Lisa 21

The notion that any sister will just leap into bed with her brother has never rested easy with me, and those who read my stories will see that I usually weave some kind of tale about how and why such a thing would or could happen. So here's another: a story of unfulfilled love, desire, betrayal and revenge and the consequences of all of that.

If you want a quick fuck story this isn't it: rather, it builds slowly and develops the characters and, at the end, leads you to where the story goes. I hope more discerning readers enjoy it, and that you'll feel you can leave a comment or two at the end.

Everyone in the story is over 18, of course, but for those that are squeamish, watch out for the anal action, even if it is virtual.

H_S October 14.

*******

As we took the lift to the hospital car park I could see she was upset, and I guess I was too. I mean, who wouldn't be when they've just watched their father die, even one as unforgiving as him? She never said anything though - at least, not then. She walked beside me with her head held high and her mouth set in a firm line for all the world like she was feeling good - but her brown eyes were dulled with fatigue and when I put my arm around her I could feel the tension in her body. I squeezed her shoulder and she turned to me with a grateful little smile, and when she spoke her voice was husky with emotion.

'Let's go home, Michael. It's done now, and he'll never bother us again. Take me home.'

I nodded without speaking and we made our way to the car, watching as she slipped into the seat beside me and buckled her belt, sitting still and silent. I reversed out and headed slowly down the ramps to the exit and then we were out on the open road. In keeping with our sombre mood the sky to the west was leaden - a sullen grey that stretched from horizon to horizon obscuring the sun so that the light was heavy and diffused. Even though it was only two in the afternoon cars had their headlights on, and I could see the little cafes on the sidewalks were taking their chairs inside in preparation for the coming storm.

'Looks like rain' I said, unnecessarily.

Lisa stirred beside me. 'I guess.'

'I mean heavy rain.'

She leaned forward to look up through the windscreen and I saw a flash of pale satin skin above her collar before the thick mane of dark hair swung forward again to obscure it. The glimpse caused an unexpected twist of emotion in my gut - a sudden memory of

that

night.

Do you remember, Lisa? Six years ago when you and I were alone in the house, drinking Jim Beam and telling stories as the rain poured down? Remember the conversation we had? A brother and sister talking about our pathetic love lives, who we liked and who we didn't, and who we would fuck if we had a magic wand...drinking from the bottle and whispering our little stories about lost virginity and life and love and sex. By the time we'd done talking there were no secrets left: only the pouring rain and you and me, touching, touching, your lips as soft as gossamer and my fingers on your skin...

I forced the memory from my mind and focused on the road, thinking of the drive ahead. It had been a long time since I allowed myself to remember but I felt the same old pangs of longing. Some things you never forget.

'Do you think it will be a problem?' she asked.

I shrugged. We had eighty miles to go and the storm was ahead. Lisa lived in Eglington with her husband and I'd have preferred not to stay the night there.

'We'll see.' I turned on the radio. 'Let's hear what they have to say.'

But there was nothing about the weather on the radio and so we headed west toward the storm, the car silent as we each thought our own thoughts, watching as the sky turned from molten pewter to a sort of bruised indigo - heavy and sullen and oppressive. The streets of the outer suburbs were almost deserted now, just the odd person hurrying about with their collars turned up against the spiteful little wind that swirled the dust on the streets and flung leaves and scraps of rubbish into the air. Even the traffic seemed to have disappeared and we drove through empty streets, as if everyone knew that something bad was about to happen and had gone home to shut themselves away.

The rain started just after Dunmore in a sizzling curtain of grey and white that obscured the road and almost sucked the air out of your lungs. I slowed to a crawl, inching forward though the maelstrom with the headlights and the hazard flashers on, using the edge of the road as a guide. I was aware of Lisa beside me, tense and watchful, leaning forward to peer through the windscreen and I heard her voice thin against the drumming of the rain.

'Pull over, Michael,' she urged. 'We can't drive in this.'

But I couldn't stop. I knew this road and I remembered how it would soon dip into the valley beyond Dunmore, crossing swampy ground intersected by creeks and gullies before it climbed towards the escarpment. There were at least three bridges there - little ones not much higher than the fields on both sides and I thought that if the rain persisted they would soon be overcome. And so we pressed on into the storm, the wipers barely coping with the deluge and the roar of the water almost deafening, creeping forward for what seemed an eternity until we were down in the valley. There was water on the road there, running diagonally across the slick black bitumen and the flood indicators were leaning like drunken men so I couldn't tell how deep it was. I felt the car lurch sideways once or twice and for a heart-stopping moment I thought we were gone, but at last the angle of the road changed and we started to climb towards Thirlmere.

