At that moment, Jessica was topless and cupping her oversized, flawless breasts in her hands with her lips wrapped around half of Richard’s cock. Lizzie gaped. Her brother’s erection was impressive and while Jess was working her mouth down on it steadily, she was definitely struggling. Her full lips strained to fit around his shaft. When she finally swallowed his entire length, she groaned from her chest and bobbed slightly.
Lizzie had to admit, Jess knew how to please a guy. The curvy brunette never forgot to look up and keep eye-contact with her brother even as her hands slid down from her own tits and under her skirt to quickly drag a small white thong down and off.
Yep, Jess knew what she was doing. Lizzie watched as her gal pal ditched her skirt then scooted onto the bed on her back and spread her legs. Lizzie and her brother’s eyes were both drawn to the same place. Jessica was shaved completely bare. Her tiny glistening sex was a perfectly smooth and pink invitation. Scooter paused only long enough to finish getting his pants off and quickly slid on top of her.
Lizzie watched her friend’s mouth fall open as Richard eased himself into her. Jess shifted and pulled her legs up very high, limberly hooking them over Richard’s shoulders. Yep, flexible and eager. Damn cheerleaders.
For the next half hour, Lizzie watched her brother make love to her best friend. She was appalled and excited at the same time. Jessica shivered through three separate and very satisfying-looking orgasms before Richard groaned his own release. Lizzie assumed they were done.
But they weren’t done.
Jessica slipped herself off the bed and did something Lizzie didn’t expect — not from her eighteen year-old friend. Jess stood, turned, and bent herself forward at the waist with her upper body on the bed. She swished her little cheerleadery bubble butt temptingly.
“C’mere Scooter, I’ve got this other hole you missed.”
Out in the hallway, Lizzie’s eyes slowly widened. Partly because Jessica had just used Lizzie’s nickname for her brother. And partly because Jessica offered what she did – Lizzie had no idea her friend did… well… that.
Mostly though, Lizzie was astonished because her big brother, her sweet and gentle Scooter who used to read her bedtime stories when they were little, didn’t hesitate. He simply stood and moved behind Jessica and then gave her just what she asked for, pressing himself into her ass with no more than a nod. Jessica whimpered at the invasion but didn’t move away. Worst of all, the bastard was good at it, judging from the very happy groans Jessica made over the next ten minutes.
It was wrong and dirty and nasty and… hot.
Peering through the crack into her brother’s bedroom at the gleeful sodomy scene, Lizzie’s surprised face slowly spread into the same determined expression she wore at the last 100 yards of every race she’d ever run.
Lizzie would chase. And she’d win. She always did.
Bawoo.
She wandered back downstairs quietly for another beer.
*~*~* One year later *~*~*
Twenty-years and two days old, Richard woke to the sounds of sea gulls crying and surf lapping at the beach. But it wasn’t either of those things that drew him out of his sleep. It was a slender little finger that did it. That finger was tracing letters across his back. It wasn’t all that odd, his kid sister Lizzie liked to wake him up this way – writing words on his skin.
They’d written messages like this for each other since they were children. It was their mother’s idea. When they were young, their family went on long car rides to visit their grandparents. Little Richard and Elizabeth would get noisy in the back seat along the way — two hours of nonstop tickling, poking, fighting, laughing and crying. Normal kid stuff, really. Unfortunately, their father was a bit high-strung and those long drives to see his in-laws only made him more tense.
Their mom did what good moms do. She buffered. She taught her children skinwriting to keep them occupied. “Give her your hand, Richie,” his mother nodded at his sister from the front seat. “And close your eyes.”
“Okay, now you think of a word, Liz. A small one. But don’t say it out loud, honey. Ready? Now spell it on your brother’s palm.”
Liz nodded and traced each letter of her word with her tiny seven year-old finger. She had to write it twice before he could get it.
“Cat?” Richard finally guessed.
Liz giggled and their mother smiled. “Very good, you two. Lizzie, keep going until Richard guesses wrong. Let’s see how many words you can get him to say.”
Over the next two hours, their parents listened to the more peaceful sounds of elementary school vocabulary coming up from their backseat. “Dog.” “House.” “Truck.” “Chicken, but you forgot the other ‘c’.”
Their mother’s strange little improvised game was one of the many things that built a strong bond between Richard and Lizzie over the years. They had their tiffs and their struggles but they stuck by each other more than other siblings they knew. That bond grew even tighter when their family shrank a few years later. Their father died of a heart attack. No one was surprised — he’d always been wound pretty tight. Their Mom missed him but she was leading an active, happy life again.