Breaing Out Breaing In

"Dude, are you kidding?" Carrie asked from the doorway to the bedroom, rubbing her forehead in frustration. It was still hot, and the air conditioning in the small house we rented together had not cooled the air enough. She wore a black tank top, which hugged her form and exposed her tattoos. A shark swam down her arm, gnawing on her wrist, and a honeycomb of skulls crept from under her shirt and down her other arm. She was sipping from a bottle of beer, and pressed the cold glass to her neck. A bead of condensation rolled from the bottle, off her shoulder blade, and into her cleavage. Her breasts, I knew from experience, were firm, round and not much bigger than my sister's. I licked my lips and pushed thoughts of sex out of my head for the moment.

"I wish I was," I said. "Don't worry about it. She's not like the rest of my family." I had returned only an hour earlier and was changing out of the clothes I wore around my family into something a little more comfortable, and I watched her eyes following me hungrily as I moved.

"Mike," she said flatly. "She's your sister."

"Last time I checked."

"She can't keep a secret."

"I bet you she can."

Carrie eyed me oddly, and brushed her one streak of blue hair behind her ear. The rest of her almost shoulder-length black hair was loosely tied back. "You're hiding something from me."

I avoided her gaze. "Nothing. Just family stuff. Trust me."

"Suit yourself," she said, and tossed me a beer. I caught it and moved out into the living room. We sat on the couch, sipping beer until the sun went down. All the while, we filled each other in on our summers. Carrie had turned 21 while we were apart, and it bothered her that we couldn't be together openly. It dawned on me that her birthday had fallen on the morning I had woken up next to my sister, and I felt a hollow pit of guilt open up in my belly.

Carrie had brought her well-toned legs up onto the couch and hugged her knees to her chest. I put my hands on her knees and looked into her coffee-colored eyes. "I'll make it up to you," I said. "I promise."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I said. "In fact, I already have."

"Really now," she said, a slight little grin sliding up one cheek. "And how is that?"

"Oh, now. That's a secret," I said. "But it'll be worth the wait. Trust me."

"Miiiike!" she complained, grabbing my hands and tugging on them, but then she saw something in my eyes. "Oh... this is big, isn't it?"

"Huge," I confirmed.

"Can you at least tell me when?"

"Hannah's bringing it with her," I said, bending the truth just a little. Carrie was speechless and her mouth hung open a bit. "She knows about us. She wants out just as much as I do."

"No way..." Carrie said softly.

"Way," I said. "So go easy on her, ok? It'll be her first time outside our little town."

She sighed dramatically. "Oh, ok. But how are we going to explain my being here to your dad?"

"We'll figure that out later," I said, kissing her. She kissed back, and when our tongues met, we both sighed a soft sigh of relief. "I missed you," I whispered, kissing her ear lobe. Carrie's breathing began to quicken. "Did you get any while I was away?"

"Uh-uh," she shook her head as I kissed down her neck, under her jaw. I felt her hands on the back of my head, urging me on. I loved the way she moved—softly, but with strength. I kissed my way back to her lips.

"I thought you'd get a little pussy while I was away," I said, still skeptical.

She shook her head in disbelief and said, "I know. Crazy, right? I guess I'm getting attached."

"Yeah," I said, pulling out the band holding her hair back. "I'm impressed."

"I'm horny," she said, pushing me back and then dragging me down to the floor. I grabbed the bottom of her tank top and lifted it over her head. Her breasts bounced a little, braless. She had apparently been preparing for this all day. Her nipples were darker and bigger than my sister's, and were as hard as if they were carved from wood. It felt good to hold them in my hands again. She tore my shirt off and pushed me onto my back and stood up, wriggling out of her shorts. A snake tattooed on her left leg slithered up toward her bald V. She insisted on always being hairless, with the idea that she loved eating pussy occasionally, and wanted hers to be the kind she'd want to eat. She had a little more weight on her than my sister, but it only accentuated her curves. And under that little extra padding, she was all coiled muscle and quivering lust.

Wasting no time, she straddled me and scooted her way up to my head, until her pussy hovered above my mouth. I ran my hands up her soft, firm body. "Mmmm," she moaned softly. When I pulled her down onto my mouth, she cried out. "Aaah!" My tongue probed her inside and out, and the sweet taste of her sex filled my mouth. Carrie ground her smooth pussy lips against my face, and began to moan and pant as I licked her thoroughly. I fluttered my tongue against her clit. "Oh, fuck! Fuck! Just like that!" She grabbed her own breasts, pinching the nipples, as she rocked on my tongue.