I could feel Lisa's relief as she sat beside me. 'We have to stop, Michael,' she said again. 'Stop in the next village.'

I nodded. There was another river twenty miles beyond and I wasn't going to risk it again. 'Right.' I glanced across at her. 'We'll try for a room in the pub,' I shouted. 'I don't think we'll make it to your home tonight...are you OK?'

She nodded, although her face was pale and her eyes huge. 'I think so. I'm just tired.'

I reached across and touched her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin through the material of her blouse, and I was rewarded by a thin smile. 'Hang in there, Sis. It won't be long and you can have a rest.'

It took us another forty minutes to reach Thirlmere, a pretty little place when the weather was nice, mainly given to tourism. There wasn't much to it through, and as I drew up outside the pub and saw how many cars were there I wondered if they would have any rooms left. I told Lisa to stay in the car and I dashed inside. The public bar was busy but I pushed my way forward and made eye contact with the publican. I'd spoken to him before once or twice and I could see he recognised me.

'I've got one room left,' he said in answer to my query. 'It's been a bit busy, like, with the rain.' I could see him appraising me, working out if I would be worth a bit more. 'It's the good room, mind,' he continued, 'got its own bathroom and all.'

'How much? If we stay and have a meal as well?'

'Sixty quid.' His eyes were on my face and he read my expression. The sign outside said fifty. 'With breakfast thrown in,' he added hastily, 'but dinner's extra.'

I nodded. It wasn't like we had a lot of choice and he knew that, and besides, I was tired too. The prospect of a hot meal and a decent sleep suddenly seemed wonderful. 'I'll take it,' I said, and I went out into the rain to get Lisa.

*

I hadn't even asked about the bedding arrangements, and the room turned out to have a double bed and a sagging sofa in the corner. I could see Lisa eyeing it as soon as we entered the room, and I cut short her question.

'It's all they had, Sis. I'll take the sofa.'

She walked over to it. 'Really? If you were a midget that might work.'

'Maybe they'll have a fold up bed then.'

'Whatever.' She moved over to the bed and sat down. 'Lord, I'm tired...I never knew watching someone dying could be so taxing.'

I let that one go. 'You haven't slept properly since yesterday morning. Why don't you have a rest now, and then we'll have dinner.'

'I'm not sure I want any.'

'You need to eat. Besides, I'd like to take my little sister out to dinner...it's been...how long?'

'A long time.' Her eyes were on my face, and I could see that she was uneasy. It had been years since we had been alone together - not since

that

time.

'So have a rest now, before we eat. We've got an hour or two.'

She smiled at me gratefully. 'I will, if you don't mind. What will you do?'

'Have a drink downstairs.'

'Could you wake me at six, then?'

I left her then and wondered downstairs to the bar. The crowd had thinned out, although it was still raining heavily, and I sat chatting to the barman as he poured me a Scotch.

'I've seen you here before, haven't I?' he asked. He was a heavy-set man with whiskers on his chops and a protruding belly, probably from tasting his wares too much.

'Yep. I live in Oystermead, but I come through here from time to time on my way to the city. You're well placed for a cup of coffee and a sandwich.'

He nodded. 'I thought I recognised you, although I haven't seen your wife before.'

I realised that he'd mistaken Lisa for my wife, which was understandable - we were about the same age, and she was wearing a wedding ring. We didn't look alike either: Lisa was dark like Dad, whilst I had our mother's fairer hair and grey eyes. I opened my mouth to correct him but realised that I liked the thought of being taken as a couple. She was upstairs in bed and I was down here, but later tonight we'd be sleeping in the same room, and I felt a glow of warmth at the thought. Let people think we were together, just for this one night.

'No, she doesn't come here often. Her job keeps her busy.'

He nodded again. 'She looked about all in when you arrived.'

'She's just tired. We've had a difficult few days in the city.'

'Right - well, look after her is my advice. She's a good looking girl if you don't mind me saying.' He set my drink down on the polished wooden counter. 'That'll be four pound ninety thanks.'

