Cross-Country Whore

~Many thanks to my wonderful editor VanillaExtract for putting up with my stubbornness. Enjoy~

*

I groaned as I was awoken to blinding sunlight. My stepbrother, Mike, was standing over me, going on about something I didn't quite care about this early in the morning.

"....and we still have a million things to put in the car, so would you kindly get up and get moving?"

Mike stomps out of my room, leaving me in bliss to curl up and ignore the world for a few precious moments more...until my mother came in. Now, Mike I could ignore. But if girls know anything, it's that you can't ignore your mother when she's flustered.

"Emily, aren't you up yet?" Mom asks, annoyed.

"I'm up, I'm up," I say.

I sit up groggily and slide my legs over the side of the bed. I try to ignore my mothers clucking as I shuffle into my bathroom, shutting the door with a gentle click so I wouldn't be accused of "popping an attitude" with her later.

"I'm going downstairs!" my mother shouts, bless her; she thinks it's impossible for sound to travel through doors...or cell phones for that matter. "You better be dressed and ready to go! We leave in an hour!"

I hear her stomp down the stairs and finish up, standing at the sink to wash my hands. I glance up at the mirror and wrinkle my freckled nose in annoyance. My long, brown hair is sticking up everywhere from sleeping on it wet, so I take my wet hands and smooth it down, gathering it all up and bunching it back into a ponytail. I grimace at all the flyaways my side swept bangs make and grab a thin, blue, circle band I see all those athletic chicks at college wearing. I pull it over my head and push it back into place. Actually, it doesn't look half bad.

I venture out of my bathroom and into my sunlit room, running to my window to see my family packing the car for our long road trip to Los Angeles. We live all the way over in Maryland, close to D.C. I guess my parents thought it'd be fun to drive all the way across the country to relax. All I know is I'm stuck with Mike in the back of the van for about two days with all the pit stops we'll be making.

I pull my dark green suitcase out from under my bed and start throwing things in: clothes, jewelry, toiletries, and glancing around to make sure no one is watching, my pink dildo, stuffed in a pair of socks.Then I grab my pink backpack off of my hat rack and throw in a couple of decks of cards, my favorite book, some handheld video games, snacks, and my iPod. The backpack goes in the back with me, and I need things to do.

I get undressed and glance in my full length mirror. I'm about 5'2" with an average frame. My hips are more curvy, with a full butt, while my chest is just about perfect for my frame at about a 36B. I grimace at my thighs, always being self-conscious about how they touched. I wasn't fat by any means, but with today's society being all about skinny being beautiful, I couldn't help but feel insecure. I slide on my dark purple lacy bra and matching panties (usually wearing pretty underthings makes me feel better). Then I throw on a low cut black t-shirt and a jean skirt, going for comfy, but cute.

I jump as Mike bangs open the door and stomps in.

"Yeah, yeah, you're gorgeous. Now let's go! We need your stuff to finish packing, princess." He grabs my suitcase from my bed and stomps off. Geez, what a crank. Mike is only a year older than me, and gets super cranky when he's not on schedule.

I slide my moccasins on and grab my pack, stepping lightly down the stairs. I see my stepfather, Phil, and give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Morning, Daddy!" I say cheerfully, "Ready to get on the road?"

"You know it, princess." He goes to ruffle my carefully kept hair, but seeing my death glare, he pats my shoulder instead.

"I was just getting ready to lock up; you ready to go? Got everything? Where's your suitcase?"

"C'mon, Daddy, I've got everything. Mike already took my suitcase, you know how crabby he gets when we're not on schedule!"

Phil chuckles and shoos me out the door into the morning air. I breathe deeply in contentment and watch Mike's muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he loads all he can fit into the back storage space. He shuts the hatch and spots me behind him, grinning and lumbering toward me.

"About time, Emily." He grins, hugging me tightly.

"Ew! Mike! You're all sweaty and gross! Stop it!" I wiggle away from him and shiver in mock disgust.

"Yeah, yeah, just get in the back so we can build the Death Wall." He slaps my butt playfully as I bend over to climb in the far back of the minivan. I stick my tongue out and plop down in the middle, while Mike sits on my left.

"Ready, kids? Remember, stack it right or it'll tumble down and kill ya!" Phil let's out an evil laugh and we roll our eyes.

When Mike and I were little we would fight a lot, so one year on vacation our parents stacked things in the middle seats as a blockade between them and us. They messed with the speaker volume so they could blast their old people music in the front while we could talk comfortably in the back. By the end of the trip, we were best friends, so every vacation since, we build the Death Wall.

We start by filling up the right-hand seat and then build up the Wall. Once we've got it all situated, Phil opens the hatch to tell us, "We're off like a herd of turtles!" and slams the hatch down. I giggle, Mike groans, and we can hear my mother shrieking wildly a Phil chases her into the front seat.

"If I ever act like that when I'm older, please shoot me," he says.

"With pleasure," I say with an eye roll.

We finally get moving and I dig my iPod out of my backpack, slipping in my earbuds and resting my head on Mike's shoulder to take a nap. He kisses my forehead and shakes open his newspaper as I drift off.

