Em And Me Ch 5

Life is one hell of a paradox. These last few weeks have simultaneously been the worst and the best in my life. The worst because I lost my sister, and the best, largely as a result of the bad part, because I finally grew up and found myself.

Em finally stopped punching me out, you know all about that, and, with tears streaming down her face, ran off to the bathroom with her hand between her legs catching whatever was leaking out of her. I waited for her to come back to bed, but then I heard her taking a shower. She was in there for ages. After forty minutes, when Em still hadn't returned, I went looking for her. She was in the lounge with the TV set on, although she wasn't looking at it, sitting all scrunched up on the sofa with her face in her hands. She was still stark naked.

I tried to take her in my arms to comfort her, but she pushed me away. I pleaded with her to come back to bed so that we could talk things through, but she told me to do something physically impossible to myself and leave her alone. And when she started to cry again, I realised that my presence right then was upsetting her even more. So, I told Em that I was there for her if she wanted me, any time, and that I would wait for her in my room. About an hour later, I heard her coming up the stairs, but she went straight to her bedroom without coming anywhere near me. I don't think I slept at all that night. And I have a suspicion that Em didn't either.

The next few days were very difficult. Em was withdrawn and hardly said a word to anyone - not even Mom, and they were usually very close. Eventually, Mom asked me what was going on because Em refused to tell her the reason for her depression. All I could say was that I thought it was boy trouble. I could hardly tell her the real reason could I? Then, after about ten days Em started going out with a new guy, Troy, and seemed to be getting back to normal. But she still wouldn't have anything to do with me. Whenever we were due to be alone in the house, she always made sure that one of her buddies came to stay, usually Debbie, or made plans to stay away for the duration.

As for Troy, I instinctively hated the bastard. He wasn't just a Cool Guy, he was a Super Cool Guy...about twenty-five, tall, blonde, handsome, socially skilled, athletic, blue eyes, all Nautica and Calvin Klein gear, drove a brand new blood red Pontiac Grand Am, wore Serengeti driving glasses. Even Mom wriggled and wet her pants when he called by to pick Em up for a date. Personally, I wished I could take a baseball bat to him! And what kind of a name is fucking Troy anyway?

I tried to spread my wings a bit - actually asked Debbie to go out with me - but that wasn't exactly a roaring success. Dad let me have the car and I took her to a movie and to a restaurant afterwards. We got on quite well and she seemed just as interested as I was when I parked up down by the town lake. But as soon as things started warming up, Debbie grabbed hold of the wandering geek hand and held tight onto it. Shit, I didn't even make first base!

So, while Em's life was coming back to normal, The Geek's was on a fast slide South. I took to taking long walks by myself, especially when Em was at home - especially when Em and her shithead Troy were at home - and spent long hours sitting on a promontory overlooking the lake and staring at the water. Most of the time I thought about Em; about how I felt about her and how I could win her round to being a friend again, if nothing more. I tried to understand how she must have been feeling. Sex for females is so much more deep and meaningful. With us guys, it is often simply 'external' sensation and then moving on. Was that my attitude towards Em?

It must sound kind of stupid mooning over my sister, but she is an important part of my life - always has been, even before we started doing things we probably shouldn't have. Em treating me like a leper this way was tearing me apart! Jeepers I missed her! But, was this just because I could no longer have her? Or was it due to an underlying devotion that went beyond 'only' brotherly love? I wrestled these questions with the most.

Two things helped keep me sane: one, I was getting plenty of CAD/CAM work; and, two, University beckoned - at the end of the summer I would be out of here!

My spirits lifted for a short while when, after a whirlwind three weeks, Em suddenly stopped seeing Troy. I could find out no reason for the break-up, even after grovelling to Mom and promising to do all kinds of extra chores. It was over, because it was over. And that was that. Then the following Saturday it was hero to zero once more when Em started going out with Greg again. But that only lasted a week. And then things went from bad, bad, bad to worse, worse, worse, worse, because who suddenly turned up on our doorstep to take my sister out? One Bradley Walter Simms: 220 muscular pounds of school football hero...and allegedly half of that in his dick!

But if I thought that was bad, things were about to get even worser! Yeah all right, I know there isn't any such word, but it sums up events about right....

