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A/N — Hello! This is only a single chapter story. Note that not everything involved will be entirely correct as I’ve changed certain legal matters. Anything to do with police and courts is entirely made up. I researched but the facts were dull. This is meant to be fantasy!
Just note, there is a lot of backstory. I like to write long, involved plots and hope you find it interesting enough to see it through. I generally think anything around 10k words is ‘short’. I’ve also been reading a lot of ‘Loving Wives’ stories lately, so there’s an element of that category in this, and unlike some of those stories, the MC isn’t a complete wimp when he comes to dealing with it. In fact, I think the reaction is quite realistic though I’m sure some will disagree. Some people might not like it but, as I’ve often said, I can’t and won’t please everyone.
Microsoft Word used to write and edit. Any grammar mistakes are mine alone. Word should capture any spelling errors, and I’m a fairly good typist anyway. Any editing mistakes are owned by myself.
I haven’t written many new stories in this category lately, as I am usually focusing on writing stories for other categories at the moment, but I’ll certainly return with a new story for this category every so often, aware many that follow me do so because of incest stories I’ve written before. There’s a good chance any new story will be a variation of a mother-son, brother-sister or father-daughter story.
As usual, feedback and comments appreciated.
I hated returning home to an empty apartment on a Friday night, particularly when winter was approaching and it was dark by the time I walked through the front door. Shutting the door behind me, I switched on the lights, throwing my keys and smartphone on the coffee table, laying my laptop bag down on one of the chairs. The first port of call was the toilet for a piss before grabbing a beer from the fridge, sitting back on the three seater lounge.
Flicking on the television, it was the usual inane news items, sighing to myself as I sipped at my beer. Picking up my phone, there were a few messages from friends, those I’d kept close after everything that happened. Even a couple of friends I’d kept since primary school now distanced themselves from me. I didn’t really blame them. Some people don’t like hanging around ex-convicts.
I didn’t regret what I’d done though. The cops had understood why. My lawyer had understood why. Even the judge, when handing down his sentence, had understood why. My family all insisted she was a slut when they learned what happened, and those she was with deserved all they got. Some would say going to jail because of some slut was stupid, but when I was beating down on them, the men, not her, it felt nothing but righteous. Hell, the only reason she didn’t cop a beating is that my mother and father had raised me to never raise a hand against a woman. Thing is, until that day, she’d barely angered me even briefly. We’d been happy. Or so I’d thought…
Until that moment in my life, I’d never been violent. Whenever someone wanted to fight me at school, I just turned and walked away. Most of the time, it was some little punk wanting to prove himself. It wasn’t worth the possible suspension or expulsion. Some called me a coward but I had nothing to prove against idiots. Nights out in the city could always end in violence due to guys wanting to prove how tough they were. Once again, I just walked away. It wasn’t worth the arrest record. That’s not to say I couldn’t fight. My grandfather was an ex-soldier and taught me unarmed combat, in the event I did need to defend myself.
Shaking my head of the memories, I flicked to one of the sports channels as Friday Night Football would start in an hour. Flicking through my phone apps, I found the number for the local pizza joint. Better than anything from the Hut or Domino’s. I was a regular there, chatting away with the sweet girl on the phone, who always flirted with me when I called. Half an hour later, my pizza arrived with some garlic bread and a bottle of Coke, knowing I’d use that later as a mixer with some spirit, probably bourbon, though if I was in the mood for scotch…
The game was ten minutes into the first half when the intercom buzzed. Groaning to myself, as I wasn’t expecting any company, and all I wanted to do was curl up with a bottle and spend the weekend drunk, I got up and walked to the small panel.
“Hello, big brother! It’s your little sisters!”
I took a moment to blink and take a couple of breaths. If there were two people on the planet who loved me unconditionally, no matter what I did, it was those two. I was going to ask ‘What are you doing here?’ but that would have been rude, and I knew they were there for me anyway. I buzzed them up, hearing both of them thank me. Opening the door, I waited for them to appear.
