My Stepbrother, My Dom

by Winters, Annabelle

  So I make the turn and start back, but now, out of the corner of my eye, I see a lonesome store off the road with a huge sign that says, “USED!” It catches my eye because there’s a backlit Harley-Davidson logo in the store window, and as I drive by I can see all kinds of helmets, gloves, boots, and other biker paraphernalia in the window.

  “What the hell?” I say out loud as I turn off the road and circle back. I don’t remember this place. It must have come up in the last couple of years, after Cam left for college, or else for sure Cam and I would have scoped it out.

  I pull into the parking lot, feeling a weird tension in my stomach, like this is serendipity, fate, meant to be. I park and walk in, blinking and looking up as I hear a tinny-sounding bell jingle above me as I push the door open.

  The place looks empty, but it smells right. Smells like leather and metal, perhaps even the hint of gasoline and sweat, the faint odor of stale cigarettes, maybe even the pungent whiff of some Jack Daniels somewhere. There is no one behind the counter, so I just stroll the aisles, touching the old helmets, the lightly used boots, some riding chaps that make me roll my eyes. And then I see them.

  Two of them, hanging innocently on a rack towards the back of the store. Well worn and creased, with insignias and logos, patches and hand-woven badges, zippers that look stiff and solid. Yes, two of them. Two leather jackets. His and hers.

  His and hers.

  8

  CAMERON

  I am fifty miles out of town before I even realize what the hell is going on. I am completely lost to the world, in a trancelike state, absolute bliss. The sun on my face, wind in my hair, rumble in my ears. . . this is freedom, isn’t it? This is freedom, power, joy.

  But as I slow down to take the next exit so I can start heading back to town, I feel a strange sense of yearning, loneliness even. It comes so suddenly that it takes me by surprise, and I can’t understand it, I just fucking cannot. This should be the happiest moment of my young life, and sure, in a way it is. But there’s something missing, I sense as I downshift and circle round under the overpass. Yes, I’ve got freedom and power right here with me. But joy . . . do I have that?

  What the fuck are you TALKING about, man, I think as I speed up and hit the road heading back to town. Are you going insane? Is this the time to be reflecting on the state of your life? It’s your goddamn twenty-first birthday, and you’re living your own personal dream right now! Empty highway, sun shining, eagles above you, a Screamin Eagle between your legs . . .

  But as I get closer to town I force myself to admit what I’m thinking, to admit that what I’m yearning for is the feeling of those small hands clutched tight around my waist, that soft face pressed into my broad back, that warm breath against my neck, that sweet smell curling in the air . . .

  And now I just fucking ROAR into the wind, just let loose like goddamn maniac, SCREAMING at the top of my lungs as I open up the throttle and tear down the highway at a hundred-and-ten miles an hour. I can barely hear myself over the sound of my v-twin engines, but I can feel myself going hoarse with the effort. Still, I carry on because I cannot help myself. There’s something pent up inside that’s breaking through. I don’t know what it is, but it’s fucking intense and manic. Why? Is it Darcy? Is it Mindy? Something else?

  No doubt, I think about Mindy sometimes—well, a lot of the time. She showed me a side of myself that I didn’t know existed, didn’t understand until I was with her, dominating her, exercising my power, my control. And now that this part of me has been awakened, I know I can never shut it down again.

  When Mindy left I was upset and angry, but I also knew that it was the best thing for us. She never truly loved me, and although I will always be grateful for what she taught me about myself, I know I never really loved her as a person. We enjoyed our games, enjoyed our bodies, enjoyed our time together, but that was all it was, I know—just fun. Kids having fun. I mean, if it was anything deeper than that, I’d be riding this motorcycle clean across the state to Mindy. But I’m not doing that, am I? No, I’m not.

  Instead I’m riding back home, to the house I grew up in, to the girl I grew up with. Darcy.

  Darcy.

  My stepsister Darcy.

  9

  DARCY

  I stop outside Cameron’s room, second-guessing myself now. What am I doing, I ask myself as I look at the two jackets I’m holding. His and Hers jackets? Are you serious? His and Hers jackets as a gift to your brother? Is this getting creepy and weird, or what?