*******

I jump awake three hours later, stupid falling dream. Mike snorts at me and I sit up, wrapping my headphones around my iPod and shoving it back in my bag, stretching hard.

"Want to play a game?" Mike asks, "I'm super bored."

"Sure, what do you want to play? Truth or dare?"

"Fine, but you have to ask first."

"Ughhhhhh, fine." I hate going first. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Oooookay...how many girls have you slept with?"

"You always pick sexual questions, perv... Only two," Mike grumbles, turning red.

"Hey, you know I don't know good questions! Now c'mon ask me one!" I stick my tongue out to tease him, and as I do Phil hits a pothole, making me lurch forward and accidently lick Mike's bottom lip, my hand grabbing his thigh to steady myself.

"Umm sorry, Mike..." I mumble, watching his face turn even more red, looking out the window. I think he's really mad at me, and I go to move my hand, looking down at his thigh. I see something peculiar and glance up at his crotch, only to turn red as I realize I've turned my stepbrother on. Interesting. I feel my little pussy growing damp as I mentally measure him, imagining his big, hard cock being shoved in my tight hole... Ew! No! Stepbrother thoughts, bad!

I shake my head and pull my hand back, accidentally brushing his growing bulge, making him shift in his seat. 'He must be having bad thoughts too!' I think to myself in wonder.

Mike clears his throat and asks me whether I'd like truth or dare. I say dare, always being a bit of a wild child.

"Then you have to...kiss me." Mike looks me in the eye, issuing a silent challenge he knows I won't turn down.

I take a deep breath and lick my lips, leaning forward and pressing them gently to his. He wraps his fingers in my hair and holds my cheek with his other hand. I feel him slowly opening his mouth and---remembering it's all part of the dare---I follow suit, snaking my tongue out to meet his. He groans into my mouth and begins kissing me with more of a hunger, mashing our lips together and trailing his hand down my cheek, down my neck, slowly on its way to my chest... and then I break it off, sitting back in my seat, breathing hard.

"T-truth or dare?" I say breathlessly.

"Truth."

I glance over and Mike is staring down my shirt. "Why? Why would you do that, Mike? I'm your stepsister!"

Mike doesn't answer. He just leans forward and smashes his lips into mine. I try to shove his shoulders back, but he's so forceful, his breath hot, his mouth wet, his tongue touching mine, his hands greedily running over my body, squeezing my breasts. And then i feel him grinding his crotch against my thigh, the bulge in his pants throbbing. I know what it is, but I can't believe he's doing this.

"Mike, stop! What are you doing?"

Mike opens his mouth to talk...and then I suddenly sit bolt upright, shaking my head, and the naughty dream ends. I look over and Mike is shaking my shoulder, looking at me in concern.

"Are you okay, sweetie? You looked like you were having a nightmare."

I try to catch my breath and say, "Yeah, not a nightmare, just a weird dream... I'm fine though."

"Alright... well, I'm gonna take a nap now, so you know the drill."

"Yeah, yeah." I scoot over an inch to give as much room to Mike as I can. Mike is about 5'11", average weight, and long limbs. Ever since he was little, he liked sleeping in awkward positions; it just made him comfortable. Boys are weird like that.

He positions himself with his head in my lap and his legs splayed all over. I pet his curly red hair and he falls into dreamland hard and fast. I keep stroking his head, remembering my dream. Suddenly, Mike shifts, bringing his hand up and over his head, accidentally brushing my breast.

I bite my lip and close my eyes, remembering in the dream how his hand roughly gripped my breast, tugging at my nipples, making me moan into his mouth. I bite my lip and shift him forward slightly, just enough so I can reach around him and pull my skirt up to my panties. I slip my fingers under the edge of my panties and slowly stroke my puffy pussy lips, feeling the smooth skin from where I shaved it clean. I sigh in pleasure as I slide my fingers around my clit, bringing my hand up to lick my fingers clean of my juices and then back down.

I squirm as I moan, imagining Mike's fingers dipping into my pretty pussy, how much he would love the taste of me. I look down at his sleeping form and make a snap decision. I dip my fingers deep into my cunt, shoving them in and out of my slick hole and then carefully extracting them. I take my clean hand and gently open Mike's mouth, slipping my juice-covered fingers into his mouth. To my surprise, he begins sucking on them (perhaps he is stuck in Freud's earliest psychosexual stage) and I moan lightly as he sucks earnestly on them, imagining him sucking somewhere else, anywhere else...

I look down at him again, an evil plot forming in my perverted little mind. I run my fingertips down my cleavage and dip them into my bra, teasing my nipple and pinching it when it gets hard, stifling a moan. I work myself up and pull my shirt and bra down on my right side, pulling Mike up and cradling him in my arms. I adjust him so his mouth is pressed up against my nipple, then gently pull down on his chin with my thumb and close his mouth around it. To my surprise and pleasure, he actually begins sucking in his sleep.

I inhale sharply and let my head roll back, moaning lightly. He brings one hand up, still half asleep, and sucks harder, caressing my breast lightly. Suddenly, he opens his eyes, fully awake, and I look down to see him staring in horror at me, and then jumps up.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Emily?! What are you doing?!" He yanks my shirt back up and covers his face with his hands.

I just turn beet red and open and close my mouth, searching for an answer...