Gender: Male Age: 44 Location: Just to the left of the bible-belt
|Introduction: Here's the third chapter... That's all I'm going to post for now, but if you like it, let me know... There's more... firstname.lastname@example.org|
Back downstairs Sam put some music on the stereo in the living-room and told me to dance for him. He sat on the couch with his legs spread and his hands in his crotch as I stumbled around, trying to dance. It wasn’t easy in the spike-heels, on carpeting and several times I almost lost my balance and fell. Each time I about tripped, my step-brother’s grin would turn-up just a bit. Every so often he’d tell me to do something like, “Rub your titties and show me what a whore you are,” or, “Turn around and bend over, so I can get a look at that ass.”
The word Embarrassing didn’t quite do how I felt justice. Mortified, or humiliated would maybe fit better. Although I must admit that I was more turned-on than I think I ever had been. I couldn’t believe what was happening, or how it was making me feel. I think the most surprising thing was that every time Sam called me a girl, or a slut, or whore, well, I felt a throb between my legs at each horrible name he called me, making my dick seem to get even harder than hard. I danced clumsily, feeling my step-brother’s eyes moving all over me as he sat there rubbing the front of his jeans. He kept calling me names and was telling me what it was about me he found sexy.
“Shit, look at that, your legs look all hairless and shit, just like a girls.”
“You thinking about me sucking on those tits, while you’re rubbing them, slut?”
“Bend over a bit, so I can get a nice look at your tight, little ass. Yeah, that’s it you little whore.”
I have no idea how long that went on, though I know I pushed myself as much as I could, trying not to show Sam how excited I was getting. Only when I absolutely couldn’t stand it any longer, I slowly moved one hand down my body and slid it under the black mini-skirt I had on, and started touch myself between my legs.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Sam said. His voice was soft, but his tone hissed and was quite rough. “You making yourself so hot, dancing for your boyfriend, that you got to start playing with your pussy?”
I almost stopped doing what I was doing and explained the obvious to Sam, that I had a dick, not a pussy, but then it hit me. I might have been a boy, but as Sam sat there and ogled my awkward dance, rubbing the bulge his cock made in his pants, he saw a girl, wearing stockings and a bra, a mini-skirt and tall high-heels, as well as a long brown wig and a face all done up with make-up. It was like I was playing a role. And by the size of the lump in my new boyfriend’s pants, I assumed I was doing a fairly good job, too. I started acting as I’d been doing earlier that afternoon, before Sam had caught me in girl’s clothing, as I wandered around the house, acting like a girl with a limp wrist and making sure my butt wiggled and my boobs were thrust out. And when it hit me, everything changed.
I can’t explain it, but somehow at that moment I no longer felt clumsy or awkward. I found my center of balance and suddenly the spike-heels I wore seemed like part of my feet and I had no more fears of falling. And instead of grabbing hold of my hard dick, I pushed it against my belly and rubbed over it, as if I were actually rubbing a pussy. I lifted my other hand from my sock-stuffed chest to my mouth and stuck one of my fingers between my painted lips. I took a deep breath and tried to squeeze my whole body tight, just like that blond bimbo who sang to the President would. I batted my mascara-ed eyelashes at Sam and pressed my knees together.
“Fuck Me!” he exclaimed and before I knew it, my handsome, manly step-brother was on his feet and I was wrapped in his big, strong arms.
I fought my first instinct, which was to pull-away from Sam, and instead I pulled my hands out of my crotch and mouth, and pressed myself tight against him, my arms wrapping around his back. He started moving, and for a few seconds I lost my balance again, then I realized that there was a rhythm to Sam’s movements, and if I just moved with him...
We danced. Slowly, our bodies moved together, round and round the living-room. Sam’s arms were around my waist and every so often, one of his hands would wander down and I’d feel it on my butt-cheek. My arms traveled all over his back, his shoulders and sometimes I’d pull one arm between us to feel his chest, my face nuzzled right in there too. I even reached back and felt-up his muscular ass a couple times. I’d never really slow-danced before, so with my body so tight against Sam’s, I just moved myself along with him. I only tripped a couple times, those spikes on my feet and the thick carpeting and all, though I had no fear of falling with my boyfriend’s arms around me.
