4-4-1 Guys at a Bar Pt 1

"What's up, son?"

"Yeah, boy. You look down."

"Nothin'."

"You're not all fucked up from bein' stuck in Argentina or nothin', are you?"

"That wasn't so bad; it was rough not knowing when we were getting back, but it's not like they beat us down there. We had enough money to eat fresh steak every night."

"So what's eating you?"

"You guys know my sister?"

"Sure. Everyone knows your sister."

"Thanks. I guess I've got the hots for her."

"So do something about it."

"Like what? Fap it off?"

"No, man. Tap that ass."

"You remember I'm talking about my sister, right?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to do what exactly?"

"Fuck her, dude. Only way to roll."

"Would you?"

"Fuck yes, doo. She's fine as fuck."

"Jackass, I mean fuck your own sister."

"Been there, done that."

"Bullshit."

"Strait up, man."

"When?"

"While ago, party. We were both pretty drunk, but we both remembered it in the morning. I ended up getting it again a few days later. 'Twas good."

"Me too, bro. I've done my sister a few times this year."

"You two are so full of shit."

"Psh."

**********

"You told them?"

Oh shit; she looked pissed. Enter a very pissed-off little blond, by the way. It was a few days later, and we was still warming up our usual seats on the patio of the bar.

"How the fuck could you fucking tell them, you fucking prick? Fucking jerk!"

She was beating him with her tiny fists. Rather hard, as it happened. He turned his body and put up his arms, but she was swinging like a little girl possessed. I've seen girl boxers, and this wasn't it. When you're not either of them, it's pretty funny.

Poor girl was such an angel otherwise. You know the "angel" look, right? Never a hair over five-foot-three; short, blond hair with the cutest little ringlets at the bottom; huge, huge baby-blue eyes that looked up at you and made you want to cry; and rather conservative clothing. At least it looked like conservative clothing on her; my sister would've looked like a fucking ho dressed like that.

But my sister cries black tears of mascara, does her hair in this bullshit ensemble, wears leather wherever it gets made to fit, army boots, and tattoos everywhere. She'd look like street trash getting dressed up for church, which is a regular thing for her. She's an avid Catholic, my sister.

Poor Tiffany took off in such a huff. "But you don't understand!" Sam yelled after her. "This idiot was trying to... so I... wait!" And then she was gone.

Man. To see him turn and come back to us, our smiling faces with our freshly-brushed teeth...

"Bad news, man," one of us said. May have been me. The rest of us were holding back our grins and our snickers.

In our experience as a four-man lady-watching team, we couldn't agree on whose sister was the hottest. Sam had twelve or some such ridiculous number, and while Tiffany was definitely in the top point-one percent of the population, so were the rest of her sisters, but not for such "obvious" reasons as Tiffany boasted. Dree was another lucky one, with three fine-ass pieces of potential arm-candy, but no one was brave enough to try, and I mean no one. Legs all the way around, but brains on top of brains. Never even went to high school, they were so smart.

Dree's middle sister Ivy was the tallest and probably the sultriest of the three. Is that the right word, sultry? Where the fuck's my encyclopedia... "Oppressively hot and moist, characterized by arousing passion." Yep, that's Ivy. A bit tall for a girl, with easygoing, long brown hair that would wave over her killer green eyes. She had tits just small enough to let the rest of her body share the spotlight, unlike her flat blond sister or her busty red-head sister.

Ivy was considered to be the dumb one of the three, everyone knew who knew them, but only because she was the one we saw at parties. We all figured the other two were too big of nerds to enjoy a good party, so Ivy, who did, must've been dumber. Didn't drink much, but she knew how to have a good time, only she was known for being more tease and less bite.

Still, she was no one's fool. Rumor got around that she actually had a PHD, so some fresh guy bet her body against his ride that he could outwit her in some knowledge contest. Ivy showed up at the poor idiot's father's house the next day, demanding why her prize that she won square hadn't been handed over, then she told the dad all about the bet. Poor guy never knew what hit him.

And then there's Sadie. Man, how bad I want a bite of her. As bad as Ivy is, Sadie was known to bite at the bait at a party once in a while, so a few lucky guys knew her name, and I mean personally. To put it in perspective, there are a few pussies out there who want one of those girls who stays a virgin until she gets married. A few less weird ones wait until they graduate, but me? I just want one who graduated puberty. My sister was no different, but being in her own crowd, what could I do?

Back to Sadie. Not legs like Ivy, nor boobs like Tiffany, or oozing corrupt sensuality like my sister, but still, there was something. What's the word? Pom-poms. The cheerleaders at our high school were seriously wicked. For those of us that didn't chill with her brother Bill, everyone knew Sadie as "Honey-Bee," her special cheerleader name. Honey-blond hair, yellow-and-black striped clothes, and a bumblebee backpack. Bubblegum all the time, skirts, sneakers, whatever; she was sexy. She didn't have to work on it because she had sexy cheerleader friends and a reputation, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have it. Girl had it in spades, as they say.

My sister, on the other hand, didn't want attention, but it got her a reputation, and her scorning of geeks and jocks alike made her either a collectable or a taboo depending on who you talked to, which only raised her H-rating even higher to all parties who sang the sorrow of the sickness.

I keep missing my point. Sadie, she puts out, but not for everyone. See, thing is, no one can figure out what her thing is. She fucked the captain of the baseball team but not the quarterback of the football team. She fucked one of her closest friend's boyfriend, but not the other friend's. She fucked a guy on the physics team, but not one from the math team. Just when the jocks started giving up on her, she fucked a boxer. And then another. No one can figure out her game, which means that technically anyone has a shot. There are girls that crave jocks like Roxanne or girls that put out for a cheap compliment like Tiffany, so they're easy targets. But Sadie, she's available, but she's mysterious. That's H-rating right there.

Four sisters, each with their own personal appeal. Sam claims to have trodden the water, as does Bill, but Sam's been there and back, so we all know he knows something about taking a woman to bed. Bill, he's my boy, but he's more for using his eyes than his tongue if you know what I mean.

This is a serious town where serious business goes on, so there aren't a hundred bars around campus like there should be, but there's still Julie's. If you behave yourself you can get a drink there, but you can't get drunk. There's the industrial section out west for bar and club scenes or the city about ten minutes north by train, but we the boys just want to chill on the patio with a few pitchers of beer and watch the trim walk by.

