SWOLLEN: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Stephanie Brother

  I watch him let that comment fall, as though talking about the weather, which I suppose he could be because whether Landon has taken his car or not is really neither here nor there, turn the paper with a carefully saliva dampened finger tip and push the last of his toast into his mouth.

  “His car?”

  Agreeing to come on a family holiday means that he’s not allowed to escape. This is against the rules. This is subversion on a massive level. This is. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.

  “He said something about getting a signal for his phone, checking in with his team, you know, something important like that. He is Shoreville’s most valuable player.”

  “Mom, stop pretending you know about football when you don’t. You didn’t even know what MVP was until two days ago. And i’m sure Shoreville can cope without their troubled star for a few more days, it’s not like the world revolves around him.”

  “Well it sounded important that’s all. I’m sure we can manage without him, or are you missing him that much already?”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy it makes us both to see you two getting along.”

  Is she for real? Even Marvin is nodding. Landon and I getting along is like saying Trump and Obama are best friends.

  “I wasn’t sure what to expect at first, you know with Landon being from such a different world to ours, but he’s such a genuinely nice guy, you don’t even think about it after five minutes.”

  How can coffee heated in the microwave actually taste worse than cold coffee? It’s so bitter I almost spit it out without thinking.

  “You know, I was worried he wouldn’t like my cooking, or get bored or, you know, whatever, but he’s been such a sweetheart, hasn’t he Marv?”

  There’s that nodding again. No wonder Marvin is so meek, he’s grown up living in his son’s shadow.

  “You know Landon is on his final warning at the club? You know he’s had problems with drugs, problems with violence and problems with women? You know about the car crash that almost ended his career, I presume.”

  “I know how much baloney the papers make up. Anyway, you shouldn’t say bad things about your brother, I can tell you’re already missing him. An hour without him around and you’re pining for your playmate like a lost dog.”

  “Are you serious? I don’t even know him.”

  “Exactly, which is why you shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  “And he’s my step brother anyway, not that I asked him to be.”

  “And I know you well enough to tell you’re over the moon about it. It’s alright to admit that you like him, you know.”

  Jesus, not Mom as well. What is this, liberal Americans week?

  “Whatever. He can do what he likes as long as he leaves me alone.”

  Jacuzzi, massage, pissing with the door open, sunbathing with his top off, smiling, poking fun, walking behind me, in front or alongside, whatever, as long as he leaves me alone.

  Mom clears the dishes while Marvin focuses on the newspaper. I have to wrestle my plate back of her because I haven’t finished, and then explain why it’s taking me ten minutes to finish a slice of bread - sleep slowing everything down, Mom - to which I get the response:

  “Landon would have polished that off in seconds. That boy can eat like a horse.”

  Piss like one as well, I almost say.

  Mom and Marvin have traditional roles, which would bother me, but doesn’t seem to bother them at all. Marvin is very much the trouser wearer, while Mom is happy to cook and clean and let him do his thing, which he does, very quietly and without much ruckus. Dad and Mom used to have blazing rows, but I can’t remember Marvin and Mom ever saying a crossed word to each other.

  With Mom busying herself in the kitchen, and Marvin and I affectively alone at the table, I decide to do some digging. I’m hoping for some ammunition I can use against Landon later, if he comes back later of course. He’s left all of his stuff here so I presume he is. I hope he is too, even if it’s just so I can have a go at him.

  “Marvin?”

  Not so much a word as a gentle sound of agreement.

  “What was Landon like when he was a boy? Do you have any embarrassing stories about him?”

  “I’ve got plenty about you, Matilda.”

  Jesus, this house really is too small.

  “Mom, stay out, I want to find out about our super star.”

  Marvin looks like he’s thinking. Reading the paper still, but thinking as well.

  “Embarrassing stories about Landon?”

  “Yeah, you know, the kind of things that he’s tried to forget about for years. The stories he wouldn’t want you to tell me.”

