Some comments have labelled my stories 'tender sibling romances'. I like that, so here is another.
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FOREWORD
My father passed away in a hospice, after an illness that slowly consumed him over a period of years.
His death was a life changing experience. Well, of course it was, in many ways, but one thing I learned was that the way a person deals with grief is an individual thing. It is not a choice. Some become depressed, listless, and lose their appetite, their will to carry on, to function. For some it is the opposite. They indulge in reckless conduct, abandon their principles, over-eat, or drink too much. Some behave promiscuously. Perhaps the latter statement in some way excuses, or at least explains, the way my sister and I acted after the death of our father. The way I see it, sex is the polar opposite of death. Death drives people apart in pain, sadness and despair. Sex brings two people together with tenderness, happiness and love. Sex can, in some instances, be an antidote to grief and sorrow.
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I would have thought that we, Mother, my sister Callie and I, would not have been too much saddened by Father's demise. After all, he'd been sick for years, comatose in the hospice for a long time, so we really lost him long before his actual death. But in fact we all three were profoundly affected by his end. Mother was one of those who retreated into her shell, depressed. Lost. Broken. Callie and I were the reverse.
Our family did not possess a car, so we three travelled to the funeral on the suburban electric train. After the service, a very subdued affair given the circumstances, Uncle Mike, Mother's brother, was very concerned by her shocked and bewildered behaviour.
He informed me of the sensible decision he had made. "Cameron, your mother is in no fit state to travel home by train, so I will drive her. You and Callista will have to take the train though, because I only have room for one with my wife and kids on board."
"Sure Uncle Mike," I agreed, "Thank you. We'll be fine on the train."
Unbeknownst to we funeral-goers a major meltdown of the whole train system had occurred, resulting in unprecedented overcrowding. At the train-station we could not at first even gain access to the platform.
Ultimately this did not present too great a problem. I am a rather large nineteen-year-old, called Cam. I am not far shy of two metres tall. Six-four in feet and inches, and am a bit overweight even for my height. My sister Callie is eighteen, shorter than me, but still above average height and perhaps a bit overweight too, but curvy, big breasted. I wish I could say we were, or are we are, handsome, beautiful, but I'd be telling a lie. We possess just unremarkable, every-day looks. Probably because of our less-than-perfect appearance, we were inexperienced in the sex and romance department.
Pardon my digressing, I'll get back to the jam-packed railway-station.
"Oh Cam." my sister squeezed my arm, "Just look at that crowd. We'll never get home."
I tried to reassure her. "We'll manage somehow."
Tears brimmed in her eyes. "It's not fair. Haven't we suffered enough? Now this! Just look at all these stupid people!"
Our grief was beginning to express itself as rage against the world. I moved forward aggressively. "Come on. Follow me."
We shoved our way through the mass of people. Like a pair of irate buffalo we waded through the crowd of smaller, lesser beings, intending to force our way onto the very next train.
Callie spoke from behind me. "I'll have to hang on to you so we don't get separated."
I felt her arms wrap around waist. "Okay. Hang on tight."
Under normal circumstances, my sister and I never hugged and rarely ever so much as touched. Even as I battled through the crowd, to have her hands on my body seemed to me to be disobeying some entrenched code of conduct. A taboo was being broken. It was out of character for we two docile individuals. Our bullying behaviour was also uncharacteristic. We offered no 'excuse mes' or 'pardons' or whatever. We were sad, angry, careless of the feelings of others. Some of the long-suffering commuters were angry too, at the long delay they had suffered. A dusty man in a high-viz shirt grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face him.
"Watch it Fat-Boy," he roared.
Despite my impressive size I had previously never fought in my life, but I had played out all kinds of fight scenarios in my mind, though not once had the guts to act on them.
Not until that moment. "Take your hand off me, you piece of shit." I snarled.
In my fantasies I had concluded that a pre-emptive strike was key and that legs were stronger than arms. Fuelled by anger and grief I ferociously drove my knee for his balls, but due to my lack of skill, I missed my intended target and connected with his thigh. He yowled his pain, and reeled away into the throng.
"Way to go Cam!" Callie cheered, thrusting me forward with her strong young body solidly against my back.
We managed to force our way to an almost front-row position just as a train pulled in to the platform.
I turned to Callie. "Hold on to me again. God knows when there'll be another trains after this one. No matter what it takes, we are getting on."
The train was already crowded, and all seats were occupied, of course. Standing face-to-face, we two held on to the overhead rail provided for the purpose. More and more desperate commuters jammed into the over-full carriage. Soon Callie and I were literally face-to-face. And knee-to-knee, chest to chest etcetera, surrounded by a tight-packed sea of anxious humanity.
The shockingly overloaded train began its snail-paced swaying journey. Callie's big soft tits rolled across my chest. I could smell her perfume, her breath, the femaleness of her underarm sweat. I felt an inappropriate tightening in my balls. I looked down into my sister's eyes and saw them again filled with tears.
