After School Job

[pradeep8715]

Chapter One


We all think of ourselves as normal. Well, maybe people like Donald Trump and Madonna think they're special. But take away their money and what's left?
Anyway I always thought I was normal. And I thought my family was normal too. I'm not particularly popular at school, but I have some pretty good friends. I'm not a jock, but that's by choice, instead of body type. I like working out, and I like having muscles I'm proud of. But I guess I'm a little lazy too, in terms of not wanting to spend all that extra time in training for football or wrestling or whatever.
I think I look pretty normal. Girls look at me, and I can usually get a date if I want one. Can't afford one, actually. You can't take girls out if you have no money. But it's not like I'm a hunk or anything, and girls fight over me, or will pay for dates just to be seen with me. Don't laugh. A couple of the popular guys at school are in exactly that situation. Sometimes girls can be really stupid.
And that's important - about girls sometimes being stupid - because my sister, Addison, did something stupid that I got sucked into, and my perfectly normal world suddenly got all fucked up.
Well ... I guess it wasn't sudden. But it seemed like it, later on. It's still confusing to me how things ended up like they are.
Maybe I should just start at the beginning, and maybe putting it all down on paper will entertain you and help me figure out how everything happened.
Actually, I'm pretty sure it will entertain you. It entertained the crap out of me while it was happening. I'll admit that. And that's part of the problem. I shouldn't have been entertained. I shouldn't have even done anything. But I did, and now I have to live with it.
But I was supposed to start at the beginning, so here goes.
For our purposes, the beginning was on a September evening, after supper, while we were doing homework. Our parents are funny about homework. I think it has something to do with how they were brought up or something. The rule is that we have to do our homework after supper, and we have to do it at the dining room table. If the computer is required, they got us a laptop, but it still has to be used at the dining room table. If both of us need a computer, Dad loans one of us his. No TV, no video games, no nothing, until homework is finished. Addie - that's what we call Addison for short - was working on biology, which she asked for some help with. That's allowed. We can help each other, but not do each other's work. It was about the difference between DNA, which is deoxyribonucleic acid, and RNA, which is ribonucleic acid. I explained macromolecules, and proteins and carbohydrates and nucleic acids, and how DNA was double stranded, while RNA was usually only single-stranded, and her eyes kind of glazed over. Dad walked through the dining room about then and she stopped listening to me and spoke to him.
"Daddy? Can I get an after school job?"
"What kind of job?" he asked.
That surprised me a little bit. Usually Dad is the one who free wheels and goes along with everything. One of his favorite sayings is "Be an existentialist! Explore life!" He usually says that when one of us has to do something new and is worried about it. Like he said it when I was all worried about going to high school the first day. And then he said it again the first time I went on a date and was all nervous. It was usually my mom who interrogated us and wanted to talk about everything. Her favorite phrase was "Let's examine the options." Maybe Dad adopted her attitude because she was off on an archaeological expedition in Peru and would be gone another six months.
"It's modeling clothes," said Addie.
"Modeling? Really?" He looked surprised. I could understand that, because I was surprised too. Modeling? She was pretty, but she wasn't, like gorgeous or anything. Like me, she had some friends ... okay a bunch of friends ... but I'd never thought of her as a model.
I blinked. I knew guys lusted after her. She was a cheerleader, after all, and all guys lusted after cheerleaders. It was like one of the rules of nature, completely normal. But modeling?
"What kind of clothes?" asked Dad.
She looked at him like he was mentally deficient. That was normal too.
"Clothes, Daddy. You know ... tops? Pants? Outfits? Clothes?" she tugged at the blouse she was wearing.
"What's the name of the agency?" he asked. That word, agency, came out of his mouth funny, like he had just remembered it. Maybe he was trying to restore his station as a non-deficient adult.
She dug into her book bag and pulled out a sheet of paper. She handed it to him.
"Zharkov Photography Associates L.L.C.," he read out loud. "Never heard of them."
"Cindy Jenkins told me about him. She works for him. It's only two or three hours a night, and only a couple of nights a week. And he pays twenty dollars an hour, Daddy. Please? I need to earn some money." Addie was a pro at the puppy dog eyes thing, and she employed them now.
"Why do you need to earn money?" he asked. "If you need something, let's talk about it."
"I can't ask for money to buy you a Christmas present, Daddy!" she complained. "I'm not a little girl any more. And what if I just want to blow a little bit on some luxury? Come on, Daddy. Cindy says it's perfectly safe and Vlad is a nice guy. He employs lots of girls."
Maybe she saw the frown on his face. For whatever reason she rushed to add, "Boys too, Daddy. It's not just girls who model for him. Cindy's boyfriend works for him too, and some other guys."
The way she said that last part was classic Addie for "I think" but she didn't actually say it. I knew her. She couldn't lie to me. But she still pulled it off with the parents now and then.
And Dad had only been half listening, as he read the paper.
"This is a release for a minor to be employed by the company and take pictures which would then be 'sold for public consumption in various advertising and entertainment venues'," he said. "What does that mean? Advertising I get, but public entertainment venues?"
"Cindy says he does some video work for a company that makes video games. I think she called it live action capture, or something like that. She says they turn what she does into the movements a character does in some video game or something. She has to wear all these sensors and wires and stuff."
"I don't know," he said. I reached for the form and he let me have it. I looked it over. It was written in that legal speech that would scare the crap out of anybody ... you know ... with words like "Indemnify" and "shall be held free from all blame" and stuff like that. I would say it looked normal, except I had never seen anything like this, so I had no idea, really, whether it was normal or not.
"Cindy said you get to keep some of the clothes," said Addie. "I wouldn't have to ask for your credit card and go shopping as often."
She knew how to dangle the carrot in front of the plodding mule, I'll give her that.
"Maybe I should call your mother and discuss this with her," he said.
"And he'll hire somebody else and I'll have to flip hamburgers for eight bucks an hour, and work fifteen hours a week and smell like grease and get kicked off the cheer squad," she whined. She was a good whiner, though I had learned how to be impervious to it. Dad? Not so much.
"You can do it under one condition. Your brother has to be with you," he said. "As your chaperone." He folded his arms to show her how serious he was.
She frowned at him, and I saw the thunder clouds building on her face. No girl in high school wants to be chaperoned by her big brother. Even I could imagine the snickers if it got out that she was under my supervision.
"They're not going to pay us both," she complained, unconsciously obviating her argument that this agency hired males too. "Besides, he won't do it. He's a dickhead."
"He'll do it if I tell him to do it," he said, with authority.
He looked over at me as if we had discussed this and I had already agreed that it was a good idea. But I didn't think it was a good idea. Not because I didn't think she should be a model. Somehow I had already gotten used to the idea that she could pull that part off. I just didn't want to be saddled with the whole mess. Even if it was only a couple of hours, that was a couple of hours I could spend doing something fun, instead of babysitting my sister. The problem was that I didn't have an after school job myself, and I wasn't involved in any extracurricular activities. In other words, from my father's perspective, I had nothing better to do with my time than escort my sister to her new job.
And I knew my father. He might be a mild mannered CPA these days, but when he met our mother, he rescued her from a bunch of Taliban who had taken the archaeological team she was working for as hostages. He was Special Forces and she was doing post graduate work, documenting antiquities that the Taliban were destroying. Anyway, she was appreciative of being rescued, and one thing led to another and I was conceived. So, having gotten a hostage pregnant, he got out of the Army and went to college.
One of my father's old buddies, a guy on the same team that rescued my mother, came to visit us a couple years back. He was still in the Army and he looked like he could kill you just by looking at you. He and Dad sat in the living room and slaughtered a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label, which my father had had sitting on a shelf ever since I could remember. Mom was sitting in there with them until the guy looked at her and said, "You know, Buck, I never could understand why you cashed in your chips, but seeing Stephanie, here, I get it now. I really get it, Buck."
And my father, who I had never heard say a mean thing in my entire life, looked at his Army buddy and said, "I know what you're thinking, Chuck ... but is she worth dying for? Because if you make a move on my woman, Chuck, I'm going to have to kill you."
And they all laughed. Except he sounded funny somehow, and there was this look on Chuck's face that said, "And I know you could do it," and my mother suddenly got up and said it was bedtime, even though there was half an hour left before bedtime. And pretty soon we heard the front door open and close and we never saw Chuck again. And my dad opened the good Scotch for him!
So once in a while, when our father said something in that special tone of voice he had used with Chuck that night, we didn't ask questions. We just did whatever he told us to do.
"Sure," I said. "No problem."
"Daddeeeeeee," whined Addie.
"Let me hear you ask if I want fries with that," said Dad. "See if you can make me want fries."
She would have stormed off, except we weren't finished with homework. That gave me an idea.
"What about homework?" I asked.
He didn't bat an eye. "On days when she works, homework gets done as soon as you get home from school. Then supper, and then she can go to work. Two hours on those nights, and no more." He reached for the paper in my hand and looked at it again. "And Mr. Zharkov has to agree to all that."
Now she didn't want to storm off. The negotiations had begun.
In the end, this is the deal she got. Since this Zharkov guy ran a business, and might have set hours because the business demanded it, he agreed to let us do homework before or after she worked, or both, if necessary. She also got dispensation for supper, which was usually a sit down meal where everybody who was in the house had to be there. On work days we could "eat out of the refrigerator", as Dad called it. He made us both promise not to tell Mom about that. She was the one who was big on family meals. He said that by the time she got back, it would either have worked out, or "other arrangements would be made," which I knew meant he'd make her stop working, but which she thought meant he'd let us get fast food on the way home.
And I thought all this was stupid, because she didn't even have the job yet, and had no idea what hours this guy might require her to be there.
So it was possible there might not even be a job for her, the first time we went to the house.
Zharkov Photograph Associates L.L.C. was located in the basement of a really nice house in the fancy part of town. It was in Pine Bough Estates, which was where the rich folks lived. The houses were set on two or three acre plots, and there were lots of swimming pools, and nice cars and all that.
Addie was driving. Dad had fixed us up an old VW Bug. We had to actually help him rebuild the engine, so we'd know now much work went into it, and how it worked and how to fix it if it broke and all that. It was part of his explore life philosophy, I guess. Anyway, there was a regular driveway that led to a two car garage at the front of the house, but the driveway also went off to the side, around and behind the house. Addie had been told to go that way, and when we got to the back yard, there was a parking apron big enough for three cars. There was one parked there, and I recognized it as Jerry Thompson's. He was Cindy Jenkins' boyfriend.
There were garage doors in the back too, on the lower level of the walkout basement. They were both closed, but right beside it was a people door, so we went to that. There was a sign on the door that said, "Come in if you've been invited. Stay out if you haven't." I looked at Addie, who looked at the release Dad had signed. While he was signing it he said, "You take care of your sister and protect her from anything bad. That's your job, and I expect you to take it seriously."
I was about to ask if we had been invited, when she reached for the door knob, turned it, and walked in like she owned the place. I couldn't do anything other than follow her inside.
We found ourselves in what looked like a family room, except there were racks of clothes all over the place. They were the kind with wheels that you sometimes see in a movie set in New York City, where people are moving racks of clothing down a sidewalk, or across the street. That seemed normal. At least until I realized some of the clothing looked odd. Like I saw what was undeniably a pirate's outfit, hanging on a hanger, with the pirate hat balanced on top of a shelf built into the top of the rack. I also saw a long white robe, with angel wings above it.
I realized it looked kind of like the costume room at the high school I went to. I was in all the musicals, because that was the best way to be near all the hot, popular girls, who got all the lead roles in the productions.
There were a couple of windows in the wall that had the door in it we had come through. The far end of the room had a fireplace in it, and the wall to our left had a door in it that obviously went into the garages. A staircase went up into the rest of the house right next to that wall. On the long remaining wall there was only one door. The rest of that wall was taken up by shelving units that were stacked with boxes. It looked like they held more costumes.
I was wondering what to do next, still unsure that we had actually been invited in, when the door flanked by shelves opened and none other than Kerry Watson, a guy in my Trig class, came through it. His upper torso was bare. He didn't see us, going to a rack of clothes, where he started moving hangers around. He finally pulled what could only be called a peasant jerkin from a hanger and shrugged into it. He was heading back to the door when he saw us. He looked startled.
"Hey," he said, looking uncomfortable.
"Is Mr. Zharkov here?" asked Addie.
"Yeah," said Kerry. He looked at the door. "I'll tell him you're here."
"Can we just come with you?" asked my sister.
He shook his head. "Not right now," he said. "He's kind of busy. Stay here. I'll tell him you're here. Okay? Don't come in until he says you can."
I thought that was kind of odd. Kerry wasn't one of my friends, but we knew each other, and he was acting kind of squirrelly. For that reason alone, when he went back through that door, I started to follow him. Addie reached and grabbed my arm.
"He said to wait," she said.
"Something's not right about this," I said.
"Why?"
"I don't know. He's just acting funny."
"They're obviously modeling in there," said Addie. "Don't screw this up for me, Bobby."
"I'm not screwing anything up," I said. "I just want to see what's going on in there."
"I told you, they're modeling."
"Who models an old timey outfit like that?" I asked. "He looked like he belonged in a play about the middle ages."
"That doesn't matter," said my sister. "We wait until Mr. Zharkov comes out here. If he hires us, then we can go in there."
The argument was broken up when the door opened again and a guy who looked like Grizzly Adams came out. He was big, with really wide shoulders. He had on a shirt that looked like it was made of satin or something. It was open to the middle of his chest and he had a bunch of gold chains lying on top of more hair than any guy should have on his chest. He grinned at us with the biggest, whitest teeth I'd ever seen in my life.
"Children!" he brayed, coming toward us. "Welcome to my humble home!"
Addie's hand was still on my arm, and I could tell instantly that she was just as unhappy about him addressing us as children as I was.
"A flower of femininity!" he yelled, looking Addie up and down in a way that made me ball my fists. Then his eyes shifted to me. "And a stout young man. Less handsome than craggy. You look like a surfer boy, yes?" Instead of offering his hand, he stopped, standing on feet spread shoulder's width apart and set his huge hands - also hairy - on his waist. Suddenly he looked like an overgrown, very hairy Peter Pan, getting ready to crow. Except he looked nothing like Peter Pan. But you know what I mean.
"I am Zharkov!" he bellowed. He rolled the R. "And who might you be?"
Addie let go of my arm and shoved the paper towards him.
"I'm Addison Stapleton, and this is my brother, Bobby," she said. "I'd like to be a model. Are you hiring?"
I expected him to snatch the paper out of her hand, crushing it in his paw, but he plucked it, instead, almost daintily from her fingers. He glanced at it, and then turned his eyes back to us. Again, they went to Addie. His eyes fell to her chest and stayed there a long time. I got that. Most guys wanted to stare at her chest. Even I had to admit she had a really decent pair. But she was my sister, and I started getting hot under the collar again because this guy wasn't sneaking peeks at her boobs, like everybody else did. He just stared at them.
"Hmmmmm. Addison. You are maybe the girl Cindy Jenkins told me about?" He looked at me. "She said nothing about a brother."
"He's just here to ..." She stopped. I could imagine what she was thinking. That's because I could imagine what she'd been about to say, that I was just there to babysit her while she put on clothes she couldn't afford and let somebody take pictures of her. But, of course, she didn't want to admit I was her chaperone. That was why she'd stopped.
"I'm here to take care of her," I said, somewhat heavily. I tried to sound dangerous.
Zharkov wasn't intimidated. In fact, he laughed. "You think you can take care of her?" He looked her up and down again. "I have much experience in this business, and I can spot a hellcat when I see one. I think you might fail in the attempt." He grinned. I know both Addie and I looked at him stupidly, because what he said made no sense. Addie had a temper, and she could scream and yell with the best of them, but I could take her over my knee and spank her if I wanted to. In fact, I did that fairly regularly, just to piss her off. But it also showed her who was in charge. She'd only gone whining to dad once about that. He'd looked up from the paper and said, "I suspect you needed it." He had looked past her to me, where I was trying to peek around the corner to find out if I'd gone too far. "Be nice to your sister, Bob," he'd ordered me. She'd tried that line on me after that, saying "Be nice!" whenever I needed to remind her what the pecking order was. Eventually she just gave up and moved to the "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" gambit, trying to make me stop before I left my handprint on her butt. I never actually hit her hard, though. It wasn't about hurting her.
"Never mind," he said. "It is too soon to explore that. Perhaps there are things Cindy has failed to notify me of. A brother and sister. Interesting. You know Kerry Watson and his sister Natalie?"
We both nodded.
"They work for me," he said. "Cindy, of course, knows this. Perhaps this is why she suggested your name." Suddenly he was all business again. "So. What kind of modeling do you wish to do?"
Addie looked confused. "Clothes?"
He smiled. "Outer wear? Casual? Formal wear? Swim wear? Winter wear? Hunting, fishing, and outdoor outfits? Underwear? Are you interested in commercials, or only in clothing sales? Do you want to pose alone, or in a group? When one begins in this business, it is not wise to attempt too many different kinds of work. Each requires a particular look, or attitude, and while you might be very well suited for one, others might not work for the camera. I must admonish you both, if I can't use the photographs I take of you, I cannot pay you for posing."
"Oh," said Addie, a little breathlessly. "I had no idea it was so complicated."
"Let us do this," said Kharkov. "Today is Tuesday, yes? I have a full schedule tonight and tomorrow. Come back Thursday and we will do some test shots. Then, perhaps, we can see what the two of you are good for."
The way he said "good for" made the hackles stand up on the back of my neck. I didn't like this guy too much.
"Okay!" said Addie, blurting it out excitedly.
"Maybe," I said, guardedly.
"We'll be here!" said Addie, more in control of herself. "Thank you. I really need this job."
He grinned again, showing those amazing, white teeth surrounded by all that bristly black hair.

"I look forward to it. I love shooting hellcats. They are always so vibrant and exciting." He abruptly turned, heading back to the door he had come from, and behind which at least Kerry Watson, dressed like a peasant, was waiting for him. I wondered if Natalie, his sister was in there too. This Zarkhov character had said they both worked for him. I knew Cindy Jenkins, of course. She was a sophomore, and was Jerry's girlfriend. Since his car was there, maybe Cindy was too. I didn't have to wonder why Cindy might have mentioned my sister to this Kharkov character. They were both cheerleaders.
Knowing Addison was excited, I made her give me the keys. In the mood she was in, she'd treat traffic signs like they were all elective, rather than compulsory. I, of course, could both drive and talk at the same time safely.
"I don't like that guy," I said.
"You're a boy," she said, dismissively. "Everybody knows boys have brain damage."
"Brain damage has nothing to do with it," I said. "Did you see the way he looked at you?"
"Of course I did," she said. Addie had gotten used to men looking at her within months of becoming a cheerleader. Cheerleaders thought they were in complete control. They teased the crap out of all the men in the stands, and then went to stand in little groups of girls their own age, talking about clothes or Facebook or musicians or whatever the fuck girls talk about. While they did that they apparently believed the men stopped undressing them with their eyes. I knew better, of course. "He looks at women all the time, Bobby. It's his job. He has to figure out how to use their assets to sell the product. He has to look at women like that."
"I'm a guy, Addie," I said. "I know what guys are thinking about when they look at a girl like that. Want me to tell you?"
"You're brain damaged," she sniffed. "And gross. I don't need to know what my brother is thinking when he gawks at my friends."
Then, in that infuriating way girls have, she changed the subject.
"You know, a bunch of my friends think you're hot. I don't get it. Did you know Charlene Sisson actually asked me what you looked like naked?"
Charlene was another cheerleader. She was also a senior and hot as a firecracker. And I didn't have a date for homecoming yet.
"Really!" I said.
"Like I'd want to look at you naked, just so I could tell her," she snorted. "Ewwwww."
"I'll take a picture," I said, smiling. "And you can give it to her."
"Ewwwww!" she squealed again.
We didn't talk about Mr. Zharkov again the rest of the way home.
When we got home Addie preempted me by gushing to Dad about how professional everything looked and how Mr. Zharkov was even interested in taking some test shots of me. I still had these kind of creepy feelings about it all, but I couldn't put my finger on anything. I was pretty sure if I raised doubts, our father would put the kibosh on the whole thing. But I also knew that my sister would be mad at me for maybe ever if I did that.
So I kept my mouth shut.
And that led to ... well ... it led to a lot of things. But I can't tell you about them right up front. If I do you'll think I'm the bad guy. And I'm not. At least I wasn't. And most of the people who actually know what happened insist I'm not. And I had my own doubts.
But just let me tell the rest of the story, and then you can make up your own mind. But please, wait until you know everything before you jump to any conclusions.
The next day, at school, my sister was thick as thieves with Cindy Jenkins and Natalie Watson. And on the way home, she was uncharacteristically quiet.
"What's up with you?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said.
"Don't lie to me. I can read you like a book."
"A third grade book," she said. "That's the highest grade level you can read."
"Attacking me won't work," I said. "What's wrong?"
We rode on in silence for another block. Finally I said, "Maybe you'll tell Dad what's wrong."
She shot me a look, and then finally spoke. "They won't tell me what it's like to work for Mr. Zharkov," she said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"They said they signed something that says they can't talk about it to anybody who hasn't also signed it."
"A non-disclosure agreement," I said.
"Yeah. That was it," she said.
"But they like working for him?"
"They love working for him," said Addie. "They said I will too."
"What did they say about me?" I asked.
"That's the funny thing," she said. "They said you'd love it too, but they wouldn't tell me why."
"They said I'd love working as a model," I said.

"Yes. But they wouldn't tell me why. Because of the non-discrimination clause or whatever."
"Non-disclosure agreement," I reminded her.
"I don't get it," she said. "Cindy was the one who said I should work for him. But now she won't tell me anything about it."
"A non-disclosure agreement protects the company from you giving away secrets," I said.
"What kind of secrets?"
"I don't know. Who his customers are, maybe. Or how much he pays you. Stuff like that."
"He pays twenty dollars an hour," she said. "Cindy told me that."
"Maybe the pictures he takes are of clothes that aren't on the market yet," I said. "So whoever hires him doesn't want any of the designs leaking out before they are on the market. There are knockoffs all over the place. You know that."
"Sure," she said. "That's all I can afford to buy."
"So you know there's a huge market for secrets like I'm talking about."
"Yeah," she said. "I guess so."
"We'll find out Thursday," I suggested.
She looked over at me. "Thank you," she said.
"What for?"
"For not telling Dad you don't like Mr. Zharkov."
"You know Dad wants me to keep an eye on you," I said.
"I don't need a babysitter!" she snapped.
"I know that," I said. "But he worries about you. All fathers worry about their daughters going out into the big, wide, dangerous world."
Her shoulders slumped. "I know."
"And I don't want anything bad to happen to you either," I added.
She reached and put a hand on my leg.
"Thanks," she said. "For such a huge dork, you can be really sweet sometimes."
"Be still my beating heart," I said, theatrically. "Addison just gave me a compliment!"
"You are such an asshole sometimes," she said, taking her hand back.
But she didn't sound actually mad.

Chapter Two

Thursday night she was all fired up. We went back to the house and this time there were no cars parked behind it. The sign was still on the back door, but this time it was locked. There was a doorbell, and Addie pushed it. It didn't take him long to answer it. This time he was in jeans and a sweat shirt.
"Come in, come in," he said, flashing that toothy grin of his.
We followed him straight to the door in the wall, and he opened it, walking in and leaving it open for us to follow.
What we entered was a studio. I realized it was basically about two thirds of the basement. It was brightly lit, and there were various bits of equipment all over the place. The floor was a nest of snakes, made by wires that went everywhere. Lights like they used in musicals at school hung from the ceiling. A mural had been painted on the far wall. Then I realized it wasn't a mural at all, but a backdrop, also like we had in the plays I did in high school. This one showed a rural scene, with trees and sheep in the background. There was a green carpet spread in front of it, a strip maybe twenty feet long and ten feet wide. It could be imagined as grass, but it looked like carpet. There was even a fake tree, positioned by a big, fake boulder.
Further down was a smaller set. This one looked more like what I expected. It had a tripod kind of thing that had what looked like an old fashioned movie screen on the top. But it wasn't a movie screen. It was a pull down colored sheet. The one that was down was a sort of medium gray. It was really long, and part of it was lying on the floor. I realized that from the position of the camera that was set up in front of it, you wouldn't be able to see the floor at all, just a mass of gray background. There was a stool sitting on top of the sheet that covered the floor.
A rack of clothes had been rolled next to the camera, which was also on a tripod. Zharkov went to it and pushed clothes around on it. He pulled a frilly blue dress off a hanger and held it out to Addie.
"This should fit you. You can change in there. Take your hair down, too."
He pointed to an alcove that was covered by a black sheet. It wasn't a dressing room, really, but it provided privacy. He turned to me when she took the dress from him.
"There is work for boys too. You want me to take some test shots of you too?"
"In what?" I asked.
He went back to the rack and pushed things around on it again. He pulled down a silk shirt. It was black, with a super wide and long collar. There were two pockets on the chest, with white stitching on them in a design that looked vaguely western to me. It wasn't a cowboy shirt, or at least not like any western shirt I'd ever seen anybody wearing, but it looked interesting. He handed it to me.
"Sixteen neck, thirty-two arms?" he asked.
"How'd you know that?" I asked, taking the shirt. It was lighter than it looked.
"I do this for a living," he said, flashing me another of those grins. "The jeans you have on are perfect to go with that. You can change out here, or wait until she gets back."
I looked at the sheet covering the "dressing room". Addie hadn't been very careful about closing it, where there was a slit down the middle. I saw her back as she held the dress over her head and let it slip downwards. She had on a beige bra and matching panties. I hadn't seen her like that in a long time, and I was amazed at the hourglass figure she'd developed. Then it was gone as she tugged the dress down and covered everything up.
"Do I need shoes?" she called out.
"Not for the test shots," said Zharkov, fiddling with the camera.
I pulled off my T shirt and slid my arms into the shirt he'd given me. I'd never felt anything so smooth and light before. It fit me like a glove. There were no buttons for the first two or three inches down from the collar. I saw a full length mirror standing against the wall the door was in and took a look. It didn't actually expose my chest, but it was clear there were no buttons there.
"It's a little big," said my sister, coming through the sheet.
"We can solve that," said Zharkov, going to a table.
I looked at Addie. The dress was a summer type dress, very light and flowing. I had to admit she looked really good in it, with her pony tail gone and her blond hair falling all down on her shoulders. Zharkov came back with something on his left wrist like a bracelet. It turned out to be a pin cushion.
"Once I get these pins in there, be careful how you move," he warned.
I watched as he put his hands all over her. Except it didn't look like he was groping her or anything. He pulled and folded and pinned until the dress fit her curves like the shirt fit my body - not quite skin tight. Suddenly, my sister had curves like a woman. It was amazing. The whole time he hummed, while his fingers smoothed the material here and pulled it there. His hands slid right down the sides of her breasts, but before I could object, he was pulling the material and putting in pins. It was weird. He touched her in places that I thought of as sexual places ... but it didn't look like sexual touching.
And she didn't complain ... so how could I?
And then he was helping her up on the stool, and touching her again, this time all over her legs, as he put one of her feet on one rung of the stool, and the other on a different rung. He put her hands in her lap, and then stood back and looked her over. He didn't like that for some reason and moved her hands to one side, on only one thigh. He ended up with her right hand on her thigh and her left hand up just under her hair, like she was getting ready to flip it back, like girls do all the time. Our social studies teacher called it a "grooming behavior," and said it had to do with trying to make yourself look good to prospective mates. That got lots of giggles, let me tell you.
"Hold that pose," he said.
He moved to the camera and picked up something that looked about like a cigarette lighter with a thin cord coming out of it.
"Tilt your chin down," he said. Then, "Now turn your head to the right, just a little ... perfect! Hold it right there."
The whole room seemed to flash, and I realized it was a bunch of silvery looking umbrellas on stands that had lights in them.
"Think of your boyfriend," said Zharkov.
"I don't have one," said Addie.
"Impossible!" he brayed. "A woman as beautiful as you? Surely the boys fight over you constantly."
I thought the asshole was flirting with her, and her smile bloomed and the lights flashed and I realized that he wasn't flirting with her at all. Instead, he had manipulated a look on her face that she probably couldn't put there on purpose.