As they approached me, I couldn’t help smile. It was almost unfair they were my sisters as they were so hiltonbet yeni giriş damned beautiful, intelligent, kind and caring, and not the hot mess their big brother was. The almost mahogany red hair and blue eyes came from our mother, who even when in her mid-fifties, was still gorgeous. I took more after my father, with brown hair and dark brown eyes. I also towered over both of them, being around six-two while they barely topped out at five-four.
Did I say they were beautiful, gorgeous and could have been on the cover of magazines?
“Mark!” they both exclaimed, and before I knew it, I was being cuddled by two excitable women. They were five years younger than myself, twenty-eight to my thirty-three, though I was nearing thirty-four. Cindy was the older by around thirty minutes, something she always like to tease her twin about. Danielle, though she preferred Dani, always called herself that as it meant their names rhymed.
Leading them inside, I offered them a glass of wine, as I always kept a couple of bottles around considering they were frequent visitors, sitting in between them on the three-seater lounge. I offered them a slice of pizza before I sat back, muting the television, glancing to either side of me. I received a sweet smile in return from the both.
“What are you doing here?”
“Let me guess,” Cindy replied, “You’re watching the footy, eating a pizza and drinking beer, but you’re thinking about drinking some bourbon or scotch, then you’ll pass out in bed later before spending the weekend feeling sorry for yourself.”
Shrugging helplessly, as they knew me well, both of them smiled at me but there was no missing the sadness in their eyes. “It’s been one year since you moved out of our apartment, two years since you got out of prison, three since your divorce, and five since that afternoon,” Danielle stated, “Isn’t it time to move on?”
“I have moved on. I have a good job. Have my own apartment. A few close friends.”
“But no woman in your life, Mark,” Cindy retorted.
“I find it very difficult to trust people nowadays, particularly women. Pretty much you two and our mother are the only women I trust in the world.”
“You married a slut, Mark,” Danielle suggested, “That’s on her, not on you.”
“Doesn’t change what she did to me, the fact I walked in on them, the fact it went on for so long, the fact the others involved were supposed to be my friends.”
“You’re coming out with us tonight, Mark. No more moping around your apartment every weekend,” Cindy pretty much demanded.
“I do go out! And I go out with you most of the time.”
“Well, the local pub for a few beers with the locals is not going out when not with us. You’re coming out with your gorgeous twin sisters to have fun. You remember what fun is, right?”
I grunted a non-committal response, which made them giggle before they cuddled into me. Glancing either way, they looked up at me with those big doe eyes they’d perfected over the past twenty-five years. From a very young age, they’d had me wrapped around their fingers. I would have done anything for them.
Finally, I sighed as I knew I wouldn’t win. “Okay, let me have a shower and get changed.”
“Want some company?” Cindy asked.
“We could help scrub your back,” Danielle added.
They were always teasing me like that, though it had certainly increased since I got out of jail. Well, a lot of things had changed which will be explained later. They were always telling me how handsome I was, that I was a good man, despite my conviction, and they never had a problem telling me how much they loved me. I loved them just as much in return. If it wasn’t for them, I dread to think what my life would be like nowadays. Probably far lonelier, being honest.
“Wear something nice, not just jeans and a t-shirt!” Cindy called out as I was about to step into the bathroom.
“And nice shoes!” Danielle added, “But your stubble is perfect. Makes you look handsome.”
Stepping under the hot water, I couldn’t help smile for a moment, though when I closed my eyes as hot water ran down my face, I found my mind wandering back through the past thirty-three years of my life.
My mother was twenty-two, my father twenty-four, when she fell pregnant with me. I wasn’t planned but I wasn’t an accident either. They were married, in love, and knew it was going to happen eventually. They already owned their own home, my father a certified electrician, my mother working part time at a supermarket, a part-time housewife at the same time. What I knew is that my father worshipped my mother, and that my mother loved my father more than anything.
When I was born, I was immediately the apple of his eye, and my mother quit work to raise me. For five years, it was my mother and I during the day, then my father would come home from work and take-over. They were a real team, my mother looked after the inside, my father the outside, though he wasn’t one of those hiltonbet giriş ‘old school’ guys. I saw him hanging out the washing more than once, and he could cook a mean roast during the winter.