Julie's is located a few miles away from Downtown with some of the larger stores and restaurants. A lot of people liked Downtown for the fact that it was quaint and comfortable and there was no extra-foot traffic except for horses. But if you wanted to watch a piece of ass go by, Julie's was the place to be. Located in the heart of commercial Rotterdale, you had a perfect view of the public transit going hither and yon along with the young hotties that frequented larger, more anonymous shopping locations. Very difficult flirting with the cashier when everyone on the street knows your name and would find out about it half an hour later.

"I'd pee in her butt," Bill noticed after an exceptional heifer walked by. We all agreed with varying interest at the pair of heeled legs and revealing blouse. Probably a chick from out west coming in for a delicious sammich and some shopping for her boss. Also probably not an ounce of brains.

See, there's a problem in this sweet little cove we call "home": The women don't amount to much. Sure, back in the day I wanted a nice cute thing to bed for the rest of my life to call mother of my children, but that died out as my mother divorced and remarried some jerk from Kansas or Montana or something. I tried dating a few times, but the heartless bitches left me wanting nothing more than a quick fifteen minutes alone with the lights out so I could do nothing but feel the body I had lusted after that particular week. After I got my cookies off, all respect for her would be lost to the point that I wouldn't want to look at it anymore. Therefore I could look at someone else for the next week, hopefully bedding her that Friday. Any more than that, and you were in for a world of hurt. Gossip, betrayal, and an empty wallet. Three things I gave up on upon entering college.

We're a small football town, Rotterdale. It's not to say that we all know each other, but there isn't much moving out or moving in going on. Mostly everyone here has lived here most of their lives, so whomever you date is someone you're liable to see for the rest of your life. So it was with Roxanne. Bitch. Calling me twice daily to tell me she loved me within a week of dating, and after two months come to find out she'd been fucking some other guy for a few times a week, more than I was getting. I could've thrown a fit about it like a little kid, and hell, I was a little kid at the time, but there was my sister Becky to help me fume about her and convince me to just start fucking someone else because there were way too many dolphins in the tank to worry about getting yours eaten by another shark that can't help but smell blood in the water.

Come to find out it was more of the same thing with the rest of my posse. We all knew each other in school (besides Dree, of course), but going to school and going to college or a job is two different things. We became fast friends as we were all frequenters of Julie's bar, constantly nursing a frothy mug along with the loss of some dolphin or another that swam away before we could enjoy their rare taste for recreational copulation. Bill, he'd dated one girl all through high school just for her to break up with him because she didn't want to miss out on "life after high school," whatever the fuck that meant. More important than love, obviously.

Sampson, he... well, Sampson was Sampson. He was a bit of a dog back in his high school years, everyone knew, but he came back from the Army different. Not, "I've got through a life change," different, more like, "I can't be bothered trying to impress every piece of well-dressed tail I see," different. Actually, he picked up right where he left off, nailing his two ex-girlfriends as well as his sister in one night. That was another sister.

Sam never gave a girl the chance to get close, he simply picked one from the masses and used her for as long as it pleased him before moving on. He was only at the bar as much as the rest of us because he needed some healthy masculine company to balance all the pussy he'd been getting. We allowed him in because he was something of a lord amongst men, having nailed two of his own sisters besides a long list of women, none of whom got to him like they'd got to us.

But that wasn't to say he never had bad experiences, which is my topic at the moment. Sam's father is the rather well-known Samson Campbell, whose divorce to his high-powered wife left him with a child and one of the largest houses in town. Rather than reconcile or find a new bride, Samson Campbell proceeded to nail every piece of tail in sight, which was why he had so many children in the same age range, the older Samson discluded. The end of that story is that Sam's the eldest in a house with a large handful of children and no real mother figure. We wonder whether he took it personally, or if he believes he's adopted his dad's method of how to treat women.

Dree was just hopeless. He actually cared too much. No wicked bitch could grind him under-foot so badly that he didn't pick up and try again. Stupid bastard didn't go to high school, is the problem. Billy and I, we're immune to it by now, and Sampson seemed to know at birth, but Dree was always playing catch-up with the way the world worked. Still, he was the nicest out of us by a long shot. I'm glad my boys are good guys, but it's a bit sickening, watching his eyes bore longingly after yet another female he won't even bother to get.

"'Sup for tonight?" he asked.

"Brewer's doing something," Sam said. "Should be bumpin'." I don't know where the hell that man gets his information from since he doesn't go to college or work Downtown, but he's always spot-on. Possibly because he's also brother to the Gossip Twins.

That's just one of their names. Another is "the Trash Twins," or "the Gritty Pair," for those that have ever seen them from a mile away. Yet another reason we revered Sam: He was related to twin sisters, both of whom were considered the sluttiest virgins in the history of Mankind. A bit of a "Bender Free" complex surrounding those two. There was this concert once with the hottest home-grown honey to ever come out of Rotterdale, but tickets were impossible to get. Those that went came back like they had been in the Holy Presence.

And so it was with Cindy and Sara. Easygoing girls, but no matter how close you got to them, you never stopped wanting to fuck them, and you knew you were never going to. Yet another sickness in our town: Worse than girls who put out and switched after leading a guy on were girls that didn't put out at all despite wearing the uniform and playing the part. But we couldn't scorn them; they were Sam's sisters. They were also to fucking hot to scorn; you'd never risk word getting to them that you'd said a foul syllable on them and risk your chance of ever getting one into bed (which would be enough to last a lifetime, but we all openly admitted we wanted both, hopefully at the same time).

The traffic was dying, so we quit our usual chairs at our usual table and bid Jess goodbye. Jess was people with Dree's mom and Sam's dad, so we never had to pay as long as we took it easy with a few pitchers of beer. I think Dree and Sam are fourth cousins or something; they both went to that private school down south that you can only get to by horse. We parted ways, still some of us having a last bite at Sam for getting found out by hot-hot Tiffany, and headed in our own directions.