He told her to stand, and then made her walk around. He gave her all sorts of instructions about what to do and which way to turn and how fast to turn, all the while snapping pictures. Then he took the camera off the tripod and held it, making her go through all the moves again, while he walked around moving the camera up and down and taking close-ups. By the time he was finished, she was laughing and smiling and I had to admit she looked ... I don't know ... just good.
Then it was my turn, and I realized how difficult all this was. He changed the sweep of my hair and then used gel to keep it that way. It was hard to sit the way he wanted me to sit, and do the things he wanted me to do. It didn't feel natural at all. And when he had me turning around and jumping at him and stuff like that, I felt stupid. But Addie wasn't laughing at me. She did have a smile on her face, but it was more like she was just having a good time watching the guy put me through my paces.
Then, suddenly, he put the camera back on the tripod and popped out a card.
"You can get dressed in your own clothes while I pull these up and take a look at them," he said.
"What about the pins?" asked Addie.
"Your brother can help you," he said, apparently uninterested in removing what he had so lovingly put in. "Just stick the pins back in the pin cushion."
Addie headed for the dressing room.
"Hey," I called out to her.
"You can take them out in here," she said.
So I followed her in. She was jumping up and down, she was so excited.
"That was so much fun!" she whispered. She turned her back to me.
"Hold still," I said, looking for a pin to remove
He'd used dozens of the things, and the tiny silver heads were hard to see against the pale blue of the dress. She got fidgety after a bit.
"Hold still!" I ordered her.
"Wait," she said. "Help me get it up over my head. Then you can take the pins out while it's not on me." She held her arms up.
"I can't take it off of you," I objected.
"Why not?"
"Because you're my sister?" I suggested.
"It's not like I'm naked under it," she scoffed. "You've seen me in my bikini. That's much worse than what I have on right now."
She was probably right about that. I had seen her in her bikini, and she was extremely hot looking in that. Not that I would ever admit that to her, of course.
So I started tugging the dress up, past her hips, and then past her breasts and up her arms. At one point I had a heck of a good view of some extremely fine cleavage. The bra turned out to be a lacy one. And the front of her panties had this interesting bulge in them that sort of drew the eyes. It was unsettling, because I had some very un-brotherly thoughts while this was happening.
Then it was off, and she turned and reached for her clothes, like it was no big deal. About then I found a pin - the hard way - and pulled it out. By the time I'd found three more she was dressed and took the garment from me.
"Your turn," she said. She looked at me critically. "You look good in that shirt. He has a good eye."
"Thanks," I said.
I unbuttoned the shirt and took it off. My T shirt was out in the room, so I pushed through the curtain.
"What do I do with the shirt?" I called out.
"Just hang it back up," he said. "The dress too. You didn't wear them long enough to sweat in them."
Addie came out, still examining the dress and pulling pins out of it. She had the pin cushion on her arm like he had.
I waited until she was satisfied and had hung up the dress. Then we both wandered over to the computer in the corner of the room, where he was reviewing the shots he'd taken on a huge monitor.
When we walked up behind him, he had one of the first shots he'd taken of Addie up. It was the one right after he'd told her guys must be killing themselves to be with her. The camera had caught her at first blush from the compliment, with her smile only barely formed. As we watched he did something with the mouse and her skin tone changed, making her tan look darker than it was. She was beautiful! He did something else and her eyes changed, making them look like she was hungry for whoever she was looking at. Even I wanted her to look at me like that. I'd been around her my whole life, and had never seen that look on her face. Not looking at me, anyway.
"Wow," I said.
"You have a very beautiful sister, young man," said Zharkov, without a trace of shame. Then again, why would he be ashamed of saying she was beautiful. He was in the beautiful business, after all.
"I have to admit you are correct," I said.
"Thank you!" she said, laughing happily. "I finally got a compliment from my brother!"
"It won't be the last," said Zharkov.
I thought that was a funny thing for him to say, but then the picture changed, and we all examined that one.
It took another half hour to go through all the pictures he'd taken. He didn't play with them all. Some were obviously no good. A few were blurry, but most of them were bad for other reasons. There were a lot where the look on our faces was all wrong. I couldn't tell you why they were wrong, but it was obvious. At least after seeing a few where everything was right.
And there were some where everything was right. I was amazed at how good the camera made us both look. He used his computer to enhance this and that in a few of the shots, always improving things. Finally he flipped a switch and the monitor went dark. He swiveled around and sat, looking up at us.
"Both of you will do quite nicely. If you want to work, you're hired."
Of course there was more to it than that. We had to fill out forms for withholding and all that kind of stuff. We even filled out non-disclosure forms.
And, I admit that, as we went home that night, we were both a little giddy that we were actual models.
Now maybe you, being an adult, have seen warning signs in what I've described thus far. But to me, other than my initial dislike of Vlad - that's his first name - I didn't get any more vibes that made me worry. Especially after a month and a half of going to his studio and having photographs taken. We went twice a week and everything seemed completely normal. He had us dress up in various kinds of clothing and took pictures, hundreds of them. There were different backgrounds and all that, and everything seemed just as normal as pie. He even gave us some of the shots to take home to show Dad.
Even when he started posing us in swimwear, I didn't think too much of it. He put Addie in some suits that our parents would have killed her for wearing, but then everybody's parents are old fashioned. You know the deal. And if he had her in a thong bikini, he didn't pose her bent over from the back, or anything like that. He might have her turn so that one ass cheek was partially visible, but that seemed normal too. And he put me in Speedos and posed me holding a fake styrofoam surfboard and stuff like that.
I guess what I'm saying is that it all seemed pretty normal. Addie and I always went into the changing booth to change outfits, and he just took lots of pictures of us.
At first I thought it was kind of strange that we never worked with any of the other kids. They worked on different nights than us. Vlad had us working on Thursdays and Mondays. But after I realized how much time it took to take all those hundreds of pictures, I figured having four or more models in the studio would be difficult to make work, logistically speaking.
I do know that Addie was disgusted when she told Cindy that she'd signed the non-disclosure agreement, and all Cindy wanted to talk about was how to move and hold your head and how to get the right look on your face and stuff like that. There weren't any juicy details after all.
Well ... there were ... but Cindy didn't tell Addie about them. It was too soon for that. And, as it turned out, we found out about that stuff on our own.
But the point is that for us, at that point in things, we felt like everything was going fine. We were friends with Vlad. He joked around and laughed with us. He continued to put his hands all over Addie, and me to a lesser degree, but it always seemed like it just went with the posing.
And we both suddenly had a lot more spending money than we had in the past.
Remember those juicy details I mentioned? About two months into things something happened that should have made me wonder ... but it didn't. We showed up on one of our regular nights and Vlad said he had something to talk about.
"I've sold quite a few of your pictures," he said. "And one customer has taken a real liking to you, Addison. He has asked me to take an extensive set of you in his line of swimwear. But he wants a boy in the pictures with you."
"Really?" I could hear the excitement in my sister's voice at the thought that she was actually known to somebody.
"Indeed," he said. "So we need to talk about the poses, and which boy you want to do them with."
"What kind of poses?" she asked.
"Well, they're a bit sexier than what you've done in the past," he said, easily. "The boy would have his arm or arms around you, and his hands on your body."
"Oh," she said. "Like how?"
"I'll show you," he said. He looked at me. "Can you stand in for her future partner for a couple of poses?"
"I guess so," I said.
"Excellent!" He flashed us his signature mile wide smile.
What he did was have me stand behind her and reach around her, placing my hands on her hips, but forward a bit, so that my fingertips were on her abdomen. Then he had me lean my face down like I was kissing her shoulder.
"That's an example," he said. "Of course you'd both be in swimwear, but I have to tell you up front, this company targets an adult customer, so some of it is pretty racy."
"Oh," she said again. She turned her head to look at me and her cheek ran into my nose. "I don't know. Who would I pose with?"
"There are several boys on the payroll who would be delighted to pose with you," he said. "Remember, you're a knockout. In fact, I could probably get some boys to pose with you for free." He grinned, to show he was kidding.
That was when I felt something in the pit of my stomach that I should have recognized as a warning sign. But I interpreted it as jealousy. Or something. I didn't want some guy pawing my sister in a string bikini ... you know?
"I don't think so," she said, slowly.
"It's a lot better money," he said. "I charge more for this genre of shots, so I can pay you more too."
"How much more?" she asked.
"Triple your normal fee," he said, calmly.
And it was then I learned something interesting about my sister.
It turned out that it was one thing for Addison to flaunt her stuff in front of bleachers full of men and boys she went to school with. It was another to agree to let some amorphous male put his hands on her. She didn't mind it when Vlad touched her, because she had gotten used to that. And we were both convinced all that touching was harmless. But we knew what posing was like now, and if she agreed to do this with somebody else, it could get ... personal.
On the other hand ... there was a boy she was sure she could be with and things would not get ... personal.
"Could we do these poses with me and Bobby?"
His million dollar smile flashed.
"Absolutely!" he said, happily. "The customer need not know you are brother and sister."
He went to the table on the wall and picked up a big cardboard box.
"The merchandise is in here," he said. "We'll need to catalog it and match up outfits for the two of you to wear, but that won't take long."
Looking back on it, he was slick. I'll give him that. He was a professional, after all.
First, he had her put on fake fingernails that were long and painted with scenes of palm trees and sand beaches. He glued them on and said, "It will take an hour for the glue to dry completely, so be careful. You may have to have some assistance getting dressed."
"From who?" she asked.
"Well, of course I could help you," he said, casually. "But you might be more comfortable if Bobby did that."
We looked at each other. She shrugged.
"Okay," she said.
The first suit she had to put on was woven out of some kind of yarn or something. If you held it up to the light, you could see through it, but it was thick enough that it hid the skin it covered.
Which wasn't much, as it turned out.
The bra covered the tips of her breasts, but that was all. And the bottoms were basically a triangle that covered her .... well ... her pussy, I guess. The rest of it was just yarn that held that on her hips.
How do I know this?
Because I had to help her put it on. Vlad said it was too likely that her fingernails would catch in the yarn, and get pulled off.
So we went into the changing booth. I was holding the suit. Actually, it was hanging from the fingers of my right hand. It looked about like a fancy handkerchief.
"I can't wear that!" she whispered.
I spread it out on my hand.
"You can't really see through it," I said.
"Yes, but you're going to see me totally naked!"
I know it's sad, but by this time I had admired enough pictures of my sister that the thought of seeing her naked didn't seem ... objectionable?
"Come on," I said. "We took baths together until you were like eight."
"I didn't have these when I was eight!" she hissed, cupping her breasts.
"What are you worried about?" I asked. "You afraid I'll make a move on you?"
"I'll be naked!" she moaned. "All the way naked!"
"You think I want to ogle my own sister?" I asked. "All I'm going to do is put the stupid suit on you. It won't take but a second."
It was then that I learned something else new about my sister.
"You better not laugh at me," she hissed.
Turns out that no matter how beautiful a girl is, or how many times somebody tells her how beautiful she is, she still doesn't quite believe it. Or maybe she just concentrates on self-perceived flaws or something. Anyway, the point is that she thought I'd think she was ugly if I saw her naked.
The long and the short of it is that, eventually, she agreed to wear the suit. And she agreed to let me put it on her.
I had to undress her too, because the glue on the nails wasn't dry yet. If you're a guy, you've played out this scene in your mind a thousand times. The undressing a girl part, I mean. You've imagined unbuttoning things, and pulling things apart and exposing more and more skin. Eventually you get to the good parts and, in your imagination, the girl is just letting you do all this. This fantasy is usually a prelude to masturbation when you're a teenager.
Except most of us don't imagine that girl to be our sister.
But I was confused about all this. And I think it was because I was so used to seeing her as a good looking girl posing for the camera ... instead of as my sister.
So I may as well just admit it right up front that, by the time I got to the good parts ... I had a boner to be proud of.
Well ... except for the fact that I had a boner for my sister. Which you're not supposed to be proud of. I worked through all that eventually, but let me tell you I was all twisted up there for a while.
Anyway, while I saw her, you didn't, and if you're normal, you wish you'd seen her too, so I'll tell you what I saw.
The first thing I did was unbutton her blouse. She had on a plain, white, cotton bra that day, which wasn't so sexy, but it was a bra, you know? She was looking at me with this half frown, like she was trying to be mad at me. I remembered her warning about laughing, but I hadn't figured out what I told you earlier yet.
"I have freckles on my chest," she said, for some odd reason.
I looked, and there was, in fact, a spray of freckles across her chest. They looked kind of neat, but I figured I probably shouldn't say that.
"Yeah, you do," I said instead, trying to sound uninterested. "Should I take off your bra now, or your jeans?" I didn't know what to do.
"Jeans," she said, her voice tight.
I knelt and undid her jeans. They were surprisingly hard to get down past her knees.
"I have a fat ass," she said.
I was in front of her.
"I can't see your ass," I said.
"It's fat," she said.
"If you say so," I replied. I admit I was a little preoccupied. While her bra was plain, her panties were not. They were wispy blue ones, lacy, in a cut I later learned was called "boy shorts" style. As I pulled her jeans down, the panties sort of wanted to slide down too, exposing the beginnings of very blond pubic hair. Don't ask me why, but I tried to keep them up while I got the jeans down. That was when my johnson started acting up.
When I finally got the jeans down, I realized I hadn't taken her shoes off. So I had to pull her jeans back up to get to her shoes. She had to put her hands on my head for balance while she lifted a foot for me to take her shoe off. Don't ask me why, but somehow it felt different than my sister gripping my head.
I finally got her down to bra and panties. Her hands had gone from my head to cover the front of those panties when I stood up with her jeans in my hand.
"I'm going to see you naked," I pointed out, staring at her hands.
"I know," she said. She was breathing hard. "Nobody's ever seen me that way."
"Don't even try that," I said, almost laughing, but remembering at the last second not to. "Girls in the showers at the gym? Girls at your sleepovers?"
She tossed her head. "I meant boys, of course."
"Greg Haskins?" I said, reminding her of the guy she'd gone with for six months before having a fiery breakup. "Danny Wilson?" He was the guy after that. "Paul Buckminster?" I opened my mouth to go on, but she cut me off.
"I never got naked with any of them, you asshole!"
"That's not the way I heard it," I said.
"Give me my jeans," she snapped. "I'm not doing this if you're going to be a prick about it."
I thought about the video game equipment three times our normal fee would buy me and held up my hand.
"I'm not trying to give you a hard time, Addie. I'm just telling you what I heard."
"And you believe them over me?"
"Of course not. But it was possible they were telling the truth. If you say I'm the first, then I believe you."
She relaxed a little.
"And I'm glad," I added.
"Really?"
I nodded.
"Why?"
"You're my sister. None of those guys was worth even getting a kiss, much less getting to see you like this."
I was astonished when she laughed.
"You are so full of it. Let's go. Vlad's probably getting antsy."
So she turned her back to me and I unhooked her bra. She shrugged it off like it was no big deal and started to reach for it, but then stopped with it hanging on her wrists.
"You better do it," she said, turning to me.
I missed the bra on my first try. Her breasts were astonishing.
Imagine a big, ripe, cantaloupe, maybe eight inches across. Now cut that in half and lay each half gently on a flat chest. Magically make them into skin and perch the pit from a Bing cherry on top of each one. You can also paint a dark pink landing pad for each of those cherries if you want, about an inch in diameter. I would not find out until later that those nipples could lie just as flat and lifeless as a piece of paper, or that she was, like me, excited about the first time a boy was going to see her completely naked. She was conflicted too, but her emotions were driving her body's responses, and her nipples responded by becoming erect.
I finally looked up to see her watching me ... watching her boobs. Don't ask me why. Maybe it was just my training to be polite, but whatever it was, I felt compelled to say something.
"They're really nice," I said.
"Bobby!" she said, properly scandalized.
"Well they are," I whispered. "What'd you want me to say? That they're horrible bags?"
She slapped my shoulder, which made those breasts jiggle only a little. They looked remarkably firm. I would later find out they were.
"Of course not!" she whispered back. "But you're my brother!"
"That doesn't mean I can't recognize a prime rack when I see one," I said, without thinking.
There was one of those things my literature teacher calls a "pregnant silence" before she finally said something.
"You think I have a prime rack? Really?"
Again, don't ask me why, but I did something really crazy. I leaned forward, very quickly and kissed the inside of one of those fabulous breasts. As I pulled back she pulled back too and almost lost her balance.
"That convince you?" I asked, staring right at her.
"Are you crazy?" she gasped.
I knelt on one knee and crooked my finger at her, pointing at her panties. She stood there, her chest heaving, but finally came to me.
I didn't do it slow. I just grabbed the waistband and tugged them down in one pull that took them to her knees.
I've seen lots of pictures on the internet. But seeing things in real life is different. My imagination about seeing the start of those pubes I mentioned was pretty fired up by then, and the reality of things hit me pretty hard. She had this beautiful, short, curly carpet of very blond hair, perched above where I expected to see pussy lips. But she didn't have pussy lips. Not really. Her skin just rounded in to form a slit that was tightly closed. When she lifted her left leg to step out of the panties, that cleft spread a little bit, but it was still closed.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she panted.
"Me either," I agreed.
"Please don't laugh at me, Bobby," she moaned, one hand coming to try to hide her pussy, and the other going to try covering her breasts.
I got it then. She wasn't just trying to be modest, though that was part of it. She thought she was ugly. I know how stupid that sounds, but I have since learned it happens all the time. Madison Avenue makes a business - quite literally - from telling girls over and over that they aren't beautiful or desirable, unless they enhance their natural assets. And that sinks in by the time a girl is in her teens.
Of course I wasn't in business. And I knew my sister was completely wrong. So I stood up and told her.
"Addie, you're beautiful."
Her eyes were wet, but they hadn't formed tears yet.
"I mean it," I said. "I wish you weren't my sister right now."
That got her attention.

Chapter Three

I think that comment about wishing she wasn't my sister was what really convinced her I wasn't going to laugh at her. And my opinion really mattered, for some reason. The point is that, from that point on, instead of being freaked out that her brother was looking at her like ... well ... not her brother ... she was more or less comfortable with being naked in front of me. But more than that ... her own curiosity about boys was allowed to come to the fore.
The first indication of that was after I got the mesh suit on her. That was, by the way, both ridiculously easy and astonishingly difficult at the same time.
Getting each piece where it belonged was the ridiculously easy part. I went in reverse order, doing the bottoms first. It was just big enough to cover all her curly short ones. The hardest part of that was figuring out how the strings went. She bent over and pointed at things to help me spread it all out. I glanced up and saw those fabulous breasts, just hanging like ripe fruit on a tree, and my cock got even harder. She stepped daintily into the arrangement and I pulled everything up.
Then it was hard to get all those strings tight enough but not too tight. And then there was the part that went between her ass cheeks. It was elastic, but I had to spread her butt cheeks to get it to lie right so it would pull the bottom of the front panel to curve over that tightly closed cleft between her legs. It worked best if the cord around the waist was high in the back and the side strings went high over her hips.
The bra was easier to get on, but then it needed to be tugged and moved all over each breast to present an even appearance. I realized she had tiny, fine hairs on her upper torso that I would never have been able to see unless I was this close to her body.
I finally stood back.
"Wow," I said.
"I look okay?"
"They're going to sell a million of these suits," I said.
"You really mean that!" she sighed.
"You're damn straight," I admitted easily.
"Thank you."
"You're most welcome," I said.
This was when her curiosity bubbled up to the surface.
"You need to change into your suit too," she reminded me.
I thought about my rock hard prick, and how what was shaping up to be a very comfortable relationship might take a completely different turn if she found out I had a boner for her.
"You can go on out," I suggested.
"No way," she said. "You saw me. It's only fair I get to see you too."
"That's crazy," I said.
"Crazy or not, you got to see all my flaws. I get to see yours too. Fair is fair."
"You don't have any flaws," I said, somewhat heatedly.
"Shhhh," she said, quietly. "Hurry up." She stuck her head through the curtain and told Vlad we were about ready. I heard him say, "Take your time," which should have registered as odd, but did not. I had other things to worry about just then.
My sister stood there in that incredibly sexy "swim" suit, oblivious to the fact that she had turned my penis into a bar of tungsten steel, and waited for me to expose that fact.
"I can't," I said.
"Why not?"
"I have a ... problem."
She didn't get it at first. I could see her turning it all over in her mind, trying to figure out what kind of problem I could possibly have. I could also see when she did get it. Her face changed from a frown of concentration to The Joker's face as he laughed at Batman.
"You're kidding!" she whispered, leaning toward me and covering her mouth as she giggled.
"You said I couldn't laugh at you!" I reminded her.
"I'm not laughing," she insisted ... while laughing.
"Come on, Addie. I couldn't help it. It's not something a guy can control when he sees a beautiful girl. And you are beautiful."
"Change!" she hissed.
It was obvious she wasn't going to cut me any slack.
"Look away," I said.
"Don't be ridiculous. You saw everything I have!"
"It's not the same!" I insisted.
She finally turned around, folding her arms over her chest.
"Okay then. Just hurry up."
If I'd have thought about it, I'd have realized she could have just left. Assuming she was no longer going to even the score. Which, of course, she was.
She must have had eyes in the back of her head, because as soon as I was naked and reached for Vlad's Speedo, she turned around and bent over to stare at my manhood.
"Good grief!" she gasped, like there was something horribly wrong with it.
"What?" I asked, looking down, expecting to see bleeding, or boils or something horrible.
"It's huge!" she said, weakly.
"It is?" It was an automatic response. I'm not suggesting I didn't know what size I had.
She looked up at my face, but only for a split second.
"Not that I've seen any," she said. "But I can't help but imagine ... and that looks way bigger than I expected. It looks ... scary. They say it hurts the first time. I can sure believe that!"
Guys look at that prospect differently. We know it's happened zillions of times, and nobody was killed by it. Plus we all assume we'll be good enough lovers that the girls will all say, "Pshaw," at whatever pain there might be and beg for us never to stop.
"It's never killed anybody yet," I said, with typical teenage bravado. It was an instinctive thing to say ... the kind of thing I would have said if I were talking to a guy. Maybe I was trying, unconsciously, to stop lusting after my sister and put her on the level of a guy friend. I don't know.
"You've done it?" she said, loud enough for our father to hear, clear across town.
Vlad called out. "Is there a problem?"
"No!" I called back, shushing my sister immediately after.
She looked mad for some reason. Or maybe she was just shocked and disgusted. In any case, I saw things going south in a hurry, so I fessed up.
"I've never done it!" I hissed. "Guys just talk like that, okay?"
"You're a virgin?" she said, more softly. "Really?"
"Of course I'm a virgin," I said. "Just like you are."
There was a split second delay before she answered, and when she did her eyes sparkled. I saw it, but was unable to react to the cues when she said, "Who says I'm a virgin?"
Instead, I shot back, "You better be a virgin, or I'm going to have to beat the living shit out of some guy."
She giggled again.
"Of course I'm a virgin," she said. "I'm glad you are too."
That confused me.
"Why?" I asked.
"I don't know. Get your suit on, before Vlad charges in here to find out what's wrong and he sees your monster ... thing."
"It's not a monster," I growled.
"Sure looks like one to me," she giggled.
I grabbed the Speedo and stepped into it. I looked ridiculous as I pulled it to cover my boner. And there was nothing I could do about it. In the end, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist. I hoped I looked professional or something.
When we stepped out, I think we both expected to find a frustrated Vlad waiting, wanting to get the fuck on with things. We'd been there more than half an hour by then, and he had yet to take a single picture. Of course we didn't know then what we know now ... that he was grooming us for bigger and better things, and that, from his point of view, however much time it took for us to get used to seeing each other naked was worth it.
"Very nice," he said, casually. " I knew that suit would look good on you."
He ignored me, which didn't surprise me at all. If I were in a room with some guy and Addison, and she was dressed like that, I wouldn't look at anybody else either. He took her to stand in front of a backdrop that was all sand and sun and palm trees, like the scenes on her nails, and stood her there while he fiddled with light meters and exposure settings and all that kind of thing.
"We're going to have to oil you up," he finally said. "Your skin is so fair it bleaches out. The oil will refract the light and give your skin a more golden tone."
It took no imagination at all to envision what "oiling her up" meant, and it sounded like he intended to do it himself. That was unacceptable.
"I'll do it," I said, firmly.
"Of course," he said, flashing his perfect teeth. He went to the table and picked up a bottle, which he handed to me. I realized I was about to rub my oily hands all over Addie's skin. My cock twitched under the towel.
"Should we go back in there?" I asked, looking at Vlad for some reason.
"No," he scoffed. "Is just oil. No big deal, right? She is your sister, after all, yes?"
"Of course," I said, knowing that was what I was supposed to say ... what any normal brother would say.
That was when I found out how firm her breasts were, as I had to slide my oily hands along the sides and tops of them, where the suit didn't cover. It was insanely tempting to slide my fingers under the cloth too, but I managed to resist doing that.
It did not help that she kept saying, "That feels nice, Bobby."
I do not remember dragging out the oiling up of my sister. She later told me I did that. I denied it, but then she said, "I didn't mind." I didn't know what that meant, so I just dropped it.
Anyway, I finally stopped, and Vlad pronounced her well oiled. Then he said, "Okay, Bobby. Your turn."
"My turn?" I said, not understanding.
"You need oil too."
"I'll do him," said Addie.
"You can't," said Vlad. "Your nails will fall off if your fingers get oily."
I suddenly imagined Vlad's big, hairy hands going all over me and had a mixed reaction to that. That was because while the thought of his hands on me made my skin crawl, I also felt my erection begin to soften.
"He can do himself," said Vlad, carelessly. "He has no nails."
The long and short of it is that, by the time Vlad told me to lose the towel, my cock was only half hard, which I hoped would actually made a nice bulge in the suit. Guys do want to be perceived as being "huge" after all. Even if not usually in their sister's opinion.
Vlad glanced at my Speedo.
"Move your junk into the middle," he said, casually. It was so weird hearing his Russian accent using what I thought of as an American term.
I looked down and saw that it looked like I had a big slug in my suit, that was crawling towards my left hip, trying to escape the Speedo. I couldn't do anything except pull the waistband away from my skin and stick my other hand in there to rearrange things. I looked up to see Addie watching me with interest.
"Don't laugh!" I warned her.
"I wouldn't dream of it," she said, and then promptly giggled.
"All right then," said Vlad. "Let's make some money!"
I have mixed feelings about that session. Vlad may not have minded that we took half an hour to get into the first outfits, but he made up for that by shooting over fifteen changes in the next hour and fifteen minutes. Again, this may have been because he knew our family might ask questions if we got home late, or it may have been because he knew that, if I was putting things on Addie and then taking them off, and having to do it rapidly, we would eventually become used to the concept of me seeing her naked and touching her body. If it was the latter ... it worked.
By the time Addie got behind the wheel of the bug and started us home, I had touched just about every part of her body, including those pussy lips. Which, by the way, did not stay tight and white and invisible. As that hour and fifteen minutes progressed, two lines of darker, more wrinkled and flushed skin began to push out from the cleft where her white skin dipped inward. I didn't say anything about it. But I sure noticed.
Then there was the fact that I kept getting boners. More than once she said, "Is that really because of me?" One time I said, "Of course. I said you were beautiful." Another it was, "Who else is here?" Another time I responded, "Get used to it, okay?" I only spoke one more time about it and that was to say, "Stop fishing for compliments!"
But I think another really important thing was the reaction we had to the poses he put us through. They weren't sexual, exactly, unless you were a teenager. Like, I was usually standing behind her. And he'd tell me to put my hands on her hips, or further forward with my fingertips on her abdomen. It was just boyfriend/girlfriend kinds of poses. Once he had me kiss her neck, and I felt her whole body shudder as I touched her skin with my lips.
Come to think of it, the next costume change was when I noticed something pushing out of her pussy slit.
There were lots of poses with my arms around her, or our arms around each other, half turned to face the camera.
All I know I was extremely glad it was me touching her, instead of some other guy.
"Thank you," she said. We had gotten about two blocks and it was the first time either of us had spoken. We each had six crisp twenty dollar bills in our pockets. I was going back and forth between thinking about that, and what my sister looked like naked and oily.
"What for?" I asked.
"For not making me do that with some other boy."
"No way is some other boy ever going to do that to you," I said, automatically.
"Ever?" She shot me a look.
"Not in the foreseeable future," I said.
"I can live with that," she replied.
"Good," I said.
"Don't go all caveman on me," she laughed.
"Sorry," I said. "It's just that ... well ... I know how I felt, and another guy ... I just can't think about it, okay?"
"I actually know what you mean," she said.
"You do?"
"Yeah. It was ... um ... intense for me too."
"Was it?"
"It was."
"Can you explain that?"
She drove on for another couple of blocks before she answered.
"There were times when it was hard for me to remember you were my brother."
There is one thing I am quite sure of, and that is that that first modeling job of adult swim suits caused a behavioral change in Addison. She was a lot less modest around the house. In the past, she used to cover her panties up with running shorts, and she had always worn a bra under her T shirts or whatever she was wearing after we got home from school and she changed into "comfortable" clothes.
But now, she ran around in panties and a T shirt with no bra under it. Our father noticed it too.
"This modeling stuff has made you more comfortable in your skin, hasn't it," he commented one night.
"I guess so," she said.
"Remember there are two males living in the house with you," he said.
"How could I forget that?" she asked, looking confused. "You both live like pigs and leave things lying all over the place."
"I was referring to you exposing your feminine charms to us," said Dad, dryly.
"I'm not exposing anything," she said, looking down at her T shirt, which displayed Donald Duck wearing a conical birthday hat and blowing one of those paper things that unrolls and squeaks as you blow into it. She'd gotten it on her birthday a couple of years past. I hadn't noticed it before, but after our father drew attention to it I saw it was a little small for her now. The cloth was thin enough you could see dark circles through it where the tips of her breasts pressed against the cloth. I also noticed that there were no bumps there. That was the first time I realized her Bing Cherry pits weren't always on display. They had been in all the shots Vlad took of her wearing various bikinis, by the way.
"Addison," said our father, patiently, "I know you like showing off to all the men in the stands. And I suppose that has translated into enjoying showing off as a model. But it isn't fair to your brother and me to show off at home. We are both normal men, and we can't help but notice how ... um ... grown up you are."
I smiled. Part of that was because my father had included me as a "man" in his comment and part was because he was blushing.
"Awww, thank you, Daddy," she said, going and hugging him, to press her braless breasts against him. "You and Bobby make me feel so pretty. You guys are really sweet. I love you."
What that translates into in real meaning, in case you're a guy, is that she ignored his suggestion she put something on and make it easier on us guys. She didn't. She didn't flaunt it, but she didn't cover it up either.
That eventually evolved into her asking me if she looked good, but before we get there, I'll just tell you that, over the next five or six sessions at Vlad's studio, we got thoroughly used to seeing each other naked. And, after that first time, Addie started asking Vlad what nails he wanted her to have on for our next shoot, and she glued them on beforehand.
What that meant was that she didn't have to have any help undressing. But she also said, "We can both change at the same time. It will save time."
It took me a little while to figure it out, but she was doing little stripteases for me. She always looked at my crotch when I was naked. And of course I always had a hardon. After a while neither of us had any modesty left. At least not around each other.
And having her nails on ahead of time meant she could oil me up ... just like I oiled her up.
Vlad knew about my boners, of course. The first time I couldn't hide one he said, "No worries. Is normal. Addie is nice looking girl, yes?"
What he did was pose me in ways that the boner didn't show. Which, of course, was fine with me. I wasn't embarrassed by my boners any more, but, like Addie, I wasn't about to flaunt them.
There were two things that advanced us toward the goal Vlad had in mind, which we didn't know he had in mind.
The first was one night when, after the shoot was finished, he said, "Addie? Next series of suits will show your golden hairs down there. Must trim them back, okay?"
"How much?" she asked. This will give you some idea of how comfortable we were with Vlad by this time.
"Personally? I would say all the way," he said, carelessly. "Be more form-fitting that way. But is up to you. Just so nothing shows, okay?"
"Can I see one of the suits?" she asked.
He got it for her and she looked at it critically. I wasn't to find out until the next shoot that she decided to do what he suggested ... take it all off.
When I did find out about that, by seeing the result in the changing booth, it left me a little shell shocked. I was used to seeing her pussy by now, but the complete lack of hair just changed things somehow. That was the first time I wanted to touch her there, just to see what it felt like. I didn't do that, of course, but I wanted to. And it made it a lot easier to see when her pussy "blossomed" as I thought of it.
We had admitted to each other that we got turned on by all this. I'm not sure either of us knew what to do about that. Or I should say that both of us knew we shouldn't do anything about that, and yet we spent hours at a high state of sexual excitement around each other. So it was impossible not to let the imagination slip a little, into taboo territory.
Then came a day when the shoot involved the two of us sitting on chaise lounges, side by side, holding hands with a view of what was supposed to be a resort behind us.
"Boner is now problem," said Vlad, again using what I thought of as an American word, with a Russian accent. Then he tossed off, in the most unbelievably casual way, "You can go behind curtain to take care of it."
"What?" I knew what he meant. I just couldn't believe he'd said it.
"Go in there!" he said firmly. "Beat off. Get rid of boner! What? You stupid?"
I looked at Addie, whose mouth was hanging open. Her eyes looked as big around as the little coffee cup plates mom kept in the china cabinet.
"You never do this before?" Vlad's voice sounded incredulous.
"Sure I have!" I said, in instant self-defense of my manhood.
"Well hurry up. We have shoot to do," he said. Both double-u's were pronounced as vee's.
I got up. Addie was lying there on her chaise lounge in a dark blue "swim suit" that was little more than two triangles that barely covered her areolas and was extremely form-fitting, as Vlad called it, where it covered her pussy lips. Those lips were always more full and lush these days. I actually wondered if they went through some kind of growth spurt or something. I know that's silly now, but I just didn't have enough experience back then to understand that when she got really turned on, her pussy lips blossomed into a beautiful camel toe.
And, of course, that's exactly what Vlad wanted.
I could see what she was going to look like, lying there on that chaise lounge, with her camel toe clearly visible and her nipples almost bursting through the cloth covering them. She had on sunglasses, and the lamps he had shining on us were hot enough to make her sweat a little bit.
Suffice it to say I had no trouble, once I got behind that curtain, deciding what to think about as I spanked my monkey.
I didn't even think about the fact that I felt completely normal beating off to a mental image of my sister.
And, of course, I didn't know that's exactly what Vlad had intended to orchestrate.
The rest of that shoot went pretty routinely. If, that is, it was routine for me to have to beat off two more times as Addie and I changed outfits.
After that first time, when I came out of the dressing alcove, Addie was still lying there, looking like she was simply lounging around in the sun. Vlad was sitting on a stool at her feet, talking to her. I didn't have any proof, but he had to have picked that spot to sit because it gave him a perfect vantage point to stare at her pussy cleft, and her spiked nipples, through that thin suit she was wearing. He happened to be talking when I emerged, and I realized he was telling her how normal it was for me to have been required to go do what I had been doing.
Her head turned just a little when I opened the curtain and walked out. I couldn't see her eyes, because of those sunglasses, but her upper chest and cheeks got so pink suddenly that it almost looked like she really was in the sun, and was getting a bit burned.
But that went away as he stood and moved the stool and directed me on how to lie, and to reach and hold her hand, like we were on the beach being romantic.
He took a dozen shots and then told us it was time for a costume change.
It was me who was blushing when we entered the changing room and I had to get naked in front of her again. She didn't bat an eye. I could see them this time because the glasses had been left out on the chaise lounge. She reached to flick at the bows I had tied earlier, and the little pieces of cloth dropped to the floor. She stood, naked, as I pushed my trunks down.
"Did you really ... do that?" She was breathing deeply. "In here, I mean?"
"I guess I did," I admitted.
She looked around and I realized she was looking for what my body had produced as I had imagined my sister while I masturbated. I guess she thought I'd just shoot it on the floor or something. My eyes darted to the underwear I had taken off when we first got there ... and did not plan on wearing home.
"I didn't know you did that," she said. Then she frowned. "Well ... I guess I never thought about you doing it. I mean I know guys do it, but ..." She let her voice trail off. I think I said what I said next because I wanted the attention off of me. Maybe.
"So ... do you do it too?"
She got red clear down to almost her nipples this time. But she took a deep breath, which did amazing things to her breasts, by the way, and then let it out.
"Sometimes," she said, softly.
"Let's go," I said, as I felt something twitching in my groin, and imagined her naked, lying on a bed with her hand between her legs. "Before it happens again."
She got to work putting on the next suit, which was a one piece, sort of. The top and bottom were connected to each other by cloth in the front that narrowed in the middle to where it just covered her belly button. The back was completely bare. The top was held up by a strap around her neck and the bottoms were held on by another of those thong arrangements. There was also a deep vee between her breasts that showed most of the insides of those swells. Again, her nipples and pussy lips were clearly displayed by the fabric, which was bright red.
My suit was a set of baggies that looked like they were tie dyed. At least they gave my cock some room.
That series had us both on one chaise lounge, with our arms around each other.
About ten shots into the series, Vlad said, "Can you make it look like you're about to kiss?"
We weren't wearing sunglasses for this set, and when we turned our heads to face each other her blue eyes stared into mine. She licked lips that looked fuller than usual for some reason. We had always kissed Mom and Dad good night with little quick pecks on the lips, but not each other. I suddenly wondered what those lips would feel like pressed against my own.
"A little closer," he said, moving over us and taking a shot.
Her head tilted in the exact same way some of my dates' heads had tilted just before they kissed me, but her eyes stayed open. Her head came closer and suddenly her lips brushed mine, ever so softly.
"Perfect!" he said, as the flash went off three times in a row. "Okay, that's it for this set. Time to change again."
We rolled apart, but the arms on the lounger dug into our backs and we had to basically hold on to each other as we struggled out of the chair. My hand went to her bare shoulder and hers went to my waist. We finally made it out of the thing and stood up. Both of us were breathing hard.
"Oil each other up for the next set," said Vlad, casually.
I turned to look at him and he tossed me the bottle of baby oil. When I turned around, Addie's naked back and ass were all I could see as her body split the curtains to the change room.

