Reaching in the shower of the Bitch’s former bathroom, I turned the faucet, allowing the falling water to heat up to a comfortable level. Grinning at myself in the mirror, I pulled my light green polo off, followed by someone knocking on the door.
“Yes?” I called out, unbuckling my belt.
“It’s me,” I heard Antoinette say, muffled by the bathroom door.
“Come in,” I said, stepping out of my jeans. The heavy door swung open slowly, and Antoinette stepped into the light red tiled washroom, her khaki skirt still bunched around her waist. A soft gasp passed her red lips when she saw my state of undress.
“You, you wanted to see me?” she said, her big blue eyes caught on my thick manhood.
“Eyes up,” I frowned at my stepsister. Her face jerked up, her lips trembling.
“Please,” Antoinette said. “Don’t hurt me. I, I only-”
“Only what?” I interrupted, smirking at the flustered woman.
“I, I,” the Tramp gulped. “I want you a, again.”
“Excuse me?”
“Please,” my disheveled stepsister begged. “Please fuck me again.”
“Why?”
“I, I don’t know,” she shook her head. “I just, just feel this n, need to have your cock, y, you in me. It felt so, so good.” Antoinette let out a low moan, licking her lips.
“I don’t think I’m ready,” I smirked. “I need to shower first.”
“Oh.” My older stepsister frowned and turned to the door, a small tears filling her blue eyes.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t join me.” Antoinette whirled around and hugged me, pressing her bosom into my chest, squealing with delight.
“Will you fuck me then?” she asked, her voice husky with anticipation.
“Maybe,” I said. “But the more we talk out here, the colder the water will get.” Grinning widely, the Tramp began peeling her khaki business suit off as I stepped into the shower. Quickly nude, she followed me into the falling hot water.
“I’ll wash your back off, if you wash mine,” I offered. Antoinette beamed.
After a few minutes, my blue-eyed minx of a stepsister was leaning against me, as I massaged her soapy breasts and the warm water fell upon her chest, a soft sigh of contentment breathing from her lips.
“I wish I could have known about this before,” Antoinette murmured, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Mom wouldn’t have allowed it,” she frowned.
“Oh?”
“How much do you really know about our family?” she asked, her eyes suddenly wide, looking up into mine.
“Not too much. The Bitch generally kept me in the dark. She never did accept me as part of the family.”
“There were reasons for that. One of them was me.”
“Why’s that?”
“You wouldn’t believe how screwed up this family really is, Sam.”
“Oh? I never thought of the family as dysfunctional.”
“It has been for a long time. Mother and Father always had their arguments, even before your adoption. I still wonder how he managed to convince her to agree to it.” She paused, frowning thoughtfully. “First of all, I’m not Father’s daughter, biologically at least. Gr, grandfather raped my mother days after the marriage. Wh, when I was born and everyone saw whom I resembled; there was a huge fight. Father told me about it before he died. After that, Grandfather left, we thought for good at the time. Brigitte was born a couple years later, and while Mother was pregnant with Cynthia, Father went on a strange business trip. He returned a few days after Cynthia’s birth with you. I always wondered if you were his or not. Shortly, Grandfather returned to visit us. Apparently another argument occurred, and a few days later, Grandfather was found dead. The police looked at Father pretty closely, but eventually gave up. Until Father died, he raised you, and Mother us.”
“That still doesn’t explain her hostility towards me.”
“I thought it was because of Father,” Antoinette said. “I think he slept with someone else and brought you home a bastard.”
“It’s a possibility,” I frowned. “Though I doubt it. I’ve never seen a resemblance between us.”
“You never met his sister, Aunt Laura. You look a bit like her.”
“How come?”
“She passed away before you were brought home.”
Things really seemed to be screwed up around here, I thought. Who am I, really? Could it be that I was some child of incest? I grunted. Doubtful. Looking down into my stepsister’s teary eyes, as she snuggled close to me, I realized I had taken advantage of my family, acting out on my anger.
“We better dry off and get dressed,” I interrupted my thoughts, promising to ponder the possibilities later. Perhaps the Bitch could answer some of my questions. “Dinner should be ready soon.” With a sad smile, Antoinette nodded and turned off the water. She pulled the curtain aside and stretched for a large fluffy blood-red towel. As she dabbed her slick skin, without thinking, I asked, “What was Father’s name?”
Looking up from her ministrations, she said, “Elijah.” |