Summer of Fun

"You're just in time."

Sara set her bag down at the foot of the stairs and made her way down the hall in the direction of her dad's voice. The unmistakable aroma of sautéed garlic, not to mention his limited cooking proficiencies betrayed his 'surprise' dinner: spaghetti.

She sat down and poured two glasses of wine as her father placed a steaming plate in front of her, then another at the place to her left. The kitchen was small but functional. Cozy, she thought.

They sat in silence for a moment, each enjoying the other's company. She raised her glass and said warmly, "The Three Musketeers." It was their special name. After her mom died when she was seven, her dad tried to lighten the mood and make the rest of their lives sound like an adventure. We're the Dynamic Duo, he said. No, she corrected, the Three Musketeers.

Who's the third?, he asked.

Whiskers, she said.

The goldfish?, he asked. As a five year old, she named the goldfish Whiskers and the cat Goldie. It made perfect sense to her child mind. What about the cat?

He doesn't count. And so it was, the Three Musketeers. Just the two of them. She adored her father and thought she would marry him when she was old enough. That, too, made perfect sense.

"The Three Musketeers," he echoed. It was good to have her there, to make this new place feel like a home, to have someone there who loved him.

When they had finished eating, he held up the bottle with a quizzical look. "Not yet," she said, "I still have a lot of stuff to bring in."

They walked to and from the car, each hauling what they could: a few boxes, bags stuffed with clothes, a small old tv. It wasn't much. Sara had sold most of her stuff in an effort to stave off foreclosure, but in the end it wasn't enough. In less than a year she went from a house, a fiancée, and a job to homeless, single, and unemployed. It was her dad's idea to come stay with him until she could get back on her feet. Besides, he said, it'll be good for the both of us.

"Which one's mine?" she asked, looking back and forth between the two small, mostly empty bedrooms on either side of the hallway. Why he decided to buy a house with so many bedrooms was beyond her. Midlife crisis.

"Whichever you like. But this one has a bigger closet," he said, pointing to the left.

"OK, well maybe I'll use the other one for exercising." Sara frequently bought DVDs of the latest workouts. She never stuck with one for more than a month or two but the aggregate result was that she kept in pretty nice shape.

"About that..." her dad began. "It's not just going to be the two of us this summer." He paused. "Jeremy is going to be here to."

"What!?" she screamed. "You've got to be fucking kidding me? Why on earth would he—? Didn't you divorce that bitch – isn't that why you're here in the first place?"

Sara hated her stepmom and was glad when their marriage ended. They had married two weeks before Sara's ninth birthday and her dad even implied that a new family was her birthday gift. It didn't matter that he also bought her a new bike. Julia criticized her constantly and made Sara sleep in her own bed. She was always defending Jeremy and blamed Sara when things got broken. He's just a child, she would say, you're old enough to know better.

It'll get better, her dad would say when she would start crying. He's only four. You can still play together.

But he's a BABY, she would protest. She resented Jeremy's freedom from culpability and Julia's condescension and their new 'family' and the way that their names both started with J and the fact that they were now living in her house, wedging themselves into her father's heart. When her dad and Julia divorced last year she thought her prayers had finally been answered.

"Sara, it's more complicated than that. Things didn't work out between me and Julia but it's different with kids. I'm the only father he's ever known."

"Yeah but he's not a kid anymore. He's 18! Can't he just grow up and deal with it the way you always said that I needed to?!"

Her dad just stood and stared. He knew this was coming.

"What's he coming here for anyway?" she asked with disgust and spite.

"He got an internship for the summer but they're not paying him and he asked if he could stay here since he didn't have enough money for an apartment. I didn't know you were going to move in – I thought you were going to make it work on your own."

"Oh, so now it's my fault? What, I'm a burden?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I just meant that for the first time in a long time I was living on my own and, well, it was kind of lonely. I thought having Jeremy here would make it easier. And any problems that his mother and I had were not because of him, or you, for that matter."

With that Sara didn't know what else to say. She looked at her father, his defeated countenance, and understood. He felt the way she did, alone, vulnerable. She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. "How 'bout that refill now?"

Sara woke up late with the warm sun streaming in through the thin curtains. She crossed the room and started toward the bathroom, rubbing her face and trying to convince herself that she didn't have a slight hangover, when the sound of a ringing phone reminded her that she wasn't alone in the house. Quickly she retreated to the bedroom and grabbed a pair of yoga pants that we sticking out of one of the bags full of clothes, pulling them slowly over her calves and bouncing slightly to work them around her hips, all the while holding a doorknob so she wouldn't fall over. She brushed her teeth and washed her face then made her way downstairs.

She noticed her father sitting outside, shirtless, talking on the phone. She grabbed a cup of coffee, and joined him on the cramped patio. He hung up just as she was sitting down, taking in her surroundings. It wasn't much, 10x10 maybe, just big enough for a grill and a few chairs, a handful of friends. It looked big enough to lie out and tan. At least it was fenced so the neighbors couldn't see in. "That was Jeremy. Apparently he's coming sooner than I thought."