I was stiff when I got there. Which was fine, because she was already out of the old suit and standing there with her feet spread about a foot apart and her arms out at her sides like she was balancing on a surf board.
"Do me before I put on the suit," she said.
Like I said, I was already hard, but if I hadn't been, just hearing her say "Do me" would have done it. I didn't stop to wonder why she wasn't doing herself. Maybe it was his suggestion that we do each other.
I started on her back and then did her arms. She left them sticking straight out. I wanted to move to the front, but I've always been one of those people who like delayed gratification, so I knelt and did the backs of her thighs. I didn't even think about the fact that I had my hands on the inside and outside of her right thigh until I slid them up so far that she went up on her tiptoes. I could hear her rasping intake of breath as I stopped. I moved to the other leg and she went back down onto her heels. This time she stayed there, feet flat on the floor as I slid my hands closer and closer to her sweet spot.
But I didn't touch her there. Instead, I did wax on and wax off to her butt cheeks. I even said, "Wax on ... wax off." She giggled.
Then I moved to the front.
"Why'd you put oil on my butt?" she asked, still breathing hard.
"None of these suits cover it," I said.
"He's never taken shots of my ass," she reminded me.
"Yet," I said, moving my hands smoothly from her shoulders across her collar bones and up the sides of her neck. I started to do her cheeks, nose and forehead.
"Not there," she said. "Don't make my face shiny!"
"Oh," I said. "Sorry."
I moved down to her sides and knelt to do her stomach and hips. My face was right in front of her pussy as I did the front of her thighs. I made sure not to go too high with my thumbs.
"There," I said, standing up.
"You didn't get everywhere my skin will show," she said.
"Yes I did," I argued.
"These suits are showing almost all my boobs," she said. "All you did was above them and below them."
"You want me to put oil on your boobs?" I stared into her eyes.
"Not all of them," she said. "Just most of them."
"Oh," I said, staring at the orbs we were talking about.
"Do you really like them?" she asked, suddenly.
"Of course I do," I said. Then I thought about how that might sound. "I mean they're fine. They're part of what makes you beautiful."
"I think the left one is bigger than the right one," she said.
"Really?" I leaned back and my eyes went back and forth between them. "I don't see it."
"Never mind. He's waiting," she reminded me.
I gingerly reached and used my fingertips to circle each breast, getting closer and closer to what I knew I shouldn't touch, but wanted to desperately.
Suddenly she brought her hands in and they grabbed mine.
"For pity's sakes," she growled. "Just do them!"
Then my sister made me flatten my hands and she moved them all over her boobs, nipples and all.
She made this funny little "Uh!" grunting sound and pushed my hands down toward her stomach.
"That's fine," she said. "Get your trunks off."
I admit I was a little light headed as I leaned over and pushed my old suit off and stepped out of it. She already had her hands full of oil and she slathered it all over my chest and back, moving her hands in broad strokes like she was in a rush. Her right hand slid down to my own ass cheeks and I gasped as her fingertips slipped into my crack for just a second.
"Addie!" I croaked.
"Don't be a baby," she said, kneeling. Her hands moved smoothly to do the front and back of my left leg. "We don't have time to fine tune all this. I'm just getting you shiny, okay?"
"Yeah," I gasped as the fingertips of her left hand rose and tickled the left side of my scrotum.
She stood and moved to my other side. She refilled her hands and knelt to do my right leg.
Then she moved to kneel in front of me. I looked down. The tip of my erection was an inch from her nose. It was straining up at a 45 degree angle.
She ducked her head and I felt her hands doing the inside and outside of my left leg. Her hair brushed against my cock, moving it to the right a little. Then she changed legs and moved my cock to the left with her head. I was getting a little dizzy and realized I was holding my breath when she leaned back and, like she'd done it a thousand times, reached for my cock with both oily hands and got it thoroughly oily by sliding them up and down its length twice.
She let go of it like it was burning her hands and stood up. Her eyes were a little wild and she was panting.

"Sorry," she gasped. "I just had to see what it felt like."
The trouble with holding your breath is that when your sister strokes your cock unexpectedly, and you try to breathe in, it doesn't work. I don't know what happens to other people, but what happened to me was that spots appeared in front of my eyes. I could tell there was something wrong with my lungs, but couldn't figure out what to do about it.
So I passed out.

Chapter Four

I woke up right away. I was lying on the floor, and Vlad was kneeling on one side of me while Addie knelt on the other side of me. She was saying my name over and over again. I also heard her say, "I didn't mean to," a couple of times. Vlad had his hand on my shoulder, but he was talking to her, asking her what happened. I think she was so rattled that she just told the truth.
"I just wanted to know what it felt like so I touched it and he started shaking and fell down."
"Ahhhh," he said, with that firm, calm voice. "Is normal. First time boy feels that it is sometimes too much for him. Is okay. He'll be fine. See? He's coming around already." He leaned back and, since he wasn't worried about me anymore, spent some time looking at Addie's naked, oiled body. It was impossible to miss that her breasts were thoroughly oiled. All of her breasts.
"Is normal, you know," he said. "In my country."
"What?" Addie looked from me to him.
"Is normal for brother and sister to learn about things with each other."
"What?" Addie looked crestfallen.
"Is nothing to be ashamed of," he insisted. "You are beautiful woman. He is handsome man. You love each other, yes?"
"Well sure," she said, "but ..."
"No buts," he said, firmly. "Is nothing wrong with brother and sister to learn from each other before they go into wide wide world and get married and all that. Americans think about things funny. I think this is because of Puritans I hear so much about when I get here. But Vlad not tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me. I know this is simply way of learning things about sex. No problem."
He looked back at me. He held up three fingers.
"How many fingers, Bobby?"
"Three," I said, automatically.
"Good!" he thundered. "Try sit up. See how you feel."
He helped me, having to try twice because I was as slippery as an eel. I got upright and felt silly sitting on the floor with my legs out in front of me. I looked down at my cock, which was limp, and then remembered who touched it last. It inflated before my very eyes. Theirs too. By the time they helped me up, it was standing tall again.
"You get dressed while he take care of that," said Vlad. "Then he get suit on and we continue, yes?"
He said it like it was such a natural thing to do, that it just seemed like it was okay. Another way of looking at it is that he gave us permission to do that. Then he left, letting the curtain swing closed and leaving us alone. We stood there for a few seconds, looking at each other.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice high.
"Yeah!" I said, trying to be macho after fainting at the touch of a girl. "You just surprised me, that's all."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I just had to see what it felt like."
"I know," I said, as if I had expected her to do that.
"Don't help him!" yelled Vlad from the other side of the curtain. "His stuff get all over you if you help and then we have to start all over."
Again, he spoke as if it was a foregone conclusion that she was going to watch me beat off, that she might even help, and that it was perfectly normal for all that to happen.
"Get dressed on other side of booth from him," yelled Vlad. "But not too fast. He like to watch you while he do that."
I noticed, of all things, that his accent was getting heavier, and his English deteriorating. I was to find out later that this happened while he was masturbating.
Addie backed up, watching me like the cobra watches the mongoose.
But she didn't cover any part of her body. There were another ten seconds of us just looking at each other.
"Are you ... going to?" she whispered.
I wanted to ask, "Can I?" or maybe, "Do you want me to?" but neither of those seemed like the right thing to say. I ended up saying, "I need to," with a little pleading note in my voice.
"Okay," she said, so rapidly that I realized I could have asked either of the other questions and it would have been just fine. Not only did my sister want to know what the teat felt like, she wanted to see one being milked.
It is one thing to come to the completely unexpected and unbelievable agreement with your sister that you're going to beat off in front of her. It is another to actually reach for your cock and start stroking it.
"Should I really stay naked?" she whispered.
It didn't sound like she was disgusted, so I just nodded. That also gave me the courage to reach for my johnson and start stroking.
I have no idea how long it took to do it. I do remember my eyes bouncing from her breasts to her pussy lips. They had blossomed, by the way. She seemed to have some kind of itch on her abdomen, right above her newly shaven mons, because the fingertips of her right hand strayed to that area and went in little circles. I'm pretty sure she had no idea she was doing that, because her eyes were riveted to my cock and hand.
I gave no thought to my underwear, and this time I did exactly what I think she had expected I'd done before. I shot spunk all over the place, in five healthy two foot long ropes that made my balls ache with the intensity of my cum. Well, the first two went two feet. The others were much less, but felt just as good.
As I started spurting, I stared at her pussy lips. I admit it. I was thinking about fucking her. I'd feel bad about it later, but not then. Then, as the enormity of what had just happened hit me, I looked up at her face. Her mouth was open in a big "O"and her eyes matched it in size. Her left hand came up to cover her mouth and her eyes left my cock to meet mine.
I was gasping, of course. I probably looked like a fish out of water, but at least I didn't faint or fall down and flop all over the floor. We stood there, me gripping my quickly softening cock and her just frozen, for maybe fifteen seconds. I got enough air into my lungs to rasp, "You okay?" and she nodded.
Then, suddenly, she was all business again. She lifted the pieces of the next suit, which was a series of long strings that crisscrossed her body, with patches of material at strategic points, connected to two strings where they barely covered her nipples and four strings that crossed, making a square that covered her pussy lips. I picked up another version of the Speedo that I seemed to wear a lot and stepped into it.
When we came out, Vlad was fiddling with his camera like nothing was amiss. He said nothing as he posed us for the first shot. Ten shots later he said, "I have an idea," and told me to take my Speedo off.
"Here?" I asked, confused.
"I have seen you naked already," he said. "Camera, however, will not. Try this. If you no like, we delete from card, okay?"
In the end I shucked the suit and he posed us again, this time with me behind her, like we had done before, with just my bare hip protruding into view. I realized it would look like I was naked (which I was) and suggest my cock was pressed up against Addie's butt (which it was). Since she was almost naked too, it would not look odd. Except for the fact that this was to advertise swim wear.
He took three or four more poses, one of which was us front to front with our arms around each other. The camera got us from the side, so really nothing except my naked side showed.
But I was pressed up against Addie, our naked bodies sliding around against each other. Her suit didn't move, but then it didn't really have to, because by this time I was getting hard again and my cock was pressing right against that little square that covered her pussy lips.
Vlad didn't give us time to get completely worked up, though. Like I said, he was slick. He put us into two more outfits, promising that we'd get to see the ones he'd just taken after we were finished.
I did get fully erect one more time that night. Again, Vlad told us to take care of it while we changed.
And that time Addie didn't look so startled ... or scared.
In fact, she asked me to tell her when I was about to spurt, and when I told her, she came to stand beside me, her hand on my shoulder, and watched as I decorated more of Vlad's floor with my spooge.
There had been several times when our ride home was ... interesting. But this one took "interesting" to a whole new level.
I was driving this time and we went four blocks before either of us said a word.
"Wow!" was how Addie broke the silence.
"You okay?" I asked.
"I will be when we get home," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"I told you ... I do it too sometimes," she said.
"You mean you're going to ...?" This time it was me who couldn't finish.
"Hell yes," she gushed. "I've never been this horny in my entire life. I'm going to cum so hard that I'll be the one fainting."
"You're kidding," I said.
She turned her face toward me. "Don't even think you're the only one who's going to get to have that much fun."
"I didn't think that," I said, defending myself. "I haven't even had time to think about all this!"
"Do you think we're freaks?" she asked, suddenly. "Or is Vlad right? Do you think this is normal in Russia?"
"I don't know what to think," I said, honestly.
"Are you sorry it happened?"
"Which part?"
"All of it, you Dodo!" she squealed. "It was so cool! I couldn't believe you were doing that. And because of me?" I saw her frown in the light from a passing street lamp. "It was because of me ... right?"
"If you're asking did I get hardons all night because of you, and then masturbate in front of you while thinking about doing terrible things with you while I stared at your naked body ... then yes, it was because of you."

"Wow," she sighed. "I can't believe that."
"Believe it," I said. "And believe it that I'm not the first boy to do all those things because of you." I frowned. "Well, not the staring at your naked body while they did it part, but the rest of it has been done countless times. Trust me on that."
"You think so?" she asked.
"I know so," I said firmly. "You and every other cheerleader in school."
She let a block go by without saying anything.
"You want to know something?" she asked.
"Sure," I said.
"I don't care how many boys fantasize about me. You're the only one who will ever get to look at me naked while you do it."
"Let's not get carried away," I said. "You're going to get married some day."
"Of course," she said. "But until then, only you."
"Now I think you're getting a little freaky," I said.
She laughed and undid her seat belt to scoot over and hug me.
"I love you, big brother. And not just because it's normal in Russia."
"Fasten your seat belt," I said, feeling my cock trying to lift its head again. "The last thing I need is some cop writing me a ticket after what just happened."
Then, just like everything was normal, she changed the subject and started yammering about asking Rebecca Hamilton to be lab partners with her in biology, because Rebecca was so smart, and how she was going to get an A in the class. We didn't talk about Vlad or modeling or the complete upheaval in our lives the rest of the way home.
I know I didn't tell you about screening those shots Vlad took of us when I was completely naked. That's because we didn't actually talk about them until we were on our way back to his house the following Monday. Like I said, Monday and Thursday were our days. We knew he did shoots on other days in the week, including some Friday nights. And we knew that at least four other kids from our school worked for him. They were Jerry Thompson, Cindy Jenkins, who was his girlfriend, and Kerry and Natalie Watson, who were also brother and sister. Cindy had told Addie that "we might even work together" way back in the beginning, but had never said another word about it. Addie had asked Vlad about it once, but he'd just said, "Not yet. Not until I get you two up to their experience level."
So we never went over there any other nights than our two nights. I don't know why we didn't. Looking back on it, it seems like it would have been natural to want to see some of the others posing, to find out how we compared to them. We got to see the shots he took of us, assuming we wanted to. Some of them he showed us regardless, pointing things out that would help us improve our look and stuff like that.
And we had to admit that the pictures he took of us with me naked and Addie as good as naked were hot. And in many ways they were actually tasteful. I mean nothing was shown in most of them other than the side of my naked hip. By that I mean one whole naked side of me. But the naked hip screamed to the viewer that I was, in fact, entirely naked.
There were a couple of shots he had taken when I was getting into position, where my dick showed. It was half hard. But when those came up he said, "I delete that now,"and punched buttons that showed on the screen he was, in fact, deleting them. The rest he showed us twice, pointing out what he liked about each one, and how erotic they were.
"I happen to know owner of company likes this kind of shot very much," he said. "That why I took them. He has parties where he has pictures like this on the walls. These shots not for showing off his merchandise. They for getting his guests in the mood to have orgies. And he pays very good for this kind of layout." He didn't wait for one of us to ask how much "very well" was. "He pay five hundred each to models who pose naked, or partly naked like this."
"We couldn't do that," said Addie, staring at the screen. "I mean I agree, those look hot, but what if somebody saw us. What we're already doing is bad enough. If my Daddy saw some of the shots you've taken he'd ground me until I was twenty-five."
"Owner lives in Barbados," said Vlad. "Nobody there have any idea who you are. There are others who have done this. I can't tell you who they are unless you sign up for same thing, but nobody has been seen by anyone they know yet. Plus we can put sunglasses on you, or big, floppy hat to hide your face."
He shut the monitor off.
"How about this. I send him a couple of these as samples. See if he interested. You think about it until next time. If he interested and you want to do it, fine and dandy. If not, we get rid of these and go on with normal work. Deal?"
"Can we have copies of them?" asked Addie. "I mean even if we decide not to do it?"
"Sure!" said Vlad, expansively, his too-white smile blazing. "No problem. Kids like hot pictures, yes? Vlad understands. But you be very careful with them. It would not be good for wrong people to see these, yes?"
But that issue was like a hot coal, sitting in a fireplace. Neither of us wanted to try to pick it up and decide what to do with it. I think too much else had happened, maybe. The idea of posing naked for what would clearly be dirty pictures was just a little too much to contemplate right away.
Thus it wasn't until we were on our way to his house Monday evening that we talked about it.
"So ... what are we going to tell him?" asked Addison.
I didn't know what to say. While we hadn't talked, I'd been thinking about it all weekend. I felt like a pervert because the idea of posing naked with my sister excited me. But we had done some other things that most people would have called perverted, and the sky hadn't fallen. And Addison hadn't been freaked out by any of it. Not really. I mean she had grabbed my dick!
"Can I ask you a question?" I asked.
"Of course," she said.
"When you ... um ... touched me ... you know, in the changing room?"
She looked straight ahead, but said, "Yes?"
"Can you explain that to me?"
"No." That was it. All she said was, "No."
"No?"
Finally she glanced at me, but then looked out her window. I was driving, so I couldn't look at her for more than a few seconds. I heard her take a deep breath.
"Do you think I'm a pervert?"
I had thought about that plenty, so the answer to that was easy.
"No." That's all she'd given me, so that's all I gave her.
"So when I touched you, and you fainted, you didn't think I was some kind of weirdo?"
"Nope."
We drove on in silence for a while before she finally spoke.
"When I saw it that first time, I remembered what it looked like when we used to take baths together. I realized you were all grown up, because your ... um ... you know ... was so big."
She stopped and I tried to figure out if she was finished or not. But she went on.

"Do you promise not to laugh at me?"
I wondered what I might laugh about. I couldn't think of anything that had happened since we met Vlad that was humorous.
"I promise," I said.
There was another short pause, and she said, "I thought it was beautiful."
I'm a guy. I wanted women to be attracted to my prick, but I wasn't sure "beautiful" was quite the adjective I was looking for. Still, I had enough world experience to know that "beautiful", when used by a woman, might equal "studly" in a man's conversation.
"I guess that's fair," I said. "I think you're beautiful."
"I know!" she said in a rush. "And I know you really mean it. You're not just trying to get into my panties like other guys would. You actually think I'm beautiful and that just ... I don't know ... I can't tell you how that makes me feel."
"So, because I said you were beautiful, you wanted to touch my penis?"
"Penis!" She shuddered. "I can't get used to that word."
"It's what it is," I said. "You're a big girl. Just say it. It's not a big deal."
"I had to touch it," she said. "I knew I'd go crazy if I didn't. You made me so horny while you did that -"
"Masturbated," I said, cutting her off. "Big girl words, Addie," I reminded her.
"When you masturbated it was all I could do to keep from doing it myself, right in front of you. I thought my body was going to explode. And I kept thinking it was impossible for me to feel that way because you're my brother, except I did feel that way. And you kept looking at me like I was a steak and you were starving, and I knew what that meant. It meant the same thing that it always means when the men look at us while we cheer. They want to fuck us!"