*****************

I was home in about twenty minutes with the aid of the town-provided streetcars that would take anyone on foot from neighborhood to neighborhood. My mom and Captain Asshole were still at work, which was a reason I took it easy on classes at Laurel in mornings and heavy on the weekends: More time in the house alone during working hours, though it was murder trying to cure a hangover from Friday or Saturday right before getting into six hours of classes the following morning.

My sister was home, thank God in Heaven and the angels above. She and I argued all through childhood, but things never got really bad with us. We went to high school together and everything without embarrassing each other; she's a senior now to my sophomore year in university. Being around her was much cooler once I got into college for some reason, either because I was more relaxed about life or because she was finally maturing, I didn't care. All I saw was that I had my boys at my side, an easy bunch of classes at school, and a cool sister I could chill with at home for a few hours before hitting this party. Speaking of which...

"Hey Beck, you hear of that gig going on tonight?" I asked into her closed room.

"I'm not going to some fruity live music thing with you and your asshole boyfriends!" she snarled immediately. I'm not much for the cheesy musicians that play at the coffee joint either, but it's something to do. But Becky, she has none of it. I swear, she hates both our parents for the simple fact that because of them she was forced to grow up in this little town instead of a huge city where she could have more alternative-lifestyle mates to read shitty poetry about death and kittens to.

"Then why are you all dressed up?" I asked before I even barged in. She was always dressed; at some point I got the feeling that her being in her underwear would simply be too cute, which would have been unacceptable to her. She was painting her toes black (yet again), dressed in a black frill skirt with a black... let's just say there was lots of black.

She didn't seem to notice me barging in, much less mind. "Might go do something; I donno," was her pathetic answer.

"Any which way, it's not fruity live music, it's a party over at Brewer's place, whoever the fuck that is. Thought your asshole boyfriends might be there, so I figured I could give you a lift if you were headed there anyway."

"What the fuck could you lift, you skinny idiot?"

Like I said, we're pretty good pals for the most part, but we're still siblings. I went to get changed so she could dry her toes or whatever in peace.

While I was in the shower, my good old buddy rose to attention. Watching all the ass graze mid-town was nice and Tiffany looked cute as a button as she ran in tears from her unfaithful brother, but damn, Becky's feet are a sight. She's got these ugly black things crawling on them since she got enough money to get inked and she's always doing the black nail polish, but underneath it all is a very cute girl with very cute parts.

I reached around myself rather than get busy with the showering as old habits took over my mind. Living in a house with three other people makes it tough to get your stroke on, so the privacy of the loud shower is always a welcome haven for hidden zen time. First it was Tiffany, blue eyes and all, in my mind as I worked my magic. Then there was the server at Julie's, always a welcome sight. Then came Sadie and Sally, both of whom I'd seen in high school, but I didn't know either of them very well while I was in lack-of-attendance. Ivy was possibly the most agonizing for me, since I didn't know her from high school at all. No, she was a sophisticated college student at the tender age of thirteen, and as such she developed quite a bit of mystique.

It was the pictures of them that really did it for me. Bill carried a picture of Sadie and Sampson had all his hot sisters represented behind his billfold, but the first time I saw them was when the proud guys revealed that they had screwed the little teases, their own sisters.

Their own sisters. That had implications: that a brother could nail the ultimate hottie. I had wanted Becky since I started glimpsing her around high school; for all her protests about rejecting society, she really started working on the way she dressed for public.

I almost asked her for a picture for my wallet once, but I could just imagine it being like, "Hey, I wondered if you wanted to come chill out for a while, just you and me? Maybe get a few pictures taken together..." Yeah, maybe after we both graduated college. She was still a high-schooler, and any interaction with her own flesh-and-blood was still forbidden for that duration. I'd have to get one from Mom instead.

A particular picture was drilled into my memory, that one picture of little Becky dressed up in black (with purple for the occasion), hair done up, heels instead of boots, and standing next to some geek that was too shy to ask why she kept disappearing to the dance floor without him. My own prom wasn't that good, but she looked like she enjoyed hers. But now that picture said something else. It was just a picture of my sister just like Bill and Sam had, but theirs were trophies. Mine should become a trophy as well. As soon as I got one for my wallet, that is.

I groaned quietly; my hand had begun stroking furiously on cleaning my equipment without me knowing. It'd be good to drain out the stress before an important party, but that it was thinking of my sister that was getting me off, phew. I was about to come hard and fast. She'd probably find it stuck to the wall next time she showered.

"You in here, dork?"

"Shit, shit, and more shit found in cans of delicious soda," I swore. I was seconds away, but I tore my hand off lest I make some giveaway noise. "Find your hairspray on your own fucking time," I yelled, but still she browsed through the counter like it was a thing to do with me in the process of bathing.

"What's your problem? You 'busy' in there? Should I come back in two minutes?"

Fucking women. No fucking wonder I could hardly stand them anymore. Even my mother most of the time, though it was too bad, since my stepfather was even worse.

"Done, thanks," I grumped, quickly grabbing a towel and letting it have its way with me for all of eight seconds before I wrapped myself up and pushed myself past my cunt sister and off to my room.

***********8

"This place is teh bwalz," Bill complained.

"We just got here, nimdickrod," Sam guffawed. Once again he was king of the crop, the little matter of his little sister forgotten. He barged his way through the front doors of the largish house, pushing through the crowd of ill-dressed women and poorly-dressed men.

It's a sickness in this town, women. They love us, then leave us, yet we can't put them down, and they always show up when we're trying to have fun, dressed as they are. There's Roxanne, my old ex. Some guy's kissing on her when I know for a fact she's dating someone else. He probably is, too. Then there's Cindy and Sara, right on cue. They're the ones in the center of attention, surrounded by boys and shooting them down one by one. Some just don't get it, and they come back for more punishment. They're not going to be putting out, yet they're still dressed in states of undress that's par for the party.

Like I said, a sickness. We all hate each other, yet we can't do without each other. Ooh... woman.

I spot a pretty young thing by the beer. "What's crackin', sweetheart?" I ask her as I fill myself a pint with a stein I keep tucked into my party tunic for just an occasion. Never trust the plastic cups, and they look stupid.

"Nothin'. You?"