Defying expectations, she became even wetter, and I lapped at her juices. The taste and smell of my girlfriend's hungry snatch made my head swim with lust. "Mmmm!" I groaned, my lips around her clit. The vibrations made her buck wildly, but I grabbed her firm round ass cheeks, and held her in place. When I sucked on her clit, she jerked and became rigid.

"Oh, shit!" she hollered, eyes clenched. I didn't stop flicking and swirling my tongue around her clit, though, and eventually, she made a little squeaking noise from behind clenched teeth. She grabbed my hair, and pain shot through my scalp, but I kept on going. "Fuck," she squeaked softly. And then, as if she'd been shot, she went slack and fell to the side. "Uhhhhhhhhhh..." she groaned, sprawled on the carpet. I sat up, and watched her lay face down, panting into the fibers. She looked like a wild animal that had been tranquilized for ear tagging.

Slowly, quietly, I stood up and removed the rest of my clothes. Her scent was still in my nose, and it made me hard as a rock. Looking down at her, I thought how lucky I was. She said she loved me before I'd left for the summer, and it had blown my mind. No one had ever before said that to me in the way she'd meant it. But there was also her incredible body, which she'd made into a work of art in more than one way. From the top of her ass crack and up and over her shoulder blades, was an intricate, abstract design that reminded me of a bowl of pasta made out of lightning. She'd laughed when we had been naked together for the first time and I'd told her what I thought, but that night after working up a hunger, she'd crawled out of bed at midnight and made spaghetti, which we fed to each other strand by strand before making love again.

Now, it was my turn to straddle Carrie, and I knelt over her prone body and positioned myself against her wet opening. I heard her gasp as I felt her tight warmth embrace my cock. In it slid until her ass cheeks pressed against my hips. I leaned forward and kissed the back her neck. "I missed you," I said, slowly beginning to pump in and out of her.

"It shows," she said, turning her head to smile at me. The blue streak of hair fell in front of her face, and she brushed it away. "God, Mike. We've got a lot of lost time to make up for." With that, she arched her butt off the floor, and I felt even more of me slide into her. I couldn't take it anymore, and with abandon, I began fucking her. "I missed you, too, by the way," she said, giggling a little at my new intensity. But those giggles soon faded, replaced by panting and soft moans. I plunged in and out of her, and felt the tension of her orgasm rising. I pounded in and out of her pussy, slapping her ass cheeks with my hips on every slamming stroke. "Oh shit! I'm coming again!" she groaned. I felt her body grip my cock, and I felt ready to explode. She felt it, too, apparently, and cried out, "Oh fuck, don't come!"

I pulled out of her and sat back in frustration. Before I knew it, though, she had spun around, and I felt her tongue lapping at her own juices on my cock. Her eyes were sparkling with a devilish mischief. "I want to taste your cum," she said. The little dimples that formed when she grinned made me smile every single time. When she'd licked her own cum from my cock, I felt the hotness of her mouth around me. Her tongue rippled up and down, and I was practically seeing stars. I ran my hands through her hair, and feeling its soft familiarity, squeezed.

"Oh, fuck," I groaned as I came. First one spurt, then a second, and then the torrent.

"Mmmmm," Carrie moaned. I felt her working to swallow it all, her tongue teasing and coaxing every last drop out of me. I fell back onto the carpet and closed my eyes, taking in the sensation of every last lick and suck, until I had been drained dry.

For the rest of the night, we showered, made love again, showered again, and went upstairs to Carrie's art studio, where she showed me the new stuff she'd been working on.

"You know," I said, "I'd been meaning to ask why you told me you love me."

Carrie looked at me seriously, "Because I do."

"I get that," I said. "But why just before I left?"

"I wanted to give you time to absorb it. I'm fairly certain I'm the first person to tell you something like that."

"You are."

"So we're good?"

"Yeah," I said. "But that doesn't mean anything's going to change, right?"

"What do you mean?"

I grimaced. "Well, comparatively, tonight was a little chaste."