She was getting loud and moving around in her seat like she had ants in her pants.
"Calm down," I said. "I'm not trying to do ... that."
"Fuck me?" She looked right at me. "We're just saying it ... calling it like it is ... right? I know that's what you were thinking, Bobby. I know it!"
"Okay, okay," I said. "I admit it, okay? But that doesn't mean I'm going to try anything like that."
"I know that too," she said. "Vlad was right."
"Right? What do you mean?"
"That girls want to try things. But I can't do anything with any of the boys I go on dates with. That's reputation suicide. You let a boy do anything other than kiss you and suddenly he's bragging about it. So we can't explore and ... you know ... try stuff. Except with you I know it won't get crazy. So I just had to see what it felt like."
Her hand moved right on top of my penis. It squeezed.
"That is why I had to touch your ... penis."
"You're afraid to do that with other guys, so you wanted to do it with me."
"Exactly. Do you understand?"
"I do," I said, amazed that I understood exactly. "When you put my hands on your breasts ... it was crazy. Usually girls slap you if you try something like that."
"Exactly!" she said. "Vlad was right. It makes sense for us to explore things, because neither of us will hurt the other."
"Okay," I said. "But how far does that go?"
"I don't know. That's why I don't know what to decide about what he wants us to do."
I thought about that for a few seconds.
"So ... do you want to try it? Because if you don't, that's okay with me. I'm not going to try to pressure you about it."
"See? Most guys would be slavering to get me naked and get their hands on me. But you care! And that makes me want to try it! I mean I couldn't even imagine doing that with somebody else, but with you it doesn't seem so bad."
"You know that's kind of ass backwards," I said.
"Of course I do," she said. "But it's how I feel. So what should we do?"
"Well, you want to try it, and I admit I want to try it. So ... let's try it. We can always tell him we changed our minds, or go back to just doing clothes or something."
"Okay," she said.
Just that. "Okay."
When we got there Vlad was moving racks of clothes around, probably lining them up for future shoots. He grinned at us as we walked in.
"There are my stars," he said. "I sent a couple of shots to my customer in Barbados. He is going wacko over them. He says he will pay for two or three sessions with you. Big bucks." He grinned again.
"We're not sure," said Addie. "I'm nervous about it."
"Are you nervous because you're afraid someone will see them, or because it is with your brother that these pictures will be taken?"
"More the first," she said. "If our parents ever saw pictures of us naked they'd freak out."
"I was thinking about that," he said. "I have idea."
He went to one of the rows of backdrops on the ceiling. Vlad had screwed two by fours to the ceiling, parallel to each other, and perpendicular to the wall. Then he hung rolls of backdrops on them in a row. There were three of those arrangements in the room, and each one had a dozen rolls hanging from it. The ones we had always used were pretty close to the wall. The one he chose now was three feet or more from the wall.
He reached up and pulled one down. When he did, I saw it was different than the others. It had translucent paint on it, of palm trees and the ocean at sunset. But the paint was on the back side of it, rather than the front. The front was a smooth sheet of plastic.
"We backlight this. You two stand in front of it and you will be only silhouettes, yes? Your bodies will be only outlines. No faces. Nobody possibly know who you are. This will give you chance to try a series and see if you can do more. If you like it, we move on. I have tricks to alter your appearance. But we can talk of that later. You want to give the sunset a try?"
"Will it really work?" I asked.
He beamed. "You wait. I show."
He moved some lights on tripods, taking them behind the backdrop. He angled them towards the center, aiming them at the sun painted on the backdrop. When he turned them on, the backdrop sprang into light like a stained glass window. It was amazing. It didn't look real - not like a picture of a real sunset - but real in a surreal kind of way, like it had been painted by one of those painters who distorts reality just enough to make it look fascinating. He came around and looked at it, and then went to a cabinet and pulled out a long, thin set of lights. He put that at the bottom of the backdrop, aimed up at a 45 degree angle. He turned that on and I was surprised to see that a strip along the bottom hid the lights from my view, but the bulbs lit up the ceiling above where we were standing. He stood up and moved in front of the strip of lights.
"You turn out room lights," he said.
When I went to the wall, I could see him normally. But when I flicked off the lights, he was suddenly just a black outline against the backdrop. It wasn't as bright as I thought it would be, but I knew the camera could adjust for that. He was right. I couldn't tell it was him if I didn't know. I went back to Addison and leaned to whisper in her ear.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"We'll try it," she said to Vlad.

Chapter Five

We went to the changing room and took off our clothes. Don't ask me why, because we could have gotten nude right there where the camera was. Habit, I guess.
Addison's nipples were there, pointy and hard, just like usual. In my peripheral vision I saw her reach and rub one finger up and down once right where her pussy lips were. I pretended not to have seen it, but I knew she was excited.
I was stiff, of course. Just thinking about posing nude with Addie had gotten me stiff. I stuck my head through the curtain and asked Vlad if I should masturbate. He'd turned the room lights back on and was fiddling with his camera.
"Not this time," he said. "We can work with that under these conditions, and for these kinds of pictures. Is helpful, in fact. Just come on out."
This was it. We were going to go out in front of him stark naked. I'd done it before, so it wasn't so bad for me. I looked at Addie.
"You ready?"
She nodded rapidly.
I reached for her hand and we walked out holding hands. Vlad looked over like he'd seen it a thousand times. Actually, I suppose he had.
"Remember that pose for later," he said. "That's a sweet pose."
I felt Addie's grip tighten. I was amazed that she seemed so calm and cool while appearing in front of a strange man naked.
He fiddled with the camera for another thirty seconds and then told us to get into place in front of the screen. He'd put down two short strips of masking tape, and told us to start out standing on them. Then he turned the lights off.
The strip of light that backlit us was bright enough that we could see each other a bit. He started us out facing each other, just standing and holding both hands. I imagined what her nipples must look like, and then realized my cock was standing out too. I heard the click of the camera, but there was no flash. It seemed odd.
"Get closer together, but keep holding hands," he said, from the dark out there.
We did and the camera cycled again.
"Closer," he called.
He took a picture.
"Okay, now his hands on her waist and her hands on his shoulders," he ordered.
He took that one and told us to get closer.
We inched towards each other and the tip of my cock touched her abdomen. She took a deep breath.
"Yes!" he called. "Push pretty titties up at his face and lean upper body back a little," he called. "Keep big penis touching her, Bobby."
I felt my hands take her weight as she leaned away from me with her upper body, and pushed her lower body against my prick. I felt it slipping up and to one side, across her abdomen.
"Hold it there," he called. We heard him shuffling towards us. " I touch you for just a second, Bobby. I'm not queer, okay? Don't move!"
I felt fingers grip my hard prick and bend it down. He let it up and it lodged where her legs joined.
The tip of my cock was touching my sister's pussy.
"Don't move!" he said again. "Keep breathing. Don't faint on me now. Faint later, but not now, okay?"
"Bobby," Addie moaned.
"It's okay," I said, trying not to move my lips. I was, after all, holding the pose.
We heard the camera click several times.
"Okay!" he called. "New pose."
I felt Addie step away from me as her hands left my shoulders. My fingers drifted off her waist reluctantly.
"Bobby," called Vlad. "We going to make it look like you sucking her titties. But no real sucking, okay? Just bend at the waist and put head behind her. I line things up."
What he did was put my head in position between the backdrop and her body. From his viewpoint, it looked like my face was right in her boobs. Then he had me move little bits until it looked right to him. All Addie had to do was stand there and arch her back, sticking her breasts out. He took that picture and then lined one up with me sticking my tongue out so it looked like it was just touching one of her nipples. That one was hard, because moving only a tiny bit screwed things up, and we had to try that one four times before he got one he liked.
Then he had me stand with my hands on her shoulders and tried to tell her where to put her hand so it looked like she was gripping my erection. He kept telling her to move it up, or closer to her, but it wasn't working. Then, suddenly, I felt her hand wrap around my cock and grip it firmly.
"Perfect!" he yelled. "Don't move!" I heard three clicks.
"Okay," he said. "Addie on both knees. We make it look like you giving him blow job."
I expected her to complain, but all she did was drop to her knees.
"This one tricky," he said, "like making Bobby's tongue look like he licking pretty nipple. We have to get hand right and head right, but I'm sure we can do it."
She lifted her hand at his command, again moving it in increments until, to get it right, she just gripped my penis again. He told her to hold her hand right where it was, thinking I'm sure that it was between me and the backdrop, rather than actually touching me. Then he told her to move her head toward me.
I felt her lips kiss the tip of my cock and gasped. I also leaned backwards so much I almost lost my balance. That pulled my cock away from her lips ... but not her hand away from my cock.
I think that's when Vlad figured out there was more going on than "pretending."
But all he did was talk her back into position. Again, her pursed lips kissed the tip of my cock. This time I stood still. Then she moved her head sideways and slid her cheek along the side of my manhood.
I felt something soothing leak through the middle of my penis.
"Open your mouth, Addie?" he said. "Your jaw must be lower."
Apparently she did, because I heard him take several shots.
"Hand down, Addie?" he ordered.
She let go of my penis. It moved upwards.
"Something wrong,"Vlad said. "Your head was perfect, but now is all wrong."
"Wait," she said. She looked up at me. "Don't faint!" she whispered.

I felt her fingertips pull my cock down. She opened her mouth and put it around the tip of my penis.
"Don't move!" he yelled.
The camera went off four times.
"Magnificent!" he yelled. "You two are natural at this! Okay. Now we find something for Addie to sit on. We gonna make it look like boy is having feast!"
Addison stood up and moved to my side.
"You okay?" she asked, breathing a little roughly.
"Not even," I managed back.
"Don't be mad," she said.
"Mad? How much of your homework do I have to do for that?"
She giggled.
Vlad got one of the chaise lounges we'd used in the previous shoot and set it parallel to the backdrop. He put the back up at a 60 degree angle and had Addie lie down on it.
Then he ran us through a series where I kissed my way up her leg, actually kissing her skin, because Vlad said, "No big deal to kiss sister's leg, right, Bobby?" And he took pictures as I basically climbed up on the end of the chaise lounge, heading for dessert. As I got closer, he had her bend the knee of the leg closest to the camera and raise her thigh up so it looked like my head was between her thighs. He said, "Up, up, up,"until my nose was close enough I could smell something I had never smelled before.
"Reach for his head with your hands, Addie," called Vlad, and I felt her fingertips ruffle through my hair. "We going to make it look like you pulling his head to your sweet pussy."

Her fingertips reached where my skull started to transition from the sides to the back. I heard her take a deep breath and, suddenly, she was pulling my face.
I have to admit that, initially, things didn't work out quite like either of us would have actually planned it. Basically, my nose slid between her pussy lips and my forehead bounced off her pubic bone. I think it was just raw instinct that made me lift my face upwards, to get my nose out of her pussy.
But that brought my lips into contact with her skin and my nose, which was registering something that was as far from being fishy as it's possible to be, instructed my tongue to find out what that delicious smell tasted like.
So I licked my sister's pussy.
"Oh shit!" she gasped.
Her fingers pulled even harder.
So I tried to lick her again. But she was pulling so hard now that all I could do was stick my tongue where my nose had just vacated.
"Oh fuck!" she groaned.
"What is wrong, Addie?" called Vlad.
"A cramp!" she gasped. "It's just a cramp."
"You want stop?"
"No!" she gasped. "Just finish the pictures."
Her fingers eased off and I confess that I licked her some more. I found her split and licked between those pussy lips. They didn't feel tight at all, despite how they looked. I decided that, while I was there, I'd try to find this mysterious clit thing that everybody talked about. I searched for it with my tongue, and she jerked.
She also pushed my head back hard.
"Bobby!" she said, loudly.
"What?"
"He said we're done!"
"Oh," I said. "I guess I dozed off or something."
"Man who can doze off when so near such a beautiful woman must go to doctor and get sleep remedy," said Vlad.
Suddenly the room lights came on and I squinted. Through partially closed eyelids I saw Addison, lying there with her legs splayed apart, two fingers rubbing circles around what I suspected was that clit I'd been looking for. She was flushed so much she looked sunburned.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing at my groin.
I looked down to see a string of white hanging from the tip of my cock. Vlad said, "That is proof you are beautiful, Addie."
"It is?" She sat up.
"Is ultimate compliment to woman," Vlad said. "But surely you have seen this before."
"No I haven't," she said.
"I am amazed," said Vlad. "Boys in America must be truly stupid not to have shown you this before."
"Vlad," said Addison, standing up. "I think you have the wrong idea about me. I don't look at boy's cocks, and boys don't get to see me like this," she said.
"Only Bobby has seen you like this?" he asked, making his face show what I think he meant to be shock. Then he grinned. "And me, of course."
"And you," she admitted. "I'm not like this. I don't do this kind of thing."
"I feel great honor that you trust Vlad to be nice guy," he said. "I jump to conclusion. I see many beautiful women. Most are sluts."
"Well I'm not," she said, hotly. "We're just doing this for the money, not because we like it."
"I see," he said, with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, let's look and see if there will be any money, okay?"
We stood behind him while he cycled through the shots he'd taken. They were incredible. It looked more real than it had been.
During the review I felt Addison's hand find my cock.
She kept it in her grip until we were finished reviewing the shots. It was obvious they were saleable shots.
Then it was time to get dressed.
Addie drove home that night.
"We have another problem," she said as she accelerated.
"Sorry," I said. " I guess I got carried away. But part of it was your fault. You pulled so hard!"
"That's not what I'm talking about," she said. "Well, I guess that's part of what I'm talking about. I'm not sure it was a good idea to do that after all."
"I thought it went pretty well," I said. "I admit I almost freaked out, but everything worked out. I had a good time, I'll also admit that."
"I did too," she said. "In fact, I had too good a time. It scared me."
"I scared you?"
"Of course not," she said. "You know how, on the way over here, we were talking about how I have to fight other guys off, but not you?"
"Yeah."
"The problem," she said, looking over toward me, "Is that knowing all that makes me want to try more things with you because I think of you as safe."
"I am safe," I insisted. "You know I'd never do anything to hurt you."
"I do," she said. "Which is why, when Vlad asked us to do what we did tonight ... I did it. But think about it. You know he's not finished with us. Those pictures were so hot I almost creamed right there. And he's going to want us to do more. With the lights on this time. And yes I'm sure he has tricks so that nobody will know it's us, but that's not the point. He's going to want us to do things like that - real things - and I'm going to want to do them. And I know you're going to want to do them too, and that feels ... I don't know ... scary?"
It might seem odd to you, but at that moment I think I grew up a bit. I realized this was really a serious decision. We'd gotten used to having spending money, and I think that had caused us to just kind of sail along, going wherever the wind (Vlad) had taken us. But she was right. I had thought about fucking her. I had imagined pushing my iron hard prick between her blossoming pussy lips and imagined what it might feel like. I'd never done that, so all I could do was imagine, but it still got me to spurt every time I thought about it.
And Vlad did think that this incestuous play was normal. So it was quite likely he would ask us to do more things that most brothers and sisters just didn't do.
"I don't want you to be scared," I said. " I know the money is good, but if it's going to worry you, then I don't think it's worth it."
"But you want to," she said.
"Okay, yes, I won't lie. I loved what happened tonight. But the last thing I want is for you to be scared of me."
She laughed one of those explosive, barking laughs that releases pent up emotion.
"I'm not scared of you!" she blurted.
I looked over at her.
"I'm scared of what I'm going to want to agree to!"
"Are you saying you want to do ... more?"
She cocked her head at me. "Do you think guys are the only ones who wonder what it will be like to have sex? Girls do too. We dream about it too. I have a feeling we're a little pickier about who we dream about doing it with, but we still fantasize about it. And we want to do it. We just can't. Not with just any old guy. It has to be someone we can trust, someone we love. But that doesn't happen this soon in most girls' lives. Sure they might get it over with, but it probably won't be with any boy they really love."
"Then why do it?" I asked.
"Because it's such a huge deal that a lot of girls can't stand the suspense," she said, shrugging. "They'll agree to do it with the wrong guy just to find out what the big deal is. Most of the time it isn't the big deal they thought it was. That's the point. Everything that's happened with you has been wonderful. It hasn't been scary or weird. I mean a little at first, but not really. And I know that if we keep going, and he wants us to do really serious things, I might not want to resist."
"Really? You'd think about doing something like that ... with me?"
"I can't wait!" she gasped. "And that's what really scares me!"
"Okay, then," I said. "I'll be the brakes. I'll call a halt if I think things are going too far, or getting out of control."
"That makes me feel a lot better," she sighed.
"Good," I said.
"I can't believe I want to do sexy things with my brother!" she sighed again.
"I can," I said.
"You can believe I want to do things with you?"
"Sure," I said. "Because I want to do things with you too. We'll just have to be smart about when to say no."
Looking back on that, now that I'm older, I want to laugh and cry at the same time. How callow we were. How foolish was my firm belief that we could counter the urges we might have with simple self-control.
Of course there was also the fact that Vlad was there, trying to make sure no self-control was ever used.
I was amazed, to be truthful, at how calmly Addison acted when we got home. Within twenty minutes we were eating the meatloaf and baked potatoes Dad had kept warm for us, and doing homework. Our father was a self-employed accountant, and he did books for half a dozen companies in town. He did a lot of his work during the day, while we were at school, but a couple of nights a week he had some kind of work to finish up in the evenings. He went back to that after he served us supper.
She sat there, doing her assignments like nothing had happened. I spent quite a bit of time peeking at her. It was surreal. All I could think about was how her skin had felt, and how she had tasted. And, of course, how she had let it all happen like nothing was wrong. She paid no attention to me at all, except once to look up and say, "Stop smacking. Chew with your mouth closed."
Finally I was able to concentrate on my math, which calmed me down enough that I could work on a speech I was going to have to give in two days. That was agony, because I was sure everybody in class was going to laugh at me. I got close enough to finishing it that I finally stopped, to work on a paper in sociology. As I got ready to study for a quiz I had the next day, she closed her books and got up. She took her dishes to the counter and rinsed them before putting them in the dishwasher. Without a word, she left the kitchen, turning toward Dad's home office.
It was easier to study with her gone, and I felt pretty good about the test when I finally quit. I walked into the living room, but it was empty. Our house was built like a short, fat T with the upright being the living room, dining room and kitchen. The cross piece at the top was a long hallway with two bedrooms at each end. On one end was our parents' room and Dad's office. At the other end was my room and Addie's. Each side had a bathroom and the utility room was in the middle. As I turned toward our end, Addie came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head and another one encasing her body. She looked at me and said, "Night. Daddy's going to bed soon, so don't start anything that makes a lot of noise."
This was the old Addie I was so familiar with. Whenever Mom went on one of her expeditions, Addison thought she had to take over running the house, which meant ordering me around. It was surreal, hearing her say something so normal, after we had done such abnormal things at Vlad's.
I decided to read, but as I pulled my T shirt over my head, the odor of sweat and excitement swirled around my head. I decided to take a shower too. I got the rest of the way undressed and grabbed a clean pair of jockeys to take with me to the bathroom. Normally I'd have put on a robe, but I knew Addie was in her room, and if Dad wasn't in his office, he was probably in his room, so I just went to the utility room naked and tossed my clothes in the hamper. Then I went on to the bathroom.
The water in the pipes was still hot, so I got finished quickly. I wiped the steam off the mirror and started to comb my hair, but decided sleeping would just mess it up again anyway. I put on my shorts and left for my room.
The book I was trying to read was by John Grisham, and was called Ford County Stories. It was different than anything I'd read by him before. In the first place, it contained short stories. Second, they weren't very happy ones. At least the first two weren't. Not that his work is all sweetness and light, but these stories were downright sad, with sad endings. At least so far. I had just started the third story when my door opened and Addison slipped in. She was dressed in her usual sleepwear, which consisted of a long T shirt and panties. It hadn't bothered me before, though I have to admit I had admired her legs in the past. Now, though, I couldn't look at her the same way.
Apparently she couldn't look at me like she used to either. Her eyes were pinned on the front of my underwear as she approached the bed.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
I looked at the book in my hands, and then back to her.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Fine!" she said. Then she seemed to wilt like a twenty day old cut flower. "No I'm not."
"Feeling guilty?" I thought that was a legitimate question, because I had been feeling some guilt myself.
She sat down on the edge of the bed.
"No and yes," she said.
I blinked. "Isn't it usually said as 'Yes and no'?" I asked.
"I do not feel guilty for anything that happened at Vlad's tonight," she said. "And that makes me feel guilty."
"Ahhh," I said, closing my book. "Women's logic. One of the great mysteries of the ages."
"Don't make fun of me," she said.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I quipped. "So what brings you here?"
"This," she said, reaching to lay her hand on what she'd been looking at before. That was all it took. Just her saying that, and her touch made it start transforming. She actually felt it and lifted her hand, only to drop it again.
"That's insane!" she whispered. "How do you do that?!"
"I don't do anything," I said. "It does it all by itself."
"That's so weird," she said.
"Can I ask you a question?" I asked.
"Sure," she said, but she was distracted by what was happening under her hand. She kept squeezing, like she was trying to judge how far along things were.
"How come the cold shoulder during supper and homework?"
"I had to," she said. "I kept thinking about what you did to me with your mouth. It was all I could do to keep from dancing and shouting."
"Come on. I wasn't that good," I said.
"I suspect you're right," she said. "But I knew I was coming in here later tonight ... so you could try to do even better."
"No way," I said.
She squeezed again and jumped. Then she squeezed a second time and said, "That's just crazy!"
"What do you expect when you come in here and say something like that?" I said.
"I didn't know what to expect," she replied, squeezing yet again. "You're completely hard! It's amazing."
"Do you have any idea how distressing it should be to me to hear you announce that I'm completely hard, and know that you're right, and to further know that you're right because you have way more experience with what you're squeezing than you should?"
"Don't be stuffy," she said. I jumped as she moved her hand and then slipped her fingers in through the leg hole of my shorts. Her fingers drifted over my balls and the leg band of my jockeys stretched almost painfully as she reached far enough to find - and firmly grip - my penis.
"Nobody uses the word 'stuffy' any more," I gasped.
"I do," she said. She squeezed my cock. "I love this," she sighed.
"Until Dad catches us," I said.
"When was the last time Daddy came into your room after you were in bed?" she asked.
"I can't remember," I said, distracted by her fingers fluttering along the shaft of my prick.
"Because he hasn't done it for years and years," she said.
"My sister wasn't in my room talking in a normal voice while playing with my penis," I said. I had meant to add wording to the effect that the fact she was doing that now would bring him there in seconds. But her hand made it hard to think.
"Take off your underwear," she said, pulling her hand out of my shorts.
"You're crazy," I said.
"Take off your underwear," she said, leaning over and spacing out the words. She also used her heavy voice, like Mom did when she used the same tactic, but it backfired. When I thought of our mother, it was even worse than thinking about Dad catching us. Don't ask me why. Either parent would go nuclear.
"You take off your underwear!" I said, challenging her authority to boss me around.
She stood up and flipped up the front of her T shirt, where I expected to see panties. Except there weren't any. What was there was her bare, tightly closed pussy.
"I'm not wearing any!" she crowed.
She sat back down.
"Now you," she said.
"This is crazy, Addie," I moaned.
"I want to see it again," she said. "Here, without Vlad waiting for us or ogling me with his nasty Russian eyes. Just you and me."
"When we do that at the studio," I explained patiently, "It's for work. If we do it here, that makes us officially perverts."
"I don't care," she said. "Take ... off ... your ... underwear!"
She didn't wait. She reached and grabbed and started pulling.
"Ow!" I yelped as one of those fabulous fake nails Vlad loved so much nicked my skin.
By the way. I had already figured out that that stuff about the glue not being strong enough, and that I had to help her change was bullshit. The problem was that when I figured that out, I didn't know what it meant. I thought he was just messing with me or something. Then he hit us with that "Incest play in Russia is normal" stuff, and I didn't know whether to believe it or not. But I couldn't think of any way to check it out. And then I was in way too deep and quit analyzing stuff.
"Sorry!" she said, jerking her hands away from me. "I'm really sorry, Bobby. Are you okay?"
"Depends on whether Dad sees the bloodstains on the sheets," I said, trying to sit up. My abdominal muscles aren't that great, and what I basically did was balance on my butt in the bed. Finally I lay back down.
"You are such a baby!" she scoffed, leaning over to look. "It's just a scratch." She started to lean back and then stopped. "Wait!" she said.
"What?" I asked, still trying to see.
"Let me kiss it better," she said.
She didn't give me time to resist, diving for my abdomen with her face. Her right hand came down on my chest, and her left on my left thigh. She stood at the same time, which put all her upper body weight on my body. I felt her face hit my belly and tightened it up. But she adjusted and really did kiss my skin there. Her lips felt warm. I reached for her head and realized, oddly, that she'd gotten her hair dry while I took my shower and all that.
Then her left hand came up and pulled the waistband of my jockeys down, and she moved her lips into my pubic hair.
Do not ask me how it happened, but the next thing I knew she was pulling with both hands and my butt was arched up off the bed and my cock was exposed.
She abandoned my shorts when they got to my thighs. Apparently "off" means something different to women than it does to men. Her face hovered over my johnson and she froze, just looking at it.
"Ohhh Bobby, it's so beautiful," she sighed.
All I could come up with was "Thank you."
"Don't talk," she said, staring at my penis. I wanted to tell her it wouldn't, but I wasn't that stupid. Not with her expressing that much interest in my manhood. I had a feeling deep in my balls that something very important was about to happen, even if it only involved her grasping my cock and squeezing it some more. And I didn't want to screw that up.
"I've been waiting to do this all night," she said.
"What?" I couldn't help it. I had to ask.
"This," she said.
The hand that had been on my stomach came to pick up my penis, which she stood up like one sailor helping his drunken mate stand up.
Then she opened her mouth and put it on my penis and sucked.
And I mean she put as much as she could get in her mouth ... in her mouth. And she sucked hard!

Chapter Six

It is quite possible that time stopped, there for a little while, when my sister first started sucking my cock. My recall is a bit spotty for the first bit of time.
Words escape me, at this point. Wait. That should be words escaped me at that point. Because that's exactly what happened. I gurgled quite a bit, as I recall, but spoke not a single coherent word. And while I was trying to think of one or two to grace her with, she pulled off and skinned my foreskin back and then sucked the knob like she meant it. Her tongue swirled all around and her cheeks caved in, and then she pushed her head down to take in half the shaft. She sucked it like she was starving, and there was a chocolate milk shake in my balls. It was literally unbelievable. I tried to figure out when I had started this dream.
But then I realized it was real, and besides blowing my mind ... it blew my balls.
Literally.
She actually took it rather well. I was, of course, incapable of warning her. I was incapable of doing just about anything at that point other than ejaculating, and from what I've learned since, that was controlled by my autonomic nervous system, which means I didn't really "do" anything. Not in the usual sense of the word.
Her first reaction to getting her throat filled with what she'd only seen twice in her life was to inhale as she jerked her mouth away from the offending organ. That didn't work well, because then she had to cough. And when she coughed, she blew jism out of her nose. This, I was later to learn, was because she was trying to cough quietly, so as not to alert our father that she had a mouthful of brotherly spunk. That was also why she put her face in my covers, like she was trying to eat her way through my bed to the monsters that lived under it.
But in the end, she lifted her head, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, rubbed her eyes and cheeks clean with her palms, and then said, "Actually, that doesn't taste nearly as bad as Cindy warned me about."
"Cindy?" My paralyzed vocal cords finally began to work again, minimally.

