Divorce is tough on any kid, but mine seemed especially so. My father was a heavy drinker, which is usually enough to ruin a marriage. My mother was apparently a slut, which is also fairly common. The kicker was that I wasn't my father's child, and it was news to all of us.
Looking at my father and I you'd swear I was his son. We both shared the same tussled brown hair, were moderately attractive men, and had a fairly lanky build. It was only when I was getting ready to go to college, and had to get medical exams done before attending, that I learned something new. My bloodwork yielded some kind of irregularity -- I don't know the full technical details of it -- but they wanted to do bloodwork on my father to ensure that neither of us were at risk for what they considered to be a serious condition. We were relieved to receive a phone call saying that there was nothing to worry about medically, but not as relieved by the next bit of news: my father and I were unrelated biologically.
The ensuing clash between my mother and father turned my life into complete garbage, but tore their marriage in half. Always paranoid about her cheating, my father had found out that his greatest fears had come true. His rage, as always, turned him towards the sauce. He would come home drunk, and I frequently found myself and my mother locked away in my room while he drunkenly pounded the door, waiting for him to pass out in the hallway.
Inevitably the divorce came about and I found myself getting another kick in the pants -- the court ruled that neither of my parents were suitable for custody. My mom didn't make enough money, and my dad's alcohol gave the court a damn good reason to keep me away from him (not that I minded). The court presented me the options of living with my biological father or being placed in foster care. Feeling awful about tearing my life apart and not wanting me to end up in some foster home, my parents agreed to find the biological father.
Are you ready for the third kicker? He's dead. He had another family, wife and kids, but was killed in a snowmobile accident while on a "business trip" with a female colleague. Due to some court technicality, I was given the option of living with his surviving family members. Not much of an option, but hey, it's better than a foster home.
It was around June that I moved in to my new house, and that's where the story really begins. My mom drove me in our old SUV with all of my stuff in the back. It's funny to think that everything I'd accumulated in 18 years of living can be packed into one car and shipped off in a day. I didn't own much -- clothes, a computer, and some photography equipment. I was saving most of my money from working at a local restaurant for college, which I was warned was an expensive lifestyle.
After a couple of hours of driving we pulled up to 1906 Civil Lane, and my jaw nearly dropped at what I saw. The place was a MANSION. I could only imagine what life would have been like had my mom married this guy instead of my boozing father. The landscaping was gorgeous, and the white house had black shutters framing the dozens of windows. I stepped onto the dark-stained porch, which extended the width of the house, and rang the doorbell while my mom waited in the car.
I know you're waiting for me to say some big-titted bimbo showed up. This lady was, well, interesting. She was relatively fit, showing a normal amount of fat on her legs. Not really "fat" but I wouldn't say well-sculpted. Her face was "pretty"...not necessarily instant-boner hot but you can tell she used to be a very pretty woman, and still was for the most part. "Well hey there son!" She opened the screen door and reached out and hugged me. "Let's get y'all inside."
I waved for my mom to come in, and she reluctantly did. "I'm Patti," my new mom said as she guided us to the kitchen. It was weird to think that she was my new mom. She started pouring us iced tea and gestured for us to sit at the table. There was an awkward silence as we drank, and I could tell there was some kind of tension or resentment between the two women, probably because my real dad had cheated on one with the other.
"I'm not your mom," my mom blurted out. Figuring she meant that she wasn't my mom anymore, I just shrugged because it was an inappropriate comment to make. "No honey, I'm serious. Patti's your biological mom."
The story went like this -- Patti and her husband used to work for some high-powered consulting company, and traveled the world. They were good friends with my parents, but my parents couldn't conceive and wanted a child. Having a large account to take care of in Europe, the family had to move over there for a few years, but Patti couldn't take care of a newborn baby and go to work. As a result, the mom I knew took care of me and well, they just "never gave me back."
I was frustrated that I'd been lied to, and royally pissed that Patti had let me go just to take care of work. All of this was sent to the back of my mind when someone came in the front door. She was gorgeous -- light brown hair, bright green eyes, and an extremely curvy body. She was wearing tight denim jeans and a tied t-shirt, like a typical southern hottie from the movies. This, as I learned, was Bea -- my biological sister who was a bit older than me at 19.
The rest of the day was spent moving my belongings in. Due to the house's huge size, I got my own room. I found myself sneaking looks at Bea. She was just gorgeous, and while she was technically my sister she was basically a new, hot girl that lived next door to me. My mom and I said our goodbyes, and she promised to visit both me and Patti. Since they didn't have to hide my false adoption anymore, they could continue their friendship normally. I settled in my room to unpack, and was soon called down for dinner.
I came downstairs and almost jumped out of my skin when I saw the kitchen table with 2 pizza boxes and 4 women around it. Every one of them smiled, and they were all clearly related. I sat down and waited for the introductions to begin. I already knew Bea and Patti, but there was also Clara. Clara had just turned 18, and had lighter blond hair than Bea. She was kind of scrawny, but had a pretty face and a nice smile. She seemed a bit...naive and kind of ditzy to be honest. There was also Samantha, who was 23 and seemed disinterested in me. She, like Bea, was quite a looker and had the best body out of all of them. We ate pizza and talked about school. We were almost done with high school and waiting for the summer to begin. After the pizza was finished I went up to my room for more unpacking.
The first thing I did was set up my computer, because I wanted to be able to watch movies or play music while I did the rest of my unpacking. Having drank a lot of soda, I had to use the restroom though. Wandering the halls of the gargantuan palace, I heard a shower running and figured I'd found the right place. I opened the door to the bathroom to find Clara naked, scrubbing away in what looked like a locker-room sized shower.
"Oh!" she yelled, covering herself as she realized she wasn't alone anymore. "Sorry!" I quickly apologized, "I don't know where the bathroom is?" She laughed and gave me directions -- apparently rich people put toilets in separate rooms from showers.
I went and returned to my room, finding myself starting to get a bit frisky. I hadn't jerked off in days, and I had just seen Clara's naked body. Sure, she wasn't porn-star hot, but she had a very cute ass and judging from the handful she was trying to cover up, a good pair to go with it. I locked my door and muted my computer, turning on some porn so that I could jerk off. I pulled a wad of tissues out of a box on the nightstand and started going to town while I laid on the bed. I sat there pumping myself faster while thinking of Clara's skinny frame, pretending she was massaging her tits while I watched her in the shower. I didn't sneak a look at her snatch (would've been too obvious) but I imagined it was neatly trimmed. I bet she was a closet whore, the girl that the whole family thinks is an angel but is really a big slut. I finally came all over my bare stomach and relaxed a bit to catch my breath.
I was interrupted, however, as my door opened and Patti came in. "Oh, God!" she yelled and covered her eyes while slamming the door shut. She had clearly walked in and seen my cock hanging out, and probably the jizz streams across my stomach. She knocked on the door "Can I come in?" Wiping myself off sloppily and pulling my pants up I told her she could. "Listen," I began to explain, "I was just --"
