and they couldn't deny it. Yet somehow that knowledge made their yearning all the sweeter, it made the tension all the more acute as they yearned for the forbidden, they both wanted what they couldn't have...

Shaun heaved a sigh, and he smiled. He leaned forward, held her hands, and he placed a single, delicate kiss upon her forehead. He lingered there, and she shut her eyes against the thrill of it, the tingle that started at his lips and coursed up and down her entire body; then he moved back, the smile still there.

"Love ya, sis," he told her. And then he was going, he was leaving, he was getting out of the shower.

She was at once bitterly disappointed and immensely relieved. He wouldn't do it. He wasn't going to do anything. She had left the door open, as it were; she had given him an opportunity to do something, to have a go, to do with her as he pleased. She had even managed to do it subtly, seductively, teasingly - she hadn't spread her legs and cried "Take me now!" or anything like that, she had done it coyly, enough so that he probably couldn't be sure that she had even given him the chance.

And as she watched him towel off, she smiled. His response - that single, sweet kiss upon her forehead - was so like him. It was probably the best outcome she could have hoped for, possibly even more satisfying than if they had touched each other and gotten together.

He turned, and looked at her, and saw her smiling at him. He smiled back and shot her a wink.

"I guess I won," she said, simply.

"Yep," he grinned. "You win, little sister."

She laughed as he started to leave. "I'm still older than you, little brother!" she called after him.

"Yeah, well give me a few months, I'll try to catch up."

* * *

Before they knew it, it was Friday, and graduation was upon them. They all sat in the high school auditorium with their peers and their families; Mrs Whitmire handed out a few awards and said a few grudgingly nice things about the graduating class, and then they lined up to receive their diplomas.

Christine Cleary stepped up first, taking her diploma from Mrs Whitmire with a smile and a hug. Then it was Shaun Cleary's turn, and Mrs Whitmire fixed him with a cooler, grudging look of wary congratulations as she gave him the diploma; as he took it from her, he moved quickly past her defences and enveloped her in a great big hug, picking her up and twirling her around once or twice as well, to the general merriment of all bar Mrs Whitmire - who had to steady herself before handing over the next diploma.

Mortar-board hats were flung and cheers erupted as it was all done. Bill and Therese, ever the proud parents, congratulated their children and took them home to prepare for their formal dinner and dance (otherwise known in certain parts of the world as "the prom").

Shaun was ready first, and he sauntered into the living room to model his suit for his parents: a brilliant white affair, white jacket with tails, white shirt, white tie, white pants, white shoes and - to complete the package - a white-tipped cane and a white top hat, which was trimmed with a white ribbon.

"Don't you drop your dinner on that, boy," Therese warned him.

"I won't, thanks mum," Shaun groaned, rolling his eyes.

"You're looking pretty dapper there, my son," Bill approved. "You'll doubtless drive the young ladies wild..."

"As always," Shaun grinned, joking-but-not-really.

"Your parents would have been so proud of you, Shaun," Therese told him, referring to his biological parents. She started to tear up, so Shaun went in and met them both for a hug, and Therese tried valiantly not to weep on his white suit.

"When you're ready..." Chris said, behind them. They had missed her glamorous stroll down the stairs, and saw her standing impatiently with hands-on-hips. She was beautiful in a softly-coloured lemon dress: draping low to her heels, generously cut in front so as not to hide the assets, and as she spun she revealed a low-cut back extending nearly as far as her shapely bottom.

"Oh dear," said Bill, his heart clearly breaking. "Who said my little girl could grow up so fast?"

"Oh darling, you look so beautiful," said Therese, dabbing at her eyes as the tears began anew. "Doesn't she look gorgeous, Shaun?"

"Aw yeah," Shaun said, affecting mild disinterest to cover his true reaction: 'by God she looks hot in that dress,' he thought. "She scrubs up alright, I s'pose." He copped a clip under the ear from his mother for his cheekiness.

"I simply cannot believe that neither of you have dates for your last school formal," Bill scolded them, as they paired up for photos.

"Ease up, dad," groaned Christine. "I've just barely broken up with Peter, and Shaun - well, I'm sure he picked none so as to disappoint none," she hazarded.

