Sex Stories

by Mary Jaine

  The reality of what we'd done began to drive home, but, strangely, there was no sense of guilt at what we'd done, my sister and I, but there was guilt nonetheless; guilt at the knowledge I'd taken Ayesha's kindness and acceptance and probably trampled all over it, and a building certainty that I'd frayed my rope beyond repair with my family, but just as firm was the certainty that, even if I'd damaged any relationship with the family beyond repair, I was certain of one thing: I was never going to give up what I had with Yaz; we were two sides of the same coin now, and we were staying that way. I was miles away and lost in my thoughts, trying to work out how to make this come out right, when a soft fingertip gently ran down my cheek.

  "Hello sweetie..." she murmured, gently tugging my head around to look into my eyes. "You were miles away, pretty-boy, thinking long and deep; penny for your thoughts?"

  I stroked her hair, finger-combing her night-time tangles out of her glorious eyes. She really was stunning, her 'morning-face' was just the loveliest thing I'd ever seen, and I could feel myself being drawn even closer to her.

  "Is it about last night, Ricky?" she murmured, "Because I don't regret a thing, I want you to know that, babe, not one second! What happened happened because it was meant to be, because I wanted it to be that way. You didn't make me do anything, nothing will make it un-happen, and I would never want that. Believe me, Rick; you should have no regrets, ever, because I don't, and I never will; you're mine now, Ricky Davies, remember that."

  Yaz hugged me even closer, rubbing her nose against mine as she grinned at me, and the inevitable reaction happened. She licked her lips and ground against me, making me even harder.

  "So you're fully awake now, eh? Good, I want to play..." she whispered, her warm little hands exploring me, sending all kinds of thoughts and desires scurrying around in my head as she squeezed me gently, telling me what she wanted to do. Quite without any thought from me, my hands slipped down to cup and squeeze her firm little bottom, making her gasp and giggle as I played with the smooth globes. Yaz kissed me even harder, gluing her lips to mine even as I held her closer, savoring the feel of her soft, warm, silky-smooth skin against mine, when she stopped, pulling back so she could grin at me, her smile both cheeky and enticing, that adorable lip-biting thing she did so well.

  "Something I want to do, hun..." she grinned, rolling me onto my back while she squeezed and fondled me, keeping me at the peak of arousal. She began kissing my shoulders, then the base of my throat, light, darting little kisses, smiling at me between each kiss as she slowly worked her way down my chest, making me buck and giggle when she poked her tongue into my navel, and then, oh God, my mind dissolved in shock as she licked the tip of my straining cock. I locked eyes with her, maybe she was waiting for me to say 'stop', but there was no way on earth I was going to do that; all I could do was watch in agonised arousal as she slowly, slowly took my cock into her mouth, sealing her lips around me as she slowly bobbed her head, sucking me like a lollipop without once breaking eye contact.

  I could feel myself coming to the boil; the things she was doing to me were focusing me on just one outcome, and I didn't want to do that, hot as the thought of it was; I wanted to make love to my girl, not go off like a firework in her mouth. I think she could sense my mounting excitement, because suddenly she scraped her fingernail along that sensitive area just behind my balls; that shocked me and backed me right down, let me tell you!

  "Sorry sweetie!" she grinned cheekily, "haven't finished with you yet!" was her explanation, but then she started again, and sure enough, I went right back up again, only for her to back me down once again. She did that to me several times, and by now I was ready to explode, when she suddenly swung astride me and slowly, slowly, slid herself back won onto my aching cock.

  "Oh God, yes...yes...yes...Ricky...God..." she chanted as she pumped her pussy on my steel-hard dick, and all I could do was hold her hips, her sleek thighs astride me as she rode me like a National Hunt jockey, pumping herself harder and faster on me, reaching for her climax.

  When it came, she screamed out my name as her pussy clamped down on me, sucking and squeezing me like nothing I'd ever felt before, and that was it; I came like a fire-hose, long, endless, painless yet agonising jets of spunk slamming out of me and deep into the heart of her, again and again, while her pussy rippled and milked me, squeezing every last drop out of me.