"Pffff!" she scoffed, waving me off. "Please! You wanna see something cool?" I raised an interested eyebrow, and Carrie took my hand and led me back downstairs and then to the door to the basement. She flipped on the lights at the top of the steps, and we made our way down. My eyes nearly fell out of my head. Carrie had turned our basement, previously home to spiders and piles of old cardboard, into a garden of desires. In the middle of the room was a four-post bed, just like the one in her bedroom. The trunk she kept her vibrators and dildos in rested against a wall. There was a table of heavy oak that could have been a dining table, but the top, I noticed, was right about at hip height. There was also a pool table and a jukebox. Also conspicuous were a sturdy cage at the foot of the bed and several hooks bolted into the ceiling. Underneath it all, was a soft carpet that matched the blue streak in Carrie's hair.

"I guess we don't need to make up an extra bed, after all," I said.

Carrie gave me a weird look for a good reason, but let it drop. To end the night, we sat out on the balcony attached to her studio and passed a small joint back and forth. It had been all summer since I'd smoked anything, and I'd begun to feel a little stoned. For a while, we just sat, staring out off the side of the hill and down to the city below. "What's your sister like?" she asked suddenly.

"Hannah?" I almost jumped, and words came pouring out. "She's nice. Smart. Really smart." I paused for a second. "She doesn't deserve to be locked away in the church for the rest of her life. It'll kill her."

"Hmm." Carrie nodded. "I meant what's she like sexually?"

"What?!" I panicked. She knew! She knew! How did she know? My mind careened out of control in paranoia.

Carrie laughed a hearty belly laugh that toppled her over and shook her from head to toe. Tears streamed down her face, and when she pulled herself together, she said, still through sporadic giggles, "No... no no no... I just meant, like, does she like guys or girls?"

"Oh," I said sullenly. I desperately wanted to tell her everything, but where would I start? "Guys? Girls? Both?"

"Not a big topic of conversation around the house?"

"Definitely not," I said, relaxing. "If she did like girls, she sure as hell wouldn't tell anyone. A friend of hers got disowned for liking girls."

"What happened to her?"

"Last I heard, she went north."

"Fuck. So people don't talk about it, but your sister knew?"

"Yeah. They were close friends."

"How close, exactly?" Either Carrie was way better at reading me than I'd thought, or I was shit at keeping secrets.

"Uh," I said, like a moron and just shrugged.

"And your sister didn't tell?"

"No way. Hanna keeps more secrets than I will ever know. It was even a secret that she keeps secrets until recently." I felt horrible—all these lies of omission weighing me down.

"Hmm," Carrie mused. "We'll have to make this visit special, then. I'd have liked someone to make me feel comfortable in the real world when I was her age."

"What do you have in mind?"

———————————————————

For the next four months, Carrie and I carried on as usual, exploring our passions and testing our limits. But we spent a lot of time making the house presentable to a quick glance. As much as it tortured us, we even cleaned up the basement, throwing a sheet over the cage and making it look as much like a storage chest as we could. We even made the bedroom look like it was mine and mine alone, moving a lot of Carrie's belongings either up to her studio or to the basement. I would have trouble explaining the four post bed in the basement, with the posts that ran seamlessly from floor to ceiling, if it came to that. Carrie even installed a lock on the door leading up to her studio, which she'd been meaning to do, anyway.

On the big day, Carrie made herself conspicuous out front in the front yard, doing some minor gardening, tattoos exposed, while I stayed inside and caught up on some studying, the bedroom door shut. It was cold and damp out, being December, but Carrie insisted on being as visually confrontational at possible—hiding in plain sight, she called it. With a low rumble, the family car pulled into the driveway, and the engine stopped. I peeked out the window.

My father approached Carrie cautiously. I saw her through his eyes. Her was hair black and wind-blown with a steak of royal blue. She wore a dirt-smeared white tank top, under which one could easily see an electric blue bra, which she had obviously worn as a test for Hannah. I had denied any knowledge of my sister's sexuality, but Carrie had obviously gleaned something significant that I had not counted on from our conversation that night on the balcony. She had tattoos crawling down her arms and the one on her back was just visible at the base of her neck. When she saw my father approaching, she casually stood, turned, brushed the mud off on her tank top, and extended a hand. My father took it, feigning confidence, but I could see in his eyes that he was wholly out of his element with this person before him. She was definitely a freak—even I knew that. But was she dangerous? A drug addict? In league with the Devil? What kind of person was behind these dark, hot-pink-rimmed sunglasses?