  There is a sick feeling in my stomach, but there is also a strange force that is pulling me, pushing me, leading me. I can’t deny that there’s a tension between Cam and me right now, and I know he feels it too. I may be young, but I’m not a moron. I know that the way Cam’s been teasing me says something about what he’s feeling, even though in my insecurity I don’t want to allow myself to believe it. My brain will not allow myself to accept what my body already seems to be recognizing—that there is an attraction between us that is real, intense, and strong. An attraction that is perhaps fueled by the years we spent together, next to each other, alone with each other, growing up together. We loved each other like brother and sister, and so obviously it sounds twisted and wrong. But we don’t share a biological parent. We don’t share blood. And our bodies know that, our bodies recognize it.

  Still, I tell myself as I look down at the two jackets once again. It’s one thing to feel something, and another thing to expect anything to actually happen. I mean, what do I expect will happen? We can never truly be together, can we? It would be too much for our parents, too much for our families, maybe even too much for us. Guilt, doubt, the feeling of doing something wrong, sinful even . . .

  But now I find myself pushing the door open and walking into Cam’s empty room even as I think all of this. His smell comes at me immediately, and I take a deep breath and close the door behind me. Oh, Cam. Why couldn’t we have just met as friends somewhere?

  Of course, I know that it wouldn’t have been the same if we had met as friends. As sick and twisted as it sounds, those ten years we spent together as brother and sister is what’s driving my growing attraction, my rising obsession, my burning arousal.

  And now I lay both jackets on Cam’s bed and sigh. I touch his bedsheets, his comforter, his pillow. Oh, Cam, I think again as I find myself crawling into his bed, sliding under the covers, feeling a tingle go through me as I imagine his hard, naked body under these sheets with me. I am hot between my legs now, wet inside my panties, hungry to be touched. And so I slide my fingers down the front of my jeans, gasping as I feel how wet I am, how slick I am, how ready I am.

  My eyes are closed and I am whimpering as I rub myself under the covers of Cam’s bed. I am in a trancelike state of ecstasy, completely lost to the world, oblivious to my surroundings, shuddering and shaking as I shamelessly flick my stiff clit, finger my slick crease, pinch my own nipples that are feeling tight and pointy under my red tank-top.

  And suddenly I hear footsteps on the stairs outside and I just fucking LEAP out of the bed, almost falling on my face because my hand is still down my pants and I cannot balance. I stumble across the room, finally getting my sticky, wet hand out of my panties and stopping my fall by grabbing onto Cam’s desk.

  “Shit,” I mutter as I quickly look in the mirror and straighten my hair. I wipe my fingers on my jeans, make sure my boobs aren’t hanging out, and then go back to the middle of the room and stand there. It is too late to leave the room, I know, and so I may as well just stay here.

  The door opens now, and it is Cam. His face looks flushed and wind-beaten, and his eyes are gleaming with intensity. He stops when he sees me, and he glances at the two jackets on the bed and then back at me.

  “Hey, sis,” he says after some hesitation. “What’s going on?”

  I just stand there and blink, forcing a nervous smile as I gesture to the tw
o laid-out jackets like they are prizes on display for some lame-ass game show.

  “Surprise!” I say. “Happy Birthday! And sorry!”

  Cam looks at the jackets again, now slowly walking over to the bed and touching the larger one. He runs his fingers along the weathered creases, touches some of the patches and insignias, caresses the shining metal zippers. Then he touches the collar of the smaller, women’s jacket, and I swear I see his breath catch in his throat as his gaze drifts beyond the jacket to the ruffled bedsheet and the head-shaped depression on his pillow . . . the head-shaped depression in which a long brown hair is neatly curled like the snake from the Garden of Eden.

  I almost faint in embarrassment when I see Cam’s expression change. Oh. My. God. He knows I was in his bed, doesn’t he. Does he know what I was doing? Can he smell it on me?

  I resist the temptation to smell my own fingers, and I force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Breathe, girl. BREATHE!