"I'm afraid my heart is already spoken-for," Shaun confessed, batting his eyes at Christine - jokingly of course, for the benefit of their parents.

"That's sweet," Therese smiled, pleased at the sentiment and the lovely relationship her children clearly had. A horn blew outside: "That must be the limo."

"You kids be good, now!" Bill called after them, as they rushed to go; they left a few half-hearted affirmatives in their wake.

* * *

They shared the limo with Taylor and Sherrie, and Brad and Jarrod; with all four of them dateless and being good friends of Chris and Shaun, respectively, they found themselves pairing up by default - Jarrod and Taylor making a surprisingly handsome couple, and Brad's giant bulk comically incongruous alongside Sherrie's slender, diminutive frame. The girls were happy enough with their partners, though they couldn't help but cast the occasional jealous glance in Christine and Shaun's direction, remembering the slumber party and how they had pleasured him, and how he had returned the favour for them with expert skill... So they couldn't help but be at least a little jealous of Christine.

The dinner and dance went in the usual fashion: there was a final farewell from Mrs Whitmire, followed by a few speeches from a number of teachers and the pompous school prefects whom nobody really liked nor paid attention. And then it was all-in on the dance floor as the DJ played dance song after dance song, interspersed with the odd slow romantic ballad. Shaun and Chris laughed at each other as they busted their moves and strutted their stuff to the upbeat songs, but they felt compelled to stand back and wait out the slow-and-close songs; they both wanted to dance close with the other, but they were not willing to put on an unseemly show in front of all their classmates.

They couldn't help but notice, however, as Jarrod and Taylor fast became very chummy, getting especially close and personal during the slow dances. Brad and Sherrie, meanwhile, were more awkward at first, but as the night wore on they grew warmer and closer until Sherrie danced close in Brad's enveloping embrace, while Brad - never really a lady's man - looked more chuffed than if he had won seven lotteries all at once.

Then the dance was over, and it was time for the real fun at the unsupervised after-party. It was initially to be at Peter's parents' place, but he was still in traction after getting on Shaun's wrong side, so arrangements were made and a lakeside park was reserved for the class's drunken antics.

"Who's got booze?" asked Brad, as he returned to the group with a crateful of bottles.

"Brad's got booze!" they chorused.

"Damn straight," Brad nodded, and he handed out a number of bottles. A flagon of rum ended up in Sherrie's hands.

"Uhh ohh: rum..." said Sherrie, already tipsy on the champagne thoughtfully provided by their chauffeur on the drive over. "Better not let us ladies have the rum - it makes us do naughty things!" She giggled, and didn't see Taylor and Chris glaring at her, entreating her to shut up.

"Very well: a double of rum for the ladies!" announced Jarrod, who had a separate crate filled with glasses and mixers and had proclaimed himself barman for the night.

Sherrie caught the girls' warning glares, and she figured it out; 'sorry', she mouthed, with an extra smile for Shaun who was also watching her.

The night wore on and the bottles grew lighter, and naturally enough everyone paired off and went their separate ways. Taylor and Jarrod were over by the lake's shoreline, and weren't being especially quiet as they got into each other. Brad and Sherrie had wandered off somewhere else, and Shaun was sure that the gentle giant was treating sweet young Sherrie right. And Shaun and Chris found themselves alone beneath a tree, away from the raucousness of the party, staring at the reflection of the freshly-risen moon on the gently rippling lake.

"This," reckoned Chris, pointing at the moon-drenched lakeside scene arrayed before them with a nearly-finished bottle of vodka, "is pretty special."

"It sure is," Shaun grinned. He had an arm about her, and he held her close, gently and warmly.

"God I'm glad Peter showed his true colours before tonight," Christine said, frowning as she thought about the years she had wasted on that creep. "I can just imagine him crawling all over me right now, trying to get into my knickers."

"It'd never happen," Shaun declared, borrowing the bottle from her and taking a swig. "I would step in nice and early, and beat the crap out of him, and save the day."