"Just got here," says I. The brew is both moist and delicious. Even if we have sex wars at parties, the beer they have there is too good to turn down. "I had no idea I'd get so lucky in my first minute." My eyes were doing all the work, staring straight into hers instead of glancing down to her ridiculously open chest. Sam was a master at that and other such key approaches, but I was learning slowly.

"Hey, Ice, baby," came... Meb? from somewhere else, slipping his arm around her like he owned her. Meb is Sam's chickenshit little brother. A guy that didn't have the balls to get laid because "it might hurt his best friend's feelings". I've seen Lyla; she's cute, but constantly tipsy, if you know what I mean. "Who's your friend?"

"We weren't introduced yet," Ice answered. "Ice" was right. Ice-blue lipstick and ice-blue eyeshadow for her ice-blue eyes. These cheerleader types took their nicknames seriously. "But he was just telling me how he had already gotten lucky." She pushed a fleck of blue-frosted blond hair out of her eyes.

"Really? Let's hear it, then," Meb said proudly. Little fucker drew Ice in closer. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Goddammit, this isn't fair. We boys, we can't be blamed for having the same targets in our sights, and you can't expect some guy you're not mates with to stay away from your own flock, but there's supposed to be at least some code. You can't stop yourself from taking what's already taken, but don't make it personal. Don't rub the other guy's face in it.

I'd talk to his brother about it later. "That would be telling, wouldn't it?" I said cheekily. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a one-minute limit if I'm to familiarize myself with everyone in the crowd."

Asshole. If it was my woman and I'd already hit that and I'd seen some guy moving in on her, I'd probably just leave it the fuck be so I could call her on it like it was some excuse to not call her anymore. But that's chickenshit Meb for you. Reminds me of Dree, only Dree was only defensive about his...

"Hello, legs," I said to a particularly pleasing set of stems first thing out the keg room.

"Hello, eew?"

I knew that voice.

"Hey, pretty breeze," I said to the most delicious pair of dark green eyes in town, playing on her middle name.

Ivy was already staggering under some unfelt zephyr due to the short glass already half-empty in her long fingers. "I swear, if I have to put up with you and your stupid friends hitting on me all night, I'm just gonna go now," she fumed.

"You're perfectly safe with me, my dear," I said in what warm tones I could muster towards the opposite sex. "In fact, if there's someone that gets too fresh with you tonight, I'd be perfectly willing to come to your aid."

And it was perfectly true. The off-limits list to a guy like me includes a buddy's ex and a buddy's sister. The ex because you know they weren't good enough to keep or too fickle to stay around, the sister because you don't want to be the one guy in a group of friends that goes after another friend's family. They were like little sisters to all of us, really. Only not, and we enjoyed looking at them just as much as their brothers did.

She excused herself with eyes rolled up so far it was sure to kick her hangover in three hours early. I'm used to girls walking away; in fact, I encourage it as I love to watch them leave. While Ivy could do wonderful things with a pair of tight jeans, she loved the attention she got on her bare legs when she wore short skirts.

I continued through the various rooms looking for more, but only going so far as my hefty mug would carry me. See, not only does a plastic cup look stupid while you're trying to talk a girl up, you're also prone to running out, and holding six or eight cups' worth just looks silly.

"Wow. You always bring your own mugs to parties?"

"Maybe I'm friends with the guy that lives here," I said to whomever had picked me amongst the crowd to start up with.

"Then why're you showing up late, getting shot down by the first girl you talk to before you even fill the thing up?"

Fucking headhunters. See, this is why I don't like being late to a party. It had taken Becky forever to get ready, while all I had to do was put some clean, pressed clothes on with some cologne and my nice shoes. In fact, I was all set to go when suddenly she comes out of nowhere, yelling at me for not waiting for me. "You told me you didn't wanna go," I'd said, but that got me nowhere since I'd already told her I'd take her so she didn't get raped or whatever on the way there. Point being, I like to be at a party early so I can keep an eye on the door, watching the women come in one by one until I have a list of faces I like. Obviously this girl had the same thing in mind. Saved me the trouble, really.

"Little sister had to... holy shit." I had turned to look at her, and that did me in right away. This girl was wearing nothing more than a yellow bikini top and barely-there shorts. Parties with pools were automatically pool parties, but come the fuck on.

"Something wrong, handsome?" she asked with a smirk on her immature face.

It's a sickness. There's something of a war of genders going on in this seemingly peaceful town, and it's girls like this that make the war hard to win. Headhunting is a difficult game that requires experience, but anyone can figure it out after a few parties if they don't get told about it to begin with. And then there are girls like this: Tiny, tiny girls who look like they're fresh out of junior high. They think that just because they're in high school they can go to all the "big kid" parties where highschoolers and college-goers mix. It's a given that whenever there's beer and kids there'll be skin, but it's these stupid girls that think they have to get an advantage by showing ridiculous skin. I mean, I've bedded quite a few girls in my day, but I never knew whether they shaved or trimmed (got an unmowed one once, wtf?) until I got them into bed. This girl, you knew she straight up waxed. Girls like this, you're pretty sure they're not even eighteen. And you are, so be polite and excuse yourself before someone sees you talking to her.

"I know what you're thinking," she says. She's got a bit of beer on her breath and dirt on her bare feet. "You think I'm some dumb college girl, don't you?"

"Nothing like that ever crossed my mind, I assure you," I said with perfect honesty. I didn't even have time to think about her being dumb, and forget about thinking of her in college.

"I work really hard at the boutique..." Oh. So that explains the impossibly smooth skin. "...But all I get is bullshit from guys like you who're only looking for easy high school girls."

"So, are you mad at me because people think you're in college or because they think you're not in high school?" I asked with genuine confusion.

"Duh! Yes!"

"...So... it was nice talking to you; see you ar..."

"Wait! Where're you going?"

Stupid cunt. "Going to find someone who doesn't open conversations with man-hating slander."

"See, that's what I hate about you guys! No one ever takes me seriously!"

"Why do you think that is?" I asked with feigned interest. "It can't possibly be your sales pitch, because I was ready to drown myself for the cause."

"Really?" her eyes brightened. Beautiful blue eyes on this girl. Fuck! No! No looking!

"No, not really." Yes, I'm ready to kill myself, but not for her sake. More to get me out of this conversation. Maybe there's an open window nearby.

