This story is a work of fiction. All participants in sex are over the age of 18yrs. This is a long story that consists of multiple parts. It will have a long build up so please be patient to get to the naughty bits.
There is anal sex involved in this story.
This is my first endeavor in writing, and while I would like feedback and helpful criticism to improve, I will not reply to abusive comments or emails.
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Present Day Paul
Blarghhhhh.....! God, the retched sounds. Time's running out to change my mind and forget it. My internal struggle with what I'm about to do is making me sick. Kneeling before the porcelain god, I pray for relief. My anxiety is out of control. Who gets physically ill at the thought of seeing their family? Me. That's who. I dread what's to come.
I abandoned them; I left her. Will she even want to see me again? Even though I had a great childhood, I was hopeless, emotionally broken, and confused when I left. Now I'm returning full of angst and fear. I wrote them off, and now it's time to fix what I've broken and help them out.
After what feels like hours, the taxi arrives. I quickly clean myself up and run out to meet my driver. It's time to leave my home in Lisbon and make the twelve-hour trip back to Vancouver. I left my parents' home when I was eighteen, and now, I have to go back...I don't want to, but it's not a choice. My dad was seriously injured in a work accident, and he needs my help.
The Beginning
My mother died during childbirth...my birth. I've tried to not feel guilty about it over the years, but it sometimes crept up on me. At first, my father resented that I was the cause of my mother's death, even though it really wasn't my fault. It wasn't until he met my stepmother, and stepsister that things turned around. They dated for two years before getting married and they filled a void in our lives. Her name is Amanda, but I call her Mom. Over time Dad's resentment and my guilt abated.
Amanda was also recovering from a tragedy when she met my father. Her husband had just died from cancer. Her daughter was three years old when that happened. Her name is Samantha. Even though Amanda took my father's last name, they had Samantha keep her father's family name. Miller.
Samantha was my protector and best friend. We did everything together. We were inseparable. Mom and dad often joked that we followed each other around like we were joined at the hip and that Samantha always hovered over her little brother.
Samantha enjoyed her dolls and dresses while I was the typical boy with a ton of energy that needed to be burned. But that didn't detract from us hanging out at every opportunity, whether we played games, watched movies, or sat around and talked.
My Early Years
Samantha and I had new adventures to look forward to when I began kindergarten. I finally got to see her during the day...well, when we weren't in class anyway. Even though I had my own friends, we often hung out during recess. She always made time for me.
It was in elementary school that I learned to love soccer. Samantha would sit on the sidelines and cheer me on when we played. Dad liked soccer too. Whenever the games were on television, he, Samantha, and I would watch them together. Sometimes, I wondered if Samantha was just there to be with me because when the game was over, we always went outside to do something she liked, like riding bikes.
When I turned eight, our parents decided we needed our own activities, so they enrolled me in the community soccer league and Samantha in dance classes. We were each other's greatest fans. She was always at my games, and I was always at her recitals.
By the time I was ten, I was already very good at soccer...thanks in part to Dad setting up a full-size net in our backyard. I maintained possession when challenged and always got to the right place at the right time to score. My understanding of plays and ball handling was quite good, and my strikes were accurate. Not to toot my own horn, but I could run at a full sprint without getting winded.
Around that time is when Samantha began changing. She got her period. We remained close, and I tried to console her through her pain and discomfort. Our activities changed, though. We no longer played in the backyard or rode bikes. Instead, we spent more time taking walks, discussing our daily lives and sometimes laughing at our embarrassing stories.
Things changed again when she turned sixteen and entered high school. It was a difficult time for both of us because we would never attend the same school again, and we couldn't walk home together (which was our time to catch up and talk) or see each other during the day. Samantha became a cheerleader and didn't come home until close to dinnertime and was gone almost every Friday night. With all of this, we still remained best friends, but I missed her at school. One of my fondest memories was doing our homework together in our rooms. On the weekends, we watched soccer, movies or took walks. We took a lot of walks!
I continued to excel at soccer and moved up to a division league. When winter came, I changed to indoor soccer to keep myself in shape. Samantha never failed to show up. When I looked into the stands, she was always there, rooting me on.
For the first time, I saw Samantha differently; she had an athletic build from dance and cheerleading. Her long dark hair framed her face and flawlessly smooth skin, and she had a cute button nose. Her best features were her sparkling deep blue eyes and naturally long eyelashes. She carried an aura of confidence without being pretentious. I didn't understand all of it, but she was changing.