"Where else do you think I got instructions on how to do that?" she asked. " It was my first time. Did I do okay?"
"Cindy?" I swallowed.
"Yes, Cindy Jenkins? You know, the redhead on the cheer squad?"
"Cindy Jenkins has given a blowjob?" I croaked. "She's only fifteen!"
"That's only a year younger than me," she said. "Come on. You can tell me. Did I do okay?"
"How am I supposed to know?" I asked. "Nobody else has ever done that to me!"
"Well, you did squirt, so I guess that's one measure of success." She licked her lips. "Actually, I don't know what Cindy was talking about. I like the taste!"
"You're kidding," I said. I tried to imagine liking the taste of my own semen. I did not have any measure of success, as Addie might have put it.
"Not at all. I'm going to do it again."
"You are?" I was still a little befuddled.
"Maybe many times," she said, licking her lips again. "Will you please do me now?"
A state of befuddlement is a really poor time to field a question like that, whether it's your sister or some other girl you have a letch for. Part of that is because when a guy hears the words "do me" come from a girl's lips, he wants it to mean one thing that all men understand. Part of my befuddled brain thought that way, and responded with, "You should have fucking asked that before I blew my wad!" But then the unfried rest of my brain caught up and I realized she was talking about oral sex.
Let's just be honest. I was willing. Even if she asked me so politely that it didn't sound like her request could possibly have anything to do with sex.
She pulled me up and then whipped off her T shirt, leaving her gloriously naked. Then she flopped down on my bed, lay her golden tresses on my pillow, and spread her legs, making it crystal clear I was very welcome between them.
This was all going a little quickly for me. A boy yearns for a girl - any girl - to throw herself on his bed and open herself to him like that. He never believes it will ever actually happen, but he yearns for it. And then there was the "do me" thing that was still bouncing around in my skull. I will say this to any girls who may be reading this: Do not ask a man to "Do me" if you have not already (and recently) sucked his balls thoroughly dry. When my sister flopped like that and spread her legs, if I could have gotten an erection, things might have developed into a "sticky wicket" as our British friends like to call it.
In any case, my penis made the call for me by hanging there limp and happy as I licked my lips and decided to try to find the mysterious clit again.
I did!
And I got to actually watch those pussy lips blossom. It was fascinating. I'd always thought there were just one pair of lips there, but that's not true at all. There are two!
Of course you probably know that. It seems like everybody knows it. But I didn't. Not until that night, anyway.
I learned something else too.
Always have a pillow handy if my sister is going to have an orgasm.
This started a new phase in our lives as siblings. Addie loved sucking cock, at least my cock. And she really loved it when I went down on her.
That first time, on my bed (and yes I know it was technically the second time, but the first really didn't count in my book) she was very vocal. By that I don't mean the screaming. That came later. I mean she sort of gave me instructions. There was a lot of "move your tongue up a little" and "press right there" and " I love it when you do that" and "Oh Bobby, if you stop now I'll just die!" and things like that. And the conglomeration of all of them put together taught me how to make her squeal. Literally. When she felt that first orgasm coming, she knew instinctively that she was going to be loud, and she grabbed the pillow under her head and moved it on top of her head. Well, her face, but you know what I mean.
Even then it was almost too loud. If one of the parents had been in the hallway right outside the room, they could have heard it for sure. We weren't totally convinced Dad hadn't heard it. But nothing happened as we froze, trying to listen for movement outside over her labored breathing. Finally we relaxed.
And she was a slut about it too. As soon as she was sure Dad wasn't going to storm into the room with a ball bat, demanding to know who had been murdered, she said, "Can you do it a little more? Pleeeeease?"
That's the thing that isn't fair. A guy comes once and he's grounded immediately. Twenty minutes later he might be able to take off again, but if he does, when he shoots again, he's done for a good while. A girl can fly for-fucking-ever! I actually stopped because my jaw got too sore to go on.
I'll tell you one thing, though. I slept good that night.
And the next morning, as I drove her to school (only seniors were allowed to drive to school or park in the lot) she must have told me she loved me ten times.
Of course it affected how things happened at Vlad's.
When we got there the next time, he handed us each an envelope. There were ten fifty dollar bills in each one.
"Mr. Brewster wishes me to pass along his heartfelt wishes that you decide to continue nude modeling," said Vlad, grinning. "He is willing to pay even more if he can see your features."
"And what guarantee do we have that he's the only one who will see our ... features?" asked Addison.
"None," he said, calmly. "Except that I know he does not resell his pictures. He uses them only in his villa. Some he displays during his parties. Others he uses only in private. Of course your ages have much to do with his excitement, and he knows that if he ever let any of those pictures get away from him, he would never get any more. He would kill the goose that lays the golden egg, no? In any case, he has never let pictures I send him get out onto the open market for as long as I have known him."
"And how long have you known him?" I asked.
"Long enough for him to help me leave Russia and come to America, where there are no secret police," he said. He wasn't smiling now. " I have known him for twenty years. I am the only photographer he will hire. He says it is because of the quality of my work, but of course I know it is really because he doesn't want those outside his circle of influence to know about his one vice."
"Vice?" asked Addison.
"He has a weakness for young girls who look like you, dear Addie. I confess I may have misled him to believe you are only fifteen years of age. And he will pay handsomely for pictures of fifteen year old girls who are willing to take their clothes off and appear to be having sex with handsome young men," said Vlad.
"Like Bobby," said Addison.
"It need not be only with Bobby," suggested Vlad.
"Yes it does," she said, firmly. "If it's not with Bobby, it's not going to happen."
"Even though he is your brother?"
"Because he is my brother," she said, just as firmly.
"Did I not tell you this is normal in Mother Russia?" he asked, beaming again.
"That's not what I meant," she said, looking flustered. "I trust Bobby."
"But of course,"agreed Vlad.
"I mean I don't have to worry about Bobby," she went on.
"Of course not," he agreed, amicably.
"Oh, never mind. What kind of things would we have to do for Mister ..."
"Brewster," prompted Vlad.
"Mr. Brewster," Addie agreed.
"Similar to what we did last time," said Vlad. "Perhaps with more realism. Is more difficult to pretend in full light."
"More realism?"
"Is difficult to fake a kiss," said Vlad.
"Oh," said Addie. She looked at me. "I guess I could kiss him."
"Is difficult to fake other things too," said Vlad. "This is why I thought you might be more comfortable with another boy."
"No way!" said Addie. "No other boy can ever know I do things like this. It would ruin my reputation!"
"Not necessarily," said Vlad. "It is possible there are other young people such as yourselves who also pose for pictures like these. They would wish to protect their own reputations too, yes?"
"Who?" asked Addison.
"That may be for later," said Vlad. "Let's test whether or not you can be comfortable doing such things at all."
"Last time didn't bother me," she said, sticking her chin out.
"I am very pleased to hear that," he said. He leaned close and whispered, as if to her alone, but I could hear him. "Vlad is aware that some of what happened last time was not pretend."
Addie almost melted down. Her hands leapt to cover her face, and she turned to shove the backs of those hands against my chest. She wasn't sobbing, but she was moaning heavily. Or be-moaning, as it were. Her fate, I mean. She was sure that, regardless of how normal incest play was in Russia, it was only play, and not real.
It took Vlad ten minutes to get her calm enough to convince her he didn't think any less of us. To the contrary, he said he preferred siblings to pose for these kinds of photographs, because he didn't have to worry about them getting in a fight and breaking up and spreading rumors about each other that might cause him trouble, as he put it. Siblings might get in the fight, but they wouldn't shout out what each other had been doing. Not in America, anyway.
And, once Addie figured out how much sense that made ... well ... she sort of lost the last of her inhibitions.
Our first "disguise" was to wear Zorro masks, just thin strips of black cloth with eye holes in them.
He started us out by having me stand behind Addie, with my arms around her, under her own arms. Then he simply had me slide my hands all over as much of her body as I could reach. Of course one of the first places I moved them was to her breasts. He made me move them higher, and then lower, eventually telling me to slide my fingers right into her sex. What he said was, "Pet her pussy, Bobby. Pet the pretty pussy."
Then, after we were both turned on (which I think was the purpose of the hands-all-over-her exercise) he ran us through a series of static poses, where we weren't moving. Well ... almost not moving. I'll give you an example. He had me put my hands over her breasts again, with my fingers spread so that her nipples were between them. We were supposed to hold that pose and stare into the camera lens. My fingers had a tendency to both squeeze together a little bit, meaning I squeezed her nipples between them, and to squeeze as hands in general, feeling that spongy flesh give beneath the pressure.
In the meantime, my boner was pressed into her back, and there was the natural urge to push it against her. At one point she reached behind her, gripped it and pushed it down between her butt cheeks, whereupon she started pushing back.
The shots of my hands on various parts of her body moved to shots of us embracing each other, front to front. He'd have us freeze and then either move to where my erection was visible to his lens, or have me move so he could see it. More than once he directed Addie to hold it, or move it so it was either pressing against her pussy lips, or hovering near. He also had her kneel with my cock pressed against her cheek by her hands, like she was holding it there because she just loved to feel it against her cheek. He asked her to kiss the tip and she did so immediately.
"Okay!" he boomed. "New series! No need for masks now. Vlad will shoot faces obliquely, so you hard to recognize."
He told Addie to lie down on this strangely shaped piece of furniture. It was a little like a bed, except it was upholstered in some really soft fleecy type material. It wasn't flat. Rather it started about two feet off the floor where her feet were, and then sloped up in a curve where her butt fit, going on up from there only to curve back down right about where her shoulder blades were. The effect was of her on some weird altar, being offered for sacrifice, with her abdomen high. Her breasts were thrusting up at the sky, and her head was lying on the same plane with the middle of her back. It was both intensely erotic and a little disturbing at the same time.
He moved to stand beside her, holding his camera, aimed at her breasts.
"I tell you how to make love to breasts, okay?"
I think that was the point where we stopped pretending that we had any kind of brother/sister reluctance about doing all this. It just wasn't worth the effort to try to convince him we were less than enthusiastic.
He started by having me purse my lips like I was kissing her breast, but then slowly sliding them all around it. I kept moving toward the nipple, but he kept saying, "Not yet, Bobby. Be patient." At the same time he was snapping pictures now and then.
"I can't see," complained Addie, who was basically helpless, splayed on this sacrificial couch.
"You can see later," said Vlad. "For now just lie there. You are more beautiful than you can imagine."
Finally I got to go near her nipple, but only with the tip of my tongue, dragging it all over like I had my lips. He still wouldn't let me touch the nipple itself.
"Hurry up!"groaned Addison.
"You are uncomfortable?" asked Vlad.
"Just hurry," she said.
"Kiss the nipple," said Vlad.
I did, and Addie's' hand moved in a little jerk where it lay beside her hip.
"Kiss it twelve times, but bring your lips away after each one," said Vlad.
He took at least two dozen shots while I did that.
"Touch the tip of the nipple with your tongue," he said.
I did and Addie moaned.
Suddenly his fingers appeared in front of my face and he gently pinched her nipple between his thumb and index finger. It was done so quickly I couldn't react in any way except to watch it.
Addie's whole body sort of jumped, except the way she was on that couch didn't give her any way to get purchase for her muscles to really move her. Her head popped up, briefly and I saw her mouth form the word "Fuck!" as the sound burst from her lips. Vlad's hand came to her forehead and gently pushed her back to her original position.
"Give a girl some warning," she panted.
"Now suck it," said Vlad.
My lips opened and I sealed them around the tip of her breast. I got maybe an inch more than the areola, and gave what must have been the kind of suck my mind remembered from when I was a baby. It felt so completely natural to suck that tip, letting my lips slide a little so that only the nipple itself was being manipulated. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought to do this before.
I thought I was killing her there, for a little while. The sounds she made were sort of like what happened when she had an orgasm, but much, much quieter. Her hands came to my head, in the same way they did when I was licking her pussy, and both ruffled my hair, and pulled me to her.
I heard Vlad taking lots of pictures. Then he said in the softest voice I'd ever heard him use, "Move to the other one. Don't let it feel alone."
She liked that too, and he took more pictures.
He put his lips right next to my ear and whispered. "You have sucked her pussy ... yes?"
I let the rubbery nipple I had been abusing slip from my lips and turned my face to look at him. He was grinning, sure of himself. Suddenly I remembered him saying, "Vlad is aware that some of what happened last time was not pretend."
I nodded fractionally as Addie lifted her head a little and said, "You're not finished, are you?"
He let me go back to sucking her nipples and then had me kiss my way down her body while he documented that in photos. As I got to the bottom rib, she sucked air and her stomach caved in. I knew she was ticklish, so I pressed my lips hard on each kiss.
"Keep going," said Vlad. " I be right back."
He moved to Addie's head and pointed the camera at her face.
"Be beautiful for me, Addison," he said.
"Ohhhh," she moaned as my lips moved onto her abdomen.
I stopped to tease her smooth, bare mound with my nose. Her legs were moving all around now, but only flexing an inch or two each time. She wanted me to keep going, but not in front of Vlad.
"Keep going!" said Vlad. "Kiss her everywhere!"
I rolled my eyes upward to see him hovering over her face and realized he was trying to get her passion as it built.
I pressed my nose into the kind of triangle of open space where her thighs attached to her body.
"Ohhhh," she moaned again.
"Keep going!"said Vlad, louder.
I stuck my tongue as far as I could into the triangle and licked, but my nose kind of got in the way. It poked her and suddenly her knees bent and her legs sprang apart and she opened to me with her toes digging into the soft fabric. She actually lifted her pussy up and I realized that the support beneath her lower back actually helped her do that.
I went straight for her clit. I probably shouldn't have. By that, I mean I started making love to her pussy for real, rather than simply posing for pictures. But Vlad didn't seem to mind at all. He took dozens of pictures of her face and then, finally, came down to shoot me just eating her pussy like a starving man.
I could feel her getting close. I had only given her three orgasms like this in my life, but even in that short time I'd soaked in enough knowledge about her body to know she was about to get there. I wondered what it would sound like without that pillow covering her face.
But she suddenly lowered her butt back down to the couch and her hands pushed at my head. She sat up with a grimace as her back muscles flexed oddly after having been so relaxed in an odd position.
"No!" she panted.
"We will calm down a little," said Vlad. "Vlad knows this can be difficult."
"Calming down" meant that our roles were reversed, and it was Addison who was doing all the kissing and tickling with the tip of her tongue. I thought it was weird that he had her give my nipples the same treatment I'd given hers, except I was sitting on a regular chair, and she was straddling me, sitting on my thighs.
Suddenly Vlad said, "Kiss him."
She looked up at him. "On the lips?"
"Yes, of course on the lips. Like he is your boyfriend."
In this position I was pinned to the chair, for the most part. I could have stood up, but that would have dumped her off my lap. So I just sat there as she leaned toward me and kissed me.
That first kiss was somewhat tentative. Oddly, even after the other things we'd done, the kiss was somehow more intimate. It shocked me and affected me a lot more than I expected. I had made out with girls before, of course, but this kiss felt like electricity was being exchanged between us or something. Then her lips pressed harder and I could feel her passion build as she began moving her head back and forth, grinding her lips against mine.
Pretty soon we were trying to eat each other's lips like just about any set of teenagers making out on a date.
He let us do that for a while, taking pictures all the time. Then he said his card was full and that he'd be right back.
We just kept on kissing.
When he came back he separated us. We were both breathing hard by then.
"You two just sit there and breathe while Vlad gets a pretty shot, okay?"
His "pretty shot" involved him moving her to where he wanted her on my thighs, and then reaching to grasp my prick and moving it until the tip nestled between the petals of her pussy lips. They had blossomed, by the way. Those strange, wrinkly, bruised looking lips seemed to flow around my cock. He retracted my foreskin and wiggled the tip as we both watched, frozen. Neither of us had expected anything like this, and I think we were afraid to move or say anything.
When he let go of the shaft, the foreskin tried to flow forward again, but ran into her inner lips, where they looked like they were sucking on the tip of my cock. I realized that my own wrinkled skin looked amazingly like hers.
"Hold very still," he said, apparently unaware that neither of us had moved as much as a centimeter since he had touched my cock to her pussy.
Vlad started taking pictures of my cock, about to push into her pussy. I was sure that was what those shots would look like, even as he took them. My butt flexed at the thought of trying to move my cock forward. Even if it was only an inch.
"Stay still!" he thundered, which startled Addie and made her whole body jerk. I watched in pure fascination as her pussy moved toward me half an inch. Her lips spread and my foreskin bunched a fraction. Then she relaxed, and things went back to where they had been.
"Good!" he said, after maybe a hundred shots. "Now, Addie needs to be on her knees between his."
She got there, her face a foot from my cock.
Vlad got down on one knee beside my hip. He looked at Addison.
"When we were doing shadow shots, Vlad thinks maybe you put handsome penis in your mouth, yes?"
She closed her eyes, but then, slowly, nodded.
"Do that again for Vlad now. Pretty please?" His voice was softer than I'd ever heard it.
She didn't even try to object, or pretend she was embarrassed. She just leaned forward and sucked my dick.
It was funny, in a way. By that I mean as I look back on it now it's funny. He had to make her slow down. She had me in her mouth before he could take a picture, and he had to make her take her mouth off me and kiss it first and stuff like that. Then he let her suck it again, but kept making her stop so he could take a picture without her moving. It frustrated her. I knew this because I could see that her non-cock-holding hand was down at her pussy. At least if it was still attached to the arm that was headed down to her pussy. I think she got actual sexual pleasure from sucking my penis, and not being able to suck it the way she wanted to frustrated her. So she masturbated to compensate, or something.
Vlad knew what was going on, of course.
"I would like very much to take pictures of him cumming. Can you do that for me?"
Addison simply pushed her face against my body, getting more of my cock in her mouth than ever before. I managed an "Uh huh!"
"Vlad must see his cum, Addison. Do you understand me? Addison must not swallow Bobby's sweet cum, because Vlad must take pictures of it. Okay, Addison?"
She made some kind of noise.
I watched as she knelt there, between my thighs, making love to my penis just like I had made love to her pussy. Vlad got down on his knees too, with his camera right beside Addie's face. I'm sure it must have been distracting for her, but she kept going. Maybe she closed her eyes or something.
On my bed, when I had cum in her mouth, it had been purely reflex. The only thing that had been going on was her mouth, sucking my cock. Now, though, with Vlad there, while it felt fantastic, I didn't have the urge to cum. I hadn't actually realized that until he said he wanted to take pictures of it.
"I can't cum!" I gasped.
"Use your hand, Addie," said Vlad softly, from behind the camera. She kept going just like she had been, and he had to try again. "Addison, we want him to shoot, yes? It will help if you stroke him. You can suck more later, sweet one. But for now, let Vlad take pictures of you stroking him. Please?"
She pulled her mouth off of me. She'd been holding my cock with her right hand, but only for the purpose of directing it into her mouth. Now she used that hand to grip the shaft. She squeezed tightly. She looked a little angry. At least her face was red and she was frowning.
"Stroke it," said Vlad.
"I don't know how," she said, through gritted teeth.
"What?" I think we had finally done something to astonish Vlad. A blind man couldn't miss the fact that my mouth was intimately familiar with her pussy, and that she had sucked my cock before this. Apparently we had skipped the early experimentation they did in Russia on a regular basis.
Anyway, eventually he said, " Is not problem. Bobby and I will help you."
And help her we did. Within two minutes she was working my prick like she'd done it a hundred times. And I was reacting the way Vlad wanted me to.
"Now Addie?" he said, putting the camera back into action. "You have tasted him before, yes?"
"Yes," she said, easily. The look of concentration on her face as her hand slicked up and down my cock made me wonder if she'd actually heard the question.
"Can Vlad get shot of handsome cock shooting into Addison's mouth?"
"Yes," she said again, just as vacantly.
"Vlad is pleased," he said.
And he did get one shot of her aiming my spurting penis into her mouth. That was after the first spurt jetted up into the air right in front of her face, and landed on her wrist. Vlad had a motor on his camera and it literally whirred as the cum rocketed out of my cock. The second one was aimed into her mouth, and the last two he couldn't see because she was sucking my cock again.
Vlad would make up for this later. On every subsequent visit he had her masturbate me to completion, and then photographed her getting it in her mouth.
Well ... for two more weeks, anyway.
But I'm getting ahead of things. Let me go on with that night.
When we left, it was the most quiet drive home we'd had, since we met Vlad. She was hard to read, and I was afraid she might have been pushed too far, and was angry. And if that was true, I didn't want to push her more now. We were closer than we'd ever been before, and I was pretty sure I'd find out what she was thinking sooner or later.
When we got home, it was a repeat of the previous time that things had gotten wild. She ignored me while we ate, talking to Dad instead. He always asked us about school. Usually we gave him minimal data, but that night she was a fountain of information. Then we did homework and she was still uncommunicative with me.
The next morning she seemed like her old self, singing with the radio on the way to school and touching my leg when we parked, saying, "See you after school. I love you."
All day I thought about how she was acting. I decided that she was overwhelmed by it all, and like stories of mental patients I had heard about, she had pushed it all into some little compartment in her mind where she was trying to ignore it. If she pretended nothing had happened, then she wouldn't have to deal with it.
That made me think about how I was dealing with it myself. But that was almost embarrassingly easy. I loved it all. I wanted to keep doing it all.
And I wanted more.
Of course the fact that it was easy to look at my own motivations and reactions didn't mean it was easy to justify them. No matter how much Vlad reminded us in his broken accent that incest was normal in Russia, I knew nobody in our town would applaud if they found out what we were doing. For that matter, I doubted anyone would approve of us even posing for pictures. At least the kind we'd been posing for lately.
So I knew I should feel guilty for loving my sister in the way I had recently been loving her. And wanting to keep loving her.
But I didn't. I was wary of getting caught ... oh yes. No doubt about that. But that was only because they'd put me in juvenile hall, or a military school somewhere, or something like that, and I'd never get to see Addie again.
But I didn't want to stop.
By the end of the day I was a wreck, because I had convinced myself that, as much as I didn't want to stop ... Addison would come down on the side of the argument that did. I was so worked up, in fact, that when I was leaning against the car, waiting for her in the parking lot, and I saw her walking with two of her friends, laughing and talking like everything was perfectly normal, that I simultaneously got an erection and started crying.
It was that helpless kind of crying, where a guy doesn't even try to wipe away the tears, because he feels so hopeless that what his peers think of him crying is of no importance. It wasn't sobbing, or anything like that. I didn't even make any noise. But the tears rolled down my cheeks continuously. They even increased when she saw me and left her friends, coming towards me with a beautiful smile on her beautiful face. That smile made my heart sing, but I knew she was going to take it away from me forever.
Of course she saw me crying when she got up close to me. The smile vanished.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"You're going to make us stop ... aren't you." It was a statement, and not a question.
"Stop what?"
"Posing," I pined.
She blinked. "You mean for Vlad?"
"Yes," I sighed, already thinking of my days as a model as the good old days.
"Of course not," she said. "Why would I do that?" She frowned. "Wait! Have you heard something? Has somebody said something to you? Has somebody found out what we're doing?" With each question she got more and more upset.
"No!" I said. "Nobody said anything."
"Then why do you think I'm going to make us stop posing?" She looked around. Other seniors were moving through the parking lot, going to their cars. "Get in the car," she said. "Give me the keys."
"I have to drive it out of the lot," I said. The crying had stopped. She hadn't reacted at all like I had expected her to. I was beginning to realize that I had overreacted in a serious and embarrassing way.
"Well then drive, before somebody sees you crying. What is wrong with you?"
It wasn't until we were well away from school before I was able to explain ... okay, that she got from me through interrogation ... why I had acted the way I had. And trust me, she got it all out of me ... even the part about getting an erection and crying at the same time. I wanted her to know I was confused, not just an idiot.
She sat back in her seat and stared through the windshield.
"See?" I said. "That's what you did the other night. You just sat there and didn't say a word."
She looked over at me.
"Bobby," she said, with exaggerated patience in her voice, "It's supposed to be the girl who is insecure and worried that her boyfriend is going to find some other girl he likes better, or will flake out on her for some reason. You're a big strong guy. Get a grip, Bobby! I love you. You're my brother. Nothing can change that. And now you're something else to me too. We can't change that either. We can't wish it away. I don't want to wish it away! But I still need to think about it all. Why do guys always feel like they have to do something? Why can't they just think about things?"
"That's what I've been doing all day long!" I yelped. "And look where it got me!"
"I changed my mind," she said. "No more thinking for you without my express approval. Now shut up so I can think for both of us."

Chapter Seven

She acted normal for the rest of the evening. We talked a little during homework. Dad wanted to know if we were interested in a board game. We'd played a lot of board games, growing up. It had been good family time. That had faded a bit when we hit our early teens, and we were less willing to cooperate with parents in general. That said, I didn't think it was odd he'd suggest that again, after all these years. It just seemed like something we hadn't done in a while and it seemed fitting to try it again. As I look back on it now, I suspect our father saw something between us that we weren't aware we were broadcasting. I'm not talking about sexual attraction. What I mean is that he saw we liked each other ... that we respected each other ... that we enjoyed being in the same family ... that we were proud of being siblings. A lot of brothers and sisters fight, compete, and hate each other. And we'd gone through a phase like that as puberty kicked in. But that was gone now. And I will forever believe that it was Vlad Zharkov who was responsible for that. He had unlocked something within us that was more important than the things that typically pull siblings apart.