It was on a Sunday afternoon after one of my long, long walks. I had really enjoyed tramping through the woods down by the lake and only came home because I had a contract drawing to finish that had to be e-mailed off before the morning. The weather was beautifully warm - one of those magic early-summer days before it gets too hot. I'd been out for several hours and I knew that Mom and Dad would both be at work when I got home. The house was still and quiet and I thought I was the only one there, but I was wrong. As I made my way to my room, I noticed that Em's bedroom door was slightly ajar. Don't ask me what made me glance in as I walked past - maybe there was a movement or a slight noise? Honestly, I have no idea. But I did look and was stopped dead in my tracks by what I saw. There were two figures lying on Em's bed, cuddled in spoons, facing away from me, and clearly asleep in post- coatis abandon. Two naked figures, half-covered by a sheet and in some ways a perfect picture...my sister Em and...oh Sweet Jesus, I couldn't believe what I was seeing...my sister Em and her best friend Debbie!

Em and Brad Simms, or one of her other boyfriends, I could have handled! But Em and Debbie! This was too frigging much! I was just about to push the door wide open and storm in there to call them a couple of filthy perverts when Debbie turned her head and looked at me. The expression in her eyes nailed me to the spot: 'I am with my woman...mind your own effing business!' That unspoken message was full of triumph and, in the state of shock I was in, it seemed to be one full of pure evil as well.

Debbie smiled at me pityingly. Then she turned back to my sister and nuzzled the back of her neck with her lips. At the same time, she began stroking Em's bare shoulder. Her hand moved lower on my sister's body, pushing the sheet down off them both, caressing Em's back and softly lower to her rounded buttocks, down and under, between her legs. 'She is totally mine now, Pete.' She was telling me. 'Stay and watch if you like and I will prove it to you!'

I stayed. And was in for even more shocks. Em murmured throatily, "Again Debs? Already? Wow, you really are hungry today!" So, this wasn't the first time these two had been together! And no wonder I hadn't been able to make any progress with Debbie! Then, before I could speculate any more, Em shifted onto her back, spreading her legs wide, offering herself to her lover's desires. A pair of flesh-coloured panty hose blindfolded her and her hands were bound together with duct tape, which in turn was fastened to her bed head by what looked like a man's tie. Goddammit! It was one of mine! These two weren't just frigging queer; they were kinky with it! And one or both of them wanted to cock a snook at me as well!

In spite of the crazy damned situation before me, the sight of Em's nude body took my breath away. God she was wonderful. I could fully understand Debbie wanting her even if I found the end result repulsive. Repulsive? Here I was, watching 'in the flesh' what most guys only ever get to dream about and I found it 'repulsive'? Hmmmm...maybe not quite the correct choice of word, because it had a kind of beauty to it too.

I certainly felt repulsed!

And Debbie? What was she like? Well, different...where Em was all over slender and a fair-skinned blonde, Debbie was dark, square, muscular...quite attractive in a strong, powerfully athletic way. She was obviously the 'man' in the duo - dominant, and in control.

My sister's lover looked into my eyes again with a faint smile of derision on her lips. She guessed correctly that despite my shocked horror I was intensely aroused at seeing her and Em together like that. She got smoothly to her knees and positioned herself between Em's spread thighs. With her eyes still locked on mine, she began to caress my sister's spread-eagled body; her breasts; her flanks; her belly; the podgy, gold-haired rise of her pubic mound. And Em lifted, flexed and writhed to receive Debbie's touch, sighing and gasping her pleasure and her gratitude.

Em arched her back, raising her breasts for them to be given more attention. Debbie had been in this territory before. She knew exactly what Em was begging for. Breaking her gaze from me, she lowered her mouth to my sister's right breast. She teased it, sucked gently at the nipple, nipped at it lightly with tightened lips, circled the aureole with her tongue. And Em lifted herself for more and groaned shakily, "Oh! God! Yes! That is sooooo beautiful!"

Debbie transferred her attentions to Em's other breast, leaving the right nipple swollen and glistening with her saliva. Jesus, the memory of Em's breasts on my mouth flooded through me; and what happened afterwards! And Debbie knew that as well, sliding her hand swiftly down Em's belly and parting her pussy lips to slide one, two and then three fingers into Em's open, pink, juice-slippery vagina.

