Meghan a Love Story

Chapter 1

It was about sunset. I was typing away on the fourth novel in a series that was boring me to death. I decided to hit the pool for a swim. Just as I headed out to the patio the doorbell rang. Actually, it was the bell at my front gate, about 50 yards from the house. I looked at the video monitor and was amazed to see my sister's face.

I released the gate and went outside to meet the silver Audi roadster. It slid to a halt and Meg piled out. She ran to me full speed and threw her arms around me. I was astonished, since we'd never been that close. Then I realized that she was sobbing hysterically. I waited a couple of minutes until she could talk.

"Meggie, honey, what's wrong?"

(Sob) "Mom told me she's going on a cruise around the world with Al (the stepfather) and they're leaving tomorrow and she says since I'm 18 now I can take care of myself so she's leaving me alone in that big house and I've never been alone like that before and she'll be gone for six MONTHS, Jack, and I don't know what to do!" (More sobs)

We went into the house. I got her a damp washcloth to wipe her face, then I brewed some coffee. I brought her a cup and said, "I don't know what to do either, kid, but we'll figure it out. We've got this."

Meg burst into tears again, and suddenly I had a lap full of tiny, sobbing redhead.

I ended up just sitting there with my sister's head on my chest while she sobbed her heart out for about ten minutes, thinking how life sucks sometimes and how 18 is too fucking young to get tossed out on your own with virtually no warning -- although being "abandoned" in a nice home on the Intracoastal somehow didn't exactly seem to qualify as being tossed out.

I tried not to look down the front of her loose tank top, where her unfettered A-cup breasts were mostly exposed. I was appalled to discover that an anatomical reflex had reacted and was threatening to become obvious to the owner of the firm, but soft, butt resting on top of it.

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After Meggie calmed down and had moved to the other end of the couch, I said, "I'm guessing you don't feel like going home right now, am I right? And I assume that staying with Dad is out?"

"Oh God No, Jack! He looks at me so creepy now that I'm older! I don't want to be anywhere NEAR that fucker! I think I can stay with my friend Beth for a while, but she's on a trip with the 'rents for the next MONTH! Can I stay with you for a few days? Do you have room? I can sleep on the couch! Please Jack?"

"Meg, as far as I'm concerned this is your house too! I have plenty of room, and you're welcome to stay as long as you want."

"I knew I could count on you, Big Brother." Dazzling smile. (My sister is gorgeous!)

"What do you need, Meg?"

"I threw my makeup and a blouse and my Sig and some shoes and slacks into my backpack and just ran out the door -- I was SO angry and upset! I'm good for now. I can sleep in my bra and panties, but they're all sweaty 'cause I was playing tennis before I got home and Mom told me, and I was so pissed off I didn't take time to shower and change. I mean, they didn't even tell me AHEAD of time! You can't plan a cruise that fast - they had to have known for weeks! It's just plain MEAN!"

I hadn't gotten along well with my mom since I hit puberty, and my feelings about our stepdad were mixed, at best. In my opinion, our parents and their spouses pretty-much deserved each other, although I liked my "step-mom" (who wasn't that much older than me) well enough. I decided to remain silent on the subject for the time being.

"I've got a couple of tee shirts you can wear. Hell, as tiny as you are they'll be like nightgowns on you anyway. How tall are you now?"

"I'm five feet - almost five-one! And you can't make fun of me just because you're so huge! No shorty jokes!"

I swore that the forbidden subject was closed between us.

"I feel so icky, Jack! Can I take a shower?"

"Mi casa, su casa, querida. There's a shower off the guest room, or you can have a swim in the pool. If you don't have a suit with you, there's plenty of privacy and I promise not to peek."

"A swim sounds wonderful! I think I have a suit in the car."

"Have at it, then, kiddo. I need to make a couple of calls. After your swim we can go someplace for dinner, or I can fix something here."

"I really don't feel like going anywhere right now. I need to hang up my blouse and slacks and splash them, 'cause they're all wrinkled from my backpack and I'll need them tomorrow to go look for a job so I can maybe get an apartment and not have to stay in that big old house alone. I can throw the clothes I'm wearing in your washer and just wear my suit while they dry."

"Okay. I'm not all that excited about going out myself. I'm happy to see you, but other than that, the day's been pretty much of a bummer so far. You go toss your clothes in the washer and have your swim. I have some calls to make. What time do you want to eat?"