"My hero!" cheered Chris, wrapping him up in a big hug. He closed his eyes and savoured the moment, breathing in her smell, laying his cheek softly against her chest and able to hear her heartbeat: ba-thump ba-thump... ba-thump ba-thump...

Shortly she released him, and wrested the bottle back out of his grasp. They had nothing further to say at that juncture, so they lay together quietly, comfortable in their silence and in each other's company.

Christine in particular had been quiet and thoughtful all night. She had been reflecting on the events on the past few weeks. It had all started with Peter's poor behaviour, then her underwear discovered in Shaun's bed, Shaun and Peter's big fight, the slumber party and her secret servicing of Shaun's manhood, and then their heart-pounding confrontation in the shower.

As she reflected upon everything, and upon the love, the gentle affection and total trust that Shaun had shown towards her throughout it all, she began to truly realise how much she loved Shaun. With the clarity that heavy drinking can sometimes bring, she saw now that her love for him, and hopefully his love for her, had finally transcended that of brother and sister. They were in love, not as foster-siblings, but as lovers; as important and as long-lasting as their siblinghood had been, it paled in significance now against the strength of their new love.

To deny the new state of their relationship would be wrong. To go any further without clearing it up between them, without recognising it, seizing on it and addressing it one way or the other, was unacceptable. It was time, she decided, for the truth to come out.

"Shaun," she said quietly.

"Mmm?" he replied. He had barely made the sound, it was so soft and internal, yet Chris lay so close in his arms that she felt it and heard it through his chest, through his heart.

"I've been lying to you."

Shaun blinked. "What?" he said, surprised. "About what?"

She took a deep, calming breath, and turned to face him. "About a couple of things," she answered him. "But before I get them off my chest I just want you to know: I love you, Shaun. I lied because I love you, and now I'm telling you the truth because I love you."

Shaun looked into her eyes, and saw her love, and it made his own love for her swell in his chest. "I love you too, Chris," he murmured. She faltered, touched by his response, suddenly unsure of her course, whether she should tell him; he saw it, he took her hands in his own and held them to his chest. "Tell me," he said. "I don't care what it is. I love you, I always will, nothing you can say will change that. Just tell me."

She took heart in his words. She had needed them, her courage had failed her, without them she couldn't have told him - couldn't have risked damaging their friendship. "Okay," she said. "Well, firstly: those undies, you found in your bed..."

His heart did an elaborate drum solo - oh my God, there's something about the undies? "Yes?" he prompted.

"They got there," she continued, calmly now, holding his gaze, "because I had been lying in your bed that afternoon. After I sent Peter home, I lay in your bed, and I took my undies off, and..." she checked his eyes, to see how it was sinking in; there were no danger signs so far, so she decided to continue, to tell him the truth. "And I lay in your bed and I touched myself."

Shaun blinked as the news filtered through the vodka and settled into his brain. "You... touched yourself?" he repeated, amazed. "In my bed?"

"I do it all the time," Chris confessed, with a small sheepish grin. "When nobody's home and I'm all alone, I like to lie in your bed and I get myself off, like crazy."

Shaun could hardly believe what he was hearing. He became aware that his cock was straining at his pants at the news. "Really?" he asked, just in case - but she wasn't messing with him, he could see in her eyes that it was the honest truth. "Wow," he said.

"You don't mind?" she asked him.

"No," he replied, instantly. "No, not at all. To tell the truth," he began, feeling it was time for a small confession of his own, "that's really hot!" They shared a grin at the naughtiness of it all. "But why?" he had to ask.

Christine couldn't help but go a bit coy. "Because..." she began; now it was time for the rest of the truth. The whole truth. "Because I love you. And I'm attracted to you. And I can't deny it. Shaun: I love you so much. I just want to be with you, to be together with you, to hold you and never let go... I want you," she summarised, as it all flooded out of her, as the truth was finally laid on the table. "I want to be with you. I've wanted it so long, and so bad; and that's why, when the girls were sitting on your face and sucking you off, that's why..." she braced herself "...that's why we blindfolded you, and I sucked you. It was me, Shaun. I sucked you off, and I made you come, and I drank you, and I loved it, it tasted so good, and I touched myself and I came like crazy, at the same time as you, we came together... and it felt good," she added. "It felt right. It didn't feel wrong, it's never felt wrong, never, not once. Shaun: I love you."

