Takes a while before the sexy stuff happens, so if that annoys you, then you probably ought to move along. But if it doesn't, then please enjoy!
*
Van McCracken sat on the bench swing of his front porch, awaiting the arrival of his younger sister. It was a beautifully stereotypical suburban day. The sound of laughter could be heard from a distance as some children splashed around, unseen to Van, in one of those awesome above ground pools. The smell of smoke from a charcoal grill permeated the crisp air of the early spring day. Van wondered what they were cooking...hot dogs maybe? Yeah, that'd be it, he thought. So simple, yet so wonderfully American.
Van's feet were angled so that they hung perpendicular to the porch, his toes barely touching the flooring as he gently swung himself back and forth. He loved to sit on his porch this particular time of day whenever he could. It allowed him a beautiful view of the sunlight as it peaked through the thick flowers of his plum tree in his front yard. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, holding it in for a few seconds before slowing releasing it.
He opened his eyes and looked around, intensely content with his surroundings as he continued to rock himself on his porch swing, wrist deep down the front of his pants, hand firmly cupping his giblets.
Fortunately for Van, the railings of their front porch were thick with some kind of leafy vine, and it perfectly obscured the view of any potential onlookers who might accidentally get a look at his self-fondling. He knew this, of course, which was why he was okay with doing that outside. Besides, it's not like he was jacking off or anything, just one of those things that men do sometimes. A warm hand firmly supporting your junk is undeniably an incredible comfort.
Hell, as it stood, his own hand was the only warmth he ever felt down there these days. Although happily married, he and his wife had been through an unspoken lull over the past few months, one that had slowly gotten worse and worse as they both continued to not really bring it up. He had been hoping that his birthday, which was that weekend, would be a good excuse to heat things up again, as so many birthdays in the past had resulted in him getting the "good sex". Unfortunately though, as luck would have it, one of Mack's closest friends was getting married in Chicago on Sunday, and wanted all of her bridesmaids there with her all weekend.
Van forced his brain to stray away from those stressful thoughts, preferring to keep his tranquil state of mind at the moment. Then, as he took his pointer and thumb started doing that thing where you make the opening of your urethra open and shut as if it's a toothless mouth that's trying to speak, he saw the familiar green Honda belonging to his sister Tara pull into the cul-de-sac and head towards his house.
As she drove down the short driveway of his home, Van reluctantly, but necessarily of course, took his hand out of his trousers, stood up, and made his way into his front yard to greet her.
"Hey old man!" Tara said jovially as she got out of her car and walked over to her brother.
"Hi Tara," Van said, rolling his eyes at her comment.
"Don't be so sour, Van! You know, statistics show that those who have the most birthdays live the longest."
Van stared at his sister, expressionless, blinking his eyes slowly and purposefully.
"Hey!" Tara continued, "maybe we can go to an antique auction later! Although, we'll have to be careful, or people may just start bidding on you."
More expressionless blinking.
"You got a fire extinguisher on hand? What, with all the candles we'll need for your birthday cake, it may come in handy!"
Not even a molecule of emotion showed on Van's face.
"Did you hear the one about the old man who-"
"Hey Tara?" Van interrupted.
"Yes?"
"Shut your goddamn cake-hole."
Tara smiled and leaned in to give him a hug.
"Seriously though, happy birthday!" she said as their hug ended. "Twenty-eight years old...how does it feel?"
"Peachy," Van said sardonically.
"Jeez, you're a bit crabby today."
"Sorry...thanks for coming out to spend the weekend with me Tara, it really means a lot."
"Of course! I've never missed a birthday of yours in all my years. Wish I could say the same about you, though."
"Oh, come on! When are you going to stop bringing that up? It was your fifth birthday, and I had explosive diarrhea!"
"Lies!" Tara screamed jokingly as they shared a laugh.
"Oh, by the way, I clearly saw you tugging on your penis when I pulled into your driveway," Tara said nonchalantly.
"Uhh...n-no I wasn't," Van said, taken completely off guard.
"Uhh...yeah you were, there's a huge gap in your little vine wall on your porch, might want to get that patched up or whatever. Or, you know, stop diddling yourself in public."
"But I wasn't even...yeah, alright."
"Eh, no worries, I'm not judging or anything. Just, you know...be careful if there are kids around."
"Noted."
Van took a step back and looked his sister up and down.
"Excuse me," Tara said with a raised eyebrow, "are you checking out your sister right now?"
"Of course not," Van replied, "don't flatter yourself. I'm just surveying you for any changes you've made to yourself since I last saw you."
"Ah. Well, did'ya find anything?"
"Hmm...new watch?"
"I'm not wearing a watch, dumb ass."
"Right, of course. Uhh...did you get a tan?"
"Not that I know of. Unless you can get a tan from a computer screen."
"Nose piercing?"
"Same one since middle school."
Van placed his finger on his chin and pretended to think really hard.
"Well, I give up. Something's different, but I just can't...oh wait! Bubblegum pink hair!"
"There it is!" Tara said as she applauded.
"Ha! Knew I'd get it eventually."
"Regular old Encyclopedia Brown, you are."
A few seconds of silence passed, and finally Tara raised her hands up by her face and looked at Van expectantly.
"So?" she said with slight annoyance.
"So...what?"
"What do you think?"
"'Bout what?"
Tara glowered, then snapped her head swiftly to one side, causing one of her pigtails to slap him in the face.
"About my hair, attentive one!"
"Oh," Van replied, lightly rubbing his cheek. "Honestly...I kinda like your natural color better."
"Really?" Tara replied.
"Yeah. Honestly, to me, your natural color is more, I don't know, uniquely you than this."
"Uniquely me? But my natural hair color is brown."
"Yeah, but, you know, it's your own personal shade of brown. Not sure what to call it..."
"Regular-ass."
"Huh?"
"My 'personal' and 'unique' shade of brown is called 'regular-ass brown', and it's the same shade of brown that half a billion other jack-asses in this world have. But this?" she said, gesturing at her head. "This is uniquely me."
"Okay, okay, just wanted to give you an honest answer to your question."
"Well don't do that, just tell me what I want to hear."
"But wouldn't that be sexist of me?"
"I'm a girl, I'll tell you what's sexist."
