Authors Note: This story is a Brother-Sister Incest/Group Sex tale that also contains a wide variety of other flavors of sexual perversion.
It is a three part story. I will post each installment about a week apart. All characters are at least eighteen and, like all my fiction, this story is fictional.
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"Thanks for taking Emma to Mom's, Alex," said Lorelei as she stretched up to give him a light kiss on the cheek. He leaned forwards slightly to even up the difference between his six foot four inches in height and her five foot ten. As her lips brushed his cheek, a gust of wind racing before the forecasted storms blew her hair into a wispy cloud of golden brown that enveloped their faces and immersed Alex in the smell of her shampoo. As she dropped back she pulled errant locks of wavy hair from her eyes and smiled up at him. "You've always been the best brother a girl could have."
"Anything for you kiddo," said Alex as he adjusted his squirming, year old niece in his arms. She kept earnestly reaching out with both arms towards Lorelei. "Any special instructions for Mom?"
"I doubt I could tell her anything she doesn't already know."
"Yeah, and if you did I doubt she'd listen. She'd just say, 'I raised you both on my own so don't tell
me
how to handle a child.'"
"Well, she raised
you
on her own. The way I remember it, you were the one that raised me," said Lorelei.
Alex knew she had a point. He was eight years older than his sister and, as their mom's catering business had started taking off, the job of raising Lorelei from a toddler through her difficult early teen years had fallen largely on him. It had frequently required him to forego the usual diversions of a teenaged boy in order to attend to his headstrong and occasionally difficult young sister, but, finally, she had grown into a smart and beautiful woman.
"Be that as it may, I'd better get your larva over to mom's. You're not the only one with a business trip this weekend."
A faraway look descended onto Lorelei's face. She was going away on a party planning gig up in Montreal that paid big bucks; "A semester of college for Emma," as she put it.
"Yeah, it's going to be an exhausting weekend, but I'm kinda looking forward to it. Shit, look at the time, I really have to go." She quickly kissed her daughter and Alex once more, climbed into her Toyota and drove off.
Alex manipulated Emma's little arm to make her wave at her departing mother. Once Lorelei turned the corner and disappeared into the New Jersey sprawl, he turned Emma around to look at her. God, she looked so much like Lorelei. Still, Alex wished Lorelei and Randy had used a condom, especially when they found out he was shipping off to Afghanistan. Now he was dead from a stupid Humvee accident and she was a single mother at twenty two. He could already see the stress of her situation aging his beautiful kid sister from week to week.
He sighed. "That's life eh?" he said to Emma, who tilted her little head at him quizzically. "Well, come on girl; let's get you to your Grandmother so I can go try to sell some bathroom fixtures to a supremely creepy Russian pimp."
***
It had started to rain after he left his mom's house and increased in intensity on the drive to the marina. It was shitty weather for a three day cruise around Long Island, but fresh air and sunshine were hardly the point. This was Alex's chance for a Big Sale; a chance to sell millions of dollars worth of burnished platinum shower knobs, gold trimmed bidets, hand painted silk shower curtains and all the other garish, high priced bullshit that his company could shovel at Victor Zdrokov for his "pleasure resorts". That Zdrokov's venture was really just a string of bordello-islands where rich men could pay huge sums to fuck young girls made no difference when such quantities of money were involved. If everything went well, the bathrooms at those "resorts" would be tricked out with fixtures from Apex Furnishings and Alex Barstow would get a sweet commission on each glorious piece.
"Are we sure we even want this account?" Alex asked Hal, his boss, as he drove gingerly through the black storm; shouting into the phone over the drum of rain on his car. "Aren't we worried about… you know, going to Hell?"
"If people worried about going to Hell when conducting business, nothing in this world would ever get done. So I don't even want to hear that kind of talk. Mr. Z wants you on this little business cruise of his because he thinks you're sympathetic. He thinks you're as big a pervert as he is."
