All characters engaged in sex acts are eighteen or older.
Flora was grumpy the day that Louise and I headed out. Aunt Maggie and Glad were coming out the next day, so she would have some time alone at home. The morning she found this out, she wasn't nearly as sanguine about me leaving as she had been. Her face was twisted up and got glassy eyed when she told me, and fucking her didn't placate her.
Her demeanor certainly didn't put a damper on our fucking. Multiple times a day I would cum inside her. We would scream and twitch and sweat together. It would be in her pussy or mouth. Flora had increasingly hinted that she wanted it in her ass. Each time I was behind her I would finger her butt. Now that we did it with lube, I could make her have an anal orgasm every time. I had never heard of it before her and thought maybe she was imagining it, as absurd as that sounds. So I looked it up. But apparently anal orgasms a thing. I wouldn't have known. The one time had fucked a girl in the ass, she clearly wasn't enjoying it. Likewise, I had never received. God forbid.
But when I came in her pussy, she licked my cock clean like a good girl every time. She was hungry for my cum and always wanted it inside her. By the day Louise and I were ready to go, I had fucked Flora more times than I had fucked any other girl. Except Glad. Shit. Glad coming after I was gone was a small mercy, but I was afraid of what it would be like when Louise and I came back. We hadn't spoken since she had been taken home after our taboo relationship. We never thought it would get out. In hindsight, we were fools. If I hadn't confessed to Dad...
Flora wasn't just a fuck toy for me. Sure, she was a little slut, but it was an act of devotion. Being a dirty slut to her meant being willing to do anything, but only for me. When we had started she was tepid about being called a slut, but by this time she had leaned into it. She liked "sister slut" even better. Even with all that perversion, our relationship was wholesome. I watched Steven Universe and Adventure Time with her, never letting on that I didn't care for either. I let her in my bed when there was more thunder. Of course we would fuck every time she did. But I listened to her drama with her friends online, her fanfic ideas, and her little insecurities that she couldn't tell anyone else. Not that it bothered me. Taking care of her was a pleasure, and it was simple, since it was what I did before I left.
She was an afterthought with Mom and Dad, an "oops baby." What a shitty way of saying unwanted and unloved. Louise could be married off to another trainwreck rich family, just like a fairy tale. I was there to follow in Dad's footsteps. Flora was... extra, in both senses of the word. She was unneeded, but also more emotional, more needy, than the rest of us. Not like Mom and Dad cared.
The morning of that day, I surprised her by getting in bed with her and cuddling. Of course getting close to her could only end one way, and soon I was pulling her panties, the cute ones with manga-style capybaras, over her fat ass and breathing in her exquisite, overnight aroma. Then pounding my cock into her, making her wail and leak. I left her sweat soaked and oozing with my jizz.
A few nights before, I was in the garage, checking up on the cars with Louise. Louise had insisted that we take the cheapest car we owned, a BMW luxury sedan. She was there with me even though she knew nothing about cars. The hood was popped and I was checking every detail I knew how to check. Truly Byron kept them in top shape, and took them to our mechanic regularly, so even the smallest problem would be an anomaly. He came out to the garage while we were there, and stopped short at the stairs leading down from the entrance. "Hello there, Mr. Trip, Miss Louise." Though Louise was never rude or hostile to them, much of the help didn't like her because her escapades made their jobs harder. I never mentioned how much Mr. Bertrand, our attorney, despised her. Byron clearly had more to say, and the way he was eyeing Louise, I knew it wasn't for her ears. He watched us for a moment and left.
I caught up with him a few hours later in the same garage. "You good, Byron?" I asked him. The glowing foot of the cigar illuminated his dark face and the bill of his newsboy cap.
"I reckon I'm doing as good as can be expected, Mr. Trip," he smiled, smoke trailing from his mouth.
"But?"
"Mr. Trip, I will try to say this to you as delicately as I can. I'm concerned about your outing with Miss Louise."
"Come on, Byron. We'll be fine. I appreciate you thinking of us, though," I added hastily.
"Who's gonna drive?" He asked. Byron would never have questioned something like this with Mom or Dad. It took a lot of trust to pierce his sense of etiquette.
"I haven't thought of it. This is Louse's show, so I guess she will."
"Sir, Miss Louise has three DUIs. I have no concerns about a Tremblay dealing with the law, but I don't want you to put yourself in danger. She's no cautious driver even when she's sober, if you'll forgive me for saying. Atlanta is just six hours from here, it's a simple matter for me to drive you and return." His eyes shined with concern, magnified by his glasses.
I knew twelve hours of driving would be uncomfortable for Byron. He wasn't as young as he used to be. His pride wouldn't let anyone tell him that, though. "We want the car for the time we're there."
"That's no problem at all, Mr. Trip. I can take a rental car back and return for you," he said. I wished he would just leave it alone, but I wouldn't order him to do anything. I wasn't Dad.