"I don't care. I just want comfort food. Can we order pizza?"

"About an hour okay with you?"

"Perfect, Big Brother."

"That sounds nice, Meggie. Real nice. I haven't been much of a brother to you, but maybe now that can change if we want it to."

Suddenly, I had a lap full of sobbing teen again. She calmed down after a minute.

"Mom's the only person I have, except for Beth. Al treats me okay, but he looks at me funny too! He can't take his eyes off my ass, and it pisses Mom off - not at me, but I think maybe she wouldn't mind if I wasn't around all the time. Thank you, Jack! Having a big brother to take care of me is just what I need right now!" (Sniffle)

"Go get your suit and have your swim. Throw your stuff in the guest room, down the hall on the right. You can get to the pool from my bedroom at the end of the hall or through the rec room. I can't believe you've never been to my house before! There will be pizza in one hour!"

"Perfect!"

Chapter 2

I joined the Marines the day I turned eighteen. I had no particular desire to serve my country, but I did have a burning desire to fuck with my old man's head. The S.O.B. was and is an autocrat: a peacenik in public but a terror at home, an emotional -- and, in my case, occasionally physical -- abuser. He's also a doctor, and gets terrific mileage out of his "respect for human life" while seeming to try his worst to ruin those of the people close to him.

In short, it was a perfect setup to create a candidate for the USMC (known only half-jokingly as Uncle Sam's Mistreated Children). We won't get into the psychology of all that. I'm not sure I understand it myself, but the prospect of coming back to Florida and maybe kicking the cocksucker's ass was part of it too.

My 21 years in the Corps left me with a good education, a decent retirement as a Master Sergeant, and nothing really pressing to do with the rest of my life. I'd saved up enough to get a decent little house in northern Palm Beach County, situated on twelve acres of former ranch land along State Road 706. I had a 5-lane, 25-meter pool installed for swimming laps. Marine Raiders, like those pussy SEALs, live in the water. (Hey -- my SEAL friends would be insulted if I were nice about it.)

Spending nearly half of your life sneaking, peeking and ducking gives you a (perhaps exaggerated) interest in keeping your business to yourself. I had a privacy fence installed around the house and yard and -- partially to help me stay in shape -- planted 450 bougainvillea shrubs myself to form a dense hedge outside the fence. After a couple of years it was so thick even my old team couldn't have wiggled through. With some carefully-sited video cameras, motion detecting LED floods and a good alarm system, my castle was as secure as I could make it without a moat and a pet dragon. I'd briefly considered dogs instead of the dragon, but I'm not really a dog person. They're too noisy.

All of that pretty much wiped my savings, so I had to find work. I picked up a job as an instructor at a firearms and self-defense academy in a town about a hour's drive away. That was okay for a while, but I got tired of dealing with wannabee tough guy students who think they know more than the pros. So I started looking for something else to do. About then, a retired Colonel for whom I'd worked asked if I'd like to be a reader/editor for a book he was writing. That went well, and gave me the idea of doing something similar on my own. I wrote a book about Marine snipers that sold reasonably well, then decided to try some fiction. In a year or so I had sold a couple of adventure novels aimed at the armchair wannabees, and suddenly I was my own boss for the first time in my life.

My life doesn't suck. I write in the morning, swim a mile in my pool or a couple in the ocean at Juno Beach, run my habitual five miles with eight gallons of water in a backpack. Old habits die hard, and gaining weight wasn't an option as the Good Doctor had turned into a fat slob. No way!

And then my life changed, although I wouldn't know it for quite a while.

My mother, showing more gumption than I had ever imagined she would, dumped my father when she found out he was having an affair with a 25-year-old redheaded nurse at the hospital. She got the Lexus, the house, some stocks the old bastard hadn't bothered to hide away, and a fat alimony check. Pops got the nurse, and a few months later I got a baby sister, a redhead like her mother.

I didn't see much of Meg over the years. We'd never really bonded, and visiting meant being around my old man, who -- humanitarian that he wasn't -- delighted in insulting my chosen profession. I retaliated by fucking Heather, his wife, whenever I was home on leave. The Good Doctor found out and she wisely chose to file for HER divorce, since she was sick of his bullshit anyway.