  Yaz collapsed on top of me, her heart hammering fit to burst against mine, our bodies trembling from exertion and slick with sweat, but I didn't care; I had my girl with me, and the world couldn't have been a better place. I had to laugh, though when Yaz lifted her head to look soulfully, lovingly into my eyes, and then grin devilishly.

  "You know the shit's going to hit the fan when this gets out, don't you?" She giggled, and all I could do was laugh helplessly; that's my girl!

  *

  Taking a shower with her was a sensuous, seriously hot experience, and one I fully intended to repeat as often as possible; there's something so thrilling, so next-level about having a hot, slinky girl wriggling around naked with you in a steamy hot shower cubicle, and while we didn't have sex in there, it was a close run thing. Yaz dried me off after, concentrating on certain parts of me, and I returned the favour, and of course that led to the inevitable; if you think a sexy naked girl in a steamy shower with you is sexy, try the same girl naked, on her knees, sucking your cock as hard as she can. Coming in her mouth nearly turned me inside out, I came so hard, and the smug look on her face as she swallowed every drop told me she'd enjoyed it too, and that more was on the way later.

  The rest of the day is a blur; I know we went shopping in The Lanes, Brighton's boutique district, and Yaz gave me a debit card from mum so I could shop 'til I dropped, as she seemed intent on doing. Mum had set-up a bank account for me without telling me, and every week she'd put £100 into it, so I could buy myself things and not be embarrassed by having no money, although I wasn't; I'd never had money, so I didn't miss having any, and living at home as I did I didn't feel I needed any, but now I had some, I was going to spend it on my girl. It felt nice to be able to walk into a shop with her, have her try on something, and if she liked it, put down my card so I could give it to her. After some serious shopping, we tried one of the little gourmet fish and chip restaurants dotted around the town, then back to the hotel so she could give me a fashion show and I could chase her around the suite.

  And so the week went; days playing and having fun in town, evenings burning up the clubs, and long nights of making love to my girl; it was truly the best time of my life; I finally learned how to dance properly, Yaz and I learned what turned us on most about each other, we learned our likes and dislikes, our limits and boundaries, how we liked to make love, and we grew ever closer; that week is really what made us the couple we are today; even today, after all the intervening years, with life and work and children to occupy us, 'going to Brighton' is Yaz and my code for a little afternoon delight away from the kids and the business.

  Back home after our break, everything soon swung back into 'normal' mode; Shari had never looked so relaxed; she'd spent the week doing a large amount of nothing except sleeping late, having long, leisurely breakfasts with mum, avoiding the office completely, and never once stepping out of the house; she was in Heaven, it had been so long since she'd had a break, and we could see it had done her a world of good. Yaz and I tried our damnedest to be 'big brother-little sister', and I thought we disguised ourselves pretty well, although in hindsight, I remember mum giving us a couple of strange, almost knowing looks now and again; at the time I ignored it, now, well, you'll see.

  Mum had decided that I needed to learn more of the practical side of the business. The financial and contract side was under control, Yaz had a good handle on that, and the property acquisition and negotiating side was Shari's baby; they were both naturals at what they did, of course they were, mum was a financial whizz-kid and, before my bastard father came on the scene, had been a top-flight proper
ty developer, of course her daughters were going to be like her. Neither of those appealed to me, though; that kind of brain-work is usually done by someone who knows and likes what they're doing, and I didn't. I was eager to learn something more practical, so mum persuaded one of her favourite contractors to take me under his wing and show me the tricks of the trade.

  For almost a year I learned about basic building inspections and planning applications, how to talk to borough surveyors and planning departments, and what to look for when inspecting a building, basic estimating tools and techniques, and the basics of plastering, joinery, and first-fix electrical.