I waved away the change and he moved away to polish glasses. I sat sipping my drink, thinking about Lisa and what had happened. He was right, she was a good looking girl - good enough to make your mouth water. She'd been nothing special when we were growing up, but one summer I came home from boarding school and she suddenly wasn't the awkward clumsy kid with nobly knees and a flat chest anymore: she'd filled out and her dresses seemed to caress every curve, and the face that I'd thought plain was as pretty as a picture. She had these amazing brown eyes as soft as molten chocolate, bright with intelligence and filled with laughter and compassion - her best feature, really, aside from the shiny lustrous hair that framed a little oval face that was as sweet as a baby rabbit's. But it wasn't just her looks that were arresting: it was her aura - a sort of bubbly effervescence that drew you to her - the feeling that when you were with her life would be filled with fun and laughter.

Those summer weeks were probably the best time of my life. Each morning she'd appear from her room looking even more delicious than the day before with her long tanned legs and cut off shorts and those soft toffee eyes with their little flecks of gold that sort of drew you into her soul, and a voice as smooth as liquid butter. I found I was resenting time when she wasn't around, and I'd make sure I was there for every minute of her day. I started watching her surreptitiously, loving the way she moved and the things she did, wanting to be close to her - to smell the warm fragrance of her skin, and to hear her laughter. She seemed happy to be with me too, and so we shunned other company and hung out together all though the long sunny weeks of that vacation.

And then I started dreaming of her at night, alone in my stuffy little room. She'd be leaning over me and smiling down at my face, and her hands were either side of my head and her breasts were hanging down like two luscious melons cupped against the fabric of her blouse. In my dream I'd reach up and touch them, feeling their weight and warmth and the hardness of their nipples in my palms.

They were the happiest days of my life, I think, and in my ignorance I thought it would never change - but suddenly it did. I sat at that bar with my beer in front of me, and I remembered.

Mum and Dad had gone out to dinner and we'd come in from a day at the beach. She'd showered and was dressed in a blue dress, loose around her body, and her hair was a shining curtain around her shoulders.

'What are we going to do?' I asked.

She shrugged. 'I don't know. How about a game of cards?'

And so we sat on the sofa and played cards and the level in the Bourbon bottle dropped, and we spoke more freely and laughed just a bit louder at each other's jokes. She had her legs up on the sofa, long shapely legs sort of folded underneath her, with the dress rucked up in her lap. I could see the satin skin of her inner thighs, reaching upwards to a mysterious pool of shadow at their juncture. God, she was gorgeous! How would I ever find another girl like this?

'It's been a good summer, Lisa,' I said softly.

'Mmmm.'

'Being with you, I mean. You made it special.'

'Thanks. You too. Being with you was special too.'

There was a moment of silence and I regarded her, not wanting the thread of this conversation to end.

'If you could wave a magic wand, who would you like to be with now?' I asked.

'I'm with him already.'

'No, I mean someone else. Anyone at all.'

'Shit, I don't know. Um, Chris Hemsworth, maybe.'

'Really? Why him?'

'Because he's ...ah, cute.'

'How cute?'

Her eyes met mine across the table, the dark pupils dilated by drink and she giggled softly. 'Cute enough for me to give him a really good time.'

A vision of her moving on top of him entered my mind. Breasts full and heavy, swaying slightly as she lifted and fell, the nipples stiff and pink. Her bottom lip held between her teeth and her eyes closed as she savored the sensation of being filled. I wondered how many guys she'd been with and a sudden pang of jealously surged through me. My little sister, fucking other men. It didn't seem right.

'How about you?' she asked. 'Who would you like to be with, Mike?'

'The chick from

Game of Thrones

...you know, the one who plays Daenerys Targaryen? I'd like to meet her.'

'Why? What's so good about her?'

'She's stunning. Dark hair, gorgeous skin. Beautiful face, hair, eyes, lips. One of those girls that turns you on from the moment you see her...and nice tits, too.'

'Would you...fuck her?'

I laughed. 'In a heartbeat. 'Till her eyes popped out. What about you?'

'I doubt it. She doesn't sound my type.'

'No, I mean, who would you shag?' I regarded her for a moment. 'No, that's too easy. 'Who

have

you shagged?'

Lisa's eyes moved to my face. 'Wow,' she said. 'That's a leading question. How long have you got?'