I sighed, "No offense, Byron, but we want some privacy."
"All our cars have partitions Mr. Trip,"
and you know that
was left unsaid. "I don't need to see or hear anything." God, the things the household staff of rich ghouls like us must see. Anyone who grew up with money knows that discretion is at the top of the list for men like Byron, even above his skill as a driver.
"Byron..." I couldn't keep the annoyance out of my voice.
"Mr. Trip, the choice is yours, of course." There was more unsaid
you'd be a fool not to listen to me.
In the end it was Louise and I, without Byron, who ended up making the trip. That morning, we showed our cosplay to Flora. The spiky blonde wig was itchy and the sword was absurdly awkward, even made of foam. We were in Louise's room and it took a while to put on. She was quite tickled. "You look so handsome, Trip," she squealed.
"And I look like shit?" Louise snarked.
"Sorry, Louise, you look-" I cut her off like always, slapping her jiggling ass. She yelped. "I mean," her breath was hard, "You look great too. It's a really good likeness." She looked up at me with a weak smile.
Louise had started to roll her eyes, but they went wide and suspicious when I spanked Flora. "I hope you guys have fun, sorry if I was mean-"
Another spank on her butt. "Possum, stop. Don't worry about it."
"But you'll text me, right?" She said.
"Of course I will, jeez. Relax, it's only for a few days."
"Sor- I mean, ok Trip. I understand. Thank you."
"It's like you're his dog. Or bitch," Louise said. "We're not going off to war."
"Louise, be nice," I admonished.
"Yes, Daddy," she said.
I huffed, "Let's get packed."
—
Louise wouldn't let Bryon carry her luggage. I knew he was just trying to be around and cluck like a mother hen when we left. She had dressed in short denim shorts and a red plaid shirt, tied in the middle and barely covering her. She had on cowboy boots too and a cowboy hat. "What the fuck?" I chuckled when I saw her, though she looked fine as hell. My dick took notice, too.
"Daisy Duke. You know, Dukes of Hazzard? I thought since we were out with these backwoods hicks I would try to blend in."
It embarrassed me her talking this way in front of Byron. "The cheeks of your ass are hanging out and you're barely covered on top. And those shit kickers are ridiculous." Did Daisy Duke wear cowboy boots and a cowboy hat?
"Whatever, I know I look hot. And who cares about the shirt, it's not like I have tits to show." My face burned.
"Well, you're her spitting image with your tattoos and pink hair," I said. Louise put her luggage down just to flip me off double. "I don't think there are too many 'backwoods hicks' in Atlanta."
She gave me a cryptic look and put her luggage in the trunk. Her ass stuck out as she bent over, revealing the stylized vampire bat tramp stamp on her lower back. The term was hers. "I'm way the hell past tramp," she would say. I loaded my suitcase in the trunk, and for a second wondered how much illegal substances were in her luggage. We wouldn't be able to talk our way out of that one, though Mr. Bertrand would.
It was sticky hot. So much so that Byron's glasses were fogging up. The sky was a gray blanket, a hair's breadth from storming again. I couldn't tell if it was sprinkling or just misty. Flora would have to deal with a storm on her own tonight. I felt a prick of sorrow for her. Hopefully she had learned a thing or two and would have a drink. My back was already dripping with sweat. Louise's skin shined too.
Really, she did look stunning, if trashy, in that outfit. Hell, she did in anything. The top revealed just enough of her fit abs while her lithe but strong legs seemed all the much longer with her shorts riding up her crack. A perverted part of my mind wondered how those shorts would smell by the end of the day.
Louise sat in the driver's seat. There was so much of a spring in her step that I thought she would start skipping. I realized what a big deal this gig was for her. When I turned around Bryon's face was dour, but he waved to us anyway. As best I could, I put a contrite expression on. Knowing him for as long as I had, you could pick up on every subtle wrinkle. I said a silent prayer to the god I didn't believe in that she wouldn't fuck this up. She was her most reckless in high spirits. I closed the car door behind me.
Cackling, Louise goosed the accelerator. The car peeled out from the portico and zipped down the driveway. The turn threw me against the door. My teeth ground. Once we got on the road, she shifted into high gear and the engine roared. "You've got the whole trip to be stupid, can you slow down a little?" I said, embarrassed that I had to play the worrywort.
She rolled her eyes, "I was just doing it for Byron. I know what he thinks of my driving." But she slowed.
"You mean what he
knows
about your driving."
"Whatever," she grumbled.
The landscape was a bizarre patchwork. We passed other plantation houses, farm fields, small towns and oil refineries. Reaching the highway was a relief, where at least she could drive fast in a straight line. We got through town then the vast flat swamps next to Lake Pontchartrain surrounded us. I stared out the window, hoping to spot alligators. "I'm proud of you, Louise."