I was just starting school, my mother contemplating a return to part-time employment, when she discovered she was pregnant again. My parents were overjoyed and I was excited about having a sibling. Many of the kids at school had older or younger siblings. After a few months, my mother sat me down and explained two things, keeping it simple for a five year old boy.
“Mark, you have heard people say I’m pregnant?” I smiled and nodded. She took one of my small hands and placed it on her belly. “In my body here, life is growing. That’s where you were before you were born. Right now, there are two little girls growing and developing.”
“Two?” I asked.
“That’s right, sweetheart. In a few months, you’re going to have two little sisters.”
My grandparents took me in to meet my sisters a couple of days after they were born. Mum smiled as my father lifted me up to sit on the bed. “Mark, these are your sisters. Cindy and Danielle.”
I was in love almost instantly. Even at five years old, I felt that surge of responsibility that an older brother has for his younger siblings. And I was there for nearly everything. Their first step. Their first words. Their first laugh, which I caused. And there is no doubt that, by the time they were my age and I was ten years old, they utterly adored their big brother in return.
Through our years growing up, we rarely had issues. I think the slightly larger age gap actually helped. When I was a teenager, they were still kids. And though I could be a moody bastard at times, particularly when hormones were going insane, they still managed to make me feel better. They were peas in a pod, and I’d often find myself hugged by two precocious little girls whenever I was feeling down or stressed.
By the time I was eighteen, they were thirteen and heading into high school. I was finishing my last year, no intention of heading to university, as I had already organised an apprenticeship as a mechanic. I could have left after four years of high school, but my parents convinced me to get my Higher School Certificate, assuring me it was better to have that than just a School Certificate.
Once I turned eighteen, I started to date around a little more. I’d had one or two girlfriends through high school, but that was just dating, afternoon and evening’s out that was all rather innocent, nothing more than going to watch a movie, bowling, miniature golf, or a cheap dinner. I worked part-time, so did make a little money, but not enough I could splurge.
I wasn’t a virgin when I met my future wife, Simone. I sowed my wild oats for a couple of years. I didn’t do one-night stands. Well, I lie. I had two and I just felt dirty afterwards. It had meant nothing and I guess I was one of those guys that wanted at least some sort of connection. I knew their name but that was about it. I was twenty when Simone came into my life.
She was a customer at work. I hadn’t actually served her, though I had been the one that had given her a car a tune-up while replacing a couple of worn out parts. I hadn’t spoken to her, but she’d seen me and must have been impressed. One of my colleagues, Paul, called me into the reception area, giving me a pat on the back and a smirk as walked behind the counter.
Offering her hand, she introduced herself. “I’m Simone.”
Wiping my hands on my overalls, I smiled as I shook her hand. “I’m Mark. Pleasure.”
“So, Mark, what are you doing this weekend?”
By this time, I was sharing a house with my best mate, Mike. We’d gone through primary and high school together. He was attending university, worked part-time, so I was doing him a solid by paying two-thirds of the bills. It’s something a good mate would do.
“No plans right now.”
“How would you like to meet up for coffee? Modern times and I wouldn’t expect you to pay for dinner on a first date.” Couldn’t help raise my eyebrows at that. Heard enough stories about men being suckered into dates, paying through the nose, only to never hear from the woman again. “Why don’t I give you my number and we can work something out?”
Offering her phone, I put my name and number in her contacts list. “I’ll text you tonight,” I said.
We made small talk as I settled her bill, giving her the occasional glance. She was certainly cute. Brunette. Brown eyes. Slim but with quite a chest on her. She noticed me looking at her and smiled sweetly. She knew she was attractive but wasn’t flaunting it too much. Wishing her goodbye once we’d settled up the bill, she smiled and disappeared out the door, waving at me again as she pulled away. Walking back into the workshop, I received plenty of ribbing as they were aware she’d asked me out.
I texted her as soon as I’d showered and had dinner. After no more than a dozen texts each, she called me. We must have spent hiltonbet güvenilirmi a couple of hours getting to know each other, feeling each other out, seeing how much we had in common. It was the first time I’d ever been approached by a woman so it was a little strange to me.