  I discovered I was pretty good with my hands, and quick to pick up the tips and techniques that separate the professionals from the bumbling amateurs; I got to the point where I could get materials estimates pretty much spot-on, safely operate most power tools, accurately manage setting-out procedures, and be left unsupervised to plaster, sheet-rock, or patch a wall, repair and replace baseboards and door architraves, level and caulk floorboards, cut in locksets and door furniture, and estimate and run the cables and conduits from a drawing for the electricians to come in and start connecting.

  Also, the girls and mum had decided I needed to learn how to drive, so I did; after ten lessons, and acing the written test, I took my driving test, and passed first time, which meant I was now chauffeur whenever the girls or mum wanted to go shopping; I didn't mind, the family's big Shogun 4X4 put me up higher than the surrounding traffic, and the 4-wheel drive on wet days or out on muddy building sites was a Godsend, plus there was more room than any two minivans. I loved that car, that's why Yaz and I still have it, and drive it every day.

  I used to wonder in idle moments, if I'd ever really given it some serious thought, why Nicky had wanted so much to be a motor mechanic, now I knew; it made me think about what I could have been, what I could have done if dad had given me the tools to go out and learn a proper trade, instead of shutting the world away from Bobby and me. I realised just how much harm he'd done the pair of us, and it hurt deep down inside to realise I could have been someone, I could have made something of myself if not for him; the irony that the woman he'd brutalised so savagely had been the one to make something of me wasn't lost on me, either, but it was a harsh and stabbing irony.

  Underlying all this was the knowledge that I would have to go back one day and face Bobby, and somehow make him realise that there was a better life than the prison he'd locked himself into, that all he had to do was let us in and it would be over for him. I broached the subject with Shari, because I really didn't know how to do it. She and Yas already knew I'd lifted Bobby's money to make the journey to London, and I was feeling guilty about what I'd done. Shari's solution was that we go there, give him back what I'd stolen, and try to convince him to join us.

  I thought that would be a really bad idea; I strongly doubted he'd welcome our intrusion, which is how he'd see it, and, to be honest, it would probably make a bad situation worse, he was so warped by dad, and so angered by everything we'd been through since dad's arrest I just knew he'd blame them, and maybe even try and take it out on them.

  I couldn't risk it, not yet. It might be dangerous for the girls, Bobby was so unpredictable, his angers and hatred so deep-seated, it might be dangerous for the girls to expose them to him just yet; to my way of thinking, it was best to let the bear alone until we were ready to go prod it; besides, Bobby was still so sunk in his misery and anger, if we showed up out of the blue, he'd probably see it an intrusion and a threat, and I had no way of knowing how he'd react, but I could guess, and it wouldn't be good.

  I had no way to give him a heads-up anyway; Bobby had no phones, he didn't read the mail, ever, it was always only ever bills he had no way to pay, and I didn't think the time was now, not while I was still learning how family worked; how could I help him, when I didn't know how to help myself, yet? He needed time, we both needed time to grow up a little, and I needed to work out how to find a way back to him.

  Whatever we decided though, one day Shari and I, his big sister and me, maybe his only surviving brother, would have to bite the bullet and go to him, and somehow try to get through to him, Shari to talk to him, and me to protect her if he kicked-off, and together convince him to put down his hate and anger and come home with us so our family could be together the way it should be. I needed to apologise to him for taking away his safety-net, I felt that most acutely; small as it was, it was all he had, and I still felt guilty about absconding with it, something the girls understood but still thought I was wrong to do, but needs must.

  *

  As time wore on, I began to notice that mum seemed to be having migraines more and more often; she'd been plagued by them all her life, according to Shari, but now they were so severe that some days all she could do was stay in a darkened room and leave the everyday work to Shari, Yaz, and me. Nothing seemed to alleviate her pain, and we took to dropping in at home in relays throughout the day to make sure she was OK, refresh her ice-packs, and sit with her until the worst of it had passed. One afternoon, I thought it was my turn to look in on her, but when I got home, Shari and Yaz were already with her, and a man in a sober suit with a serious-looking briefcase was shuffling through piles of paperwork. I thought nothing of it; mum's legal people were in and out all the time, but something was different, although I couldn't put my finger on what, but I popped my head in, nodded to Shari, and headed back to the job site.