"Hi!" she chirped. "You must be Michael's father. I'm Carrie. William, Michael's landlord, is my dad. I just do a little work around the grounds. Gotta get the yard ship-shape before the ground freezes!" None of it was untrue, technically. Carrie's dad did own the house, but it was more or less a gift. He traveled internationally as a successful business consultant, and wanted a place that his daughter could call her own. He would hold the deed until she graduated, and then it would be transferred to her name. I had talked to him once when moving in with her, and he had promised to keep my secret, as well. My father nodded, but my sister, who was grabbing her suitcase from the trunk, nearly dropped it when she heard the name. I saw her eyes drift over Carrie's body.

"It's nice to meet you," my father said robotically, but with a smile. That was dad: always keeping up appearances.

"Oh!" Carrie threw her hands up. "How rude of me! Michael should be home. I'll let you in." She thrust her hand into her pocket, turning her body toward Hannah, who approached warily. "Oh, hi there!" she chimed. "Are you Michael's sister?"

"Yes, and you are...?" she pretended not to have been eavesdropping.

"Carrie." My girlfriend pushed her sunglasses down over her nose and gave my sister a sly ironic look over the top of them. Hannah licked her lips nervously, and Carrie turned toward the door, keys in hand. "You staying for the weekend?"

"Two weeks, actually."

"Two whole weeks! Looks like you're ready to get tied up in the college experience, then!" Carrie emphasized 'tied up,' and I could have sworn that I saw Hannah blush.

Carrie unlocked the front door and waited outside as my family made their way inside. I fell back on the bed, book in hand, and pretended to read. A knock came on my door. "Come in!" I called. The door swung open slowly, and my father stood in the doorway.

"I see some things never change," he said.

I dog-eared the page I was on and went to greet him. "I didn't hear you drive up. How was the trip?"

"Uneventful," he said.

"Oh, darling, don't mope so!" My mother joined him in the doorway. "He's just been on the road too long. We actually found a nice little ice cream parlor on the way."

"That's good to hear," I said. In the background, my sister was lugging her suitcase through the door and into the living room. I peered around my parents and called to her: "Hey, Hannah. You can just leave that anywhere. We'll get you set up later, OK?"

"OK," she said, exhausted. "Do you have something to drink? I'm a little thirsty."

"There's water, of course, but if you want to warm up, there's some cocoa in the pantry. The kettle should be full." I heard the opening and closing of the pantry door and the telltale tick-tick-tick of the stove's ignition.

"Well," my mother said. "It looks like she'll be right at home."

"That's the plan," I said innocently. "I've let a couple things run out around the house. I figured I could show her around town by taking her to the stores."

"Good, good." My father nodded in satisfaction. "Just..." he trailed off, making sure that Carrie was out of earshot. He lowered his voice, anyway. "Just make sure she doesn't become... too independent, if you know what I mean." His head jerked back, toward the tattooed girl in the front yard.

"Understood." I winked at him, but he would never know what it really meant.

While Hannah's water heated up, we moved to the living room, and I updated my parents on the semester. Hannah got up from the sofa after a while and examined the house, clearly noting the locked door to Carrie's studio, and the lack of a second bedroom. Through the window, I watched Carrie work in the yard, clearly taking her time. She looked up once, and I could see that she was beginning to get cold.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?" I asked my parents.

"Well, we have the annual church breakfast," my mother said.

"Wow! Is it that time already?" I really had forgotten. "I remember you guys getting me up at four in the morning to start beating eggs."

"Well, someone was supposed to take your place, and should consider herself lucky," my mother said to the room. Hannah was still wearing the big black woolen coat and baby blue knit cap she had on when she arrived. Her fiery red hair spread around her shoulders, and when she sensed she was being talked about, she turned toward us and her hair fanned out and then fell forward over one shoulder.

"Thank you, mom!" she singsonged. "Isn't she cold?" Hanna gestured toward the window and Carrie beyond.

"No idea," I lied. "She's probably used to it." Suddenly, the kettle started squealing, and Hannah rushed to the kitchen to make her cocoa.

"Well," my father said, standing, "I assume you've got a room all set up for your sister?"

"Yep!" I said, going to the door to Carrie's studio and shaking it in its frame. "Just put a lock on it, too." I reached into my pocket and produced the key, which I placed tenderly in my sister's hand as she returned with a steaming mug of hot cocoa.