People at school and around the neighborhood called our family the United Nations. Two black girls, one Hispanic girl, one Asian girl, one white girl, and lastly me the single white male in the house. We'd all been adopted.
My dad had been an Indian immigrant while my mom had been an Arab immigrant who'd immigrated to Ohio. They'd decided to adopt when my mother had discovered she was infertile. Many an adoption had followed.
In my opinion they may have gone a little overboard. Both had wanted big families, but Jesus I mean 6 kids? And where was the gender balance? I mean I grew up with five sisters and no brothers. Regardless I loved my family. We were a weird family, but a family none the less. We had our issues like any family does, but we always loved each other.
Then my parents had died. I still remember it. Coming down the stairs for breakfast and seeing my older sister Carmen standing frozen in front of the television. The news anchor on the screen was talking about a plane crash. Carmen had turned and looked at me eyes wide as I stared helplessly back at her. The flight they'd been on had had engine failure before crashing into the sea somewhere in the Pacific.
That had been the moment our lives had changed. Carmen had taken charge at the age of twenty dropping out of college to assume the role of matriarch to what remained of our family. Aggressively asserting herself as a model she'd earned a healthy income alongside our parent's wills to keep us all clothed and fed. And she had had to after our parent's families had disputed their wills taking a good deal of the money meant for us. Carmen had had to lawyer up and successfully saved some money for each of us along with the house we'd grown up in. It was nowhere near the thousands of dollars our doctor parents had saved for us, but we were just happy to not be destitute and to have a home.
I yawned as I pulled my car into the garage and parked. It was almost six and I wondered if I was too late to start dinner. Hopefully my younger sister Isabella had started it already. She may have been two years younger than me, but Izzy had been the better cook for three years now. Hell sometimes I intentionally showed up late in hopes that she'd cook. So when I opened the front door and smelled delicious scents wafting out of the kitchen I grinned. The sound of bass and laughter also drew my attention as I shut the door behind me, but my stomach won out over my curiosity.
Stepping into the kitchen I was met with two great sights. First was Isabella who's back was to me as she bent over at the waist to pull something from the cupboard. This pulled the short shorts she was wearing tight around the impressive curves of her ass. My eyes immediately zeroed in on the large, curvy ass before I shook my head and saw the plethora of food sitting on the counter. Kielbasa sausage mixed with bell peppers next to homemade mac and cheese, and I found that my eyes kept darting back and forth between the two different sights before my eyes settled on Isabella's ass.
I don't know what my parents did when they adopted all the girls in my family, but it seemed as though doctors just knew good genes when they saw them. All of my sisters had grown into beautiful knockouts. This of course had not been overlooked by teenage me. Especially when my sisters dressed in a very relaxed manner around the house. And by relaxed I mean revealing.
Looking at the short shorts that were riding up Isabella's round, full ass I felt tingles begin to radiate through my groin. I understand that my sisters were comfortable with me, but sometimes the way they dressed could be...distracting. Crop top shirts would reveal trim midriffs. Low cut tops would barely contain bouncing breasts. Leggings would be swallowed into big asses becoming more of a second skin than pants. And short shorts like the ones Isabella was wearing would ride up, turning into more of a pair of cheeky panties than lower body clothing when ever my sisters weren't paying attention. And when they were home it was like they were oblivious the affects they could have on a man.
My sister had caramel tan skin, dark brown hair, and in what seemed to be a family tradition with the females of the family, a curvy hour glass figure. She was wearing a crop top that left her toned midriff bare and her long brown hair pulled back in a simple pony tail.
Deciding that I'd better do something before Isabella turned around and found her older brother ogling her I quietly stepped up next to her and without warning her wrapped my arms around her waist and hoisted her up off the ground.
"What the- hey!" Izzy cried out in surprise before she started laughing when she realized it was me, "Put me down you ass. Someone has to finish dinner."
Letting her down with a smile I grunted in surprise when she spun around and punched me in the chest. "Ow," I groaned sheepishly as my sister stood in front of me hands on her hips, "It was just a joke Izzy."
"Oh that was for ditching on making dinner tonight," Izzy replied coolly, "Now go set the table."
I had the wherewithal to look sheepish under my younger sister's gaze so instead of saying anything I just did what she said. Walking into the dining room I noticed someone sitting at the table.
Heather, the only other white person in the family besides me, was working on a piece of red leather with an almost laser like focus on her sewing machine. Heather was probably the palest member of our family with pale porcelain skin, raven black hair, and sky blue eyes hidden behind sleek black glasses. Like all my sisters she had a body on her, but unlike my other sisters Heather's was honed in the gym. Oh she wasn't the family gym rat like our younger sister Kira, but all those squats she'd been doing at the gym had made one glorious pair of ass and thighs. Add in a gravity defying pair of c-cup breasts and the longest legs in the family and you had one smoke show of a young lady. Although oddly enough my favorite parts about my sister weren't related to her body.
You see out of all of my sisters Heather and I got along the best. And this most likely had to do with Heather being the family nerd. My sister loved comics, anime, and videogames. So much so that when the san diego comic con came around it was a tradition for the two of us to attend. Hell I'd already reserved the tickets in advance for the event next week.
But none of that was really drawing my attention at the moment so much so as the fact that Heather wasn't wearing a shirt. A lacy black push up bra struggled to contain a pair of perky c-cup breasts as my sister focused on the leather. My pants tightened as I felt my dick begin to stiffen at the sight. Damn it, down boy down, I thought lowering the plates in front of me, the last thing I need is for Heather to see me with a hard on.
So clearing my throat I raised an eyebrow at Heather when she looked up at me.
"Hey Sammy, what's up," she said with a smile.
"Not much," I replied with a shrug, "Just setting the table for dinner. What are you doing?"