  When I got home that evening, he was still there, plus another man, which was odd, and the girls looked haggard and dragged-out, but they came out and helped me put dinner on, so I thought nothing more of it. Mum, however, seemed even more listless; the migraines were taking more and more out of her, they came on more often, and were lasting longer, and even though none of us mentioned it, we were all beginning to get seriously worried about her.

  The day mum pulled me aside and asked me to stay home, she needed to talk to me over lunch, it worried the hell out of me; whenever mum had anything to say, she did it with all of us present, pulling me aside like that told me something was bothering her, and she didn't want the girls to know, which meant it was serious. We had a leisurely lunch, then, with almost no preamble, she started.

  "Ricky, I'm not going to intrude into your privacy, and I know there are things you don't want to share, I understand why, but there's one thing I want to ask you; if something happens to me, will you promise you'll be there for Yasmin? Shari's tough where it counts, and she'll be there for you, both of you, but I need you to swear you won't hurt my Yasmin, she depends on you for so much, please don't let her down. Will you promise me that you'll care for and protect and love your sisters, but most especially Yasmin? She has a...special attachment to you, even I can see that, so please, just be careful with her, and take good care of her for me, will you promise me that?"

  I was dumbfounded; was she telling me she knew about us? Of course I was going to look after my sisters, on the remote chance anything happened to her, and I told her so.

  "Mum, I love my sisters, I would never let anything harm them, you know that! Yaz is my little sister, but she's my best friend too, I think the world of her, and Shari too, and I know this is all academic, but, just in case anything happens to you, I promise you, whatever happens, I will protect and love my sisters the best way I can, and yes, I'll be especially careful with Yasmin, but I know nothing is going to happen to you, so this is all academic, you're our mum and you're not going anywhere!"

  If only I'd known I was whistling past the graveyard...

  The end, when it came, was as shocking as it was unexpected. Yaz and I had decided to head back home for lunch, pick up some drawings, and spend some time with mum, but when we got home the house was fairly buzzing with silence; as usual, we looked in on mum's office to see if she was lying down on the divan in there, nothing, so Yaz went to look in the sitting room while I started up the stairs. The sound of Yaz screaming brought me tearing back downstairs, to find her knee
ling by the couch, holding mum's hand, and patting her face as she cried. Mum was lying as if she'd decided to take a nap, her head resting on a cushion, and her eyes were open, but dull, filmed-over, unfocused and lifeless, two dull marbles in the immobile blankness of her face. My heart leaped in terror, all I could think of was getting her up, holding her up so we could hug her, wake her up, warm her up, something, anything, but she was a dead weight in my arms, she wasn't breathing, and try as I might, I couldn't find a heartbeat.

  I panicked; this was mum, she was going to be OK, she was just deeply asleep, I could wake her up, please, wake up mum, please, please, please wake up but no matter how I rubbed her hands or patted her cheek or held her close or called to her nothing was happening and I didn't know what to do. Yaz was having hysterics, kissing her and calling her, and I didn't know what to do, I didn't know, all I could think of was if I called her enough times she'd hear me and wake up and we'd all be fine again.

  But she didn't wake up, and her hands were cold, and Yaz was clawing at me, begging me to wake mum up.

  "Ricky, do something, help her, Ricky, wake her up, please Ricky, wake her up...!" she gabbled endlessly, and I couldn't, I tried but I couldn't wake her up, and my heart was sick with fear but I couldn't rouse her and I didn't know what else to do...

  I grabbed Yasmin's arms and held her still long enough to speak to her through my fear and anguish.

  "Call Shari, get her here now, please Yaz, get hold of her, I don't know what to do, help me..." I blubbered, past all real thought, with only fear, huge and unmanageable, left inside me for my mum.