Her eyes lowered in immediate sorrow. "Dammit, I'm never gonna get a date!"

If not, I'm sure I can find a chainsaw and make one.

We were by the stairs. Couples were going up and singles were coming down; Sam had set the bar by taking up one in each hand. In a corner, two girls were getting very frisky. I was trying to find the right phrase to get this silly chicken out of my way so I could get between the action.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Huh? Oh, sure," I said while trying to keep my eyes fixed on the empassioned brunettes.

"You could at least look at me when you say that."

"Look... what's your name?" Whoops. Stupid question.

"Cypher," she said with a frown.

"Look, Cypher... what; you a cheerleader?"

"I was; nobody seems to remember my first name, so I don't bother anymore. What were you gonna say?"

"Huh? Oh. Look, a million women ask guys if they think they're pretty, and all it does is cause trouble. Now if you'll excuse me..." I needed to get out of there. Long, silky blond hair; big, cornflower-blue eyes; miles of skinny, toned legs; flawless skin; and that overall narrowness accented by the immature attitude that makes her a perfect picture of innocent youth. A package that can make you cry. Why, you ask? Because you can't have it; you're not even supposed to want it, but you do, even if it gets you arrested. And that package, I can guarantee you you would. I shouldn't even be caught talking to her, much less looking at her. I've already bumped into like four people here that I know.

"You wanna go swimming with me?"

What the hell? I had walked past her, but she'd already grabbed my hand. I watched with a tear in my eye as the brunettes walked up the stairs together, no man between them to balance the hormones. "Look, I've gotta..." I stammered, trying to follow them. "What'd you say?"

"You wanna go swimming with me?" she asked again, already dragging me toward the poolside family room.

"I didn't bring a..." Damned women and their damned body parts distracting me. While I was distracted by the hordes of women in increasing stages of undress, Cypher had drug me out to the pool room. I turned to her with thoughts of freedom when she released my hand, but my eyes caught hold of her cute little butt being freed from her shorts that looked like no more than a mouthful. Cute matching yellow bottoms appeared from behind the shorts that shimmied their way down the smooth, tan legs; another tear was squeezed from my eye. There are just some things that are too beautiful to look away from, no matter the shame, no matter the danger.

"Come on, get undressed!" she encouraged with something of a squeal when she unbent herself and placed her shorts in safe keeping. I mechanically did as I was told as though under some spell of those yellow bottoms. Even though she was watching my eyes locked helplessly on her skinny ass, I couldn't pry my attention away.

I was down to my shorts without realizing what was going on, and she had tossed the rest of my things into a conspicuous locker that had been previously empty. Great setup at this place, was my thought. On the wall there were shorts for swimming. I heisted one, replacing my undershorts once Cypher went off to the shower to get hosed down before hopping into the wetness.

With my shorts and socks in the safety of the locker, I headed back into the house through the nearby door, which dropped me off at the doorstep of the beer.

"Hey, trunks," came a familiar voice when I began refilling my stein. "What was it you were saying before?"

I looked to see Ice, still sitting on a barstool next to the beer, no Meb in sight. "Something about 'getting lucky'?"

Women. A sickness, them. I could see it in her eye, undressing what I had left. And it wasn't one of those looks that a girl gets when she's about to say something humorous at your expense.

"You wouldn't want him, Ice, he's diseased." The blue-lipped goody was distracted from gazing at my newly revealed form by none other than my sister.

What a cunt, for her to chase off my trim. I'm not trying to mack on someone in front of her, but still. That's just childish.

"Mmm... I think I'll be the judge of that," Ice retorted, leaning in to breathe of my cologne.

"I'm off for a swim," I said in the same tone of voice she had adopted.

"Sounds tempting, but I didn't bring a suit."

"You know, I said that same damn excuse," I said, shining her on and walking out. My sister began gagging.

"Ooh, thank you!" squealed Cypher once I had stepped outside. She grabbed my freshly-refilled mug and took a large sip. Rule number twenty-seven-and-a-half: Never let a woman drink from your drank. But rather than wait around to hear the rules of parties, she grabbed two of my fingers with two of hers and led me to the pool. A few guys I knew eyeballed her dripping-wet form every bit as hard as I had as we passed, and she leaped in after turning to blow me a kiss.

"Nice catch," Bill said when I took a seat next to him on the submerged pool bench.

"Shut up," I said from behind my beer.

"Not bad, not bad," he continued with feigned impressedness, "a little under-ripe, but given a few years..."

I socked him on the arm, which caused my beer to slosh dangerously. I stopped engaging the idiot talk to drown my sorrows in the precious brown fluid, and Bill was content to help me watch the multitude of female forms going in and out of the pool. Though neither of us said anything, we were slowly changing. More beer, more relaxing, our eyes more used to the light, more giggling; slowly but surely, we were changing. We were adapting to the situation. We were becoming predators, only it wasn't the weak and sick we would be aiming for.

"Anything yet?" I asked once we were both in hunter mode.

"Nothing," he answered with his voice full of business. His eyes, like mine, were narrowed, following each movement before us very carefully. We held our heads very still to catch each precious sound of a girl's squeal or gasp of pleasure as she was "accidentally" groped under, or out of, the water. "But there's no shortage, and there's plenty of time."

"True, true." That's my boy, positive to the end. These parties weren't made for dolphin-catching, but they sure did the trick. Sometimes he and I, along with Dree or Sam as instanced, would just find a couch or something and chill the fuck out with some beer, maybe play cards. If it the magic happened, it happened. If it didn't, no one's heart was broken. There were plenty of days in the year, and the subsequent years that we got older and wiser, the girls stayed small and stupid.

My "date," finished with her romp in the pool, came paddling up to me. "Look what I got you," she said with pride. She was twirling someone's bikini top over her finger.

"It's wet," I said casually from behind the lip of my mug.

"Double-Ds." She had such an excited smile on her face from bringing back a trophy for me, I felt obligated to acknowledge it for her, even though it was guaranteed to get me into trouble.

"It's usually panties I collect, sorry."
"Aww..." She tossed the top back to the poor victim and crawled into my lap. "We'll see if we can't do something about that. Mind if I borrow your friend for a while?" she said to Bill rather than me while pulling herself out of the pool and dragging me with her.

