Revenge Is Sweet Pt 01

Revenge is Sweet, part 1

Aoife's Note: All characters engaging in any sexual activities are 18 years or older. Even so, don't try this at home!

Throughout history, people have believed many things about redheads. We steal souls or bring good luck. That we have fiery tempers. We have a very low pain tolerance. That people with red hair are moral degenerates with heightened sexual appetites. The reason these stories have endured for centuries, of course, is because they are true.

In the fall of 83, my whole life changed. I knew it would, because that is the year I started college, and everyone considers that the beginning of a new chapter in life's story. Probably the biggest change for kids such as me, who led a sheltered life with a normal, loving family. We were financially better off than most, so things were pretty easy for me and my brother, Brandon. School, church and band took up most of my time. My instrument was the clarinet—and yes, I heard all of the jokes about that during middle school.

Little did I suspect what my first term in college held for me, when I proved the truth about each of those redhead myths.

I went to the same small, private college in Carolina where my big brother was a senior. We were always close, despite being three years apart in age, but Brandon was not the only reason I chose that school. The summer before, I met my brother's best friend, Don, and we started dating. It was long distance until I showed up on campus for freshman orientation. He was there already for soccer pre-season camp, along with my brother, who were two of the stars of the team.

Life was good! I blew off most of the orientation activities because I already had a boyfriend, and he and my brother introduced me around to the team and included me as part of their tight-knit groups. I had dozens of new friends while the other freshmen were being ogled by freshmen guys pretending to try to read nametags stuck to their tits at boring ice cream socials.

Let me tell you about Don. Blonde, tall for a soccer player, with lean muscles that felt so good holding me. Like my brother, a senior and a popular guy on campus. And since he was a soccer player, I don't need to tell you about the muscles in his legs!

Pretty much the opposite of me. I stood a tiny 5'2" with shoes, with flame red hair that I hated since I was a little girl because that's all anyone ever noticed about me. Back then, I probably weight 95 pounds—also in shoes. I only considered myself above average in looks, but guys seemed to like how I look, so maybe I am too harsh on myself.

My name if Aoife, which is pronounced EE-fa, which literally no one can pronounce when they see it written and not one person has ever spelled correctly. It is from the Gaelic word for beauty or pleasure, which makes explaining it sound immodest, so I usually don't. I also don't mention that the first Aoife was Queen of the Banshees.

In high school as a band member, everyone considered me a bit of a nerd—which was completely accurate. Here at college, right from the start, people thought I was cool and popular. No one minded the fact that I was still only 17 at the beginning of the term, and didn't turn 18 until halfway through the semester.

Like me, Brandon wasn't big, but what he lacked in size he more than made up for with speed and skill to become one of the best players on the team. He was also funny and smart, which resulted in his popularity. One of his favorite jokes was that he only dated girls much too good looking to go out with him.

Which brings us to Tammy. Brandon had been dating her for two years, and she was all that. I got to know her when she came down to visit the last two summers, and we quickly bonded like sisters. Those two were going to get married as soon as they graduated, and I could not blame either of them!

Tammy was the pretty much the same size as me, and when she visited we shared clothes. The thing is, she filled them better than I did. Much better. Some women are just like that, and they drive the rest of us crazy. Tammy claimed to have B-cups—same as me—but when she wore one of my tops, filled it like she was a full size larger. And while no one can really be quite sure what their own butt looks like, I knew mine was no match for hers, no matter what anyone said.

Very blonde and very beautiful, she had deep blue eyes even I had to admit were sexy. She may not be the most beautiful girl on campus, but after a couple of weeks at school I realized she was certainly in the top ten. Not top ten percent, the top 10 prettiest girls at school. Brandon's old joke certainly came true in his first love, and he had fallen head-over-heels for her.

I remember well the weekend my freshman year fell apart.

By the middle of October, cold, fall weather settled in. And that same terrible, cold and rainy weekend destroyed both my brother's and my whole world. The details aren't important and even after all this time are too painful. You know the stories, the two most common themes of tragic love. On the same night Brandon tried to surprise Tammy by showing up late at her apartment and literally found her front door unlocked and her in bed with some frat boy, Don told me he wanted to date other people. And, by other people, he meant one very specific other person he started seeing already.