Oh, God, she thought. Don't say it. "When?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Her didn't even say anything.

"Jesus," she said, shaking her head with that I-don't-want-to-even-deal-with-this-now attitude. "I need a shower." And with that she got up and went back inside.

By the time Jeremy got in, it was getting late. They'd already finished dinner and Sara was just about to go to bed in the hopes that she wouldn't have to see him for at least one more day. As she made her way up the stairs, though, she heard the car door slam. Shit. Too late. She turned around, practiced a fake smile, and marched downstairs.

At least it wasn't a full-blown reunion. Her dad hugged Jeremy and said he was glad to see him but that he had to be up early for work in the morning and they'd have to catch up later. Catch up? Weren't you like living in the same house until a few months ago?

"Sara can show you which room is yours. Good night guys."

She led him upstairs, making a show of how inconvenient the arrangement would be.

"Look," she said, "I'm tired and I'm going to bed, too. Later."

"Sara, wait," he said as he placed him bag on the floor and sat down on the bed. "Listen, I know you're not thrilled about me being here, but—"

"But what?" she asked tersely.

"But, I don't know. Maybe it won't be that bad."

With that she pushed into the room, wagging a finger in his face. "Fuck you, you little shit. I was looking forward to some nice quiet time but then you had to go and fuck it all up. You know, it's just like you to act all sweet and innocent while I get screwed. Well guess what? Your cunt mother isn't married to my dad anymore so there's no reason I have to put up with your bullshit. You just stay the fuck out of my way."

Jeremy was dumbstruck. Even as Sara said the words she knew they came across harsher than she intended. The truth is, she didn't hate Jeremy—after all, they had grown up together. It's just that a five-year gap as children is hard to overcome. He wasn't big enough to play the games that she and her friends wanted to play—and Julia always made a point of making sure that they were including him in whatever they were doing—which often meant abandoning whatever they had planned in favor of some childish board game. In junior high when Sara had a boy in her room one afternoon before her dad and Julia got home from work, Jeremy made sure to ask about it at dinner. In high school, when she snuck out after curfew, Jeremy blackmailed her for a month. And when she found her favorite panties sticky in the bathroom hamper, she freaked out.

By now it had been almost five years since they had lived together, and they'd only seen each other a few times since then. When Sara left for college, she left for good, even though she only stayed in school for the first year. She talked to her dad often, but rarely went home. That meant that the last time she and Jeremy had spent any significant time together he had been 13 and she 18. Now he was 18 and she 23. Maybe it won't be that bad, she admitted to herself. "Just don't be an ass," she said and left the room.

Having finally yelled at him the way she's wanted to for so long put Sara in a stir. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep but didn't want to go downstairs since the TV was on, which meant that Jeremy wasn't asleep yet either. She changed clothes, pulled out her laptop and curled into bed to read a blog or two or watch funny videos. But no matter what she read or watched she wasn't interested.

Only one thing could help when her mind was racing: sex, an orgasm, cumming.

She didn't know why it worked, but it did. Something about the complete lack of thought, of only tuning into what she felt at that exact moment...it cleared her head like nothing else.

Before she knew it Sara had begun touching herself, slowly tracing the outline of her right nipple with her left hand. Just the thought of masturbating made her horny. She reached inside her t-shirt and cupped her breast.

She squeezed gently.

She could feel the intensity building. It was warm in the room and she kicked off the sheet. She turned her laptop to a video of two women kissing, licking, fucking. She wasn't into women so much as she hated the exaggerated fake porn with women who just want to see how many dicks they can fit in their ass at one time or how much they can choke on a cock. I mean, who does that really? Besides, she found something erotic in two soft, gorgeous bodies at play.

Her right hand slid gradually into her silk pajama bottoms as she pushed her legs a bit farther apart.

She closed her eyes and caressed her body, circled her clitoris with her middle and ring fingers and inched her right index finger down her slit. Her pussy was getting wet.

She squeezed her breast again, inhaled deeply, and pushed her finger inside, just barely, just enough.

She worked it back and forth, each time reaching deeper inside herself.

She squeezed and rubbed, rubbed and pushed, breathed in and out in measured gusto as the orgasm built inside her. Her mind drifted to nothingness. Her hands became someone else's, her caresses not of her control.

Faster she moved her fingers. It was less of a circle now and more of a back and forth against the smooth skin of soaked cunt. Yes, yes, she breathed. Oh...yes...YE—

A quick thud interrupted what would have been salvation. Her eyes bolted open, her hands shot free of her clothing, and she sat up like a bullet, slamming closed the laptop.

Leering through the crack between the door and the jamb stood Jeremy, hard as a rock, with that same dumbstruck look on his face as when she yelled out him just a couple of hours before. She hadn't heard him come upstairs.

Sara went from embarrassed to pissed off in under a second. "You motherfucker! What the hell are you doing?"

No answer.