We played The Game of Life, an oldie but a goodie. When I was ten, the joy of the game was going to college while my father did not, and having more money than him. Now, as my sister got twins ... I got an erection under the table.
Dad won the game and crowed about it. His reward, he said, was that we had to put everything away and wash the dishes and clean up the house, while he went to his bedroom to read in peace and fall asleep early.
We were silent, putting the game pieces away. I reached for Addie's pink, plastic car and caressed the round-headed peg occupants with a fingertip.
"I'm jealous," I said.
"Why?" she asked.
"You got married, got it on with some other guy and had twins."
She giggled. "You want to have twins with me? Isn't that taking things a bit too far?"
"Well, no," I admitted. "Not twins. But I've thought of doing ... that. You know, while I masturbate."
"It makes me hot," she said, softly. "I know we can't do it, but it makes me hot to think about it. I've even thought back to when I tried ..." She stopped. I looked at her and her face was red.
"What?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
"Addie!" I warned.
"It's too embarrassing!" she whispered. "Leave me alone."
"Come on, you can't do that. Especially after what you put me through today. Besides, I can't think of anything that would embarrass you. Not after what we've done."
She put the top of the box on the game. "You have to swear you'll never tell a soul," she said.
"I'll add it to the carload of other things I can't talk about with anybody other than you," I said, trying to keep her going.
She looked toward the opening to the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
"Remember that sleepover I went to at Janice's house?"
Janice was the head cheerleader when Addie made the team. She had graduated and was gone now, but they'd had a bunch of sleepovers that were billed as squad-bonding and planning sessions while she was the head cheerleader.
"Which one?" I said.
"The first one," she whispered. "There was an ... initiation."
Let me take a moment here to set the scene. I had a friend named Brad, who moved away when we were in 10th grade. But we kept in touch via email. And recently Brad had sent me a link in an email that went to an article online about this teacher in Tennessee or West Virginia or somewhere around there, who was also the sponsor for the cheerleaders. And she had sleepovers at her house that were billed as "team bonding sessions". But it turned out that what the girls bonded with were the pricks of the football players and the sponsor's husband. They basically had sex parties, and that was how you got initiated into the cheer squad.
So of course, when she asked me if I remembered the sleepovers at Janice's, the first thing I imagined was some football player climbing on top of my sister. I was not pleased at that thought.
"What's wrong?" asked Addison, breaking my train of thought. I told you I wasn't pleased, and she could see that plainly.
"Has anybody had sex with you?" I growled.
She blinked. "Of course not!" she yipped. Then she got it. "You think that happened at Janice's sleepovers?"
I had already jumped to one embarrassingly wrong conclusion that day. Now it was two. But I wasn't going to explain this one.
"I should have known better," I said, trying to mollify her. Apparently it worked.
"Well, there were no boys ... but you were close."
"Close?" I was confused. "How can I be close if there were no boys?"
She blushed again, and bit her lower lip between her front teeth.
"Come on," I said.
She looked at the hallway again, and then back at me.
"Janice had a rule. She insisted that we all follow it, and said that if she found out we didn't, we were off the team."
"How could Janice make a rule like that?" I asked. "She was just a student too."
"Our sponsor ... um ... sort of agreed with it."
I was intrigued. "What was the rule?" I asked.
Addie got even redder in the face. "Toys, not boys."
"What?" My brow furrowed as I tried to make sense of that. I laugh about it now, but when you're a male in your teen years, there's not much available to you that you would think of on a daily basis as a sex toy. So "toy" has a different connotation to a boy than it does a girl. At least it did for me.
"You are so dense," said Addison, seeing my confusion. "Dildos! Vibrators!"
Understanding flooded through me. Understanding was hot, at least it was as it reached my face. I realized I was blushing at the same time I realized the blood that rushed to my penis had a different effect.
"You used ... one of those?" I whispered.
She looked away. "We all had to." Then she looked back at me. "Actually, if you used tampons you had to. If you used pads and still had your hymen they didn't make you do that. But they had to watch while the rest of us did it."
"You're shitting me!" I gasped. "I can't believe it." I frowned. "You'd think it would have leaked out somehow."
"Everybody there knew that if it did, people would probably go to jail and the whole world would know that you either stuck one in you or watched half a dozen other girls do that. You think any girl is going to blab and put herself in that position?"
"Do you still have it?" I asked.
"You mean the one I used?" she asked, her eyes widening.
"Yeah," I said.
"Why would you ask me that?"
"Can I see it?"
She took a deep breath. Then she let it out slowly. "No, you may not see it. The one I used belonged to Jessica Freemont. There were arrangements where we could get our own, but I decided not to do that. You are a pig ... do you know that?"
"Pig? Why am I a pig?"
"Because you paid no attention to the fact that when all that happened I was embarrassed almost to death. All you can think about is getting to see something I've stuck inside my pussy." Her last word came out as a hiss.
She was really mad, and that bothered me. In the past, I probably wouldn't have cared. In the past, if she was mad it was her problem, not mine. But I felt differently about that now. I don't want you to get the impression that I only cared because if she was mad the sexual activity I had so lately enjoyed might get cut off. I didn't think about that at all. I had hurt her feelings, and that was what made me feel bad.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I had an extra helping of stupid at breakfast this morning. I was just curious, that's all. I can't imagine you doing something like that back then."
"I couldn't either," she said, relaxing a little. "It was bizarre. Several of the girls freaked out about it. But by the time the night was over, everybody understood. They weren't trying to get us to do anything. It was the opposite. They were trying to make sure that we didn't do something stupid."
"So you did it," I said, softly. "You put one inside you."
The smallest one there," she said. "That's why I chose Jessica's. It was only a little bigger than my finger and it still stretched me. That's why, when I saw your beautiful, sexy penis I was sure it was huge, because it's lots bigger than Jessica's dildo. It actually convinced me that waiting for the real thing ... not being in a hurry to lose my virginity, I mean ... was a good idea.
"Toys, not boys," I said. "I get it."
"It's a good policy," she said.
"Please don't tell me we're breaking up." Based on our conversation before we got home, I wasn't worried about that. I was just making a little joke.
"We're not going together," she said. "You're my brother. Sometimes that pains me."
"I was kidding."
"I wasn't."
"Are you mad at me?" We'd been getting along pretty well, but now she was sniping at me.
She picked up the game and sighed.
"No. Not really. I just feel all jittery inside."
"Why do you think that is?" I asked.
She went and put the game box on top of some others on the top shelf. Then she turned and looked at me.
"Maybe it was you being jealous of me having twins. I'm going to bed now."
And with that she left the kitchen and went to her room.
One of the benefits of working for Vlad, at least recently, was that I had a lot fewer urges to jack off at home. When you get your balls drained two or three times in two hours, that pretty much satisfies you for the day.
So I had no urge to beat my meat that night. Instead, I tried to get a little further in Ford County Stories. I had gotten settled and read exactly two paragraphs when Addison opened my door and slipped into my room. Again, she was wearing a T shirt, and her long legs were delightfully on display.
"I figured out why I'm so jittery," she said.
"You want to talk about it?" I asked.
"Not really," she said.
"But you're here anyway," I replied.
"I want to do something about it," she said.
"What do you want to do?"
"Get in bed with you."
The front of my shorts swelled outward. Her eyes watched.
"Naked," she added in a whisper.
That pretty much completed the transition. I noticed the nipples under her T shirt had erected right along with my penis.
For an answer, I simply pushed my shorts off and tossed them on the floor. I lay there with my cock almost lying on my stomach.
"Under the covers," she said, pulling off her T shirt to reveal she was gloriously naked.
I got up, turned down the covers, and got back in. She followed and pressed her front to my left side. Her breasts were so hot I was surprised. I worked my left arm under her and she snuggled against me, lying her head on my shoulder.
"This is nice," she whispered.
"It is," I agreed. "You don't actually feel jittery."
"I am inside," she said.
"Because of what you want to do," I prompted.
"Yes. Actually, we've already done it once ... at Vlad's."
I thought back to all the things we'd done at Vlad's. We'd done all of them at home already. Except, as it turned out, one thing I hadn't thought about.
She crawled up on top of me and then moved on over to my right side. I didn't understand, because while it was delightful to have her wiggle across my body, she ended up in basically the same position as she had been. But she got me to turn toward her so I was on my right side.
Then she lifted her right leg and draped it over my hip while reaching for my penis. She wiggled around some more and I finally got it.
She pushed the tip of my prick between her pussy lips, and then rubbed her clit with it.
She had changed sides because she was right handed, and could only get the kind of control she wanted by using that hand. Once she got things going, she whispered, "Kiss me,"and we snogged away while she happily diddled herself with the tip of my cock.
There were a couple of problems with this new game of hers. While Vlad had, indeed, pressed the tip of my prick between her flowering inner labia, he had done so only to take some pictures. He had not done what she was now doing. And it was really different. I had a hazy memory of how hot she had felt on the tip of my cock, but Vlad had kept telling us to keep still. And as much fun as that had been, it was way different without Vlad clicking away right next to us.
Then there was the fact that, as she tried to rub her clit off with my penis, she dipped it into her opening a lot deeper than Vlad had. A couple of times it felt like the whole head went in, but she was moving it so energetically, it was hard to tell.
Her kisses got more and more energetic too, until we were basically eating each other's tongue and moaning into each other's mouths.
I think we'd have been fine if she'd have just had fun rubbing. But she was so excited that she had an orgasm. I didn't realize it until she mumbled into my lips, "Oh fuck, Bobby, I love you so much!"
The other problem was that, as she jerked my cock around, rubbing herself to orgasm, she basically jerked me off. It surprised me when I realized I was going to cum any second. Then she said what she said, and added, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, it's going to happen, Bobby!"
That was when it registered she was about to cum. About the time my first shot rocketed down the middle of my penis, It also registered that our upper bodies were crushing the only pillow within arm's length, and that I'd never get it out from under us on time. So I used my hands to grab her head and pull her lips against mine as my prick delivered two or three more healthy spurts. I didn't mean to be as brutal as I was, but besides being in the middle of spurting, I knew that if she went off like she had before, our father would be in there within seconds, wanting to know who had been murdered.
The result was that she grunted and groaned and said, "Owwww," into my mouth as she kissed me and snorted through her nose and squeezed the living shit out of my manhood.
I have to say, here, that while it was fun, it hurt too much to want to do it again the exact same way. Not only did I bruise her lips, I smashed mine too. Plus it felt like she'd tried to lengthen my penis by a foot ... by pulling it away from my body. At the same time, there were all those endorphins from having cum.
I could only hope that the amateur quality of our performance would improve with time and perhaps more careful practice.
Addie, on the other hand, had enjoyed it more than I had. I deduced this when she rolled away from me and flopped her arm down on the bed, saying, "That was fucking awesome!" Her hand went toward her pussy under the covers. "You made a mess!" she chided me. She pulled her hand from under the covers and her first two fingers were drenched with my milky white sperm. She shoved them in her mouth and cleaned them, smacking her lips. "Yup," she said. "That's you."
I whipped the covers back and found a disaster. Her bare mons and pussy lips were coated with my cum. She'd rubbed the tip of my spurting cock right in her pussy mouth. But a lot of it had gone on her thighs too, and run down onto the bed. There was a big wet spot between us. As I got up on my knees and looked at her sperm-soaked pussy lips, I could see it dripping down and making another set spot right under her pussy.
"Don't move!" I whispered, imagining her getting up and dripping spunk all over the floor.
"I'm not going anywhere," she panted, tiredly. "I don't want to move. I just want to go to sleep right here."
"Well you can't," I hissed. "I have to clean you up, and then you have to go back to your room. If Dad came in here right now, he'd think I fucked you!"
"We can't do that," she said, dreamily. "I'd like to, but that's too much."
I stopped, frozen as I heard my sister say she wished I could fuck her. But there was too much to do to let that throw me. Every passing second presented more opportunity for something to go wrong.
The sheets had to get into the laundry, with the water going, before Dad could see them. Obviously that wasn't going to happen that night. I had one other set of sheets, the ones I'd normally put on as soon as I stripped off the old ones on wash day. But wash day was Saturday, and today was Monday. I looked at the top sheet, and saw that it was cum-smeared where it had been on her abdomen. I pulled it off the bed and to use to wipe off her body.
By the time I had it ready, and looked at Addie, she was masturbating slowly with two fingers, circling her clit with her legs cocked apart and her knees bent.
"Your stuff is slippery," she sighed. "It makes it so easy to do this." I saw her dip her middle finger into her pussy and pull up. It must have brought intense pressure on her clit. She wagged that finger back and forth. "Mmmmm, that feels so good!" she moaned.
"Do that later!" I whispered. "We need to clean you up!"
"I know," she said. She stopped, sucked her fingers clean again, and reached for the sheet. She cleaned everything she could see easily, and then stood up. I used another part of the sheet to wipe her inner thighs clean. I dabbed at her pussy, which looked flushed and dark.
I pulled off the bottom sheet and balled both soiled sheets up. I turned, trying to figure out where I was going to hide them, and saw that Addie had gotten the clean sheets out. I got down on my knees and pushed the old sheets under the bed, and then got up and helped her get the fitted sheet over the corners of the mattress. The rest of it went quickly.
Finally, she put her T shirt back on. I got my shorts and pulled them on.
"That was a nightmare," I sighed.
"No it wasn't," she said. "That was awesome. We just have to figure out how to do it without making such a mess."
"Those are my last set of clean sheets," I reminded her.
"Not tonight, silly!" she giggled. She came over and hugged me, rubbing her breasts against my chest. "I love you," she said, softly. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I said. "You're going to get us caught if you keep doing stuff like this."
"You worry too much. Daddy never comes down to this end of the hall."
"All it will take is once," I said, sliding my hands over her back. "Just once, he catches us naked, and it's off to military school for me and boarding school for you."
"They'd never do that," she scoffed. "It would be too expensive."
"Well, I'm not willing to find out," I said. "From now on, we agree on what we're going to do and when and where we're going to do it."
"Not at Vlad's," she said, immediately. "I don't like that he watches us do things."
"Addie," I said, softly, "he's the reason we do things! I shouldn't have to remind you we never did any of this stuff until we met him."
"That's because we were stupid," she said. "If we'd have known then what we know now, we would have started doing things a long time ago."
"You're insane," I said. "Go to bed."
"Okay. Thank you." She kissed me. It was a nice kiss.
I felt my cock try to stiffen, and then give up with a sigh.
The next morning, when I got to the kitchen, it was just me and Dad. I got a bowl and dumped Raisin Bran in it, along with some milk and sugar. I was chomping away when Addie sailed in, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She ignored us both and opened the fridge. She bent over at the waist to peer inside and reached to pull out a hard-boiled egg. I felt my groin tighten as her tight, round ass was showcased in the process.
She went to the sink and started cracking and peeling the egg.
"Daddy?" she said. "Did you put baking soda in the water when you boiled these eggs?"
"Huh?" he asked, looking up from his morning paper. "Why would I do that?"
"Because it makes them easy to peel," she said. "I'm tearing this one up trying to get the shell off."
"Where'd you learn that?" he asked.
"From my mother?" she said, sounding disgusted. "The woman you've been married to for eighteen years?"
"Oh," he said, "she must not have told me."
"I'll get something at school," she said, handing our father the mostly destroyed egg. She looked at me. "Come on."
"I'm eating!" I said around a mouthful of milky Raisin Bran.
"Well hurry up."
"You know," said Dad, "In some families, brothers and sisters love each other, and try to cooperate with each other for the common good. You two could use a little work in that area. Though, I do have to admit I've seen some improvement since you started working together."
"We love each other," said Addison, her face straight. "You know that."
"Well then act like it," he said. He was in the process of using his coffee spoon to scoop the egg out of what was left of the shell. It was messy.
"I will if he will," she said.
"Likewise," I said, getting up to put my bowl in the sink.
When we got to the car and got in, Addie looked over at me and said, "I checked out your room this morning. I opened the window. You have to get those sheets into the wash tonight."
"And what do I tell dad about why there's a window open in my room in the middle of winter and that I'm washing sheets in the middle of the week?"
"Tell him you spilled a soda on them."
"I don't want to start lying to our parents, Addie."
"Then spill a Coke on your sheets before you put them in the washer," she said, smugly.
"Okay," I sighed, and put the Bug in gear.
School can be a pain in the ass when you spend the whole day trying to remember what it felt like for the tip of your cock to press into your sister's pussy. People keep interrupting you, asking questions, telling you what to do, trying to make you learn things.
But I got through the day. I was sitting in the car when Addison sauntered up and got in.
"Hurry up," she said. "Take the long way home."
"What long way?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said. "Just take a while to get home. And don't drive through the middle of town."
"What's going on?" I asked, putting the Bug in motion.
"I'm going to suck your cock while you drive us home," she said, giggling.
"You're crazy," I said.
"I'm horny," she corrected. "I can't get it out of my head how good it felt when you shot off on me last night. It was so warm and slippery and yummy. I can't wait to do it again. But it's too long to wait until tonight. So I need something to hold me over until then."
"I'll wreck the car," I said. I looked down at my lap. I was pretty sure her head wouldn't fit in the available space.
"Then take me somewhere I can suck your dick."
If you're not a guy, you have no concept of what hearing something like that will do to a man.
I ended up driving to the library. When I'd checked out Ford County Stories I'd had to pee, so I went to the bathroom. The bathrooms were between the two halves of the building. One half was where the book stacks were, and the other half contained reading rooms, and an auditorium and an area where they read stories to kids on Saturdays. Unless something was going on in that part of the building, they turned all the lights off. It was Tuesday, and I didn't think there'd be anything going on.
There wasn't, as it turned out. Addie called Dad and told him where we were, and that we'd be a little late getting home. She asked him if he needed us to pick anything up on the way home, when we were finished at the library. She sounded so normal I almost expected her to go look at books.
She didn't, of course. She peered into the darkened part of the library and said, "Come on."
I looked around, to see if anybody was watching us. Nobody was, so I followed her. I thought we should go to a reading room, but Addie went to the doors that went into the auditorium and slipped inside. When I followed, the only light was what came from the exit signs above the door we'd just come in through.
"Perfect," she whispered.
She pushed me up against the wall and fell to her knees. Her nimble fingers got my zipper down and my belt undone. Tenderly, she pulled my cock and balls out of my jeans. I felt her hand fondle my balls, gently.
"I never paid any attention to these before," she said, holding my soft penis off to one side. She leaned forward to kiss their hairy surface. "I love you, pretty balls," she said, softly. "Thank you for making all that yummy cum for me." Then she turned her attention to my cock. It occurred to me that she'd never handled it when it wasn't hard, and wondered what she thought of the shrunken, limp thing now.
I found out when she sucked the entire thing into her mouth and basically chewed on it.
I became erect slowly. I think the danger excited Addison, but it wasn't the same for me. I wasn't so much worried that someone would come in the door, three feet away from us, as that someone might turn on the lights, in preparation for play practice, or a musical dress rehearsal or something like that. There we would be, standing at the back of the auditorium. We'd have our shit in order quickly, but the obvious question would be, "Want to tell me why you were standing there in the dark ... at the back of an empty theater?"
But once it was hard enough she could jack on it, lust replaced anxiety. She took her time, because she loved sucking me. But maybe six or seven minutes after she got it nice and hard, and had sucked it like she meant it, she started talking dirty to me.
"You gonna shoot for me, Bobby?" she whispered. "You gonna shoot your stuff in my mouth?" She kept that up, saying, among other things, that she loved the taste of my cum, and couldn't wait to get a mouthful. And when a girl says those kinds of things to you, while she's stroking your cock and sucking it at the same time, it's not all that hard to give her what she wants.
She got her mouthful, and she went, "Mmmmmmmm, thank you," after she swallowed it.
Then, quite calmly, she said "Get straightened up. We need to get home."
Next thing I knew I was the only one standing there in the dark in an empty theater.

Chapter Eight

I knew something was up when, after her homework was done, Addie took one of the extra kitchen chairs and said, "I'm taking this to my room. I have to do some new stretching exercises, and I need to use the chair to put my leg up on, okay?"
"Fine," said Dad, who was cutting up a roast he'd put in the crock pot that morning.
She picked it up and took it to her room. Maybe ten minutes later she came out and started setting the table, working around me, since I wasn't finished yet.
"What's going on?" I whispered.
"You'll see," she said. "Hurry up."
How do you "hurry up" homework? The only way I know is to pretend you're finished, but that comes back to bite you. The person who figures out how to hurry up homework and still absorb the information will be a zillionaire in about a minute, even if all he charges for it is a week's lunch money.
As it turned out, Mr. Sayer's assignment to "Read two more chapters, and be ready to discuss the ramifications of mobility issues during the American Civil War," actually only translated into twenty pages in our history text book, and when she whispered in my ear I had already read sixteen of them. So, in the end, I did get finished quickly.
We had supper, and Dad mentioned how we hadn't watched any Dr. Who for a while, at which point Addie said we should watch a couple of episodes. Dad said only one, and they argued about that for a while. And while they did that, I just sort of stared at my sister, because suddenly, she was two girls.
Imagine if Superboy was real, and everybody saw him fly around, and then, one day, you saw him fly into the back of the house next door, and you found out that Charlie, next door, was actually Superboy. You've known him all your life, and joked around with him, and argued with him and called him crazy and climbed trees with him and all that kind of thing. And then, suddenly you find out he has this whole other identity.
That's how I felt as I watched Addison argue with my father about how many episodes of Dr. Who we were going to watch on Netflix. She was still just Addison, my sister, the girl I'd known all my life. But she was also this beautiful, sexy, passionate girl who could make my penis get rock hard just by whispering in my ear, or reaching from her side of the car to touch my leg. In fact, as I thought about all this ... I got a boner.
They settled on one episode, which will come as no surprise to any parents out there, and they got up to start getting the dishes in the dishwasher. I was expected to help them, of course, but I had this minor problem shoving the front of my pants into a tent. So while their backs were turned, I jumped up and hurried out, calling out that I was going to get the Neo box booted up and the next episode ready to stream.
Addison, of course, complained that she was being left to do all the drudgery.
My erection was under control by the time they came in.
That lasted only as long as it took Addie to sit in the middle of the couch and pat the leather on both sides of her.
"I want to sit between my two favorite men," she said, tossing her golden locks. "Who knows what terrors will be exposed tonight, and I may need to cling to the arm of a big, strong man."
Dad stood there, looking at her. "Addison? Do we allow you to date?"
She laughed. "Of course you do, Daddy. You know that. When I turned sixteen you and Mom said I could go on two dates a month."
"One date every six months," he said, folding his arms across his chest.
Of course she all but exploded. "What? Why? That's not fair!"
"Because the little display you just provided convinces me that no mere human male could possibly resist your charms. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I am aware that girls your age have discovered that passion resides within them. As your father, it is my duty to insist this passion be contained, and to prevent it from being encouraged by some lust-maddened boy on a date. Thus, I must insist that dates be kept to the absolute minimum, lest I discover some hanky panky has taken place and be forced to hunt down and maim the misbegotten youth who engaged in it with you."
Dad was like that. He could launch into a little diatribe like that in the blink of an eye. It was like he practiced them or something, and was just waiting for a chance to drop one on us.
But Addie was used to it. She didn't blink an eye.
"Be careful what you wish for, father. If I bottle all that passion up inside me, I may explode some day, and destroy the whole city."
"There's that much passion in there?" he asked, scratching his head and looking at her askance.
She patted the seat beside her again. "Sit down. All the blood must be pooling in your poor, old, wrinkled up feet, because your brain is being starved of oxygen if you think I'm only going on one date every six months."
He turned and plopped down hard enough to make her body jump a bit.
"I know," he sighed. "I just can't get used to the idea that you're not my little girl in pigtails any more. You're a model, for pity's sake. How's that going, by the way? You used to tell me all about it, but the last couple of times you guys have come home and haven't said a word."
"Oh, you know," she said, dropping a hand on his thigh. "After a while it's not so exciting anymore."
"Welcome to the work world," said Dad.
Addie looked up at me and patted the empty seat beside her. I knew that as soon as I sat down, she was going to put her other hand on my thigh.
The only reason I didn't sit down with a boner already, was because I kept wondering if she was causing one in our father too.
Dr. Who was over. The Dalegs, or however you spell that, had appeared yet again, to conquer the universe, even though they'd been banished twice before. Between the Dalegs and the Cyber Men, the producers of that show got a lot of mileage out of their props. But then again, that was part of the charm of the show. They looked like the kind of props that would be in a B or C class movie. You know ... the kind that come on at one in the morning. I mean one of the weapons the Dalegs had was really just a toilet plunger. Or at least that's what it looked like. But the writing was incredible, and the acting was world class. And that was what made it fun to watch. At least fun to watch when your sister wasn't sitting beside you encouraging your pent up passion to be released.
Addie left her hand on my thigh for most of the show. She stroked her thumb over the fabric of my pants just once, but that was all it took for me to be constantly aware that her hand was there, and that she was obviously in the mood to release some passion of her own later.
As Dad punched the off button, we stood up.
"It's bed for me," he said.
"Me too," said Addison.
"I guess I'm not going to wander around out here alone," I said.
We walked to the hallway together, and then split, Addie and I going one way, and Dad the other. Addie leaned over and whispered in my ear.
"Come to my room in twenty minutes."
Have you ever tried to concentrate on reading a library book while you had a raging boner, and were resisting stroking the thing?
It's an exercise in futility. Let me tell you that.
I still had the erection when I slipped on my robe and opened my door to peer down the hallway. It was dark. I walked across the hall and almost knocked. It was ingrained. But I didn't want to make any noise, so I just turned the knob and went in.
She was lying on her bed, stark naked, masturbating. Of course. I couldn't do that ... but she could. Girls have such an advantage!
When I arrived, she happened to have two fingers deep inside her, and was sliding them in and out slowly. It shocked me, because while had seen her slip one finger in there, I'd never seen anything really go deep inside her. I had imagined pushing my rampant prick in there, but that was just fantasy. Actually seeing two fingers deep in her made it clear that ... well ... my prick would fit in that small, dark, tight hole. I liken it to the difference in seeing a rocket sitting on the launch pad, knowing it can blossom fire and shoot upwards into space, and actually seeing it blossom fire and shoot up into space.
It causes something to kind of move around in your chest.
The tip of her tongue was protruding from her lips, like she was concentrating on trying to remember something.
"About time," she panted. "I was thinking of finishing without you."
"Let's not be rash," I said. I opened my robe to show her my bone.
She pulled her fingers out of her pussy and sat up, swinging her legs off the side of the bed.
"Sit there," she said, pointing one lacquered (fake) fingernail at the kitchen chair I hadn't even noticed sitting a few feet away from her bed.
"I could help you with what you were doing," I suggested, wagging my tongue at her.
"Another time," she said, standing up. "Sit! I'm very horny right now."
I didn't understand how me sitting in the chair was going to help her with her problem, but I moved to the chair and started to sit down.
"Without the robe," she sighed, as if I were some kind of feeble-minded idiot.
I shrugged it off and, imagining how cold that wood might feel against my naked butt and back, draped it over the chair. I sat.
She walked over and straddled my legs, sitting gently on my thighs.
At first, she just sat there, running her hands over my chest and shoulders.
"You have such a beautiful chest," she said, softly.
"Yours isn't so bad either," I said, staring at her breasts. Her nipples were thick and hard.
She offered me one, arching her back, and I sucked at it happily. She shuddered, and scooted up, reaching for my cock.
I got it then. In this position, it was easy for her to diddle herself with the tip of my penis, masturbating like she had when we lay in bed.
"I love this," she moaned.
I did too, but my mouth was full of nipple, so I didn't say anything. I did swirl my tongue around the nipple and then give it a little extra hard suck, though.
She pulled back and made me switch nipples. My hands went to her hips. To this day, I still don't know why I put them there, but I did, and that proved to be kind of important. That's because after letting me love both her nipples for a while, during which she rubbed the shit out of her clit with the tip of my cock, she started kissing me and had an orgasm.
And right in the middle of that orgasm, something inside me demanded more and I pulled with my hands ... hard enough, and at just the right time, to pull her towards me just enough that the head of my penis just sort of popped inside her.
Understand that this wasn't an intentional kind of decision. It was more like instinct. So I wasn't expecting it any more than she was. Or wasn't. You know what I mean. The point is that, once it happened, I didn't know what would happen next. The obvious expectation would have been for her to get upset. Thinking back on it, that's the kind of thing I would have thought she was conditioned to do. But this begs the question, in terms of assuming we were thinking normally. Which, of course, we were not.
She did not object vociferously. She did stop kissing me, and leaned back. She did look down, at where her hand was still wrapped firmly around my penis. I did too. It looked funny, because it looked like she was using her hand to prevent me from getting any further inside her. We both knew that an inch or two of my manhood had been protruding from her hand, which she had been using to rub all over her sex. And we both knew that inch or two was now inside her.
"It's inside me," she panted.
"Yeah," I said. What else was I supposed to say? That I was sorry? The problem there was that I wasn't. I knew I should be ... but I wasn't. Should I have offered to push her off of it? I knew I should do that ... but I had no interest whatsoever in doing so. So I just agreed with her.
And then she calmly removed her hand from my cock, put both hands on my shoulders ... and hunched forward to gobble up the rest of my throbbing prick.
I read somewhere that it is completely normal for the teenaged male to suffer premature ejaculation, and that it happens to over ninety percent of them.
Turns out I'm completely normal.
Of course "normal" as defined by human beings (primarily women, since they are the ones who actually suffer from premature ejaculation) is quite different than "normal" as defined by Mother Nature. Her intent is simply to get the sperm into the vaginal channel, so it can swim happily upstream to find an egg.
Thankfully, the teenage male has capabilities that (sometimes) overcome the female's objection to the usual result of premature ejaculation. And whatever good old Mom Nature gave us, I stayed happily stiff as my balls did their thing and pumped however many ounces is normal of my semen into my sister's scorching hot depths.
I don't know if she felt it, or was just excited to be doing what we were suddenly doing, but she started writhing against me, and humping her hips and crushed my body to hers, while she again kissed me.
Dad was right. There is a ton of passion locked up in a girl her age, and it all came flooding out. I say flooding, because suddenly there were all these wet, squelching, liquid sounds coming from where we were joined.
And it felt good. I won't deny that. But something happened to me that took it way beyond just "feeling good." I wanted more movement, or more feeling or whatever it was that just wasn't there. Since then I've learned that when you spunk in a pussy and keep fucking it, things are too slippery and you have to keep going until you either pack all that spunk into her womb or froth it out around her pussy lips so that there is more feeling. But at that point in time I was just a male who wanted more than was going on in that position.
Which is why I stood up, crushing her body to mine, and walked over to flop down on top of her on her bed. We landed on her bottom, in a leaning back kind of position, with our legs off the bed. My toes found purchase on the floor and, suddenly, I found what I wanted - the ability to pound her with long strokes of my cock.
It wasn't the most comfortable position for me, because I was holding up all my weight on my toes and stiff arms, sort of in a leaning pushup position. But I could hump the crap out of her, which is what I wanted to do just then, so I ignored the pain that built up in my arms.
I was lucky, because that position was completely comfortable for her. Her upper torso was lying flat on the bed. Her butt was perched on the edge of the mattress, and her heels supported her legs on the floor. If anything, it made her mons jut out, so that every time I slammed against her I crushed her clit. Plus, to be perfectly honest, I think she just got off at being manhandled. It would turn out she liked rough sex, not every time, but sometimes. And because of that, she had another orgasm right on top of the one she was recovering from. And learning she could have multiple orgasms, that close together, was something that would be very important later on. After all, if a girl can't have an orgasm, how interested in sex is she likely to be?
Anyway, I admit I went a little crazy. At least until I had another of my own orgasms. That one wasn't quite as much fun as the first one, because my body hadn't had time to refill the reservoir that holds the semen that gets squirted out. I got half of a good squirt, but then there was this sweet agonizing pain as I had what I later learned is called a "dry" ejaculation. Don't get me wrong. It was fantastic. But it also hurt. Which is confusing, but helps me understand just a teensy little bit about all that BDSM stuff you hear about. Well, I don't understand it, but it doesn't seem completely stupid any more. Or something.
In any case, I had this painful, happy, agonizing, incredibly sweet orgasm and dribbled a few more sperms into her and then collapsed, rolling off of her instinctively, but then ending up sitting on the floor with my back against her bed. She didn't move. Her leg was right beside me, with the foot flat on the floor. She gave out a long sigh.
"Shiiiiiit, Bobby!"
I didn't answer. I was panting too hard to talk.
"That was crazy!" she said, panting herself. "Let's do it again!"
I managed a groan. The thought made my balls ache.
Eventually, though, we caught our breath. I levered myself up, feeling suddenly like I was an old man or something. When I stood up, I looked at Addie, who was lying there, arms thrown wide, breasts still rising and falling two or three inches. Her legs were still spread, her heels on the floor. And her pussy was overflowing with creamy, milky jism.
I had creamed inside my sister.
I know I should have felt bad about that. But for some reason I still don't understand, all I wanted to do when I looked at that ... was put even more inside her. Maybe it's a product of the fact that the human brain doesn't fully mature until you're in your early twenties, and you just physically can't think as rationally as you'll be able to later. Maybe that's why so many teens make babies before they should. At least before our culture thinks they should.
But I wasn't thinking about making babies. All I could think about was how fantastic that had been and, like Addison, how soon I wanted to do it again.
Still, we both had been conditioned to know that what we had just done was wrong, meaning that nobody except the two of us would approve of it.
"I'm sorry," I said, assuming for some reason that it was all my fault.
"I'm not," she said. "I should be, but I'm not."
"Are you okay?" I asked. Don't ask me what I thought might be "wrong" with her, except that I had been pretty violent.
"I feel fantastic," she sighed. "I can't believe it fit in me so easily!" She sat up. White cream welled out of her pussy and dripped all over the edge of her bed.
"Where are your clean sheets?" I asked, thinking about how we still hadn't washed the ones we'd soiled in my room.
"Never mind that," she said. "I can't believe Daddy isn't already in here asking what the hell is going on. You better leave."
I was rattled enough that I did exactly that. I put my robe on and went to her door.
"Bobby?" she called, in a strident whisper.
I turned to look at her. I wanted to take my robe back off and go lie on top of her again.
"I'm really not sorry."
"Okay," I said.
I turned and left before the urge to drop my robe again overcame me.
As strange as it might sound, I wanted to jack off when I got back to my room. Some of that was probably because I didn't find Dad in the hallway, on his way to investigate the sounds we had (probably) made. I don't know. But despite the urge to do that, I didn't try. My cock had fired off twice in a ten minute period, and it was actually a little sore.
But I was too excited to just go to bed. I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate on reading either.
So I cleaned my room.
I ended up staying up pretty late. I paid for that the next morning when Addie came to get me up. She was already dressed. She'd gone to the kitchen for breakfast and when I didn't show up, volunteered to come see why. She opened the door and yelled, "Hey. Get up. You overslept. Get a move on. We have to go!"
I threw on some clothes and stumbled out to the kitchen, where Dad looked up from his paper and asked, "You okay?" I said I was, and went to get a bowl from the cupboard. Addison said, "Hurry up. I'm not going to get a tardy because you're too lazy to get up on time."
In other words, she acted like my sister, instead of my lover, which was smart, but something I'm still amazed she was so capable of doing.
She acted like my sister for the rest of the day. And night. Nothing happened that night. Except that I finally figured out she wasn't coming to my room. And, since she hadn't invited me to hers, I stayed in mine and jacked off. It was good, but not like doing it in her. No contest.
She acted like my sister the next morning too, and all day at school. For that matter, she didn't show her passion on the way to Vlad's after school. Which is why, when we got there, I was completely unprepared when she went to stand in front of Vlad and ask him what she asked him.
"Vlad? Would we get paid more for the naked shots if he actually put it in me?"
I was astonished. And that's probably why I missed the fact that Vlad was not astonished.
"But of course," he said, easily. "That is where the really big money is."
"That's what you do with the others ... isn't it?" she asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question.
"Addison, my sweet," he said. "I cannot discuss what the others do. Just as I could not discuss with anyone what you and your brother do."
"How much more?" she asked.
"Enough that you might have problems hiding it from your parents," he said, calmly. "Do they have access to your banking records?"
"I think I still have a Christmas account," she said. "I haven't thought about that for years."
"It would be enough to fund your college education," he said. "Can you put that much in the bank without someone asking questions?"
"Are you saying you want us to do that?" she asked.
"Of course," he said, suddenly willing to admit he was much more than a simple advertising photographer.
"Can you keep paying us in cash?" she asked.
"Of course," he said.
"And you swear nobody in this country will ever see the pictures?"
"Of course," he said again.
I know what you're thinking. But we were kids. And we weren't used to adults just flat lying to our faces.
Which is how I ended up fucking Addison in seven or eight poses while Vlad documented it all in crisp, digital images. He paid us both a thousand dollars in cash before we even started, and then, during the shoot, said he'd add another five hundred apiece if we'd let him shoot me spunking her pussy lips.
Were you aware that they have cameras now that will take eight still photographs a second? When the flashes go off, it looks like a strobe light.
Know what I learned that night? I learned that when you have sex for the purposes of creating porn photos, it isn't all that sexy. Before this, he had put us in position, and then just photographed what happened. But the sucking of nipples, the licking of pussy lips, and the oral lovemaking a woman does to a penis call for relatively languid activity. When you move on to intercourse, slow isn't what the body wants to do.
But slow is what the camera (pornographer) requires, at least in terms of still photographs. And what that meant was that I got to stick it in Addie a lot ... but then I had to stop and hold the pose, while he framed things the way he wanted them.
Which meant that while I "fucked" her in seven or eight poses ... we didn't actually get to fuck. When we got to what he called the money shot, in fact, I had to jack off to be able to spurt into the pussy lips she was holding open with her fingers.
And that is probably why she came to my room that night, to replay some of those poses without Vlad being there to say, "Hold it there! Don't move!"
I know I'm making this sound like it was seamless, with no difficulties, or emotional upheaval or any of that stuff. And all that was there. But for every thought that we were doing something foolish, there came with it the rock solid feeling that what was done was done, and that what we felt for each other during all this was as real as the air we breathed.
We simply loved each other, which was a good thing. And we fell in love with each other, which was just a fact we couldn't change.
So, all in all, we didn't worry too much about it. Like teenagers do all over the world, we just did what we wanted to do, and tried like crazy not to get caught doing it.
That Thursday night really sealed the deal. We started with her on top. Vlad had had us do that, of course, but he hadn't let her move unless he told her to. Still, in the process of getting on and off me, and rising up and down slowly, intuition told her how much fun this position might be. So she tried that first. And her intuition was right. It took almost no time for her to learn to lean forward, supporting her upper body with her hands on my chest, and wiggle her way to an orgasm.
I have to say that she managed quieter orgasms now. She didn't just gush loudly like she used to. I never asked her about it, but I suspect that was intentional, because later in our lives she was loud plenty of times.
She also liked the position where her ankles were on top of my shoulders, and she was bent in half. She was very flexible, something cheerleading demanded of her. She liked that position because it made me go deeper in her than any other way.
But the one we both liked the best was one we found accidentally. She was on her back, with her legs spread wide, and I was lying on top of her humping her happily, when she got a cramp in her left hip. It was one of those really painful ones that come on really fast, and she whispered that she needed to move her leg. So she swept that leg inward while I lifted my knee, letting her put her legs closer. She wiggled, moaning about the pain, which I sympathized with, but I didn't want to take my penis out of her, so I rocked the other way and lifted my other knee, letting her put her legs completely together.
"That's better," she sighed, as I settled my weight on her hips.
I humped her a couple of times, because it felt good, and she said, "That is better!"
And I agreed, because suddenly she was really tight. She'd always been tight, but this was incredible.
She was so tight, in fact, that within half a minute I groaned, drove in hard, and spewed.
I will not say we were like newlyweds. We would have been, but it was impossible to just hop in bed and make love any time we felt like it.