Before I even knew of my brother's heartbreak, I didn't want to see anyone. Alone in my dorm, I cried until my pillow was soaked and I was exhausted. The last person I wanted to see what Sherri, my roommate.

"Hi! What are you doing here?" Her perky voice sounded like rubbing pieces of Styrofoam together. "Oh, my stars! What's wrong? Are you okay? What happened, honey?"

"Don dumped me. He's got a new girlfriend," I got out before another fit of sobbing took over.

"Well, pooh!" That's literally how she spoke. Very religious, she made all sorts of baby noises and nonsense words in place of useful obscenities. "No big loss, though, when you think about it. A pretty redhead like you will have no trouble finding someone new."

The callous cheerfulness of the way she belittled my grief and humiliation made me instantly forget about Don, at least for a few minutes. "That's it? You think it's so easy?"

"Well, you are gorgeous."

"Not gorgeous enough, it seems. But that's beside the point. The last thing I want right now is a new guy."

For a minute, I felt lucky when the phone rang. Back in those pre-cell phone times, we shared a phone mounted on the wall. Waving my hand and shaking my head got her to answer it. "I think it's your brother," she whispered with her hand over the mouthpiece, "and he sounds bad."

He was sobbing uncontrollably. "What's the matter?"

"Tammy cheated on me."

"Are you sure? How do you know?"

"I saw her...door unlocked...on top of him..." I missed half of what he said, but understood enough. He sounded in no condition to drive, so I hurried over to his off-campus apartment, only a mile or two away. When I got there, we held each other close, crying together. Soon, the chest of Brandon's shirt was soaked, as was my shoulder and hair, and neither of us cared.

At times like that, it is good to have a big brother, even one wounded badly as me.

We didn't sleep that night. Brandon's roommate was staying with some girl somewhere, giving us the place to ourselves. Since he was 21, their apartment was full of alcohol. So, we drank and bitched and drank some more.

I asked, "Are you sure they had sex?"

"They were

having

sex. Tammy was on top of him. Naked..." he choked up, so I squeezed his hand. Changing the subject helped him regain control. "I'm going to kill Don."

"He deserves it."

"I mean, how can he do that? Jenny Mendleson? That makes no sense."

"You know her?"

"Know her? Yeah, you could say that."

"Is she prettier than me?"

This time, he squeezed my hand. "Not even close. She's pretty and has big boobs..."

"Figures."

"But seriously? You are much prettier. No contest. Given the choice between you, I'd take you any day."

"Then what is it?"

"That's what I want to know. Jenny—she's got some issues. I wonder if he has any idea."

"What am I going to do? What are we going to do?" My arms waved wearily around, the last thing I cared about was Jenny's issues. "Are we just supposed to let them treat us like shit and we do nothing about it?"

"If you have any suggestions, I'm listening."

Both pretty hammered and cried out of tears by then, getting even began making a lot of sense, as it often does when drunk. "I want revenge."

Brandon was in. Brainstorming, most of our ideas fell between stupid and hilarious. Angry drunks we aren't, we started to laugh at the dumbest ideas, soon trying to outdo each other with the most idiotic.

"What about revenge sex?"

He scoffed. "With who?"

"Anyone. Who cares?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "For revenge sex to work, it has to be with someone hotter than they are. Where am I going to find a girl hotter than Tammy?"

It was a good question. She was in such a lofty category that any other girl he might date surely will fail to measure up—let alone finding someone quick enough to qualify as revenge. "Think about it—all you need to do is shock them."

"It's easy for you to say. Hot girls like you can find someone without any trouble, but where am I supposed to find a woman hot enough for her to regret what she did?"

"Too bad we're, you know, brother and sister."

"Yeah, that would totally work. I may not be much to look at, but his ex sleeping with his best friend sure would be sweet revenge. And you are definitely hot enough to get revenge on her."

"No I'm not! But it sure would shock the hell out of them, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, yeah!"

The fact that neither of us were laughing must have hit us both at the same time.

"Well," I said, suddenly aware of just how far our lust for revenge had taken us, "let's hold that one in reserve in case we can't dream up a better idea."

