To those of you sending me abuse via fake emails, well done, you are so brave that you will not stand behind your words. Cowards.
Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Mica xx
My dad, Mikhail, is a pain. And I mean a pain. He is fifty seven and lives in sheltered housing because he can't cook. When I say can't, I mean won't. He sees that as woman's work and when mum passed, he just did not look after himself at all. I managed to get a place for him in a complex that specialises in the over fifties. They bring him one hot meal every evening, a cold lunch, usually a sandwich, and he has cereal for breakfast.
There is a toaster, he could use it, but won't. It costs pretty much all of his pension to be there, only leaving him a few pounds for treats. His clothes, when he remembers and puts them in the laundry basket, get washed and ironed and returned. All he has to do is put them away. He doesn't do that, he just leaves them where the service drops them off, and wears them until the next laundry day. Sometimes when I go to visit, I put them away. He is quite capable of getting something out of his wardrobe or drawers, just not putting it in.
My mother should have had a medal for looking after him all those years. What did she get instead? Non-operational terminal Breast cancer, passing three months after the diagnosis.
Leo, my brother, is only marginally better. He hardly pops in to see dad, but when he does, he never thinks to do simple things like putting dad's clothes away, I think they just talk football, United, and when is the current manager going to be sacked.
I took Dad out yesterday, we went to the Royal Armouries Museum in Leeds, I thought he would enjoy it, if he did, he didn't let on. I actually enjoyed it more than I had expected. Seeing Henry the eight's armour showed just how 'portly' he was and also how short. He was much smaller than I expected, his reputation definitely exceeded his stature. Dad just said, 'Tiny bloke then.'
The manikin with the Samurai outfit didn't impress him either, too ornate to fight in it seems. We had a nice lunch in their café. Soup and a roll, but the mulligatawny was too foreign, and the crusty bread scratched his mouth, and the butter wasn't British. He wears me out.
Last month I took him on a private tour through Standedge Canal Tunnel, apparently the longest, highest and deepest Canal Tunnel in the UK, we did the return trip, a trip of a few hours each way, with a Canal Trust guide that explained how it worked, how they used to use their legs to pass through, and in certain places there are links to the various railway tunnels that parallel it, and of course the ghosts found at several points.
"It was a bit damp," was his comment.
The month before I had booked an air b n B in Whitby, "Let's go and try their fish and chips," I said.
"Batters not as good, tastes funny." He just doesn't get joy from anything.
I was sat in Leo's flat supping at a diet coke.
"You want some rum with that?" He asked.
"No bro, I'm driving."
"Well you don't have to."
"You only have one small bed bro. No."
"How is dad?"
"Same old, just moans at everything. He has been the same ever since mum passed."
"Oh, he seems okay when I go round."
"That is because you just go round and talk football, you never do anything like put his clothes away, never take him out, not even up the pub."
"That's all he wants to do, so that is what I do with him. The stuff you do, he has no interest in, seriously, why do you bother?"
"I just want him to have a bit of quality of life."
"He isn't interested. Mum was his life, she's gone, he isn't interested in anything else."
"Oh sod it, I'll have some rum in my next coke. One won't hurt."
Leo went and poured me a rum and coke, and I took a large swig. It tasted different to what I was used to.
"What is this Leo, I don't recognise the taste?" I took another drink, it was growing on me.
"Oh, let's have a look. It says Spiced Jamaica overproof rum."
"Well it is a bit lush."
He topped me up a few times and then I realised there was no way I was driving anywhere. I berated him, and called him a sneaky boy, his response was to tickle me. I hate being tickled, it hurts me more than makes me laugh.
"Ouch, ouch, stop it," I squealed, trying to poke him to make him stop, it just made him worse, and then he was pulling my blouse up and tickling me direct on my skin, fingers at my side and then on my boobs.
I tried to stop him, but it wasn't happening and eventually I managed to straddle him and pin his arms down. That quietened him and then I realised my brother had a nice big hard lump in his trousers.
"Oh Leo," I giggled "your sister made you have a hardy."
"Oh Mica, how could that possibly happen," and he thrust his groin upwards, forcing his hard dick against my crotch, causing me to gasp.