But we did get together each night and make love. Well ... for another three nights, anyway. Then she got her period, and things came to a screeching halt.

They also came to a screeching halt with Vlad who, when he found out there was a string hanging from Addison's pussy, told us to go on home.

"Can't we model some clothing?" asked Addison.

"I can put you in some more bikinis," he said. "Or winter coats and jackets, if you like, though it is late in the season for that."

"Well, if we just go home Dad will wonder what's up," she said, proving that she was thinking about things.

So we stayed and got twenty dollars an hour instead of hundreds of dollars an hour.



Speaking of her period, this is probably as good a place as any to supply some information you may have noticed was missing. That is, information about our lives other than when we were involved with each other sexually. We did have lives apart from each other. I know it doesn't sound like it, based on what you've read so far, but that's because what we did together was so intense that other things paled by comparison. What I mean is that when something that passionate is going on in your life, you tend not to think about other, more mundane parts of existence. Even just thinking back on it has caused me to leave out many aspects of our lives.

Like dating. We both went on dates. We had to, because people expected us to. I never asked Addison what happened on her dates. I didn't want to know. And she never told me. Even to this day I don't know if she let any of the guys she went out with cop a feel, so that her reputation might seem as normal as other girls. I do know that I pushed the envelope with the girls I went out with. But it wasn't because I was trying to get lucky. I was already lucky. I was only curious about how differently those girls might react to things than Addie did.

And we had extracurricular activities too. She still had cheer practice, and there were games and dances and all the things that are normal for kids in high school. So while what I have described is anything but normal, that wasn't all that defined our lives. There was plenty of normality in our lives, including my sister having PMS and periods.

Addie's periods were regular, in terms of when they came around. I had never thought about that before, because I never knew when they happened before all this happened. And I'm only mentioning it now because it had an effect on how things happened. Besides being regular, they also lasted four or five days, which meant we had two working sessions with Vlad during which we couldn't do the big money shots.

That meant it was Monday again before Addison was prepared to get naked and display her pussy to the world. That was indelicate of me. She only displayed it to me and, once in a while to Vlad.

But after making the kind of money we'd made, and entering into the kind of relationship we now enjoyed, a week was a long time, and that may be why, when we showed up the following Monday ready to get naked, Vlad finally got to where I now suspect he was headed all along. Waiting must have been hard on him too.

When we walked into his studio, I noticed there was a backdrop down which displayed what could only be a house made of candy, like those gingerbread houses you see sometimes around Christmas time. The fake grass was spread out in front of it, along with some farm looking equipment, like a stump with an axe stuck in it, and an old wooden wheelbarrow.

"Kids," he said, "I think you are ready to make some real money ... if you're interested."

Understand, here, that the last time we'd gotten more than twenty bucks an hour, we'd walked away with fifteen hundred bucks in our pockets. Each. And to us, that already was ... real money.

"I thought you were already paying us the most you could," said Addison.

"For still photos, yes," he said.

"What else is there?" she asked.

"Movies," he said, simply. "You do a movie for me, and you earn ten thousand."
Chapter Nine

We both stood there mute for a few seconds, stunned, as it sank in that Vlad had just offered to pay us ten thousand dollars to make a movie.

"Each?" Addison squeaked.

"No, no," he said, waving his hands around. "Five thousand each." He smiled his famous smile. "But we can do many movies. If you become popular, maybe the price will go up."

I noticed that his accent had gotten better, and realized, suddenly, that it had always gotten better when he was talking business and worse when he was trying to get us to do something sexual.

Addison said, "I need to talk to my brother."

Vlad said, "Of course."

She turned to me and pointed to the studio door. She wasn't satisfied with just going out where all the costumes were, on racks. She took me all the way outside where the Bug was parked.

"He wants us to do porn, Bobby!" she gasped.

"What do you think he's been doing?" I asked, a little bit confused.

"He's been taking pictures!" she said.

"Yes, of us naked ... fucking," I said. "That's porn, Addie."

"Okay, I guess so," she said. "But this is different. He wants to make a movie of us doing it!"

"You're right," I said. "That's what he's asking us to do."

"But what should we do?" she asked. "The pictures were scary enough. At least at first. But movies? I don't know, Bobby."

"Come with me," I said. I'd been thinking about his accent, and remembering things he'd said, and trying to remember what accent he'd used when he said them. I had already figured out he was going to try to get us to go as far as we would go. The movie idea freaked me out a little bit too ... but I wasn't surprised.

I took her back into the studio, where Vlad was putting up a fake tree off to one side of the candy house. He turned to look at us and waited for one of us to speak. I took over now.

"How many of these movies have you already made?"

He grinned. "Few dozen."

"And how many have you made with Kerry and Natalie?"

"What?" Addison's voice yipped, high in the soprano register.

Vlad's smile remained on his face, but it was different somehow.

"I not loose with the privacy of my models," he said. His accent was slipping into heavy Russian. That meant he was trying to convince us to do something. "How about I just say there have been other brothers and sisters who enjoy learning about sex together."

"Can we see one of them?" I asked.

"Will you do one for Vlad?" he countered.

I turned to Addie. "If he shows us one of Kerry and Natalie having sex, will you agree to do one?"

"Nat and Kerry?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Or of Jerry and Cindy," I said. "Somebody we know, so we know he's made a movie and we had no clue about it."

Her eyes widened and her lower lip curled in to get bitten by her pearly whites.

"Kerry and Nat," she said. "If they did it ... I'll do it."

I turned to Vlad. He'd heard the conversation. The ball was in his court.

"Vlad does not show these movies in America," he said.

"Can it, Vlad," I said. "I know you only have that accent when you're trying to talk us into something. Those are the terms. And I want Addie to wear a wig when we do it."

"And you swear you'll never tell them I showed you their movie?" he asked, all traces of his accent gone.

"Deal," I said.

Five minutes later we were staring at the big twenty inch monitor, watching as Natalie, playing Little Bo Peep, watched over a bunch of fake sheep while Kerry, with a fake wolf skin on, "snuck up" on her. He was already naked. Not long after he caught her, she was too. They were obviously enjoying each other as we watched his cock slide into her belly like they'd done it a hundred times.

While we watched we learned that Vlad, it seems, specialized in B grade "reenactments" of fairy tales. They were insanely popular with collectors, and priced high enough that the casual purveyor of mass produced porn would scoff at the trailer and leave it alone. The secret - and the primary reason the collectors would pay so much - was that the unofficial word was out that Vlad found real siblings to play the parts.

In other words, Vlad specialized in cheesy authentic incest porn, where the actors were guaranteed to be actually related. He'd done all the classic fairy tales, including ones in which fathers had pretty nubile daughters, and evil stepmothers had sexual interest in their stepdaughters and all that kind of thing. He had the best of all worlds. His overhead was practically non-existent, at least in terms of employees and props. But that obvious low budget look was one of the things that drew the buyer, because he knew he was getting genuine incestuous action for his money, instead of expensive production, and actors who couldn't read. And, apparently, these collectors loved having multiple versions of the same movie, but with different actors.

"You may not tell them I showed you this," he said. "Not unless you agree to perform in a movie with them."

Addie, whose hand had reached for mine while we watched Kerry fuck the shit out of his sister, squeezed mine hard at that point.

"I don't think I could do that in front of them," she said, softly.

"We'll cross that bridge later," said Vlad, confident now that he had us. He was, after all, a professional, and he knew his business. "For now, I have in mind doing Hansel and Gretel with you two. What do you think?"

It was pretty obvious he thought we'd agree, what with the scene already being set up. Then again, if we refused, he could always get Kerry and Natalie to do it.

Addie squeezed my hand again.

"I remember Cindy saying that she and Nat had posed together for you," she said.

Vlad displayed one of the few frowns I ever saw on his face.

"That was indelicate of her," he said. "She was only supposed to get you to pose for regular modeling photos."

"Were those real?" asked my sister.

"Of course," he said. "I make all kinds of money on all kinds of photography. Your pictures will, in fact, appear in various catalogs."

"But Kerry and Nat ... and Cindy and Jerry have ... um ... starred ... in ... um ... movies together?"

"We have a deal, right?" asked Vlad.

"We have a deal," I said. Addie squeezed my hand again, even harder.

"Okay then," he said. "Yes, they have made movies together."

"And did Nat do ... those things ... with Jerry?"

"She did not mind," said Vlad. "Perhaps because Kerry acted in scenes with Cindy as well."

"I won't do that," said my sister. "Only Bobby can do that to me."

"Not a problem," said Vlad. "I can respect that."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Cindy and Kerry aren't really brother and sister. And neither are Natalie and Jerry."

Vlad gave us a blinding grin. "Discriminating collectors do not mind such things as long as there is an actual brother and sister in the movie. In fact, some of my most popular movies start with the sister and her boyfriend, and then brother joins in. I make more than fairy tales. One popular movie is when brother takes sister to prom because parents are too strict to allow her to date. Afterwards, he deflowers her, just like a date would have. Or father takes daughter to prom. That one is very popular too."

"You actually know fathers who do that with their daughter?" asked Addie. "I could never do that with my father!" She frowned. "Is it weird that I like doing things with Bobby, but nobody else?"

"Different strokes for different folks," said Vlad, shrugging. "I take what I can get. When I move to a new town it is always difficult to find new models and get started again. If I find a girl who likes her daddy more than most girls do, then I make that kind of movie."

That last part of his comment would turn out to be quite important later, but I was too busy thinking to give it any special attention just then.

Long story short, when we were out of questions, Vlad finally said, "Okay. So let's get cracking. We've already wasted half an hour of your time tonight. We can still get this puppy in the can, but we need to move right along."



The classic fairy tale of Hansel and Gretel tells the story of two children who are sent into the forest to die by their evil mother, where they happen upon the candy house and the wicked witch. It does not say much about what happened after they shoved the witch into the oven and killed her.

So Vlad took over from there, starting the film with Hansel and Gretel somewhat grown up, and living in the house made of candy, where they were carefree and happy.

The first scene was of me, dressed in high water pants with suspenders but no shirt, pushing a wheelbarrow full of firewood up to the cottage, where Gretel, dressed in peasant clothing, was tending the garden, which was made up of fake plants in clay pots. I told you it was low budget.

First I noticed how, with her on her hands and knees, the short dress she was wearing revealed that she had on no panties. Vlad had already had me lick her until her inner lips bulged outwards, so the camera got a nice picture of a juicy, fuckable pussy below her bare ass.

I informed her of how delicious she looked, and slid a finger in her from behind.

She got up and told me how hot I looked, offering to cool me down by taking a wet rag and rubbing it all over my body. I shrugged off my suspenders, which dropped my pants, exposing my hard cock, which she also "cooled off" with the rag. Then she swallowed my tool and pulled off to announce that no matter how much of the house I ate, my penis still didn't taste sweet. I told her to wait, and we finished that scene with me masturbating and shooting off in her mouth. She looked at the camera and said, "Now that tastes sweet, dear brother."

Then, while I recuperated, we shot a scene in the "woods", which was the fake tree, with a ladder in front of it. Gretel climbed up to pick some apples and Hansel held the ladder steady. Of course he looked up her skirt, and when she came down he ducked his head under her voluminous skirt. She oohed and ahhed and then pulled up her skirt to show me licking her pussy. She ended up sitting on my shoulders with her legs wrapped around my back, having "orgasms" while I ate pussy with the best of them. I have to say, her "orgasms" were really quite good, compared to her real ones. All that practice we'd done had not been just for fun, it seems.

Then there was a scene of us waking up in bed together naked, and four positions of lovemaking there in bed. This time, when I shot, I had to fuck her until I felt it coming, and then pull out. The first shot showed the camera I was really cumming. Then he had me push it back in her so everybody watching the movie knew I was actually cumming in her pussy.

Her line during that was, "You're making a baby in me, Hansel!" I guess nobody was supposed to wonder why we didn't already have several toddlers running around, seeing as how we'd ostensibly been doing this since we were eight or so.

That pretty much did it for that night. Vlad told us he'd clean up, and for us to go on home and act normal. He said we'd finish it up Thursday night.

"You better not be lying about the money for this," said Addison, who had started off very nervous and stiff, and ended happily fucking me with abandon, able to ignore the camera.

"I would not lie to you, sweet Addison," said the man who had corrupted us so thoroughly. "You are going to enable me to keep living in the lifestyle I have come to enjoy. I cannot do that unless I keep my promises to you."



We went home, did our homework while eating supper, and then, after Dad had gone to bed, lay naked in Addison's bed and talked in whispers. You'd have thought that after all the fucking we'd done, neither of us would have been in the mood. You'd have been wrong. She sat on top of me and rocked, slowly, not so much trying to have an orgasm as just enjoying doing it for fun, instead of for the camera. In the end she lay down on me and we rolled over. If we moved too quickly, the bed made noises, so she closed her legs and we tried one of the things Vlad had taught us, and then filmed.

I went in deep and then rotated my hips in little circles. That massaged her clit and made it feel like her pussy was jacking me off.

She had a nice, long, gentle climax, and I pumped a load of sperm into her without making a sound.

I really wanted to stay there that night, but that was too dangerous.

So I padded back to my room and went to bed.



As I said before, there was more going on in our lives other than me getting my stiff cock in her warm pussy as often as possible. Winter break was half over at this time. Christmas was past. That had been difficult, since Mom wasn't there. New Year's Eve was coming up. Both Addie and I were anticipating going to New Year's Eve parties, and both of us had secured dates. We had even decided to take the same people out more than once, because we thought that would make us look normal.

But I have to be honest and say that our sexual relationship was a huge part of our life, which we planned a lot of our life around.

For instance, we did not have sex either Tuesday or Wednesday night of that week. We decided we should probably save it up for the movie. Our mother was a professor at the university, and because of that, our college education was pretty well paid for with legacy scholarships, as long as we kept our GPA above 2.8. But those scholarships only covered tuition and books. We'd still have to have someplace to live, and food to eat and all that. This kind of money would mean we wouldn't have to work while we went to school. So we didn't want to chance me not being able to get hard. That's kind of necessary when you're shooting a porn video, you know? And yes, I admit we had no plan on how we were going to explain where that money came from to our parents. But that was a problem for the long term future. Right now, the immediate future was all we could handle trying to plan.

Thursday night he had us shoot five other scenes. He showed us how he "lied just a little" In other ways. He had this thing that had a tube leading to a bladder. I could hold my hard cock with the tube on the side away from the camera and, with him backed off a bit, could make it look like I was cumming when, in fact, I was not. It wasn't easy, but it was easier than trying to cum five times in one two hour session.

Why he didn't just have us do fewer scenes over a longer period of time, was answered when, at the end of the session he asked us to help him pack away Hansel and Gretel and help him set up Sleeping Beauty. Apparently Kerry and Nat were going to do Sleeping Beauty. Somehow they were able to spend all day Saturday with him, and he planned on shooting that movie that day and then starting us on Rapunzel Monday.

He shot his entire repertoire with all his actors, which meant there were who knows how many copies of Hansel and Gretel already out there, with other brothers and sisters playing the parts. Like I said, that was part of collecting. Each collector had his favorite actors. So while he was working through his list of films with them, he was also working through it with us.

That night I guess Addie had had enough. She did come to my room, but all she did was sit on the side of the bed.

"I wonder what films he does with all of them together," she mused.

"I thought you didn't want to do that," I said.

"I don't. I just wonder, that's all."

"Do you wonder what it would be like to be there, watching them do it?" I asked.

"No," she said, flipping her hair. "Watching them on the computer was more than enough for me."

"You afraid Cindy would show you up?" I teased.

She looked down at me.

"Do you want to see her naked?"

"I'm a guy, Addie. Guys want to see every woman naked."

"Even Mrs. Jacobsen?" Mrs. Jacobsen was our next door neighbor. She was in her seventies.

"Every girl who might be good looking naked," I amended.

"Hmmm," she said. "Weird."

"What?"

"I'm actually jealous."

"You don't need to be jealous," I said. "We're men. We're just wired that way."

"Think about me and Jerry," she said, a gleam in her eye.

She didn't give me a chance to think about it. She lay back on top of my legs and threw her arms wide.

"Ohhhh Jerry," she sighed in a high voice. "You're so big, Jerry. You're so strong, Jerry. Take me now, Jerry!"

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said. "I don't want to see Cindy naked."

"Liar," she snorted, sitting up. She turned and slid her hand inside the leg of my briefs. My cock was soft and she grabbed both it and my balls.

"Remember when I told you that, as my brother, you sometimes pain me?"

I nodded, wondering if she was going to punish me by squeezing my balls.

"Well sometimes, you don't pain me at all. I love you very much, Bobby."

"Thanks," I said. "I love you too, you know."

"I know," she said. Her hand moved until she had only my penis in it. "This is my toy now."

"Your toy?"

"Toys, not boys?" she said.

"Oh, that," I said. "I don't think that's what they had in mind."

"I don't care what they had in mind," she said. "This is the only thing I'm sticking inside me."

"For the foreseeable future," I said.

"I've been thinking about that. We could room together at college," she said.

"Addison, you have to get married some day. Mom will croak if you don't give her grandchildren. Me too, for that matter."

"I know," she said. "And I will, eventually. But he'll have to be awfully special to compete with you."

"Take your hand out of my shorts," I said.

"What? Why?"

"Because I want to kiss you, and I don't want to break your wrist, tear my underwear or crush my balls while I do it," I said.

"Oh," she said.

She pulled her hand out after giving me a little squeeze.

"How come it's not hard?" she asked, lying down to let her lips hover over mine.

"Because you wore it out tonight," I said.

"So it's my fault," she pouted.

"It sure isn't Cindy's," I said, lifting my head to kiss her.

The conversation might have gone on, but just then we heard the distant ringing of the phone on the wall of the dining room.

"I wonder who that could be?" mused Addison. " I better go! It could be for one of us."

The problem was that if Dad got up to answer it, he'd be in the hallway. So I went to the door and looked out. Sure enough, he was hurrying down the hall.

"I got it," he said.

I waved, and then as soon as he turned the corner, I waved Addie through the door. She scurried back to her room.

It was good she did that, because about ten minutes later he came to my door and stuck his head in without knocking.

"Come to your sister's room," he said. "I have something to tell you."

I got up. I was nervous about what this might be. What if Vlad's house had been raided? What if the local police saw the pictures or, worse yet, the movie of us and recognized us? We had, in fact, both worn wigs during the movie, but when we watched the scenes on the monitor I was pretty sure anybody who really knew us would recognize us anyway. I was so nervous that I went to her room still dressed only in my briefs. When I got there, the door was open. Addie was sitting up in her bed. For some reason I looked at where the tips of her breasts pressed against the cloth. They were completely smooth and rounded, as if she had no nipples at all. Dad got right to it.

"Your mother is coming home early. I have to leave tomorrow to go get her."

"What happened? Is she okay?" Addison threw the covers off of her legs and swung them to the side of the bed.

"She's fine," he said. "Their funding got cut off. Something to do with the sequestration."

"But I thought the university was paying for that," I said.

"They were, but some of it must have been covered by matching grants, and I guess that money stopped coming in."

"When is she coming in?" asked Addie.

"Tomorrow morning," he said. "But that's not the problem. The problem is they're bringing back all the material they were going to study over there. I guess the Peruvian government agreed to loan it to them because otherwise it won't get catalogued and identified and so forth. But the only place our government will let them go through customs at is LaGuardia."

"But that's in New York," I said. "That's clear across the country!"

"I know, and they don't want to pay for air transport to get the artifacts from New York to here, and her team refuses to be separated from them. So they're going to rent trucks to move the materials back here. And I'll be damned if I'm going to make her do that alone."

"How long will you be gone?" asked Addie.

"I'm guessing a couple of weeks," he said. "Depending on weather and all that."

"What about us?" asked Addie.

"You're both almost adults," he said. "You'll be fine on your own. No parties, of course." He grinned. He didn't actually expect us to have a big blowout party while he was gone. And he knew we were both going to parties on New Year's Eve.

"Damn," I said, trying to sound dejected. "I was hoping to have my first kegger."

"You don't even like beer," he snorted.

"You don't throw a kegger for the beer, Dad," I said. "You throw a kegger to get girls there, and then you get them drunk."

"Bobby!"squealed my sister. "You're a pig!"

"No parties!"said our father, a little less jokingly. "Now, I have to pack. I'm going to get an early start, so you're on your own for breakfast. I'll leave a credit card on the table, but don't go wild, okay?"

"Got it," I said. "So you don't forget it, I'll just come with you right now to get it."

"Why do you get to keep it?"complained Addison.

"Because I'm the big brother," I said.

"Knock it off, you two," said Dad. "I expect you to get along while I'm gone."

If he'd have known how well we'd get along ... he might not have gone.



When I got up Friday morning, Addison was already in the kitchen, sitting at the table, eating her cereal. She looked up at me when I came in.

"He's gone," she said.

"I figured."

"What do you want to do?" she asked.

"Seriously?" I laughed. "Oh ... I don't know. How about we do a picture puzzle? Or maybe we could play Scrabble."

"I'm going to my room," she said. "I think I'm going to get naked and lie down on my bed."

"You don't mess around," I said, grinning.

"Then you better not either," she said.



This was our honeymoon.

We stayed in bed all day. The next day we got up and went to the grocery store. When we got home, we put away the cold stuff, but then ended up in bed again.

We basically ate, slept, and had sex for the next two days. When New Year's Eve came we both blew off our parties and stayed home to fuck in the new year. I was sitting on the couch, with her sitting on top of me, impaled, bouncing up and down as the ball dropped on TV. I tried to time it to spurt in her right when the ball hit the bottom, but I didn't quite make it.