"Promise me something," he said, totally serious. Once again, he reached over and took my hand. "Don't go pick up random dudes. I know you waited for him, and he used you. Took your cherry and then dumped you. But you are better than to give yourself away to make a point that he won't care about."

I squeezed back. "I don't think either of us can. We aren't the casual sex type. You're right, it probably will only make me feel worse about myself. We may need to come up with some other way to get revenge."

#

We slept until dinner time. Sunday was the team's big dinner night at the dining hall, all eating together with their girlfriends like a gigantic family. Neither of us wanted to face them, so Brandon cooked us eggs and we had breakfast for dinner. Afterward, he walked me to the car, deep in thought. "What are you doing after classes tomorrow?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"We have practice at 2:00. Why don't you come meet me there? We'll find something to do; keep our minds occupied. Neither of us probably needs to be alone."

"I don't want to see him."

"On this campus? Neither do I, but it's too small a campus to avoid seeing them. Better see him while I'm around for moral support, you know?"

He had a point. Might do me good, let him see me pretending I don't care. Like he's no big loss. It is good to have a big brother.

I did show up a bit late, though, waiting until they would be busy to keep him from coming over to chat me up like everything's cool. They practice on the same field where they play their games, with bleachers that seat hundreds. My heart was pounding the instant I saw Don running around in his #10 jersey, so I took an inconspicuous spot way down by the end line where—hopefully--he would never see me.

They were still running drills, practicing corner kicks and boring stuff like that, so I opened my biology textbook and did my homework assignment for the night. After a while, they started scrimmaging. Like a mini-game, this was interesting enough to get my attention. Brandon's team put on black vests, and I was glad to see Don on the other team. I started cheering quietly for the black team to win.

Don was dribbling around, trying to get a shot on goal, when Brandon came charging in hard. Oh, boy—here it comes! I knew he was planning to foul his best friend three seconds before Brandon slid under him, sending the ball and my ex flying. The assistant coach acting as ref blew his whistle and everyone started yelling, black team and white team shoving each other like it was a real game.

Everyone but Don. He was still laid out on the ground too far away for me to see what was wrong with him. Hopefully a bloody nose from landing on his face. Too bad Brandon had come in too low to kick him in the groin.

A couple of the players started waving and the coaches ran over. The ambulance which is always parked behind the goal came to life and drove onto the field. The paramedics loaded him onto a stretcher; my hands covered the lower half of my face. Yelling continued until the head coach screamed something at Brandon from a couple of feet away and pointed toward the locker room. My brother walked off the field and disappeared.

When he emerged from the locker room, he had his bag slung over his shoulder. He came straight to me and said, "Let's get out of here."

"What happened?"

"I broke Don's leg."

"How do you know?"

"Oh, it's broken. No doubt. Shins don't bend, but his does. Bent at a 90-degree angle. To be honest, it was disgusting as hell."

"Oh, my god!"

"Coach sent me home, so we'd better go before I'm in more trouble than I already am."

#

Back at Brandon's apartment, we drank beer. Brandon drank a lot of beer, and sulked quietly. Only a few get my head spinning, so I didn't try to keep up. Brandon ignored several phone calls. Although at the time I knew better, I kept drinking with him long after we should have stopped.

"I didn't just break his leg; I ended his soccer career. He was one of the few who stood even the slightest chance of playing in Europe after graduation, but that is over now. Thanks to me."

"It's my fault."

Eyes narrowed and he wrinkled his forehead. "How so?"

"I wanted to kill him, remember? If I hadn't asked for you to get revenge on him, it never would have happened.

"It wasn't just because he treated you like shit. It was Tammy and that frat boy..."

"And him."

"And him," he agreed. "A lot of it was him. He did sort of deserve it, didn't he?"

"A little bit," I said, and we laughed a little, enjoying revealing the deep evil side we shared, buried deep, if only a slight glimpse.

In a feeble attempt to lighten the gloom, I said, "Revenge sex would have been more fun."

"Yeah, it would."

Seconds ticked by. His blue eyes, narrowed, cold and angry, bore into mine. Neither of us spoke. Must have been a minute, then two. I may have blinked, but I swear he didn't. He just sat there, staring into my eyes. Wondering. Searching for an answer.