Whoever this "Brewer" guy was that was hosting, not only did his pool deck come equipped with a wet room with like a million lockers, it also had a huge sauna for people to dry off in before getting back into their clothes. Or in Cypher's case, her shorts she must've had with her since the third grade. My eye twitched thoroughly as I watched her rubbing that thirsty towel over every inch of her soaking skin. I was far gone by the time her hips popped into place back inside her shorts, I was powerless for her to pull me back into the house and up the fated stairs.

"I want you," she hissed in a hushed voice when she pulled us into the first door up the stairs. She pressed her mouth to mine, and I didn't even have time to think about the implications before I tripped on the bed and fell flat on my back.

"Ow!"

Fuck me; are you serious?

In the darkness, we had fallen on a romping couple. My first thought was that I had walked in on Sam, which may or may not have been a good thing, considering that he's a very generous individual when it came to his catch of the minute. But it wasn't; Cypher went about undressing me anyhow.

"Do you mind?" the guy asked. "We're already hard at work here."

"Not at all," Cypher said in an overly-giddy voice, "we can share, can't we?"

"Share." There's an operative word for you. Share the bed, or share more? Either way, I found myself thoroughly excited by this frisky young lady (no, "girl". “lady” just doesn't suit her as a description). Not just from her body now; she had topped a girl just to please me, now she was ready for side-by-side action, which is something you usually only hear rumors about from uncredible people (besides Sam; that man knew some magic).

I was pulled closer onto the bed; Cypher wasn't having anything stand in her way. I heard the girl next to us do her best to distract the lucky guy into continuing, but the moans and groans I was getting out of Cypher from every touch I reluctantly gave her must've been getting under his skin. I forgot to care. Cypher had gotten me to kiss her, and with each second I cared less and less how old, more specifically how young, she may or may not have been. Even still, my heart began to beat out of control, and I could hear the sirens ringing in my ear as sure as if the room were monitored by Rotterdale's Finest themselves. And stupid me, I carried on regardless of the obviously-going-to-happen consequences. And you know what? It felt good. Good to let go, good to pluck fruit I wasn't supposed to have. Only this under-ripe fruit tasted so much sweeter for it, not bitter at all.

Definitely young. Definitely fresh. Her lips were so soft and tender, not like these whores that've sucked one too many dicks in their life. Her tongue came to life in my mouth, panting into me just from pulling my clothes off, and I had hardly even touched her yet. But her skin was something to be touched indeed. Still slightly moist from the pool and hot from the sauna. Her wild excitement and eagerness told me she was inexperienced. Too inexperienced. She reminded me of me back when I was a virgin, only I'd never seen a female version of a virgin before.

I grabbed her shoulders and attacked her neck. She groaned outwardly at the simple pleasure, and it got worse as I went after her harder. She must've known I was into her at last, and it was making her hotter and hotter. Her body was going from moist to sweaty in record time. I can only imagine how cute she must've looked with the lights on or whether anyone had ever made her wear that expression before. I could imagine, and the thought only made me go after her harder in the dark, sucking hard at her neck and sliding down her chest.

I didn't want to cut straight down since I was enjoying making her squirm so much. I moved my lips back up to her throat and held her by her tiny hips that I'd been staring at all night. Her slender legs squeezed together and jerked around. Once they fell apart, I knew I'd be in business.

"For fucks sake; do you mind?" the guy asked again. I had just bitten down on the other side of Cypher's neck to make her squeal; pissing off our neighbor at last. I noticed with some pride that his girl hadn't been making any noise. I may not be hot shit in bed, but at least all the girls I've been with are a little vocal.

"Just keep touching me, Christopher," an unknown female voice said in an impatient voice. That's funny; whenever Cypher made her little encouragements here and there, she sounded utterly horny, like each word took effort better spent on enjoying herself, only an emergency measure to make sure I knew she liked being touched, that I needed to touch her more. The other girl, she sounded like she was getting upset with the other guy for not being able to perform just because there was another couple in bed with them. It's not like the bed wasn't big enough.

I went back to business, ignoring the other guy, whatever he ended up going. Cypher stuck her tongue in my ear and was moving her hands across my stomach. I could feel her desire to reach down my pants as she breathed hotly against my skin.

Or was it? Unknown, that is. The voice. I did know that voice. If only Cypher would... oh my god.

"Becky?"

My hands were already at Cypher's sides, and she was bucking against me. Her legs were wilting along with her will to hold back. The voice that told me to throw caution to the wind was getting louder, but the more I thought about it, another voice was ringing in my ears.

"Derrick? Are you serious?"

A knee on my back, some scuttling along with someone falling, and the lights clicked on. There was my sister, shoes off and down to her bra up top. Next to Cypher and myself on the bed was some prick I think I recognized from college.

"Old girlfriend?" Cypher asked.

Oh yeah, Cypher. She was sprawled on her back, flushed from head to toe in a radiant shade of pink. I was enamored despite myself. The soft moans she was making along with her clumsy movements were too much to resist. She was searching my face for an answer, hoping we didn't have to stop what we were doing.

"Hardly," Becky said for herself, looking quite disgusted with me after taking one look at my new pet dolphin.

"Oh, good," Cypher said with relief. She leaned forward to kiss my chest to encourage me to touch her more.

By the door, Becky rolled her eyes again and came back to the bed to get her top and her shoes. Christopher did the same.

"You guys don't have to go," Cypher said sadly, "the bed's plenty big..."

"No, thanks," Christopher said angrily. "Come on, Becky, let's go." Without waiting for her, he charged to the door and slammed it on his way out.

"You don't have to go," Cypher then said directly to Becky. God, this girl does things for me.

For a split second in time, my eyes locked with my sister's. There, for the third time that night, she stared me down with my top down, and I was getting an eyeful of her breasts trying to escape her emotionally disturbed black bra.

"Since you guys haven't dated or anything, you know..." Bless that child, that sweet girl. Already trying to get another woman into bed with us. As for me, I couldn't help but wish for it. After all, this crush of mine had been getting bad in the past few weeks, especially since learning a few of my friends had trodden that same forbidden path I wished to take.