Throughout her time in high school, Sam got a lot of attention from the guys and even dated a couple of them. Her dating stressed me out! She dumped them when she saw how selfish they were, which made me happy.
When Samantha crossed the stage to receive her high school diploma, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face because of how happy she was. After the ceremony, we celebrated, and she talked about her plans to attend the University of British Columbia. She wanted to study finance and marketing. Samantha was the smart one.
Later that night, I went to her room and knocked.
"Come in," she said in a sing-song voice.
Slowly opening her door, I stepped into her room. I always enjoyed being in there. It smelled like her...vanilla...her favorite scent. "Hey...I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you...and...that...I love you."
"I love you too, Paul," she replied as she crossed the room into my arms.
Holding her tight, with her head resting on my shoulder, made me feel like a man. Samantha's perfume flooded my memories of her leaning against my arm as we sat next to each other on the couch watching TV. I didn't want to let go, but when she pulled away, I had no choice.
Up until then, Sam was just my sister, best friend, and confidant. Someone I could tell all my dreams and secrets to. But now, she was also this brilliant, beautiful woman who stirred my soul.
When I finally left her room, I had to take deep breaths to gain control of myself and my feelings.
My High School Years
When I entered high school, my body became leaner and stronger from eating healthy and hitting the gym. Hair grew on my chest and face...and other areas. My features became more adultlike, and my voice deepened. Scary times for a young man. Even Samantha noticed...I caught her giving me sideways glances every now and then.
I struggled between my physical changes and being in a new environment.
I was lonely.
I missed Samantha terribly, so I threw myself into soccer, playing on both the school and divisional league teams.
As one of the school's soccer stars, I was popular. The guys thought I was cool, and my buddies kept trying to set me up with girls that were interested in me, no matter how many times I told them not to. I didn't want to date...there was only one woman I wanted, and I spent all my free time trying to be with her.
School soccer was just for fun, it was division league that I took seriously, and Samantha always attended those games to cheer me on. With her cheering, I felt like I could conquer the world. She was my inspiration to succeed.
I made new friends but never formed close relationships with any of them. I was alone...by choice. Soccer and any stolen time with Sam dominated my world. On Saturdays, I watched games with Dad, and if Samantha was home, she would join us. But that was rare.
Besides being ensconced in her university classes, she took notice of a different class of guys. Bigger and more mature. Her school was only thirty minutes away, so she lived at home and drove to her classes. It didn't take long before she spent more time with her new friends and less time with me. On the other hand, I had only two priorities, soccer and trying to spend as much time with Samantha as possible.
Six months into tenth grade, my relationship with Samantha began to deteriorate. During a tournament final, I noticed her sitting with a guy...leaning over, laughing, and talking, while I busted my ass on the field. It infuriated me. It was jealousy, plain and simple. How dare this guy take Sam's focus away from me. Rather than let my feelings distract me from my game, I used them to fuel me. I decided to show Sam that I deserved her attention more than the guy she was with. I played more aggressively and challenged opposing players more eagerly. If I had the ball, I was off to the races. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't selfish. If a teammate was in the position to score, I gave them the ball. But if I had the opportunity to score, I took it.
After the game, Sam and I had our first real spat. I was packing my gear when my family came over to congratulate me. Only Sam wasn't alone. She was with that guy! She introduced him as Matt. Matt! He tried to shake my hand, but I ignored him. Sam was furious and threw me her death glare. I decided to leave before I dug a deeper hole for myself, so I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned away. It was customary in our home to always greet or say goodbye to women by kissing them on their cheeks. So when Sam turned away, it was not only rude but also an affront to my Portuguese heritage.
Later that night, she interrupted me, kicking the ball around in the backyard and tore a strip into me.
"You were fucking rude, Paul! How could you embarrass me in front of Matt like that? You were raised with better manners! I can't believe what a little shit you are!"
"Me? I'm the little shit? You're the one who brought that stranger to my game! You're the one who embarrassed me by turning away when I said goodbye."
"Stranger? Who the fuck do you think you are? He's my friend, and I can hang around with anyone I want!"
"Why Sam? Why did you have to bring him?"
"What do you mean? I like Matt, and we spend a lot of time together!"
"Why? You have me, Sam! Why do you need to be around him? I'm here...I've always been here, and I always will be."