Shaun could hardly believe it. She played with herself in his bed, like he had hardly dared to imagine? It really was her - it was her that had sucked him off and finished him off that night, like he had imagined, like he had hoped, like he had known - he had known it, for sure! It could never have been Sherrie, it had always been Christine. He had known it in his heart, and he was so glad to find out he had been right! All this time!

It was like all of his fantasies, all rolled up and happening at once: all of his deepest desires, the desires he had felt so ashamed of, the wanting, the lusting that he forever denied himself and only indulged at his greatest guilt and reluctance... it was all there! She felt it too! She had felt it too, always - and so it wasn't wrong! It was okay because she felt it too!

As he thought about it, he knew it was good, it was right. She had said it felt right, and he knew it to be true, it wasn't wrong and he should never have felt bad about it, he should never have felt he was in the wrong. It was mutual; it was undeniable; they were in love, they were lovers, she was so much more than a sister to him and he so much more than a brother.

And as he thought about it, he felt an immense relief, a lifting of the heavy burden that had piled upon his shoulders, mounting up with each forbidden thought he had had about Christine. The smile upon his face was plain as day, and Christine took heart in it and her relief matched his.

He could hold himself back no longer, and he kissed her: he reached up and cupped her face in his hands and he kissed her, warmly, passionately, lovingly, with every day of the two years since 'the talk' written plainly upon it. She was so happy she could have cried, but she didn't because she was too busy kissing him back; they melted into each other's arms, and they kissed, and they kissed some more.

As they kissed, Christine shuffled backwards, leaning back to lie down. She brought him with her, leading him gently with a hand guiding his face to stay with hers, and he moved over her and lay with her.

All at once she felt the massive girth of his erection, hard and long, warm even through their clothing, against her hip. It ignited a fire within her, and suddenly the kiss was alive with desire, with want, with lust. Her arms reached about him and grasped those buttocks which she had always loved, and she pushed his hardness tighter against her; a similar flame of pent-up lust flared within him, and his hands were alive, moving all over her body - not yet over her breasts or arse or pussy, but over everything else, and it felt simply amazing as his fingers traced lightly and tinglingly over her shoulders, her sides, down her thighs, up her back as they rolled together, up her neck, into her beautiful flowing hair.

Their clothing became an unwanted hindrance, and they worked to solve the problem. She pushed away his jacket and simply tore away all the buttons of his shirt, and ran her fingers quickly, wantonly up and down the muscles of his stomach, across the broadness of his chest. He found the zipper of her dress, and pushed the shoulder spaghetti-straps down, down, down, exposing her bare shoulders and upper chest, kissing the beautiful bare flesh as he revealed it until her bra came into view; because her dress had such a low back the bra had no straps or clasps, so he simply grabbed it and threw it away, and all of a sudden there was no material between them and her breasts were upon his chest, stoking the fires within each of them. They marvelled at the mutual sensation: her nipples tender and sensitive, transmitting the feeling of his skin loudly and clearly; her breasts so soft, so warm as they pushed against his chest, but he forced himself to not lay hands on them. Not just yet. Not straight away.

He busied himself instead with removing the rest of this pesky dress; she moved to help him, and they carefully slipped the expensive dress down and away, revealing as they did the curvaceous hips Shaun had pined over for so long, the luscious legs that he immediately ran admiring hands over, up and down. She loved to see the appreciation, the yearning, the hunger on his face as he saw her and touched her; she also loved the way he steered clear of her more erogenous zones, he instead stretched out the foreplay of their kisses and caresses, though he doubtlessly wanted very much to lay his hands all over her. She wanted to tell him to stop waiting, to do it, to touch her everywhere - she wanted it, she needed it, she burned for it. But instead, she submitted to his way; he was the boss, he took control, and that's how she wanted it. She wanted him to take her, to take her as he would. She wanted to submit to him, to his every kiss and caress and desire. She wanted to be his.