Alex sighed. A couple of weeks ago Zdrokov had taken several of the salesmen out for lunch and brought them to a "private club" where he bought time with several "professional girls". Alex was just going along with the fun, drank way too much and fucked his girl up against the bar. Then he fucked the girl left over when Carrentello, a happily married guy and a devout Catholic, balked and left early. Zdrokov had been vocally impressed not only by Alex's initiative and staying power, but also by the size of his manhood. Alex had been getting shit about it at work ever since.
"Shit. So this deal rests on the fact that this Russian bastard is impressed with my dick?"
"When he requested you as our representative he called you, 'ready like a rabbit and built like a bull,'" laughed Hal.
"Un-fucking-believable."
"Aw, chill out Alex. Most guys would kill to have an eleven incher like you."
"The stories have me up to eleven now? Shit Hal, it's not even nine." It was eight and seven-eigths last time he checked, but he didn't like to brag.
"Whatever Barstow. The point is he thinks you're a player. This whore-tour of his isn't about figuring out who to buy fixtures from, he's trying to build word of mouth. You can't advertise what he's selling. He's got to get the word out by getting as many horny businessmen from around the world laid as possible. I've asked around and he's done about a couple dozen of these things so far and it seems to be working like a charm. People are talking."
"I hadn't thought of that."
"That's why I'm the goddamned boss. Now when you get there you just get on his damn ship, give the presentation like we rehearsed and fuck every pussy he throws your way. Christ, I can't even believe I have to pep-talk you on this. If I was your age…"
Hal went on with his tirade, spinning out fantasies of what he'd do if he was twenty years younger with a big cock on a ship full of sluts. Alex figured Hal was probably right. He just didn't like the idea of his career riding on his prick. Who was really the whore here, after all?
The yacht was waiting when he arrived. It loomed above the pier like an iceberg with tinted windows. Alex dashed through the rain and up the gangway where his credentials were checked and he was left standing on deck under a dripping awning with three other nervously fidgeting salesmen while they waited to be escorted inside one by one. After twenty minutes Alex was led by a couple of hard looking security guys to a room where they took his luggage, cell phone and wallet. He was then x-rayed by a cute, petite Asian woman in a ridiculously tiny and tight nurses' uniform. Then came the strip search.
"Is she really a nurse?" Alex had asked one of the security guys as she peered up his ass with a pen light.
The security guy ignored him. "Me Nurse, yes," said the nurse with a smiley voice from behind him as she jammed a syringe into him to take a blood sample.
Alex was given a robe and finally shown to his stateroom by a tall blond in professional, albeit slinky and skimpy, attire. She said her name was Irina. In a Slavic accent she told him they would not be discussing business until the following day so it was recommended that he get some rest before the party that evening. He was informed that until they checked his blood-work he was required to stay in his cabin. When she left he checked the door. It was locked from the outside.
He felt the boat lurch as it left the dock. Worried about feeling seasick, he took a couple of the Dramamine he found in the bathroom and lay down to watch the rain blurred skyline of Manhattan slip by as they cruised up the East River towards Long Island Sound. At some point he fell asleep. Three hours later Irina returned to congratulate him that his tests had come back clean. She told him to get ready for the evening's entertainment. He'd be expected in the great-room within the hour.
"What about my clothes?"
"It is informal dress this evening Mr. Barstow," was all she said. She left him with a robe and slippers to wear and nothing else.
Alex checked the door again when she had left. It was unlocked now. He peered out into the hall and followed the smell of fresh, salty air to an open door leading to a walkway outside. As he emerged he found a man of about five foot eight with a pale, drawn face standing with his back to the wall. He wore the same type of navy blue velvet robe as Alex and was smoking a cigarette while watching the featureless grey drizzle as the light of the dying day slowly faded away.
"This is all pretty fucked up, huh?" said Alex plucking at the lapel of his robe.
"Can't argue with you there mate," he said in a staccato English accent. "But I'll put up with an awful lot for a chance to spend the next three days dipping my in prick for free in Zdrokov's stable of tarts."
"Yeah," laughed Alex. "Should be pretty wild. I feel a little like a whore myself for going along with all this."
The Englishman pursed his lips together and spat out a rude noise. "All business is whoring mate. We sell little bits of ourselves; our time; our honor; our soul; until you get too old and they kick you out the door with hardly anything left of who you used to be."