She left Em's breasts alone and knelt upright again. She resumed her eye-lock with mine. With her free hand Debbie raised and spread Em's thighs so that I would be able to see every movement of her hand. The she looked down, taking my gaze with hers to watch her plunging fingers fuck my sister. And Em fucked her back, thrusting her pelvis up and open to match Debbie's driving rhythm. Em was close to cumming, I could tell. Her head was rolling from side to side, her legs and belly were trembling and her breathing was deep and hoarse, and ragged - all the signs I remembered from when we were together.

Suddenly, Debbie pulled her fingers out of Em's snatch, making Em cry out sharply, "Oh! No!" They shone brightly in the afternoon sunlight, slimy with Em's vaginal lubricants. Debbie raised her fingers to her mouth with her eyes once more locked on mine, and lasciviously licked the gleaming juices from them. Meanwhile, Em continued her pelvic thrusting, begging Debbie to re-enter her and give her release.

"Watch this!" Debbie mouthed. Then she reached down to Em's already gaping buttocks and spread them further...and, with a kind of corkscrewing motion, slid her middle finger deep into my sister's ass!

Em howled, with pain I thought at first but then I realised it was with pleasure, and she came immediately. Debbie dove her mouth on Em's pussy, lashing at it furiously with her tongue. Em howled again and thrashed her legs trying to get away from the ecstatic torment. But Debbie kept Em impaled on both finger and tongue and took her to orgasm after orgasm until she collapsed like a sweaty rag doll, totally exhausted.

When it was done, I was totally exhausted too. And, to my surprise, I was no longer erect. Not because I had cum in my pants, but because the strain on my emotions during this spectacle had completely pole-axed my libido. What I had witnessed had gone far beyond the erotic to an entirely different plane.

Debbie let Em rest for a few minutes. Now she simply caressed her lovingly, tenderly. Then Debbie moved again positioning Em's face, resting on her cheek, high up on her inner thigh. Stroking my sister's hair, Debbie guided her face closer and closer to the curly thatch at the apex of her spread legs. And when Em finally started to lap dutifully at the dark fringed, swollen, purple-pink lips, Debbie looked at me triumphantly once more. And gave me the 'up yours' salute with the finger that had been so recently buried in my sister's ass.

Somehow, and only God knows how I didn't make any mistakes, I managed to finish the work I had to do and then I got the hell out of that house. Em's bedroom door was firmly closed as I made my way back downstairs. For the first time in my life I went to a liquor store and bought a quart of bourbon and a six pack of beers. Then I made my way to my private lookout above the lake and drank myself stupid. Not being all that used to booze, it didn't take very much and utterly miserable and crying drunk I fell finally asleep. The liquor didn't stop me dreaming though - wild dreams of Em and Debbie, and for crissakes Brad Simms, the three of them naked and fornicating in all kinds of strange ways. And me pounding on the one-way mirror I was watching them through while I hollered vainly, over and over again, "For God's sake stop!" When I woke, it was well past midnight. Luckily, it was not cold, or raining to make life even more miserable, so I drank more whiskey, and then some more until I was again too drunk to feel the pain. I staggered around muttering stupid, obscene made- up rhymes, calling out my sister's name, weeping, banging into trees in the dark, and not knowing exactly where or who I was. I think I even pissed in my pants. I was goddamned lucky not to walk off the edge of the bluff! Eventually, I fell asleep again, huddled under a bush.

Sunlight and the sound of speedboats on the lake woke me up. It was after 8.30am. I found my discarded bottle and drank the remaining two inches of bourbon in one pull, then made my miserable stinking way home. I smelled like shit. I felt like shit. I looked like shit. And Mom and Dad went completely berserk when I walked in the door - just as they were about to make a missing persons call to the local cops. Em was there too. She hadn't yet gone to school. Em looked on at the three of us yelling and screaming at each other with a puzzled look on her face, not quite sure of what was going down. I almost let the cat out of the bag over what I had walked in on the afternoon before, but something made me stop - that, after all, was Em's personal business, whatever I thought of her and Debbie.

Things stayed kind of tense for the rest of the day, although I missed a good part of it - I stormed off to take a shower then collapsed on my bed until the early afternoon. When I got up it was just Dad and I in the house. Mom had gone to work and Em finally to school. Naturally, Dad still wanted to know what the hell was going on and we ended up shouting at each other again when I refused to tell him. I retreated to my room and shut the door. One thing about my family: a closed door means 'I need my space' and everyone respects that, even under circumstances like these.