  Finally Cam looks up at me, and I almost fall down with relief when I see him touch his new jacket, nod, and then smile.

  “I don’t know what to say, sis,” he says now, slowly walking towards me.

  I am breathing hard now as Cam pulls me into him. My face gently bumps against his rock-hard chest as I take in his smell, and I can hardly stop myself from grinding into him, just spreading my legs and feeling his crotch rub up against mine. I am still wet and aroused, of course, and somehow I know Cam can sense it. Oh, God, is this the moment? Are we going to break through that wall of taboo, that barrier that separates decent human beings from whatever the hell kind of sick people we are?

  I move slightly to the left as I keep hugging Cam, and now I feel my pricked-up nipple rub against his chest, my thigh rest against his crotch. Almost immediately I feel him rise up under his jeans at my touch, and I am shivering now as we stand there in silence, maintaining our embrace, our bodies pressed up against each other, both of us clearly aroused as the heat rises in the room.

  I look up at him, into his eyes, my mouth hanging open as I breathe heavily. I want to say something but I cannot. I want to do something but I cannot. I don’t have the courage to lean up and kiss him. I can’t do it.

  No, I can’t do it, Cam. You’ll have to do it. If this is real, then you’re going to have to step up, because I don’t think I can. If you want me, you’re going to have to lean in and take me.

  I am still looking up into his eyes, my mouth still open, my breath hot and moist, my thigh still pressed against his cock that is clearly flexing inside his jeans. He’s going to kiss me, I think as I watch. He’s going to kiss me. Kiss me, Cam.

  Now I feel Cam’s body tensing up as I feel a chill go through me. His hand is moving up my back to my neck now, to my hair which is still tied up in a ponytail. His hand feels tight against the back of my neck, as if Cam is holding back, holding something back. For a moment I get an image of him grabbing my hair, pulling it, pulling it hard and then leaning in and kissing me, and I tense up too as I feel him slowly grip my ponytail, tilting my head back.

  I am almost panting now as I feel his cock flex against me, and I feel my open mouth twist into a smile of welcome as I see him bring his face close to mine.

  But his lips just brush past my cheek as he leans in close to my ear, and as I shiver in his arms, I hear him say the words.

  “Let’s ride, sis,” he whispers in a way that almost makes me come on my feet. “Let’s ride.”

  10

  CAMERON

  I have never felt more relieved to be out of the house and on the road, the wind blasting against my face, howling in my ears. Darcy is holding me tight, her fingers digging into my abs as we rip down the highway at a cool eighty miles an hour. We don’t have a helmet law in this state, and I’ve always hated wearing one, but I forced Darcy to put one on before I allowed her to climb on behind me. I’m cool with gambling my own life for the rush, but no way am I risking my little sis’s head. My stepdad would never forgive me. I’d never forgive myself.

  And I’d also never forgive myself if I ever allow myself to get as close to unleashing my inner beast on Darcy as I just did. Oh, God, I could smell her pussy in my room. I fucking swear I could. Is that what she was doing in my bed? Did she finish? Or did I interrupt her? She was hot when we hugged, that much I know.

  I was hot too, I think now as I rumble past a semi-truck, nodding at the driver, who gives me a thumbs-up and points at my bike. Fuck yeah, I was hot . . . hot and hard. And Darcy could tell. The way she nuzzled into my chest, then shifted and got her soft thigh up against my cock . . . oh, FUCK, Darcy, what are you doing? Be careful, sis. Be careful.

  But slowly the heat leaves my body as we hit the open highway on the outskirts of town, and I relax and just focus on the ride. For a moment I am taken back to those early days when I got my first dirtbike and took Darcy out to one of the tracks. Her hands were smaller then, but they still feel small against my hard body right now. This is good, I tell myself. She’s your sister and that’s it. That’s all. If you have to, go jerk yourself off when you get home. But what happened in your room just now is as far as it can ever go with her.