"Come with me." He stood and took me by the wrist, forcefully, not roughly. I didn't resist. Instead, I followed as he led me down the hall to his bedroom.

"What are we doing?"

"What we should have 2 nights ago. It's what you want, isn't it?"

At that moment, I don't know what I wanted, but I did know the idea did not seem like a bad one anymore. In fact, it felt inevitable, like we had jumped into the Niagra River, and there was no way to avoid being swept over the falls. I stopped and grabbed his wrist with my other hand.

"Don't make it romantic."

"It won't be."

"Promise?"

"Don't worry, neither of us wants that. This is something else." He turned and walked into his room, but I stopped him in the doorway.

"Promise me."

"I promise," he said, and yanked my wrist hard enough to pull me into the room and slammed the door behind me.

Once inside, he shoved me against the wall, probably harder than necessary, but I needed that. I wanted to hurt someone the way I hurt inside. I wanted Brandon to hurt me, because I deserved it, and I wanted to thank him for snapping that bastard's leg in half.

He kissed me. Hard. His lips and tongue were vicious, sloppy and hot as hell. Everything drained out of me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him against me and tried to kiss him the way he kissed me. All the way through high school, I'd been the good, church-going girl. Little Miss Perfect. I had no idea how to kiss like he did, but I gave it my best.

His cock pushed against my stomach, and it scared the hell out of me. It was hard, and against me like that felt like a weapon. Like he held a knife to my throat and would kill me if I did not do exactly what he wanted. I pushed by boobs against his chest. They weren't hers and never would be as good, but I know how he liked them and hoped he might like mine, too.

A hand wedged between our bodies and grabbed one breast, and at least in that, I succeeded.

I have no idea how long we made out like that. In my mind, it felt like it lasted hours, but was probably only a few minutes. He leaned into me hard, and it felt terrifyingly big and threatening. I knew it was no bigger than Don's, but it represented something much bigger.

Brandon lifted me by grabbing both of my butt cheeks and kissed my neck. The back of my head hit the wall, and I wrapped my legs around his waist so my sex pressed back against his hard-on. His fingers squeezed so hard on my bum I knew he was bruising it, leaving finger marks all over me that, by tomorrow, will be an ugly brownish-purple. I kissed his forehead then made him stop staring at me by kissing his eyes. His bulge ground against me. Hard.

When he threw me on the bed, I landed on all fours and he grabbed my waist and thrust that thing against my butt. I unbuttoned my jeans, but he went for my shirt.

Okay. Surprising, but it made me feel good that he wanted my top off. It made a ripping sound, and I yelled at him to be careful, so he ripped it right off me, tearing the fabric and really pissing me off, because I liked that shirt! He grabbed one of my boobs from behind through my bra, and I quickly unhooked it before he ruined that, too.

He grabbed both of my breasts, pulling me up to my knees so I leaned back against him and squeezed so hard it terrified me all over again. His hands felt rough, covered with callouses from the weight room, and they felt so good, for a moment, I tingled all over.

From behind, he kissed my cheek, then pulled a mouthful of hair back from my face and kissed my neck. His rough hands squeezed my breasts, pushed them against my rib cage, his tongue licked sweat from my ear and jawline.

It wasn't a big orgasm. In fact, in the moment, I don't think I realized what it was, although looking back, there is no doubt. I was gasping and moaning and making all kinds of embarrassing noises and his tongue reached into my open mouth from behind. Turning, my tongue sought his out, and our two tongues kissed outside our mouths for a few brief, frantic seconds until his lips took mine and we kissed more deeply than before. He exhaled forcefully into my mouth, straight into my lungs.

Then he shoved me forward and pulled off my panties. Luckily, he did not rip them up like my shirt. Behind me, I heard the metallic clicking of his belt buckle, and again, muffled when it landed on the carpet. A hand reached around to grope my breast again as the tip of his penis rubbed around my butt and thigh. Searching.

Probably the most terrifying moment of my life was when I thought he might screw my butt. My heart was pounding so hard already, but it felt like it stopped and a chill ran over my naked body. My brother could have me, but not that way. Just as I reached a hand back to guide him, he slipped between my legs and rubbed the length of his shaft against my labia.