The door closed behind Becky as well, and both Cypher and I sighed. Still, we had each other. With the lights on, I was even more excited by her, and it showed as I tore her top off and began sucking her magnificent, tiny breasts. She squealed again, more in surprise than in delight. She had her pants down my hands for sure this time around, and my pants didn't last long. Even while I was leaning over her, she swiveled around to suck me off.

If there had been a mirror, I probably would have been rather despoiled of the image, big old me on all fours and this tiny girl underneath me, sucking away at my organ like a calf at the teat. But too bad; there was no mirror, and this little girl's mouth felt way too good. She didn't have a clue what she was doing, but her tongue was wet and she was hungry. Back and forth her whole body went, sucking like a girl possessed and driving her tongue along the sensitive underside of my breeding meat with each lunge forward.

I reached up with one hand to feel her swimming bottoms, or more importantly, what was under them. She cooed as my fingers found their way under the still-wet fabric to the soaking-wet skin. She groaned heavily onto my cock and sucked harder than anyone had sucked me in my life. Something made me wonder then what Becky would be like in the same situation.

Dammit, there it is again, images of my sister driving me crazy. I knew I had to do something, or I'd risk wasting what might be my only round with this girl down her throat. I forcefully pushed her aside, and her bottoms, still in my grip, slid down her legs to her knees, where they belonged.

I ended up pushing too hard, causing her to fall off the bed. I pulled with her bottoms in my grip, but they only came off. When she surfaced again, she pushed me onto my back and mounted my salivated cock. Every fear, every hope, every casual glance, they all melted away when she touched her wet vagina to the tip of my aching penis.

When our genitalia touched, she leaned down to me and gave me hot little kisses across my lips, then panted into my open mouth while she used her hand on my tool to search out her opening. When she found it, the most wonderful feeling of silky warm wetness enveloped me like only pussy can. She moaned as the head of my cock fit inside her, and she leaned up with her hands on my chest to let herself sink down onto me.

Inch after delicious inch closed between us, me holding her delicious hips and pumping in and out of her a little deeper each time. We hit bottom, and she fell forward to kiss me. No longer the hopeful kiss or the anxious kiss; this was a kiss of lovers who mutually loved fucking. I could tell then that I knew she was used to this feeling and that she was probably very good at it, with her taking such initiative.

With a pounding heart, I very much looked forward to letting her ride me, and after we both came, me letting her know how good I was after she thought I'd be done. To think I had resigned to having a boring night. Thank you, Cypher. Even if I get arrested, it'll've been worth it.

Like I've said many times, I've been inside many women, but it felt sooo good inside this particular girl. Tight, moist, hot, and she made the cutest mewlings to go with her furled little eyebrows. She didn't stop until her pussy worked its way all the way down to the base of my cock, and there she stayed, grinding her pelvis upon mine, going faster, faster, faster until she came seconds later, gasping in pleasure without me lifting a finger.

She fell down onto my chest in sudden exhaustion, and she kissed my chest slowly and lovingly. But rather than wait around for my dick to go soft while she got her breath back, I got myself up, leaving her to fall flat on her back onto the bed. I dove head-first into her pussy from there with more gusto than I can ever remember in the few times I've taken the south road, and she was screaming yet again. Her hips thrust up at me as I drove my tongue up into her vaginal cavity, tasting fresh of chlorine.

Sweet, I remember it being. Nothing but the taste of her sweat once the pool taste was worn off. I parted her cheeks with my thumbs and licked longer, longer, and longer strokes until my tongue was sweeping up against her asshole.

"No, not there, I... bwahhh!" she yelled, which only made my tongue linger longer and longer between her cheeks rather than between her legs. Her hips were off the ground, but wanting me deeper, she flipped around with her face down and her ass up.

"Fuck me," she demanded, but my tongue instead stabbed deep into her asshole. She meweled in confusion of the new pleasure, for I had no doubt this was new to her, but still she gasped and pressed her ass back against me. I felt her fingers reaching around for my cock, begging me to have it back inside her, but still I tongued her asshole as deep as possible.

It seemed to last forever. I couldn't remember the last time I had this much fun in bed, nor when I had teased a girl this much, nor her wanting it so bad. Finally, Cypher backed up into me, knocking me onto my back, and she slid forward and took my cock back into her pussy. She ground on it like she did before, this time with me holding fast onto those tiny little hips of hers and giving her all I had. She was yelping in seconds, still grinding away, reaching for her orgasm, which came even faster than the first.

This time I lunged forward rather than let her fall off. She was back on her hands and knees and I was mounted above her, thrusting my swollen cock into her pussy for all I was worth. That silky blond hair I had admired so much was falling helplessly around her face in sweaty clumps. Her luscious back wasn't something I'd had too much time to stare at, but it still belonged to her, and it was laid out in front of me, especially with that tight, sweet ass. The whole thing was bare, and there was my cock, buried in that dripping pussy. My hips were crashing against her ass, shaking her throughout up to her little tits.

"Oh my god... Derrick... Derrick... Derrick..." she chanted while I fucked her. Damn. Must've heard my sister mention my name. "Fuck me please Derrick... Fuck meeeeaaaahahhhh!"

Her banter had driven far out of control too quickly, and before her previous climax could shake off, the third came bursting through her lungs and down her body. I pushed my cock as deep inside her as I could and held it, also slipping the tip of my finger into her asshole, just enough for her cute little sphincter to grip me without it hurting her.

"Oh my goooooooeaaasaaaaaaaaadddd!" she started up again. I thought her orgasm was peaking, but another one came in out of nowhere, rocking her body and me along with it. I couldn't help myself; I began plugging away again, also thrusting my finger right into her ass as I went.

Her orgasm didn't die down. Rather, it began to tear her apart. The noise she was making was one constant wail, a cry for help and for passion and for pleasure, every fiber in her being screaming for the unfathomable sensation not to stop.

But stop it did, and she fell forward, a hapless mass on the bed. She made not a sound.

I was a little worried she may suffocate with her face buried in the pillows. Just a little. I folded myself over onto her, cock still firmly entrenched, and turned her head to the side. She was fine, just flushed. She was looking up at me with those huge eyes full of confusion. No way was she used to coming that hard or that often, and I know she'd never had anything in her ass before.