  We ride for over an hour, and I realize that my tank is almost empty. The fuel capacity is just under four gallons, which should be good for almost a hundred-fifty or two hundred miles, but maybe Karl didn’t fill me up all the way. Besides, I had been gunning it in the low gears on my first ride earlier, just to hear that Harley sound, and that burns a lot of gas.

  I pull off the highway and cruise into a gas station. It is a pretty big gas station, with an attached restaurant and a large convenience store. Beyond the gas station I can see a small street with a strip of bars and restaurants, and in the distance there are a bunch of motels.

  As I pull up to the pump and switch my engine off, I hear the familiar sounds of other bikes in the distance, and I watch as four Harleys roll past us and head down to that street with the bars and restaurants. I watch them go, smiling and nodding, feeling like I am suddenly part of something bigger, part of a special culture, an insider, a member.

  One of the bikers turns his head towards me as he rides past, and although I am nodding, he just stares at me without moving his head. Now they are gone, and I start to run the fuel into my tank.

  Darcy had run inside to pee the moment we stopped, and now here she is again, walking towards me. I stand near my bike and watch her walk. God, she looks great. Bouncy, beautiful, and full of life. Oh, man, why couldn’t we have met as friends sometime, in a different world. Shit, man.

  I glance at the colors on her jacket as she walks up to me, smiles, and places one hand on the heavy bike and poses with a giggle. I smile and shake my head as I finish with the fuel pump and put the cap back on.

  “What?” I say to Darcy as I grin.

  She is looking at me with some excitement in her eyes, and so I ask her again.

  “What’s up, sis? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “Sooo,” she says, blinking as she speaks. “The woman at the gas station complimented my jacket.”

  I nod at her, looking at her jacket again. It is the same style and cut as mine, clearly part of a set. “Cool. It is a great jacket, sis. You look hot in it.”

  I tense up as I say that, and I almost kick myself when I see the color rush to Darcy’s face. Shut the fuck up, Cam. What are you doing?

  “Thanks,” she says shyly, looking down at herself and shifting. “Anyway, the woman asked if we were heading down to Morgan’s.”

  Darcy turns towards that street beyond the gas station, and I follow her gaze and nod. Morgan’s is clearly the bar with the big sign that says “Morgan’s.” Yes, the big sign, and the long row of big bikes lined up outside it, shining like pirate booty in the sun.

  I smile at Darcy as I hand the helmet back to her. “You’re not even nineteen, sis,” I say.

&nbs
p; Now Darcy crinkles up her nose and crosses her eyebrows as she stares at me with a little girl’s anger. “So? THEY don’t know that. I walk in with you, and no one’s going to ask me shit.”

  I laugh and shake my head again. Sure, there’s a part of me that would LOVE to roll my wheels past Morgan’s, where there are a bunch of bikers hanging on the porch and smoking, shooting the shit, laughing, talking about machines and freedom. But there’s also a part of me that’s nervous. Truth is, it feels strange to be in these jackets that are sorta matching. It feels weird that people are looking at us like we’re a couple, two lovers, boyfriend and girlfriend. And weird not in a bad way. Weird in a way that makes my breath come out in short spurts, makes my heart beat faster, makes my stomach feel tight with the knowledge that perhaps I want a woman that I can never have.

  “I don’t think so, sis,” I say to her as I swing my leg across the seat and get ready to make a move. “Come on. Hop on.”

  But Darcy stands right there, and now she crosses her arms over her chest again and pouts at me. “Come on, Cowboy,” she says, her eyes teasing me, almost daring me. “Walk in with me on your arm. It’ll be fun. We’re like sixty or seventy miles out of town. We’re not going to run into anyone we know.”

  My heart almost stops. “Walk in with me on your arm?” Did she really just say that? Oh, Darcy, don’t play with me like that. Don’t lead me on like that, sis. It’s all nice and fun when it’s pretend, when it’s just a game. But, like I found out with Mindy, it doesn’t take long for a game to get pretty fucking serious.

  “Come on, Cam,” Darcy says again, grabbing my arm now, wrestling it from the handlebars, now taking my hand in hers. “Come ON. Just you and me. Let’s show off our jackets. And don’t you want to show off your bike?”