Her brother's firm were the leading family law practitioners in West Palm Beach, so she got little Meghan, the Cayenne, and another chunk of the doctor's income. By then he had so much money I doubt that he missed it, and I'm sure he didn't miss Heather and the kid. She continued her country club lifestyle, Meg went to the best school in Palm Beach, and I went to Afghanistan, feeling pretty pleased with myself for having messed with the old man. Time passed, as it does.

Chapter 3

I made some phone calls and answered some emails. I heard splashing from the pool area, but I figured Meggie needed some privacy so I just kept working. I hadn't seen her head out, so I figured she'd gone through the sliding doors in my room. I was thankful that the Marines had forced me to become a neatnik. I wouldn't have wanted my little sis to think I was a slob.

In about half an hour Meg came into my office wrapped in a bath towel.

"Did you order the pizza yet?"

"Just about to. You want to do it? The menu is on the fridge."

"Oh, I know what I want -- everything but anchovies!"

"Sounds good to me. Leave off the broccoli and pineapple though."

"Ick! Pineapple on pizza is a crime against nature!"

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Meg padded barefoot into the kitchen, made the call, and then came back into the office.

"Do you have a hair dryer, Jack?"

"In the drawer next to the sink in your bathroom."

"Aha! Have a girlfriend who sleeps over?"

"Nope, no girlfriend. Just for whomever."

"Oh, of course! A girlfriend wouldn't be in the guest room anyway."

"Go get prettier, Meggie. See you when you get back."

"Aye-aye, Sergeant Jack!"

"That's 'Master Sergeant Jack' to you, kid!"

Meg stuck out a surprisingly long, pink tongue, then flounced off down the hall.

The pizza arrived. I paid and tipped the kid, then got out paper plates and napkins and put them on the breakfast table in the kitchen.

"Soup's on, Sis!"

"Coming!"

Meghan came into the kitchen barefoot, still in her very skimpy bikini. The triangular top -- some shiny, stretchy material -- was secured around her neck and cradled her small breasts, displaying their modest curves and erect nipples to great advantage. The bottom, cut low, highlighted the bulge of her pubic mound and spanned narrow hips that were prevented from looking thin by their contrast with her tiny waist. The clingy material made for an obvious cameltoe. Meghan is short-waisted, with long thighs and calves: legs 'all the way up to her armpits', as they say. Put simply, my sis was a little fox! I hadn't seen her in a swimsuit since her pre-adolescent years, and the new Meggie was a pleasant surprise. I guess it showed.

She grinned. "Not quite the skinny little kid you remembered, Jack?"

She twirled, showing off the Brazilian cut panty that displayed her petite butt to great advantage. Meghan was a teenage boy's wet dream, and my 39-year-old cock was saluting in agreement.

I looked up at her face, now perfectly made up and framed by ginger curls, cut in what I presumed was still called a pageboy.

"Not quite! In fact, Little Sis, you're absolutely gorgeous!"

"You're just saying that 'cause I was feeling down and you're my brother."

"You know better than that, Meg. It takes a world of self-confidence just to try on that bikini!"

Pretty blush.

"Thank goodness I got Mom's build and hair. I think Dad had a lot to do with my face, though, 'cause we look a lot alike, you and me. I could be your kid as far as looks go."

I remembered Heather's build and hair quite clearly, and Meghan definitely echoed her mom. As far as the old man's face was concerned, the only resemblance I could see was her nose, which looked a lot better on her.

Thinking about her mom brought tears to her eyes and left us both pretty subdued, so we are pizza without much chit-chat. I tried to avoid ogling my sister and she tried not to notice when I failed. A blush crossed her face a couple of times when she caught me looking at her cute tits. With all that creamy skin, redheads can really blush! I found myself wondering how far down her chest the blush extended.

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After dinner Meg spent quite a bit of time on her phone trying to get through to Beth on the ship. She finally got her, and spent a while crying and telling her bestie what happened and that she was staying with me. I could hear part of Beth's end of the conversation, as Meg had put her phone on speaker while she was drying her eyes and forgot to take it off for a minute.

"You mean the hunky guy in the soldier outfit who's on that poster in your room?"

"He's a Marine. And yes, that's my big brother!"

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"Oh, wow! I want to meet HIM! Is he married? What a..."

At that point, my sister realized I could hear the conversation and took the phone off speaker. After she ended the call, with many professions of love, kisses and so forth, Meg turned to me.

"Well, that was a little bit embarrassing. Beth does go on!"

"Poster?"