I kissed her tender, swollen lips, imagining them to be the lips of her pussy, which must look pretty raw by then. She kissed me back, but she didn't have the breath or the energy for it. “Did you come?” she asked in her small voice, sounding like she was trying to make conversation while she got her breath back.

“It's not my turn,” I whispered to her, working my lips over her hear. I could feel her heart beating harder; her pussy was pulsing around my cock. Honestly, I wasn't sure this girl could take more. But when I pushed myself upright again, she gripped the sheets in her tiny fists, bracing herself against me.

We were still arranged in the “from behind.” I pushed forward, pressing my cockhead hard against her cervix, drawing out a long “Mmm...” from my partner, and I scooted my legs past hers and pulled her ass firmly atop me. My cock shuffled around inside her deliciously, and I couldn't help but let out a moan of my own. She caught wind of what I was doing, and she readjusted herself as well so she was, once again, properly mounted atop me “reverse cowgirl”. For a trip upstairs that was supposed to be a quick two pops on my part, this was turning out to be quite the trip through the sex manual.

“That feels good,” Cypher moaned. Once she had got comfortable, most of her weight was on her pelvis, and her pelvis was supported by nothing but mine, so my cock was resting deep inside her. We both sighed and grunted a little as my instincts took over, making me grab her by her hips and grind myself into her a little. She joined in, using her grip on the sheets to grind back.

I decided to push what luck I had in going further with her, opportunistic gentleman that I am. I was caressing her ass the way you do when you have one shoved in your face, caressing it and squeezing it. I was getting appreciative moans from the girl, who buried her face into the bed and let her hips ride. That was the moment for me to touch her butthole again, and after getting away with rubbing it for a few seconds, I let my finger slide inside.

She sat up immediately, but I kept pushing, pushing, getting my finger deeper. She hissed, but deeper I went until my finger was buried within her rectum. I clutched her ass with the rest of my fingers while I felt her from within, and my other hand slid up her small chest to feel what breasts she had, coaxing her into enjoying me fingering her.

She was still breathing through her teeth, and she was clutching her hair. But then her hips started to rise and fall to take advantage of the cock inside her. She was only using the strength in her tiny legs, so she only lasted five or so repetitions, the last of which she fell and began shaking. I gripped her roughly wherever I was holding her, and she fell to the bed in a heap.

I let my one hand slide back to her ass to join the other to enjoy her supple skin, using the leverage to pump my cock up into her. I also went about fingering her ass properly with long, even strokes to match my cock. Soon enough she was helping, and together we brought her to another climax just after I suggested she touch herself.

She got up in something of a daze, freezing and shuddering with every hint of my finger sliding out of her ass until it popped free. She turned around and fell on my cock head-first, holding lovingly onto my staff, licking its shining length and rubbing her face against it. She pulled the head towards her and slid her mouth over it, though she, like so many women before her, couldn't manage more than half.

She wasn't very energetic; I figured if she wanted me to come right there, she would've done something other than stroke me that slowly while holding it up alongside her face. I caressed that face, and as my thumb caught her bottom lip, she sucked it up into her mouth, and taking hold of my hand like she had my cock, she sucked my index finger. Sucked it hard and fast, making her cheeks cave in. I think that had she sucked my cock like that, I would've blown in no time. But she was still stroking it softly while sucking the faint flavor of her ass off my finger.

I turned her over and got a pillow under her head to get her comfortable for the final act. After I was assured of her comfort, I slipped between her legs and got my cock inside her again. She immediately clutched my head to hers and kissed me hard. Though her body was shot, she was still every bit as fired up as the first time she kissed me, and I could feel all my strength rushing into my cock to make her scream in pleasure yet again.

But to look at her face while she did it... I was propped up on my hands, thrusting away between this tiny girl's legs. And she was staring up at me with those cute little blue eyes and those furled little brows and those adorable tiny breasts. She was begging now, begging me to fuck her. And I had reached my limit.

"I'm gonna co... I'm gonna... I'm..." I was panting. I had felt it coming for a long time now, but I couldn't give it any focus from having too much fun. But now, with her begging me with those eyes, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I looked down to see her sweet, hairless pussy gripping down on my cock, wet with her and sliding inside her over and over again.

"I'm gonna come..." I said at last.

"Come in me, baby," she mewled so quietly. "Come in me... baby please... please come in me; please, Derrick, please come in me... please, baby..."

On and on she went, and when she wasn't begging me for my cum, she was kissing me; my lips, my neck, my chest; I had never felt an orgasm take so long to arrive, nor could I remember wanting one more. Seeing her one last time with her eyes begging me like she would be hearbroken without it, my will to go on any further broke along with my dams. Cum flowed out of me in burst after burst, and my orgasm came after, blinding me with phenomenal pleasure in the purest sense of the word. I looked down at her, curious to see her face after I had done this to her, but she was stroking my hair, gazing at me with nothing but gratitude.

I got off her and got my clothes back on. She stayed behind. I had to look back for just a second, just to appreciate what I had just had. Then I left her to her bliss; I had finally recovered my wits and was eager to get back to the party and the sea of dolphins.

"Good day, eh?" Sam asked. He had grabbed a couch and a table and was dealing the cards.

"Good day." Bill was there as well. No sign of Dree. We may all have gotten some rocks off that night, but there was no use talking about it. It's a sickness, really. You can't live without it, but that doesn't mean you let it control you. We were men about to play a man's game. No sense babbling on like schoolgirls about our conquests all night.

We got a few hands played and we all could enjoy ourselves, but unfortunately my sister came along to interrupt my fun. Takes one to know one, I suppose. "Derrick, can you take me home?" hadn't seen anything of her that night after she left the upstairs bedroom until she approached me what must've been an hour or so later; it may be that she and the other guy managed to find another empty room; that, or she found something/one else to occupy herself. She didn't look like she'd gone swimming...

"I guess," I answered after a moment of consideration. There'd be other parties, and my boys still had each other for backup for the remainder of the evening. If it was, say, just me and Bill? I'd've stuck it out with him. And like I said, my sister's cool with me. Most of the time. I'll take her home if she wants.

But you wanna know something that bugs me? This story was supposed to be about incest.