I have three beautiful sisters, all older than me. We are all around a year apart in age, me 18, then Culia at 19, Krista 20 and Serena, 21, Culia is actually only eleven months older than me. Which made the two of us close. Culia flunked first grade and so was in my graduating class in high school.
My father made his fortune growing and selling marijuana, back when it was illegal. We grew up on a remote ranch, in an environment with a sort of general undercurrent of paranoia. For much of my childhood, not only were my parents living in constant fear of discovery by the law, they lived in almost obsessive terror of raiders, of bad men who would come for the huge amounts of cash my father had buried around the big property. And it was a given that the only way he would ever reveal the locations of his treasure troves was if his children's lives were threatened. We had safe rooms all around the place and were drilled on how to scramble into one in the event of a raid.
For the past few years I have had a nagging suspicion that I didn't fit into this family somehow. Not only did I not look anything like any of my siblings or either of my parents, (I was six four with a dark complexion compared to my family being smaller, fair haired Nordic types) but as well, something quite embarrassing and distressing kept coming up.
My penis. That is, I began to have very powerful physical reactions whenever I was thrown into close proximity with a sister. Of course, like every other normal male with a sex drive, I did intensive research on the internet, studying closely the fine lines and sculpted curves of the female form. And it could not escape my attention, that, walking around the house in loose clothes, sitting on a couch with me watching TV, sunning themselves on the back deck in bikinis, were three of the finest examples of the art of femininity. And unlike the women on my computer screen, I could smell my sisters. And just that, the smell of a sister sprawled on the couch beside me, gave me a raging erection.
But I was deeply concerned. How fucking perverted. My sisters. What kind of deviant was I?
Then, earlier this year I found out. I wasn't a sexual fiend lusting after his siblings. I was adopted.
The information came to me by way of a neighbor's son. See, while it was kept a strict secret in my own family, many of the folks on that mountain knew that I was the infant son of a grower lady who had died of cancer. She was my mother's closest friend, so it was a given that my family would step up and adopt me. As well, so my scumbag birth father wouldn't know what became of me, my parents had to keep it quiet.
So I was happy to learn, it was, in fact, completely normal that I would be sexually attracted to these beautiful women I lived with.
Now, for some time I had been fighting my attraction to Culia, Cool. She was not only cute, she was soft and sweet and very feminine. That last semester of high school we'd go to her room on school nights to study. I was pretty good at math and she wasn't, so my parents volunteered me to tutor her.
Culia is a small girl. She's pretty quiet, even a little anti-social, but we got along very well. In the last year she's developed quite a bit, become a lot more curvacious. In fact, the same clothes she wore a few months ago were now pretty tight on her. Suddenly she filled out her jeans nicely. The same sweater that was baggy on her at Christmas is now almost too small to hold those fine young perky bulging breasts. Even the way she moves changed. She's more female, less tomboyish.
And all of that has made our study sessions more...difficult for me to focus on. One afternoon I popped into her room while she was out and I noticed her computer was on, asleep, but on. She must have thought it was off. The password is her cat's name. The screen that came up shocked me. Porn. Specifically, cum shots. Girls getting their faces creamed.
This changed everything. I mean literally. Changed. Everything. During our study session that night I became instantly and painfully hard when she sat down across from me at our study table. We were working on algebra. I typically sit opposite her but I found an excuse to come around and sit down beside her.
Our legs touched. It was like a jolt of electricity went through me. If men exude pheromones, I was bathed in them. How could she not notice? I was hard, breathing heavily, nervous, and my eyes were slowly taking off every stitch of clothing she had on. Worst of all, I kept imagining her pretty face, the soft, supple skin of it, her red lips and blushing cheeks, covered in my sperm.
She had on tight jeans and a too small sweatshirt. Her hair was in a pony tail. She wore a gold chain necklace and had on tiny gold earrings. Her neck is long and sensuous and the skin of her cheeks has a rosy glow to it. Her lips are naturally red and very expressive.
I leaned in to show her how to do an algebra equation and the effect on me was so physically overwhelming I couldn't continue.
"Cool, I, I," I stammered a bit, "I can't...I can't do this." I sounded desperate.
"What?" she asked, genuinely concerned at the tone of my voice.
"Well, I recently discovered something that has changed how I...feel about you."
"What? What are you talking about, Stevie?"
"I'm not your brother. I was adopted."
"Oh my god!" she gasped, "Oh my! Really? How did you find out? Really?"
I explained how I'd learned about my birth parents and the circumstances of my adoption. Cool was very sympathetic and as surprised as I had been by this revelation.
"Well," she assured me, "that doesn't change anything, Steve. You're still my brother."
"See, that's just it, Cool," I confessed, "I don't feel like your brother anymore."
"What, what do you mean?" She seemed hurt.