  “Like that time you decided to go for a wee on stage, in the middle of the nativity play, in front of everyone. All the staff, all the parents, twenty film cameras.”

  “Mom, I was four years old, and it wasn’t like I chose to do it, I couldn’t get to the bathroom in time, and it was a little bit of wee, you make it sound like I was peeing for hours. And no one had a film camera, you’ve just made that up.”

  “Tracy has it on VHS, darling. She filmed all of the plays. Come to think of it, she might have even transferred it onto DVD. I’ll have to ask her about that.”

  Every Christmas and every birthday without fail, Mom brings up that stupid story.

  “Something like that?”

  “Something exactly like that.”

  I expect Landon has pissed all over a stage before. It’s undoubtedly something in his repertoire. Any excuse to get his huge dick out and swing it around. Alright, I’m exaggerating a little bit there. To be fair on him, despite countless confessions and hundreds of model shoots, Landon, to my knowledge, has never actually got his cock out and started swinging it around, just for publicity. It’s exactly the kind of thing I expect him to do, but, up to now at least, I have to hold my hands up and say he’s never done it, at least not in public. In private is a different matter entirely.

  “Landon was always quite a shy boy growing up, he got bullied a lot for his height and his weight.”

  Hold on. Landon fat and small? Landon a normal human being? That’s impossible.

  “Bullied?”

  “We had to move around a bit because of my job, which meant Landon was always in and out of schools, which is why he struggled to make friends. If I’m being entirely honest with you, I don’t think Landon’s ever made any friends, not real ones anyway.”

  This is not really what I expected to hear.

  “I mean he’s always had football, and his team mates from that, and things are a little different now, but he’s never really had a strong friendship group. I guess he takes after me in that respect at least. I always wanted to give him brothers and sisters, but things didn’t work out that way. It might explain why he can sometimes come across as abrasive or headstrong.”

  Or arrogant and aloof. Not being able to form relationships makes perfect sense. He may think he’s perfect, but he’s hiding something broken inside.

  “He took the divorce badly, and I don’t think he’s ever forgiven his Mom for leaving, but we don’t really talk about stuff like that. That’s probably my fault just as much as his to be fair.”

  Marvin smiles softly, pushes his glasses up his nose and then goes back to his paper.

  A psychological profile was not what I was after. I wanted a peeing his pants story, an embarrassing remark in front of a disliked boss, a hilarious gaff at a high profile sporting event. There’s no way that I’m going to be able to finish my toast now, not after a sob story that’s going to make me feel sorry for the millionaire playboy.

  The morning ticks on, stuttering slowly into the afternoon as the sun climbs up into the cloudless sky over head.

  After his initial mishap with the jacuzzi yesterday, Landon spent a large part of the evening out here in it, while Mom and Marvin followed my lead and declined an invite to join him. There are marks still on the grass below the d
ecking, and the ones on the wood have only just dried up.

  I read my book, I walk to the end of the garden, I make shapes out of clouds, I sit in silence in the bedroom that’s not mine and I wait for him. I hate to admit it, but I’m bored. I’m bored without him.

  Mom and Marvin soak up the sun on the deck, books or pamphlets or local information on their laps, lost in their own thoughts, happy in the comfort of each other and the silence the countryside brings. We eat lunch when we get hungry, a banquet of cheeses and breads and chutneys and sliced meats that Mom somehow conjures up from something, and in the afternoon we return to the garden, Mom and Marvin happy to relax once again, while I struggle to find something to do, my mind never too far away from him.

  I imagine what it would be like, allowing myself, for the first time, to play with the ridiculous premise. Landon Maddox and I together, like I see Mom and Marvin being, both of us on our sun loungers spread out on the deck, comfortable in our silence. Our children where I am now, playing together at the end of the garden.

  The image gets squashed by the reality, and I’m unable to avoid imagining Landon without picturing him in some kind of position of dominance, or acting in some way to court my attention, and as I continue to explore it, I begin to realize I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  It amusing me to picture us both like this, not as enemies, or even as siblings, but as lovers, perhaps even secret lovers for a time being, until we are able to come out to Marvin and Mom and his coach and the Shoreville fans and everyone else who would be affected by that status.