She only lived a couple of suburbs from me so we agreed on where to meet. Though the weather was cool, she was wearing a gorgeous skirt and blouse combination. I knew enough to at least wear my nice pair of jeans, a button down shirt and a good pair of shoes. I offered to pay for her drink, and also a slice of cake, settling into a booth and pretty much carrying on the conversation we’d put on hold the night before.
Simone was a year younger than myself at nineteen. Still lived at home as she was attending university studying a degree in some sort of business administration and management. Basically, when it came time to graduate, she wanted to work in the real estate business. She was certainly smart in addition to being attractive. Left me wondering what she saw in me. I had brains but I preferred working with my hands. I was a mechanic but had given serious thought into becoming a tradesman.
Was it love at first sight? I’m not one who believes in fairy tales, but the first time she took my hand in hers, there was that spark everyone talks about, and we exchanged a smile and a blush. But it was that first kiss that pretty much sealed it, holding her body against mine before she pulled away, asking if I’d like to meet up during the week.
We lasted a month before we had to give into our mutual desire and sleep together. She wasn’t my first by a long shot but she admitted to having only had a couple of previous lovers, and all they’d done was strip her naked and stick their dick in, thrusting until they came. Therefore, the only orgasms she’d had were self-induced.
I might have been a twenty year old man, but I knew enough that pleasing your woman, and making her orgasm, certainly put your name in lights in their eyes. I took off each article of her clothing nice and slow, my fingers trailing across her pale skin, soft kisses following where my fingers had been. Her nipples were hard and poking out, desperate for some attention from my mouth, licking and nibbling at them, making her squirm and squealed.
Her legs were perfect, toned from her three to four visits to the gym a week. I wasn’t one for feet, but even those were perfect, making her moan and giggle when I gently kissed and bit her toes. Kissing up her legs, she spread them to give me a view of her pussy for the first time, glistening in the light from the lamp next to my bed. She kept her hair nice and trimmed, and it was obvious to me how excited I now had her.
The groan she released when my tongue finally touched her was something that would have lived in my memory the rest of my life… I guess I still remembered, but it meant nothing now. I got her off a few times and it was quite a moment as she started to sob. I stopped and lifted myself up to cuddle her. That’s when she told me.
“I love you, Mark,” she whispered, leaning back enough so I could meet her eyes.
Never heard those words from a woman before, at least that wasn’t my mother or sisters. I’d liked a lot of women. I’d lusted after woman. Women turned me on something fierce. But I felt those same feelings for her. I didn’t hesitate in returning those words. She looked up and me smiled.
“I love you, Simone.”
We proved our love by making it a few minutes later. It was the best sex I’d ever had in my life, making love with someone who I genuinely had feelings for. We made love all night, and I guess my best mate heard, as he had that knowing smirk on his face that suggested he had heard certain things during the evening. We had tried to keep quiet, and Simone wasn’t too vocal at the time. That would come with experience.
After I’d seen her off outside, Mike was waiting for me with a cup of coffee. “You’re going to marry her, aren’t you?” he asked.
“What makes you say that?”
“She’s the first woman who has stayed the night, Mark. And I saw how you were looking at each other. You’re in love with each other. So… Will I be your best man?”
I gently punched his shoulder and told him to shut up, but I did so with a smile.
With Simone still at university, moving in together wasn’t possible, and though Mike invited her to move in with us, I was just left believing that might be a little uncomfortable for everyone, and it certainly meant the only privacy Simone and I would have would be in my bedroom. We discussed our options and agreed to move in together once she’d graduated and started working. That’s not to say she didn’t spent plenty of time at my place. I’d met her parents, and though they were good people, not particularly receptive to me staying the night. I did so occasionally, but they were happy enough that she could stay with me most nights.
Graduating when she was twenty-one, she went straight to work, and within six months, we’d found a small apartment to rent. We’d already discussed the big events to come, such as getting married, buying a house, starting a family. But we agreed that she’d establish her career, though we’d get married and save for a house deposit.
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