Dinner that evening was a silent affair with both my parents and I teetering on the edge of yet another explosion. Afterwards I went back to my room and stayed there for the rest of the evening. There was a soft 'tap, tap, tap' on the door once, which sounded like it could be Em, but I ignored it.

At about three am I made my move. By daylight, I was 200 miles out of town, hitchhiking north-west in the direction of Oregon. I had my sleeping bag in my rucksack and Dad's old pup tent from the garage, plus a bunch of warm clothing. I needed to be on my own to sort my head out. I left them a note to say I was okay, and pointing them in the opposite direction in case they tried to follow me, along with instructions that, at almost nineteen years of age, I was quite capable of looking after myself for a while. I found a camping ground I liked up in the mountains and stayed there for ten days under canvas, getting my shit together. It was the last two weeks of the school year - no more studying or exams, just socialising and I couldn't have cared less about that. And seeing as most kids were still at school, I had the place almost to myself. I liked that. God bless them, Mom and Dad took me at my word and made no effort to find me.

One thing about being a good draughtsman is an innate artistic sense - a feeling for space and line and style, even if you're exercising your talents on a computer. If the design you are formalising looks and feels 'good', the end product will be a good one. Two days into my stay in Oregon I bought an artist's pad and some crayons in the camp store. This part of my self-therapy became an obsession. I sketched insatiably - landscapes, rocks, trees, clouds, wildlife that revealed themselves in the quiet stillness of the woods, fellow campground dwellers, anything interesting that caught my eye.

"My, young man, you've almost run us out of artists pads...we've had these ones for years and you're just about the only person ever to ask for them." I had glimpsed her in the back room of the store last time I was in here two days ago. Now I was seeing her face to face for the first time. When she handed me the change, her fingers touched mine for far longer than necessary. She stared into my face, her eyes pleading with me to stay a while and talk to her, "My name's Becky...Karl's wife. What do you call yourself?"

She was a tiny person; even I looked down to her. She was thin, kind of worn down with wispy, dirty blonde hair and uncertain, faded green eyes...late thirties or early forties? It was impossible to divine her figure, dressed as she was in a loose, nondescript woollen shirt and baggy pants. Karl, the storeowner, was small as well, but bright eyed and inquisitive like a blackbird, and about fifty. So, my estimate of her age seemed safe. "Ummm...I'm Pete..." Her fingers were still pressed on mine. Remarkably warm and soft although they showed evidence of much hard work. "Umm, I'm here for a few days escaping the end of term stupidity at school..."

"I've seen you in the store. And walking up in the woods...drawing pictures."

"Do you draw?"

"No! I've always wanted to but don't have any talent." Her fingers had now left mine, leaving a cold space behind.

"I hadn't tried doing 'art stuff' until I came here. I think everyone has some ability...maybe not to Leonardo de Vinci level, but..." I took a chance, she was, after all, at least twenty years older than me and was likely to be amused by the idea of any form of friendship with someone so many years her junior. "Wander up later and I'll show you what I've taught myself. It might help you to get started..."

Becky smiled. It transformed her face, making her look many years younger, "Why thank you, Peter, I may just do that when Karl gets back from Town. He's due home at about four. Will that be okay?"

The change in Becky was remarkable. She had washed her hair and tied it up in a ponytail. A minimal amount of makeup deepened the colour of her eyes and put a faint blush on her cheeks. She was also wearing a pair of fitted jeans and a light sweater. With her slight build, as I watched her from a distance coming up the trail to my campsite, she looked like a young teenager. It was only when she got really close that the lines on her face from years of exposure to the mountain sun and weather became apparent.

At first, we were clumsy with each other and Becky was kind of inept in the way she handled the crayons. But we soon became engrossed in teaching each other how we saw the world around us and trying to get it down on paper. Becky talked about her life; how she loved the mountains and the woods and streams, and the wildlife; and how she could never live in a city like I did. And as we shared the page and tried new things our hands touched and our shoulders pressed together. I could smell the fresh perfume of her hair shampoo as our heads leaned closer and closer until, suddenly, we were kissing. Hungry, wild, passionate kisses - drawing lessons and all reservations over the difference in our ages entirely ignored.