When people used to ask Kevin what was special about him, he would hesitate. He was adopted, like his sisters, but that was about it. In fact, the strangest thing about him was just how normal he was.
He was five foot ten with medium-short brown hair and a medium build, the son of an accountant and a real-estate agent, with an older and a younger sister. His family lived in a large five-bedroom house with three floors, not super-rich but rather well off. He didn't get everything he wanted all the time, but it was safe to say that his college would be paid for him if he decided to go. It was the kind of life that most people dream of, the famous 'other side' to the majority for people in North America.
Unfortunately for Kevin, that sort of dream doesn't actually exist. Sure, his life was a lot easier than someone in Africa or even down the road with five siblings and one washroom. Life is one of those tough things, where it isn't just what you have that makes you happy. Despite the beliefs that society is based upon, happiness is a choice. The quality of life may make it simpler to choose happiness, but it doesn't by any means guarantee it; just ask people in Hollywood.
Despite everything he had, Kevin found it hard to say that he was happy. When he was seven, getting that new bike he wanted so badly was enough to get him by with a big grin and a positive outlook on life. Now, that concept seemed shallow.
Personally, he blamed philosophy class. He thought it should be called 'make yourself depressed for no reason' class; in the former year, he'd been introduced to existentialism.
On the very first day of grade twelve, he was late to class and the teacher was just starting the lesson. So, to punish him, he was asked by the teacher in front of the class what he knew for sure. He said "If I'm able to consider my own existence, albeit consider anything at all, then I must exist on some level. Everything else is fallible." He had instantly regretted it, as he saw all the people who were dressed like him start to giggle and point. It seemed childish, but it was a sure sign of social extermination.
He had just moved to a new city to start the second half of twelfth grade, and his first day was nothing less than a disaster. The day ended an hour early because it was the first day and there was a seminar all of the grade eleven and twelve students had to attend. Instead, he decided to head home early. His other classes were boring, and he found himself exhausted and humiliated as he put his helmet on and jumped on his new motorcycle.
His mother had insisted that he drive a car, for safety reasons. She personally knew of several motorcycle deaths involving friends' siblings, cousins, and the likes. No one in their family had died on a motorcycle, because they were all rather rich and most of them considered themselves above that sort of thing; riding a motorcycle that is, not dying. They were in denial about their own mortality, in Kevin's opinion.
In order to justify moving at such a critical time in the kids' lives, their parents had made concessions. Both of his sisters had asked to be treated life adults, though neither of them really acted too much like they were. His younger sister Laura was allowed to start dating, and his older sister Madison was allowed to stay home and mooch for as long as she wanted. He asked for a motorcycle. It seemed he got a new bike anyways, regardless of how shallow it made him.
He looked around and spotted a few of the people who had avoided him throughout the day, because of his comment in philosophy. According to a guy with really thick glasses in English class, the cool kids took philosophy as a free credit, and he had made an impression on most -- if not all -- of them.
Now he turned the key in his Black Honda CB750. He noticed how many people were looking at him, and decided to use the kick start instead of the automatic. Just for effect. The automatic started on his bike worked, the bike being pristine out of a collection a friend of his dad's had. He hauled himself up and onto the kick, then jammed down. The engine growled to a start and began purring beneath him.
When he leaned the bike up more, he noticed how much weight he had. He was only one-sixty, but the armored leather jacket that his mom had insisted on weighed fifteen pounds. He asked his mom to pay for his gas if he had to wear such a stupid thing, to which she'd agreed. Truth be told, he didn't mind it at all. It was black leather with silver wings, which was a design that he'd considered. The armor pads were heavy, but they gave it a nice shape and made him feel a bit safer riding.
Now he backed up, watching as several of the pointing girls were now waving playfully at him. With a twist of his wrist, he powered off back home. "Who knew that a motorcycle could have that kind of effect on reputation?" he asked himself as he drove. "Oh wait, that's the main reason I wanted one."
--
Kevin walked up the driveway and around the corner of the garage, popping through the front door.
Walking past the stairs in the entranceway and the living room, he popped into the kitchen.
"Hey Laura, I'm home" Kevin called down the stairs.
He knew that Laura would be down below, because her car was the only one in the driveway and the kids had called the downstairs as their own. The house had two bedrooms upstairs and three below, with the living room, dining room, and kitchen in the middle. There was a den, exercise room, and a Jacuzzi upstairs, while the downstairs only had the den and three bedrooms and a full bath walled off from it.
Kevin could swear that he heard arguing from downstairs, so he opened the door all the way and walked down to the den. When he got there, he found Laura laid back on the large couch in the center of the room. He walked a bit farther, but then stopped. He could tell that there was something strange going on, because she was pulling her shirt up. The stairs were in the corner on the room and the couch was just to the right a bit, so she hadn't noticed him.
Kevin watched in fascination as her arms went straight up along with her shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the side. If he came down now, she'd probably scream and call him a 'perv' like the time she'd left the door open and he'd walked into the bathroom while she was showering. The door to the shower was rippled, so all that he saw was the basic outline of a person anyways.
She reached up slowly and touched an index finger to each breast. Then, without a word, she began to circle each of them with a finger, spiraling closer and closer to her small pink nipples. She leaned back on the top of the couch, bending her back a bit, letting her long dirty blonde hair fall back. Kevin got a full view of her breasts as she caressed them. They were large, but not huge. He figured about a 36C or thereabouts. He couldn't help but think how beautiful they were, so firm and round. It was a thought which he took back when he remembered that it was his sister.
When she finally reached her nipples, she pulled on them a bit and breathed in loud enough that he heard it. She began massaging her right breast, while her left hand glided gently down her front to the button of her jeans, popping it and unzipping her pants.
He lowered himself to see the television, which she was still watching. It had some crappy romance flick on which he recognized the characters from, with a candlelit dinner in it. He'd seen her watching that part in her room before she closed the door. Now the man was planting soft kisses all down the woman's body towards her legs. Kevin realized that the woman was naked, and stood back up to watch again.
Laura had pulled her pants half way up her thighs, being that her feet were sitting on the foot rest and her knees were up in the air. He could see her panties now, the light-blue 'little girl' ones that she wore under a giant t-shirt when the three kids watched a late-night movie. She pulled her legs together and slid down her panties, which revealed a little patch of thick brown pubes.
"My sister's an aviation blonde!" Kevin shouted silently. He couldn't help but think about how wrong it was to watch his little sister masturbating, but he supposed that it wasn't that bad. He didn't do drugs, had never smoked, and never drank, though he supposed that the last two were only different because society still accepted them. On the other hand, he believed that human eroticism was based almost entirely on how wrong something was, and he found his sister with her panties down almost deathly erotic.