It did feel good, but that was the rum speaking, I shouldn't be getting sexual thoughts of my brother, but I knew I was very wet down there. I could feel my lips sliding against each other as I moved.
Leo started sliding back and forth, simulating sex.
"If you're going to do that, I need more rum," I said.
"If you want more rum, you are going to have to move." He answered.
I relaxed a little to get off him, and he had me by my arms and flipped me over, and then he was atop me, pressing his hardness against my fanny, pushing my lips apart with his arousal. He leant forward and kissed me, my lips betraying me and responding, kissing my brother back, my tongue dancing with his.
His hands were up my skirt and I felt him grasp my knickers and pull them down, I felt naked, exposed. He quickly moved and was between my legs before I could react, his tongue roaming up and down my sex, licking inside my valley, pressing at my clitoris, and two fingers pressing inside me.
Was it the rum, was it lust, was it carnal desire? All I knew is that right at that moment I wanted my brothers dick inside me, what I had was a couple of fingers. Not quite the same, but at least they weren't my fingers.
"Let's have more rum and then we can go to bed."
"Are you trying to get me drunk so you can have your wicked way with me?" I asked.
"Oh that has already happened, you are already drunk, and my way won't be wicked, it'll be beyond wicked."
"You're not getting me drunk enough to shag my arse."
"Can't beat a bit of backdoor action sis."
"Not my backdoor, that stays locked and you don't have the key."
"I have rum," he said pushing me aside and getting up, his fingers easily sliding out of me, too easily, I was so wet.
He came back and added two fingers of rum to my glass. I cradled the glass in my hands as he stood and pulled his shirt off, sitting next to me in just his trousers. I was already knickerless, so I just cradled my rum, sipping, enjoying the heat in my mouth.
"Come on, lets go up," I said as I finished my rum. I was buzzing, there was a hum about my crotch. I picked my knickers up and headed up. In the loo I weed, gave my fanny a quick wash and dry and then headed to his bedroom and took my skirt and bra off.
I turned and knelt on his bed, on my knees and palms. I love it doggy, but it has to be the right doorway.
I heard him take off his trousers and then climb on the bed behind me. I felt his dick slide between the cheeks of my arse and then press at my sphincter.
"You go in there and I will cut your balls and dick off and shove them up yours," I said.
He slid on past my sphincter and ran his dick along my wet, slick valley and then pulled back and I felt him at my entrance, just hovering, a little pressure at my opening, no more.
He coughed, it startled me, and at that moment he slammed into me, sliding all the way in, balls deep in one movement. Neat trick. He filled my fanny, he was at my depth. I know how deep I am, and he is longer. But the thing with Leo is, he also has great girth and I could feel him stretching me wide as well as pressing me deep into my body.
He pulled back slightly and then pushed again, back a little and then hard in. It felt as if he were trying to extend me, make me deeper, but I didn't think he could. Short of somehow extending into my womb, I was as deep as I was.
His pace began to increase, pulling back almost as far as my entrance and then pushing hard in. I couldn't feel his foreskin moving or the rim of his dick as it squeegeed inside me, his movements were too fast, I found myself gasping, just breathing in, not out, it felt like I would burst like a balloon.
My pressures were building, I could feel my clitoris pulsing, my arse cheeks burning as he slapped against them. Faster he went, deeper he went, I knew I was at my limit, and then my orgasm erupted though my body, explosions of pain surrounded by pleasure shot through my entire body, my back arched my head flung up and I screamed as my climax engulfed my body, and as I began to come down I felt his ejaculation inside me, spurt of spurt, him filling my fanny, my womb with his white man juice.
The next morning I went home, showered, washed as best as I could and put clean knickers on and a sundress. I went to Tesco and bought dad some crisps and snacks and headed over to see him.
"Hi dad," I said, greeting him as I walked through the door. He was still in his PJs.
"Morning Mica. They bought my lunch with them at the same time as my breakfast, I won't see them until Teatime now. Have you come to take me out again?"
"No daddy, let's stay in today, shall we? We won't be disturbed for a few hours, we can chat."
I went into the kitchen and put the things I had bought him into the cupboard.
"Right dad, where shall we sit?"
"We might as well sit in the living room," he said.
"Okay dad." I went in and sat in the sofa, dad sat in the armchair opposite.