After a while, quite a while maybe, I felt Sam’s body tense against mine. I thought maybe he was about to shoot a load, which I’d somehow managed to keep myself from doing, keeping in mind the promise my boyfriend made. If I was good and did everything he said, he promised to let me get-off. But when I felt his body go tense, and I thought he was about to spurt, I really had to fight to keep from doing the same.
But then, well, he wasn’t coming. I had my face nuzzled into his chest, right where his skin arm started wrapping around me, and I was sort of breathing in the scent from right there, my nose almost buried in his pit. He hadn’t showered after what we’d done earlier that afternoon, and considering he’d gotten-off twice, well, Sam was smelling pretty rank. And I almost hate to admit it, but I loved the way he smelled. Every breath I took from under his arm made my blood flow hotter and hotter. And after all that time dancing with our bodies pressed tight together, Sam was all I could smell. He was all I could feel. And I just about spurted. But Sam moved his head a bit, and gave his shoulder a twitch, which moved my head so that we were face to face, maybe an inch between us, well...
I couldn’t tell what the look in his eye meant. He almost looked scared. His voice was barely a whisper and I could feel the soft puffs of his words on my lips. “I’m so glad I met you, Tammy,” he said and his arms tightened around me a bit. “And I’m glad that you want to be my girlfriend.”
I couldn’t say anything. That he’d changed my name to ‘Tammy’ didn’t even phase me. He took a deep breath, then, looking like he was really scared that I’d deny him, he asked, “Can I kiss you?” Instead of responding verbally, I simply moved my face in, closing the inch between us, feeling our lips touch. He’d kissed me before, and I didn’t quite understand it, but some how this kiss seemed better, because he’d asked me for it. And when he started trying to shove his tongue down my throat, well, I opened as wide as I could so that he could get it as deeply as possible.
It was getting hot and heavy, and as we danced and kissed at the same time, I began to stumble more frequently. With lust taking-over my body, my coordination suffered and on those spiky-heels, I just couldn’t keep my swooning legs under me. Then I lost it and thought I was going to hit the floor. I had one of my hands on Sam’s chest and the other at his crotch, so I really didn’t have anything to grab. I was falling, then I was floating. Suddenly, I was in my boyfriend’s arms and he carried me across the room.
Sam set me down at the bottom of the steps and he told me that he wanted to watch my butt as I walked up the stairs. I put on a good show for him, wiggling my hips as much as I could in the heels, and I even lifted my mini-skirt a couple times, giving him a full view of my panty-covered cheeks. He was still standing at the bottom of the steps when I got to the top.
“Now walk back down,” he said, that grin on his face. As he watched me, surely able to see right up the mini-skirt to where my hard dick and balls were protruding through the crotch-less panties I had on. “Fuck yeah, you’re a pretty girl,” I heard him croon, as he rubbed the big bulge in his jeans. And as I reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam’s hand extended and I took it. My boyfriend helped me down the last few steps.
He gave me a tender kiss on the lips, then he backed away, looking me up and down, then he said, “I’ll be right back, don’t move.” And with that, he was off. I watched Sam run up the stairs, heard him run down the hall, and a few seconds later, he was back, running back down, taking the steps two at a time. He was carrying something in his arms, which I realized was his school-jacket. He put it over my shoulders and started leading me back toward the kitchen.
But when we got to the door to the garage, and Sam reached for the knob, I pulled back a bit and said, “No, please.”
The older boy’s grip tightened around my shoulders as he opened the door. “I wanna go out and smoke a cigarette, I can’t do it in here, or my dad’ll smell it and kick my ass.” I still didn’t budge. “Don’t worry, Tammy, no one will see us. It’s dark outside. And if anyone does see you, well, you sure as shit look like a girl to me, and I highly doubt anyone would ever recognize who you really are.”
I was a bit reluctant, but knowing it was what Sam wanted, I followed. And I really wasn’t liking this, ‘Tammy’-thing, but I had enough sense not to say anything about it. Now remember, there were only half-a-dozen houses in the neighborhood at that time, so I knew that the chances were that no one would see me. And I also knew that two of the six houses did have a view of our back-yard. Though for that time of year it was already at eight o’clock, but with what I was wearing....