  Secret lovers. I explore the possibility in the comfortable confines of a fantasy, of a daydream. I know it would never happen, which protects the plausibility of imagining it.

  Here, in my own head I can think about that huge appendage, that swinging dick going hard between my legs. I can think about that perfect body, that pantie-melting smile. Those eyes, those abs, those legs and arms. I can think about all of that because I know it will never happen.

  It’ll never happen, not because he’s my stepbrother, but because I hate Landon Maddox. I hate him, because if I didn’t, I might not be able to hold myself back.

  When I think the sun has gone behind a cloud, and I open my eyes just to check, there his is above my, smiling down like a lunatic. I’m not quick enough to hide the smile I give him back.

  “Alright, Sis. Did you miss me?”

  I don’t notice until he pulls me to my feet, just how wet my pussy is.

  Landon

  I know she knows I know it, and I know too she’s trying to hide it. She missed me. It’s written all over her face. She’s been lying here all morning waiting for me to come back. She’s probably been thinking about me too, although I know she’d never admit it.

  “So what have you all been up to?”

  “Oh, you know, relaxing, reading, soaking up the sun. Nothing too energetic. Good run?”

  Rachel may be the one asking the questions but it’s Tilly’s who’s got her eyes all over my sweaty, sun-baked skin.

  “You’ll have to come next time, I found a beautiful spot.”

  “My running days are behind me, thank you. Perhaps you can take Tilly with you, she’s been moping around all day looking for something to do.”

  I knew it.

  “I have not. I’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, thank you very much, which, of course, you have now ruined.”

  “I found a lake, we can go swimming in. The water is so clear you can see the bottom.”

  “I didn’t bring my bathing costume I told you that already.”

  “Then it won’t be the bottom of the lake we’ll be seeing, will it?”

  Rachel laughs at that one and Tilly gives me a kind of sarcastic smile.

  “What took you so long anyway? I thought you might have just given up and gone back to the city.”

  “Me? No way. Not when we are all getting along so well. I was getting to know the area. There’s nothing here.”

  “I could have told you that and saved you the trouble of going.”

  “You wouldn’t have missed me as much if I’d stayed here though, would you?”

  “I didn’t miss you waking me up this morning, that’s for sure.”

  I bet she did. I bet she even dreamed about me doing it.

  “I didn’t want to get a fright seeing you leap out of bed in your bright red, granny panties. Besides which, you were snoring when I went out, so I thought I’d better leave you to it.”

  “How thoughtful of you.”

  “You know me, always thinking about other people.”

  This is great. I needed to get out, but being back is even better than I thought it would be.

  “You sleeping under the table again tonight, Matilda?”

  “You having another jacuzzi for one tonight, Landon?”

  “You tell me. I set it up for everyone, but nobody else wanted to get in it.”

  “There isn’t much room once you’ve sat down. I saw the amount of water that spilled out afterwards.”

  “Hey, that spilled out before, and there is enough room if we squeeze in. It’s not like we don’t know each other.”

  “Yeah, I’ll pass I think.”

  “Dad, Rachel?”

  The last thing I want to do is have Rachel and the old man rubbing up against me, but it’s polite to ask and I know Tilly won’t expect me to. Dad shakes his head, while Rachel’s answer is a little ambivalent.

  “You enjoy it first.”

  I leave those guys on the deck and go and shower. I can’t let Tilly get too used to having me back around, otherwise she might get bored and lose interest. Yeah, right. That girl’s so transparent she could stand in front of the French windows and we’d all still be able to see the bottom of the garden from the dining table.