"Mom had one made from that picture you sent me when I was about ten. It's been on my wall for ages. I used to have a major crush on you! So did all of my girlfriends. You do look badass with the helmet, and harness, and gun and stuff."

"Geez, I had my own fan club and didn't even know it!"

"Don't let it go to your head, Jack."

We watched some TV, and around 2300 (11:00 PM, Civilian Puke Time) Meg decided she was tired and ready for bed. After the emotional day she'd had, I didn't blame her.

"There are some t-shirts in the top drawer of my dresser. Help yourself."

"Okay," from down the hall.

I went into my office, and a couple of minutes later Meg came in, totally enveloped in one of my old, faded green machine shirts. The stretched-out tee hung nearly to her knees, and the neck was hanging off one shoulder. Her little tits with their perky nipples made the shirt look much better than I ever did.

She leaned over and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "G'night, Big Brother."

"G'night, Li'l Sis."

Chapter 4

I woke at about 2:00 AM to find Meghan standing in my bedroom doorway, stifling an occasional sniffle.

"Meg, honey, what's wrong?"

"I woke up in the strange bed and it scared me, and then I remembered but I got sad and lonesome so I just wanted to look and make sure you were really... Oh, I'm so stupid. You must think I'm a real sissy!"

"C'mere, Sis." I held back the covers.

Meghan crawled under the covers with me. "Thanks for not laughing at me, Jack! I've never had to be on my own and I've always had what I need and maybe I am 18, but I'm still a spoiled kid and I'm scared."

Keeping a bit of distance between us, I reached out and pushed a ginger curl out of her face. "Don't worry about it, kid. You can stay here until you decide what you want to do, and I'll help you sort things out."

"Thank you, Jack. You're the best! I won't be any trouble, I promise, and I'll help around the house, and I'll get a job, and I'll show Mom I don't need her and her big house and her money! Wait until I have a nice apartment of my own and she sees I can take care of myself!"

"Whoa, honey, one day at a time! Let's get some sleep and we'll talk after breakfast."

"Can..can I stay here with y...you tonight, Jack? I don't snore or anything and I'll stay way over here on this side of the bed and you won't even know I'm here!"

What the hell. Fortunately I was wearing pajama bottoms in honor of my house guest. "Sure, Hon. Sweet dreams! See you in the morning."

"G'night again, Jack."

I tried to doze off, but unaccustomed to having anyone in the bed I lay there thinking about how, after all this time, I suddenly had a relationship with my half-sibling that I'd never expected. Meghan had been an occasional part of my life during short visits in between stateside jobs and deployments, but she was much younger, and I'd never really gotten to know her. That hadn't mattered much when I was busy with my career, and as I moved up into senior NCO positions, the deployments and other pressing assignments had seemed to keep me away from Florida for even longer periods.

I hadn't seen Meg hardly at all since she was a skinny gamine of about 12, all legs and angles and flyaway red curls. I hadn't even thought about her that much. But now that I was back in Florida and essentially without family, I found myself looking forward to finding out who my little sister really was. So far, the 20+ year generation gap hadn't seemed like too big an obstacle.

I decided to try meditation to help me get to sleep, like I'd learned in Okinawa. As I brought my attention to my breath and began counting, I felt myself relaxing and becoming drowsy. I was just about asleep when I felt a slim arm stealing around my chest and, shortly thereafter, a warm little body pressed against my back.

"Sweet," I thought, and drifted off.

I awoke the next morning on my back, with a raging piss hard and a slim leg thrown across my upper thigh. Its owner was snuggled against my side with her head tucked into my armpit. Apparently we'd reached some accommodation during the night, since Meg's face looked peaceful and I seemed to have slept well.

The leg was attached to a bare hip and butt, the oversize tee-shirt having rucked up around my sister's waist. The sight did nothing to help my erection. Because her thigh was disturbingly near my crotch and her lower body only separated from mine by my PJ's.'s, I deemed it wise to slowly extricate myself and tiptoe to the head. I closed the door and relieved myself, then washed my face and had a drink of water. When I came back into the bedroom the bed was empty and the guest room door was closed. I slipped on trainers and running shorts, grabbed my backpack, and tiptoed down the hall, where I let myself out the front door for my morning run.

When I returned, I did my usual 100 push ups, pull ups and crunches, then hopped in the pool and swam several leisurely laps to help me cool down. Drying myself with the towel I kept in the backpack, I walked toward the door and was greeted by a hearty wolf whistle.