Only Sam didn’t lead me to the back yard. Instead he took me through the garage to the front of the house. “Let’s go for a walk.” It wasn’t a question.
“No, Sam, Please,” I begged anyway. But with his arms around me and wearing the heels I had on, I had no choice but to go with him.
“Please,” I said softly, but so he could hear as we started walking down the driveway, arm-in-arm, and I could hear each click of my heels on the pavement. “If we go back inside, I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’ll suck your dick again,” I paused for a moment, trying to think of what else I could offer. “I’ll lick your balls and jack you off. Whatever you want. Please Sam, lets go back inside.”
“You’re gonna do all that anyway,” he hissed. “But there’s something we’re gonna do first.” We left the driveway and luckily, I felt at first, Sam guided me to the left, away from most of the other houses. Then I realized that we were headed to the undeveloped part of the neighborhood. Back to where the road ended and all there was, was a big field surrounded by woods. But we didn’t get that far. Riley turned up the dirt driveway of one of the houses still under construction. It had four outer walls and a roof, but there were a couple big holes in the floors and, while most of the stud-work was up, there were no walls inside. It had been a bitch getting up the dirt driveway and then the make-shift steps to the front door (which didn’t even have a knob on it yet).
“See,” he said and gave me a sweet, quick peck on my lips, “no one will see us in here.” He reached to my chest ,and started to touch me, but, it didn’t feel right. Then I realized that he was getting into the chest pocket of his jacket, which I was wearing over my girly outfit.
Sam pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, then he stepped away from me, breaking all contact between us. I suddenly felt horribly strange. I was standing there, trying not to fall off the inches-high pair of heels on my aching feet, wearing fishnet stockings and a pair of panties with a big hole in them, a mini-skirt and tube-top, with Sam’s jacket over me. It was a chilly fall night, and I had a lot of skin exposed to the air. I hunched my shoulders and pulled his jacket tight around me. And I watched as Sam dug a pack of matches from between the pack and the cellophane wrapper, then he pulled a cigarette out and put it between his lips.
The pungent odor of the match being lit hit my nose, replacing the comforting scent of Sam and the smell of freshly-cut wood. Then, as he lifted the match to the cigarette between his lips, I noticed that it wasn’t a normal cigarette. It was pointed at the ends and wrinkly, not smooth the average cigarette. And when he lit it, and a different scent hit my nose, it clicked. My step-brother took a couple hits off the joint, then seemingly nonchalantly, he held the wrinkled, smoking tube to me. I just stood there, shivering and looked at him. I’d never smoked pot before. I’d taken puffs from regular cigarettes before and didn’t much like it.
Then our eyes met and I saw the expression change in Sam’s face. He moved right against me and put an arm around my waist. He gave me a kiss, which tasted strange, then he pulled back and raised his other hand to my face. The joint was between his long, skinny fingers.
“I’ll hold it,” he said softly, giving me a little squeeze where his other hand had come to rest just below my hip. “Just breathe in slowly.”
Sam moved the joint to my lips and I did as he said. At first it wasn’t that bad. I felt the smoke in my mouth, and it had a very weird taste to it, but when the smoke hit the back of my throat and it was just about to reach my lungs, I lost it. Same as I always had when I tried puffing on a cigarette. Sam quickly pulled his hand from my face and before I could actually cough, his mouth was covering mine. As I violently exhaled, he breathed my breaths in. Then I saw him exhale a bit of smoke.
“Let’s try it this way,” he said when I’d gotten my breath back. I watched as he took a deep hit off the joint, then when he pulled it away, his lips found mine and pushed them open. He breathed out, so I breathed in. I wanted to cough, but it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t keep my reflex under control. He told me to hold it in as long as I could. I did cough just a little, when I finally did let out my breath. But all in all, it wasn’t that bad.
“I like it better that way,” I said softly, looking into Sam’s eyes.