  Standing naked in the shower with my dick in my hand makes me want to masturbate, but this house is so small that I can’t even squeeze out soap without being heard. A wank would be a waste of this sexual energy anyway, and it’s not really my style either. I’d prefer to have bad sex than a good wank any day of the week, and as long as the possibility of that happening remains, I’m more than happy to hold off, and let the thing build up until it near enough explodes.

  I just need to be sure of a few things first. One, she admits that she wants it and two, she’s not going to tell anyone what happens.

  She must be struggling too. I mean, forty eight hours already in my presence is enough to turn any girl into a sex crazed, nymphomaniac. She must be chomping at the bit, demonstrating an almost inhuman amount of restraint not to throw herself at me.

  Well, we’ll see how long she can last before the pressure gets too much and she breaks. Of course, it would be a hell of a lot easier if Dad and Rachel weren’t around to crush the vibe. If Tilly and I were here alone on a secret holiday, we could skinny dip in that lake I found, fuck each other out on the decking, create a whirlpool in that jacuzzi, displacing all the water we liked around the edges, and generally do exactly what it is she’s having so much trouble in admitting that she wants.

  With Rachel and Dad out of the equation, we aren’t even step siblings. We’re just two horny people looking to get laid.

  I’m so hard I have to wait a good ten minutes after I’ve finished cleaning myself for my dick to go back down. When it does, I realize I have the choice of putting back on my dirty running kit or wrapping a towel around myself until I get into the room, and every single one of the eight towels that I can find are barely big enough to get round me.

  I don’t reckon Tilly standing outside the bathroom waiting to use it is coincidence either.

  “Finally.”

  We lock eyes for a long moment before I follow her gaze slowly down to what I know is an already swelling dick. A moment later we look at each other. Tilly clears her throat.

  “Couldn’t find any smaller towels?”

  “There weren’t any big enough.”

  “Cocky.”

  I step
aside to let her past, because if we refer to it too much, I know what will happen. If I’m even anywhere near past semi-hard, this towel is going to lift off like a rocket, and all hell is going to break loose. I don’t care, but Rachel and Dad might, especially if Tilly decides to throw a hissy fit. For some reason, however, she looks like she won’t. Maybe she’s ready to admit it. Maybe she’s about to push me back into the bathroom, whip the towel off and make me slide every single inch of it into her while Mom and Dad do the Sudoku in the fading sun. And maybe that’s all wishful thinking.

  Whatever’s going on in her head, she takes her time to pass, and for what must only be a brief moment, but feels like an eternity, we are front to front in the entrance to the bathroom, somehow jammed awkwardly against each other, trapped by the confines of the door frame.

  Caught like this, we can’t help but rub against each other as she slowly tries to release herself, and I swear to God she’s engineered the whole thing on purpose. It isn’t just my arm and upper body she’s in contact with either, it’s my rapidly bulging dick, and she knows it. She’s not only enjoying this, she wants me to know she is as well. Naughty, Tilly. Is she giving me a sign or playing me?

  Before I have time to react, before I even have time to say anything, Tilly is past me, and I’m staring at a recently slammed bathroom door, only inches away from my face. That’s not all, either. I can feel it against my feet, even before I hear Rachel’s voice. Thank God it’s enough to soften me almost instantly.

  “Nice bum, Landon, but I don’t think that’s really all that appropriate for dinner, even in this liberal household.”

  I gather up the fallen towel, careful not to expose myself in the process, and side step the short distance to my room without even turning around to see what kind of face Rachel is pulling while she watches me.

  I can hear Tilly smile to herself through the wafer thin walls, and I can’t help but join her.

  Tilly

  Alright, I did miss him. Mom and Marvin aren’t exactly the life and soul of the party, so without Landon here to dick around with, it’s easy to get bored. I’d prefer a cell phone signal any day of the week, but I guess Landon isn’t too bad for a second best. I know he wants me to admit it, but I don’t think any of us should risk the potential head swelling that might occur afterwards if I did. The last thing I need is for him to know I like him, or at least like him enough to admit he has his uses, here in the middle of nowhere, in what could easily be a scene from a film about the end of the world.