"Oh? You think this is funny you sick fuck? Or is it that you really do want to fuck me? That's it, isn't it? You want to fuck me? You want me to suck your cock? Huh? You want to cum on my face? Do you get off on watching your sister? Fucking pervert."

Still no answer.

Fifteen years worth of frustration mixed with her sexual arousal and at that exact moment Sara had a burst of inspiration.

"Well don't just stand there, come in," she said coyly.

Jeremy glanced down the hall to see if Sara's dad, his dad, had heard any of this. All was silent.

"Come on," Sara said again, moving up on the bed so that she was sitting on her knees. She pulled the t-shirt over her head and for the first time Jeremy stood face to face with his stepsister's naked breasts. They were a smaller than he guessed but big for her frame, well-formed and tan, with smallish puffy pink nipples. Her straight dark hair stopped midway between her collarbone and top of her tits.

He advanced slowly, like walking onto a bed of coals, unsure if the next step would lead to peril.

He approached the end of the bed and Sara reached toward him, grabbing his cock through his shorts, rubbing it up and down. "My, my. My little brother. Maybe you're not so little after all."

Jeremy couldn't believe what was happening. He stood frozen unsure of what to do.

"Take off your shirt," she whispered.

He hesitated, then peeled his shirt over his head.

Not bad, she thought.

Sara leaned forward and put her lips against his in a soft kiss. As her mouth moved toward his ear, her breasts fell against his naked torso. "Now it's my turn to watch."

The statement caught Jeremy off guard. "Wh-What? What do you mean?" he said, shaking his head as if finally coming to grips with the situation.

"Well, it's only fair. You stood their watching me. Now it's my turn. Take it out. Let's go. Chop, chop," she said with a giggle in feigned, slight British accent.

Unsure of what else to do and overcome with lust from looking at his half naked stepsister, Jeremy started rubbing himself.

"C'mon, talk them off," she taunted. "I want a show." Then, biting her finger: "Don't you want to play with me?"

He could only nod. He jerked down his shorts and boxers as fast as he could, nearly tripping on himself to get them off. He rubbed his cock.

"That's it," she said, leaning back, touching her breasts again, working her hand back down toward her moist pussy.

Jeremy reached out to grab a tit but she swatted his hand. "Uh-uh, no touching. This is only a show, remember?"

"Y—ye—yeah" was all he could muster.

"Yes, what?" she asked.

"Yes, it's only a show."

"No, say my name."

"Sara."

"Madame Sara," she corrected.

"Madame Sara," he repeated.

"Mmm...that's better."

She stood and removed her pajama bottoms as Jeremy's hand moved faster up and down his hard shaft. She let him stare at her smooth pussy, let him smell the stickiness on her fingers, licked them herself. "Don't you want to taste this?"

"Y—yes" he stammered.

"Yes WHAT?" she screamed, slapping him on the dick.

"Yes, Madame Sara."

"Don't make me tell you again."

"No, Madame Sara."

"Well, you don't get the honor of tasting my pussy tonight."

"No, Madame Sara."

"But I'll tell you what. Since you're putting on such a good show for me, I will let you taste something tonight."

"Yes, Madame Sara. Please let me taste you tonight."

She slapped him again, this time across the face. "I told you once that you don't get to taste me tonight. Do NOT make me repeat myself." She moved back to the bed, sat down and leaned back, and spread her legs so that she was directly in front of her stepbrother, both completely naked, she rubbing her clit, him pumping his cock.

She could tell he was about to cum as his faced grew flushed and his pumps concentrated on the head of his dick. If she was being completely honest with herself, she was getting cum, too.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Madame Sara."

"OK," she said in a sing-song voice. "Look right into my eyes, and just when you're about to cum I want you to stick out hand and catch it all in your palm."

"Yes, Madame Sara," he said obediently, the thought of what was about to happen not even registering.

"Ready? OK, get set," she said, rubbing her clit faster and faster, her chest heaving. "OK...NOW! Cum! That's it! Catch it! Catch it all!" She felt her juices flood her own hand, the pulse of an orgasm reverberate from her cunt through her body.

She sat for second, admiring her stepbrother, sweating and naked with a handful of cum. "Now," she said, "Lick it up. Swallow it."

"Wh—" he began, but as soon as his lips moved, Sara lunged toward him and pushed his hand up toward his gaping mouth.

She held his hand firmly in place until she was sure that all that spunk had slid down the back of his throat and found his tummy.

Leaning back, she laughed, licking her own sweet juices from each finger in turn.

Unsure of what to do next and embarrassed and ashamed, Jeremy just looked down. Sara reached to the floor and grabbed her clothes. As she dressed, she shoved his clothes at him. "Well," she said, "get the fuck out. Do you think this is a sleep over or something?"

Dazed, but without dressing, Jeremy turned and shuffled toward the door. As he reached the hall, Sara's voice called behind him, "Hey, Jeremy."

He turned his head halfway.

"You were right: Maybe it won't be that bad having you here for the summer."

As he closed the door to his own bedroom, he could still Sara's laughter, and could still taste his own salty cum.