“Yeah, I thought you would,” his voice sounded accusing and his eyes changed, but only for a flash, then he took another big lung-full of pot smoke, then laid another big open-mouthed kiss on me. I inhaled deeply, taking as much of the smoke as he offered. And when he stopped breathing out, I felt his hand on my bare belly, moving slowly upward, and he started to lick the inside of my mouth with his tongue. When I couldn’t hold my breath any longer, I started exhaling, and surprising me, Sam sucked my breath back into his lungs, where it had started in the first place. At the same time, his hand finally got to my chest and, digging under both the tube-top and the bra, he began playing with my nipple.
We shared a couple more hits of pot, and a lot more kissing and groping. There was no stopping my dick from getting hard, as for quite a bit of the time we were in the half-built house getting high and making-out, Sam had his hands between my legs, whispering in my ear about what a hot pussy I had. I couldn’t resist groping his hard lump a few times and I loved what it felt like when he pushed it tight against my own dick, or against my belly. In fact, I loved just about every touch Sam gave me. I never would have imagined that my dark and brooding step-brother could possible make me feel as incredible as he was doing. It was like everything felt extra-incredible for some reason.
When we finally broke for air and Sam looked at his watch, he started laughing. “It’s only eight-forty-five. Shit, I figured it was at least nine-thirty or so.” That meant it had only been, like, fifteen minutes since we’d left the house. I’d would have also figured that at least three-quarters of an hour had passed.
Sam gave me a quick kiss and then said, “Let’s go home, Tammy. I want to fuck you.” My mind was somewhere else. Nothing phased me. I made it out of the unfinished house and down the dirt and stone driveway only being mostly supported by Sam. And even when we got to the fairly-smooth road, I leaned on him. I sort-of felt wobbly, like my coordination was a bit off. But for whatever reason, I simply didn’t give a shit and kept a tight hold on my boyfriend.
“Not quite so easy to walk in those when you’re stoned, is it?” he said softly and chuckled a bit. “When we get home, I’ll take them off for you. Your feet have got to be killing you.”
They did, and not just my feet, but my ankles felt as though they were about to give out. But I didn’t really care. And when Sam reminded me that I was stoned, well, it all made sense. And to be completely honest, I loved it. I was a hot young girl with my high-school boyfriend, and we were about to go inside and...
What had Sam said? He wanted to do what to me? I about said something, because I didn’t quite understand what he’d meant. I might have been dressed like a girl, but I was a boy. And one boy couldn’t fuck another, or could he?
But as I was getting my question ready in my mind, I felt Sam’s grip on me tighten. I looked around and caught movement. Someone was there. It was one of the neighbors, taking his trash to the curb.
“Hi, Sam,” the man said congenially, “How’s your dad and step-mom doing?”
“They’re great, Mr. McAllister,” Sam said back, just as nicely. We could both see the man eyeing me. “This is my girlfriend, by the way, Tammy.”
It all hit. I knew this man. He knew me. And here I was, dressed-up like a two-bit whore, less than ten feet between us as he greeted me. I raised my head only as much as I needed, so as not to be rude and I waved a little wave at the man. Sam gave me a quick, hard pinch on my butt and my mouth opened to say, “Ouch!” but instead, I heard myself saying, in a falsely high tone of voice, “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. McAllister.” I was praying that the man didn’t notice the bulge in the front of my skirt, though it was slowly subsiding as a result of my fear.
“Tammy and her cousin drove-up to see me, and, well, her cousin kind of has a crush on Tom, so we decided to take a walk so they could have a little time alone.” The whole time he talked, we kept right on walking. I could feel the man’s eyes moving up and down my inappropriately attired body (if not simply inappropriate, at least not for the weather) the whole time we walked in front of his house. And I even thought I could feel his eyes on my backside as we walked further away from him, then I realized that it was Sam’s hand on my butt.
The second we were back in the garage and the door was shut, Sam took me in his arms and planted a big, wet kiss on me. “He wanted you,” he said when the kiss finally broke. “Mr. McAllister, I mean. I could tell by how he was looking at you. I’ll bet he’s going to go right in and fuck that fat wife of his, thinking about you.” Then he kissed me again. Right there in the garage. And after a while, we made it back into the house.
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