'I'll tell you if you tell me,' I said. 'The first you ever had.'

'Michael, I'm not sure -'

'Go on. It'll be fun.'

For a few moments I thought she was going to refuse, but then she nodded. 'You first then.'

I sat back, thinking for a moment. How much detail should I tell her? Lisa wasn't prudish but I didn't want to turn her off.

'So?' she urged. 'Who was your first?'

'Phillipa Boswell. What about you?'

She laughed, a brief tinkling sound. 'Not so easy, buster! Tell me about it. Was she any good?'

'Well, you'd remember Pip?'

Lisa screwed her face up, thinking back. 'Red head...thin - nice smile. Grade 12?'

'That's the one. I found out afterwards she was working through all the guys in the class.'

'So she should have been good, right?'

'Apparently she went for quantity not quality. It was like rooting a dry well.'

Lisa laughed again, her eyes bright. 'So you like your women wet, Michael! What else was wrong with her?'

I thought back for a moment. 'She didn't move or make a sound,' I said. 'Not one. I was there doing all the grunting and groaning and she just lay there until I'd finished...and then she got up and said 'See you later', or something like that, and left with her knickers in her hand. I felt like...I was just another notch on the bedstead.'

'Poor baby.' Lisa reached out and touched my arm, her fingers warm on my skin. 'So you like noisy, wet, wriggling women.' She stared at me a moment, thinking back. 'Mine wasn't much better.'

'Who was he?'

'Actually, it was Jimmy Witts.'

'Jesus! Jimmy Witts!' I paused for a moment. 'Did you know he was Sarah Witts' half brother?'

'Half brother? What's that got to do with -'

'He was a half Witt.'

Lisa laughed at my joke. 'That's shit! Bet you didn't think he got into my pants, though.'

'Christ, no! Wasn't he that little guy with goofy teeth? What the hell caused you to hit on him?'

'I heard some of the girls saying how great he was in the sack. Apparently he had a big...thing, and knew how to use it. It was more peer pressure than anything else. Something to tell the other girls about.'

I stared at her, imagining her on her back with Jimmy Witts on top, her hands guiding him inside and her long, golden legs curled over his back and her cunt stretched around his thick, slippery shaft. The image excited me despite myself, and my cock stiffened in my pants.

'We were in the back of his car,' she continued, 'and the seat smelled of dust and old leather, and there were empty Maccas containers all over the floor. It hurt when he first went in, but he didn't seem to care. He wanted to...cum into me but I told him not to. I wasn't on the pill or anything so I told him to stop. I finished him by hand, eventually.'

'That doesn't sound like much fun.'

She smiled. 'I guess not, looking back. I didn't have much to compare it to.'

'And now?'

Lisa laughed. 'Now? Well, I do alright.'

'I bet you do.' I drained my drink and there was silence for a few moments. We'd never spoken about sex before and I realised that the whole atmosphere in the room had changed: a sort of tension, as if we'd crossed into new territory and neither knew where it would take us. I glanced at her and she met my eyes, her face flushed and her eyes bright.

'Do you like doing it?' I asked.

'Sure.'

'Why?'

Lisa shrugged. 'The same reason you do, I suppose - it feels good.' A sideways glance. 'Girls get horny too, you know.'

'I'm sure they do.'

'Especially me.' She paused a moment, thinking, trying to find the right words. 'But its more than that - it's about the power you have over guys, you know, whether you decide to fuck them or not and whether you'll let them ejaculate inside you... and then, when you do, there's sensation of being taken - of being possessed. You know, like... um,

subjugated.

The female being dominated by the male.' She shook her head. 'Sounds like conflicting views, I know - on the one hand being in control and then being possessed.'

'Really? I never thought I'd hear you say you like being a possession.'

'No, I didn't mean that I like being owned. I mean the whole sex thing. The woman can be as domineering as she likes but once the guy's inside her she's always the one who's being fucked. She's the one who's taking it, who has to accept his seed into her body.'

'And you like that?' I could feel my cock throbbing, pressing hard against my jeans.

'Yeah...yeah. God, why am I telling you this?' She glanced at me and I could see she was aroused, wanting to tell me but worried about what I'd think. Worried she was going too far.

'So you like it,' I said softly. 'Tell me why, Lisa, and I'll tell you about the time I fucked Sarah Calthorpe in the ass.'