On January the third, we both woke up in her bed when the alarm I'd set went off.

"Do we have to go to school?" she asked, sleepily.

I looked at her. "What do you mean? Of course we have to go to school."

"Oh," she said. She sounded downcast, but I knew it was an act. "I was hoping I could stay in bed all day."

I stared at her. She was a morning person, and rarely stayed in bed later than anybody else in the house.

"With you," she finally added. She followed that up with a grin that easily matched Vlad's.

"We have to go to school, Addie," I said, gravely. I wondered if she could feel my cock beginning to swell against her thigh.

"I know," she said, happily. "I just wanted to give you something to think about all day."

"You mean you want me to fail all my classes because I'll be distracted all day," I said.

"Ooooo, does the big, strong boy have such lack of control that he can't stop thinking about these for a single day?" She pushed the sheet down to bare her breasts and pushed them toward my face.

"We're going to be late," I said.

"No we're not," she scoffed. "We have plenty of time."

"Not if I crawl on top of you to and have my way with you," I said.

Damned if she didn't lower her lashes and look through them as she pinched both of her nipples until they turned cherry red.

Chapter Ten

We did not have sex before school that day, but the start of school only affected our honeymoon a little. It gave me time to recharge during the day, which was good, because when we got home after school we fucked like bunnies, took a nap, and then did it again when we woke up. We found that actually sleeping together was addictive. We hadn't slept in separate beds since Dad left.

We slept in Addison's bed most nights because she had a queen sized bed, while I only had a double. Addison was literally sperm-soaked the entire first week our father was gone. One time I was on top of her, lunging away when the phone rang. We ignored it, and then her phone rang on the night stand. She had already cum, and she simply answered it, still breathing hard. Not to mention her breath was irregular because I was pounding away in her tight, wet pussy.

"Hello?" she gasped into the phone. "Oh! Hi, Daddy!"

I stopped, deep in her. Her non-phone hand went to my butt and encouraged me, using physical signals we were now fluent in, to go in circles. I did.

"Oh," she said. "You caught me while I was exercising. How's Mom? When are you coming home?"

I started grinding deep. I know it was silly, but I wanted to try to get her close to an orgasm, just to see what she'd do. I knew her body well enough by now that I could sense her excitement building. Her hips bumped up, and I felt her vaginal muscles clamp down on me. I grinned and tried to suckle a nipple, but the hand on my ass came up to bat me away.

"Good," she panted. "He's okay. But sometime he's mean to me," she said, glaring up at me. I rubbed sideways and she got a slightly panicked look in her eye. "He makes me do my homework!" she gasped. "He's right here, Daddy. Talk to him!"

She shoved the phone at me and grabbed the pillow beside her head to cover her face with.

But, of course, I had to stop, because I had the phone in one hand, which overbalanced me. I could either fall down on her, which might actually hurt her, or roll. The problem was that I had the phone in my right hand, which meant I had to roll to the right. And the edge of the bed was only a foot away.

"Hey!" I shouted at the phone as I fell off the bed and landed on the floor. I got the instrument up to my ear in time to hear, "take care of your sister."

"I am taking care of her," I said, trying to control my own breath. "I'm even doing exercises with her," I added, just in case.

"I don't want to hear any tales of woe when I bring your mother home," he said. "She's had a rough time of it and she deserves to come home to a loving family."

"We're very loving," I said, and then winced. "Don't worry, Dad. We'll clean the house and everything."

"See to it," he said. "It looks like it might be another four or five days before we start back. I'll keep you posted."

"Okay, thanks."

"Be nice to your sister!" he ordered.

"I promise," I said.

I punched the disconnect button.

Then I got up, crawled back on top of my sister, and was nice to her for another hour straight.



Hindsight is one of those things that you wish you had, and then hate when you get it. Looking back on things, I imagine we would have done things differently if we'd have thought about it. I'm talking about birth control, of course.

We'd both had the course in school. But our class put most of the emphasis on disease prevention, in terms of condom use. Addison still remembers the teacher saying girls should carry a condom with them in case they got into a rape situation, so they could ask their rapist to use the condom. As stupid as that sounds, that's the result political correctness can inflict on good advice.

But the fear of disease was simply nonexistent when it came to us. We were both virgins the first time we had sex. Further, our parents had gotten Addie the HPV inoculations when she was young, and she was told, "This protects you." And I think we both fell victim, if that's the right word, to something very common in teenagers.

We just didn't think she'd get pregnant. We didn't even think, really, about whether she might get pregnant.

Personally, I think that might have something to do with the tendency for adults in our culture to stick their heads in the sand, when it comes to talking about sex with their own children. I haven't done a survey on it or anything, but I bet if somebody did, they'd find out that the average teenager is talked to by a parent about sex for less than ten minutes by the time they turn eighteen and leave the house. I'm not counting "Don't do that!" as a conversation about sex.

I'm not blaming our parents for Addison getting pregnant. I know I did that. She does too. And once she found out she was pregnant, it was obvious where we went wrong.

But the long and short of it was that, while our father was gone to get our mother, neither Addison or I worried about the fact that I was pumping her full of my sperm every night. Often two or three times a night.

Vlad never mentioned birth control to us. Maybe he thought Addison was on the pill. And while our dialog sometimes dealt with that subject, they were just lines and somehow that made them ... I don't know ... not real? He never suggested we use a condom, of course, because he wanted pictures and movies of bareback sex. And we never thought about it. I remember, now that I think about it, that the film we saw of Kerry and Natalie fucking also had Kerry's prick naked as it slid into his sister. Of course he carefully ensured that he got money shots, of us shooting jism into the girls, so I suspect his motives were financial.

We did make another movie while Dad was gone. Addie was Rapunzel and I was the prince who climbed her hair to her room, whereupon we both engaged in what would, once the movie was finished, appear to be a non-stop sexual frenzy in which the prince was able to spurt six times in one night, before he killed the witch (off stage) and came back to claim Rapunzel as his own, forever.

By the way, while Rapunzel was filmed over two nights, I never had any trouble getting hard or spurting. I have since heard that a man's body can sometimes "learn to perform" If he has a lot of sex. Perhaps this explains why Hugh Hefner was able to take care of a whole stable of bunnies.

In any case, I was having a lot of sex, and I was able on both nights to perform.

And somewhere along the way ... I performed a little too well.

Of course we didn't know that then. What we knew was that we each had a pile of twenties hidden away in our closets. Ten grand takes up a surprising amount of space, and we still had a lot of what we'd been paid before that as well. And you can't, as a teenager, go wandering into a bank with a handful of twenties and ask for hundreds without raising an eyebrow or two.

It is possible, though she's never admitted it, that Addison had a premonition. What I do know is that, after we shot Rapunzel, she told me she didn't want to make any more movies. Neither did she want to model for Vlad anymore. She didn't say why, except to say, "We have enough money. Mom's coming home. Let's quit."

And, while my body was producing all the stiffies a boy could ever hope for, I was tired.

Vlad wasn't happy. I guess we were popular with his client. Even the offer of more money ($7,000 apiece) didn't sway her. So, in the end, he sadly said goodbye.

Mom and Dad got back on the Saturday following the completion of Rapunzel, and our exit from the porn industry. We'd had one last night together in Addison's bed but, strangely, we hadn't fucked like bunnies that night. We lay on our sides, facing each other, with me in her, and just held each other while we made out. Eventually I rolled on top of her with her legs closed, like she liked it so much, and we both had almost calm, gentle orgasms. Then we rolled back on our sides and held each other again while I slowly slipped out of her as I got soft. We fell asleep that way.

There was a frenzy of activity Saturday morning when we woke up. Sheets had to be washed, and Addison's room aired out. You didn't notice the odor unless you left the room for a while and then came back. So we opened her windows and closed her door for an hour. We cleaned the house and Addison made a tuna casserole to have ready when they got home. Then she decided we needed a welcome home cake, and messed up the kitchen I had worked so hard to have clean for when Mom got home.

There was only one bit of sexual play between us that morning. While she was at the counter stirring the cake batter, I came up behind her and slid my hands up inside her shirt to fondle her breasts. She was wearing a bra, and I slipped my hands under that, forcing it upwards.

"Stop!" she said, but didn't sound like she meant it.

"I'm going to miss these," I said.

"No you're not," she said. "You'll still get to see them."

"Not as much."

"Poor baby," she said. "I have a cake to make."

"Let me suck them ... just a little," I wheedled.

"No!" she said. "If I let you suck them, we'll end up in bed and I'll have to air out my room again."

"Not if we do it on the kitchen table," I teased.

"We eat on that table!" she said, in mock horror.

"I can think of something I'd like to eat on that table," I said.

"They could be home any minute," she said, still stirring.

"Okay," I sighed, pulling my hands out of her shirt. "I'll just go beat off."

"Fix my bra," she demanded. "I have batter on my fingers."

"Okay," I sighed. "Turn around."

She trusted me, and did so, holding her arms (and her hands, which did, in fact, have batter on them) away from her body. I lifted her shirt up to her neck and told her to hold it there with her chin.

Then I Ieaned in and captured her left nipple between my lips.

The next thing I knew my face was being smeared with chocolate cake batter.

I ducked back, laughing. She reached for a towel, wiped her hands, fixed her bra and gave me a mock glare.

"Maybe you won't get to play with them any more!" she growled.

"I have to!" I crowed.

"Why?"

"Because I promised Dad I'd be nice to you."

"Go pick up the living room," she said, changing the subject.

"I did," I said.

"Then go pick up what you missed the first time."

It might have gone on, but we heard the garage door opener cycle. Our parents were home.

The honeymoon was over.



Mom's homecoming was great for us all. We had no problem with Dad being in charge of us, of course, but it was still nice to have Mom around. She was dead tired, but we knew she'd bounce back from that. And she was excited to talk about what they'd found at the dig. Of course we weren't nearly as gung ho about it as she was, but we'd gotten used to looking interested years ago. All of us ... Dad included.

We had the tuna casserole, with vegetables from cans. The cake was done during the meal and had cooled enough to be cut by the time we finished eating. Mom said she'd prefer it with no frosting anyway, so we just cut it up and had pieces like that.

Mom said, "I need a nap."

Dad said, "I'll take one with you."

Mom smiled at him and said, "I might fall asleep on you."

Dad said, "You can fall asleep after we talk. We have a lot to catch up on."

I sat there thinking that they'd just spent three days in the car, able to talk and catch up on things the whole time. But I knew what he was talking about. I glanced at Addison, who was blinking her eyelashes at me rapidly.

"We'll do the dishes," I said.

Dad smiled at us. "Thanks. Try not to make a lot of noise this afternoon. It will likely be a long nap."

"No problem," I said.

"I'll ride herd on him," said Addison.

"You two are certainly getting along well," said Mom, when I didn't react to my sister's catty remark.

"It's because I'm such a great father," said our father.

Mom stood up. "I want to hear all about your modeling, but I'm too drained to do it now. Can we talk about that later?"

"Sure," said Addison. "It was pretty boring, really. And time consuming. We quit, actually."

"We can talk about it later," she said. " I need sleep."

"And I will see to all your needs," said Dad.

"Get a room!"said Addison, finally.

Dad grinned. For some reason I glanced at the front of his khakis. There was a bit of a tent there.

"Not to worry," he said. "We have one."



Addie stood up from putting the last of the dishes in the dish washer.

"You know what they're doing in there," she said, softly.

"Of course I do," I said.

"I used to think that was icky," she said.

"Really? I always thought Mom was kind of a MILF."

"You're horrible!" she gasped.

"I think you're a SILF," I quipped.

"I was getting horny," she said, making it clear her horniness was fading.

"What can I say? Us guys are still just cavemen at heart."

"And us girls would like a little romance in our lives," she complained.

"I think you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," I said, softly. "I love you, and I can't imagine my life without you in it."

She stood stock still for a few seconds, and then her face flushed pink.

"Now that's more like it," she said.

"There's something I want to show you," I said. "Come with me."

I led her to her room. I closed the door.

"You can't be serious," she said. "They're right down the hall."

"Doing what I want to do with you," I said.

"It's crazy," she objected.

"I want to suck those nipples. I want to lick your pussy. I want to put my rigid penis in it and watch you put a pillow over your face because I've made you cum. And then I want to shoot deep inside you."

She stared at me. "You don't play fair."

"All is fair in love and war," I said. "And I want to make love, not war."

Which is how I ended up lying on top of my sister at one end of the house, sliding my boner in and out of her until she covered her face with the pillow, while I spurted deep inside her.

I wondered, briefly, as I came, if my mother had a pillow over her face too.



Life settled down for us over the next week. It was astonishing how much "extra" time we had when we didn't go to Vlad's. We got homework done and had time to read, or watch TV before supper.

Mom did interrogate us about our short lived modeling careers. Fortunately, Addison had paid attention to the brands of stuff she's modeled, and was able to talk about it in a way that made her sound pretty professional. As for me, I said, "He gave me stuff to put on and I did and he took pictures. I was there for the money. I didn't care who made the clothes."

"Did you pose together?" asked Mom.

"A couple of times," said Addison, who had recognized it was probably better if she did most of the talking. "We did a couple of shoots wearing outdoorsman stuff, you know, with a tent set up and a fake cook fire. That sort of thing."

"Fascinating," said our mother. "So why did you quit again?"

Addison went into a long diatribe about having to hold your body in poses, and not breathe, and how hot the lights were, and how it caused her to sweat, and how Vlad never seemed satisfied and on and on, complaining about all sorts of things, even down to getting stuck by pins. Dad said, "You didn't mention all this to me," and Addison said "Mom understands ... don't you?" She looked all doe-eyed at our mother, who had just spent three months living on a dusty, cold Peruvian mountain, digging in the dirt all day and sleeping in a tent on a cot.

Mom said, "Of course I do. It must have been awful." She rolled her eyes at Dad when Addison wasn't looking.

But I realized Addie had just disarmed our mother, making her think her little girl was soft and unable to put up with minor adversity. She had neatly put our modeling career in the family history book, never to be examined again.

Or so we thought.

Mom had been home three weeks when Addie slipped into my room one night, frowning. We'd managed to have sex half a dozen times since Mom got home, but it wasn't the same as before. It was more tense, knowing there were now two adults right down the hall who might discover our relationship.

She sat down on the edge of my bed. The tips of her breasts were round and smooth, and that told me she wasn't excited.

"I should have had a period by now," she said, getting right to the point.

What does a guy say in that situation? Right. Nothing. And that's exactly what I said.

"I never miss a period," she went on. "What if I'm pregnant?"

I'll swear in court that's the first time it dawned on me that by fucking my sister and cumming in her unprotected pussy, I could actually get her pregnant.

"Wow," I said. I was in awe. The concept that I had fathered a child was so enormous I didn't even know how to begin examining it.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I said.

Basically, that conversation repeated itself a couple of times before we both came to the conclusion that neither of us knew how to proceed. And it was for that reason that we decided to do nothing.



When a couple of teenagers, one of whom is a junior, and the other a senior, discover ... or suspect ... that the senior has gotten the junior pregnant, but they aren't sure, it sort of puts a damper on being "In the mood."

I did a lot of poking my head into her room asking, "Are you okay?" and she did a lot of answering, "I don't know" or, "What are we going to do?"

It's not like the guy can go to her and say, "Girls miss a period all the time. Lots of things can cause that. You might not be pregnant! So we can still have sex ... right?"

Not that that's how I would have put it. But a rose by any other name is still a rose. And I think I was reacting to all this a little differently than she was.

That's not strange. I'm not a girl, but I can imagine realizing there might be something growing inside you that will get bigger and bigger and then require that you force it out of your body, at which point it will be a baby you have to take care of twenty-four hours a day. I mean it's a life changing event. And even if you want it to happen, when it does, it really affects the female in lots of ways. And if you don't want it to happen ... well that just piles more on the poor girl.

For the guy, it's completely different, whether he wants it to happen or not. Once he injects the sperm, he's pretty much done. If he wanted that sperm to take hold and turn into his offspring, then he's happy. If he didn't want it to happen, his major problem is to decide whether to stick around ... or not.

That sounds rough, but it's basically true. Of course I knew I was going to be sticking around. And I cared how all this was affecting Addison.

At the same time, the thought that we had created life together pulled at me, like a far off kind of dream that was ... I don't know ... exquisite?

I mean I loved her. I really loved her. And while I'd insisted that someday she'd get married and have kids, the thought of her doing that with another man left me feeling hollow ... empty. I knew it was crazy. I knew I'd have to let her go some day.

But now ... now everything was in flux. Her last period had ended on the seventh of December, according to her calendar. Now it was the middle of January. If she really was pregnant, I knew she'd have that baby. Our parents were firmly on the right to life side of things. They hadn't joined an anti-abortion group or anything, but we both knew how they felt about abortion. The question was ... what would happen to that baby? And the thought that some other man and woman might raise our baby also left me feeling hollow and empty.

But I couldn't talk to Addison about how I felt. She wasn't ready to hear that yet. I didn't know if she'd ever be ready to hear that I wanted us to be able to raise that baby as our own.

If she was even pregnant. After all, women do miss periods for various reasons.

But it was still possible.

Which possibly was pretty well established when that next period, which we both had marked on our mental calendar, failed to appear as anticipated.



"We have to tell them," she said, tearfully one night, after our parents had gone to bed.

"I know," wishing there was some way we could do all this in secret.

"When?"

"I don't know."

"You have to help me," she said. "They're going to want to know who it was. What do I tell them?"

I thought about the guys she'd gone on dates with. But only briefly. I knew she hadn't done anything with them, and they did too. Besides, there was no way I was going to blame it on somebody else.

"I just won't tell them," she said.

"That's not going to work. They'll badger you. They'll never leave you alone."

"I can take it," she said.

"Addie," I said, sadly. "This is going to be hard. Kids at school will find out. Everybody will find out. They'll all want to know who the father is."

"Don't you think I've been thinking about that?" she asked, much too loudly.

"Calm down," I said.

"I can't calm down!" she moaned. "What if they try to take our baby away from us?"

That was when I discovered she'd been thinking about things in a way remarkably similar to how I was.



It was so agonizing that we couldn't take it. They say confession is good for the soul. Maybe that's true. All I know is that both of us just couldn't deal with the stress of keeping it secret any longer.

We did wait two more days. That was because we wanted to do this on a Saturday morning. We didn't want to drop this bomb on Mom when she was required to go to work. And we didn't know how long the "confession" would take. We were completely out of our depth, here.

It started like this. We were at the breakfast table, and Addison said, "Mom, there's been something bothering me and I need to talk to you about it."

Mom looked at her and said, " I've been wondering when you'd say that. You've been walking around like you lost your best friend for the last month."

" I might lose my best friend," said Addie, her eyes filling with tears.

"Who?" asked Mom.

"You," whispered Addison.

I watched as the blood drained from my mother's face. She got so pale I was afraid she'd faint.

"You're pregnant," she sighed.

"She's what?!" Dad chimed in.

Addison could only nod, because the sobbing came over her like a wave crashing onto the shore.

"Oh, Baby," moaned Mom. She got up and moved around the table to hug Addison.

"She's what?!" said Dad again. He looked as shell shocked as I felt. I suddenly felt queasy.

"Come on," said Mom. "You and I are going to the bedroom and have a little talk."

"Now wait just a damn minute!" blurted Dad.

Mom looked at him with that look she had when she wasn't going to argue about something.

"Steve, I'm going to talk to her. When the time is right, you'll be invited in. Let me handle this!"

"But ..." he looked helpless.

"We'll be back in a while," she said. "Just be patient."

"How can I be patient?" he yelled. " I just found out my baby girl is pregnant!"

"She's not a baby anymore," said Mom. "That should be obvious." She looked at Addie then, and I realized that as much as it was obvious our mother loved her, and was empathetic to her plight, my sister was in for a rough time in that bedroom.



They were gone for an hour. We menfolk had no idea what to do. Looking back on it, I didn't act like the innocent brother who has just become privy to details about his sister that most boys couldn't wait to spread around to his friends. Instead, I paced, just like my father paced. It should have been obvious to Dad that I was involved in this. But he had his own troubles, and wasn't paying attention to me or anything else.

When they came out, they both looked like they'd been through the wringer. Mom looked at Dad and said, "She won't tell me who it was."

I saw Dad's face go red and he drew breath to yell. I knew it would be a yell, and I knew it wouldn't do anybody any good.

"I'll tell you," I said. My voice was remarkably calm, for as agitated as I was. I couldn't let her do this alone.

I got it over with before Addie could object.

"It was me," I said. "I'm the father."

Chapter Eleven

It's very interesting how you think you know what will happen in a given situation, only to find out your expectations turn out to be completely wrong.

Okay. Maybe not completely wrong. They were angry. Sure. And all those phrases about stupidity and throwing our lives away, that I expected to come out of their mouths did, in fact come out of their mouths.

But that's where things went differently than I expected. I suppose to be completely truthful, I didn't know what to expect, but I knew it would be bad, and I knew it would tear us apart.

But that's not what happened. Maybe that was because our parents, being actual adults, instead of teenagers trying to act like adults, got down to deciding what to actually do about the situation. They didn't dither, like we had, or delay, or try to pretend nothing was wrong. They didn't hope for some miracle to undo things. And they loved us like parents should love their children. This was the first lesson I got in how parents can be really disappointed in the choices their children make, but go on loving them anyway.

It was pretty hot and fiery for an hour. That part matched my expectations. But it only lasted an hour, and then came the part that blew us both away, because Mom hugged Addie and Dad hugged me, and we sat down to talk about how all this had happened.

It all came out, of course. I'm quite sure that if they'd have threatened us with the kinds of things we expected them to threaten us with, that we'd have clammed up and given them only name, rank and serial number. But that didn't happen, and the obvious love and concern they showed us disarmed us to the point that we wanted to explain how it had come to be. Or maybe it was that confession is good for the soul thing, just playing out further.

I think, in a sense, that it wasn't until we described to them what I've described to you in this story, that we realized how smoothly we'd been manipulated by Vlad into taking one little step after another down the path of moral turpitude. Not that we thought of it as moral turpitude, exactly, but we all knew everybody else in the world would call it that. And we knew better. Meaning we knew we shouldn't have done any of the things Vlad suggested, such as me helping Addie get dressed, and oiling her up and all that.

Speaking of which, on the level of something that seems pretty wacked out when it happens, but kind of funny later on, our parents demanded details. I don't mean I had to describe what color I thought Addie's nipples were, the first time I saw them, but details about what, exactly, Vlad had taken pictures of and what had happened inside that changing booth. Here's an example of what that sounded like.

"Well, he said the glue on the fingernails would take a while to dry, and that I should help her get into her first outfit for the night. So I did."

"Describe the process for us," said Dad.

"Oh, I had to unbutton her shirt and take her bra off and pull her jeans down ... you know."

"So she took her own panties off," prompted Mom.

"No, I had to take her panties off too. And then I put the bikini on her."

"What kind of bikini?"

So then I had to describe that, and how it was a thong and how I had to push the string in back between her butt cheeks, and tuck in the pubes that were sticking out.

And then Addie said, "Was that the time he made you put baby oil all over me?"

At which point we were off to the races, describing exactly where I put the oil, and whether Vlad told me where to put it or not, and whether he was there while I did that.

But the wacked out part was that they had to keep taking these breaks. Mom would say, "Your father and I need to discuss this," and they'd go off to their bedroom and stay there for ten minutes or so. Then they came back and asked for more. I'm not suggesting they got turned on by any of this, or that they went to the bedroom to relieve that kind of stress. Rather it might well have been that they listened to as much as they could stand, and then just needed a little break or something. I don't actually know. But they were always agitated when they left, and calm when they came back. It just seemed odd then, and kind of fascinatingly funny now.

About the only thing we planned that was right, was the need for an entire day to unpack all the baggage. It took us all day to go over what happened, and how we came to make the decisions we made, which led us to do the things we did.

In the end, our parents found out this wasn't just a one off little accident. They found out their children were passionately in love with each other. And I think the single most important part of all this is that they didn't just decide it was puppy love, or curiosity, and that we were not, in fact, really in love. They didn't suggest that teenagers can't possibly understand what love is, and think (erroneously) that what they feel is genuine. They didn't try to force us out of love.

Of course my parents were pretty smart people. And a smart person might take a look at marriages in the society around him or her, and see that fifty percent of the adults haven't figured out what love is, themselves. If they had, they wouldn't get divorced, or cheat on their spouse and all that. So ignorance of what love "really is", isn't restricted to the young. Nor is the actual thing restricted to adults.

A smart person might look at the sometimes fleeting romances teenagers become involved in, and see those as being very similar to what many adults do as well. It isn't that what the teen feels isn't real. Love is love, and being in love for someone who is seventeen is no different than being in love is for someone who is thirty-three. The difference is that the teen may be less willing to make the sacrifices needed to stay in love for the long haul. And if that teen never learns that one of the primary aspects of true love is the sacrifice it demands we make to our mate ... then they keep going through the motions of falling in and out of love, and become adults who get divorced. That's really what teens are doing ... isn't it? They fall in love ... and get divorced.

If they're lucky, along the way they figure out how to keep falling in love every day, as time changes the person they fell in love with. And if they're really lucky, their mate figures it out at the same time.

Sorry. I didn't mean to go off on a philosophical rant. It's just that when you're as lucky as I've been, you tend to be thankful a lot, and want others to share the wealth.

Anyway, I guess there was one other thing we expected that came true. Not once, that Saturday, or in the months that followed, did either of our parents suggest that a routine abortion might be one avenue to take.

There was significant discussion about what would happen to the baby once it was born. Addie made it quite clear that she wanted to keep the baby, and would be devastated if she could not. And I would have to say that the majority of the angst I had, after we came clean with our parents, was tied up in whether they would make her give it up for adoption or not.

I'm not trying to be dramatic about this. It really was up in the air for the next five months. Basically, what it came down to was that, because we had already exhibited a deficit of good sense and maturity (not physical maturity), the jury was out on whether or not we were capable of being good parents. By good parents, I mean the kind of parents a child deserves.

And that involves tons of sacrifice too. It is love, after all. Or should be. And that was the point. We were put on notice that they would be watching us to see if we were mature enough to take on the responsibility of raising a child. If, in their judgment, we were not, then the child would be offered for adoption to people who, presumably, would make better parents.

That sounds all neat and clear, but it wasn't. There were a number of variables in this system. One of those was that they didn't nag us to do the things we knew we were supposed to do. Some of those were little things, like the chores we'd always been expected to complete, and which they had always had to harp on us to get us to do. The harping stopped.

Then there was the discussion about the danger of problems with incest babies. How would we feel if the baby had a defect? Could we still love it? Would we be willing to take care of it? What if it was so defective that the doctors suggested abortion? What then? We did a ton of research online about that. Or tried to. Turns out there's not a lot out there that has been done under anything even close to the conditions good research is conducted under. There are a lot of anecdotal stories, and references to incest in distant history. Incest, it seems, has pretty much always been swept under the carpet or hidden, instead of being discussed with any effort to learn more about it. These days are no different. There are two camps, those who have assumed nothing good can ever come from incest, under any circumstances whatsoever, and those who feel the opposite. Black, and white.

But Addie and I were as gray as gray can be. We didn't intend to become involved in an incestuous relationship. We didn't intend to make a baby. I didn't force her into anything. Nor did she seduce me on any intentional basis. It just sort of happened. It wasn't black or white at all.

In the end it was Addie's doctor who told her not to worry until he gave her something to worry about. He didn't appear to be worried at all.

Being a doctor must be really interesting. Think about it. Their job is to help people. They labor under strict laws about confidentiality. They have to report some things, like gunshots and rapes. But what if they find out a girl got pregnant by her brother, and that there was no rape involved? What if she seems fine, psychologically? What if the family appears to be dealing with the situation in a healthy way? What if, by reporting this incestuous pregnancy you would be tearing the family apart? What if you've seen more than one pregnancy that you suspected was an incest baby, but had no proof of, and those babies turned out just fine?

Think how much of that you'd have to keep to yourself. You couldn't even tell your wife. Your priest, maybe, in confession, but then he can't tell anybody about it either, now can he? I think it would be almost like being a superhero with a secret identity.

Anyway, the doctor did an ultrasound, and said everything looked normal. The baby's heartbeat sounded normal. He said they'd do more ultrasounds and keep a close eye on things, and that all worrying about it would do was elevate certain hormones in her system that weren't good for either of them.

And, obviously, he didn't tell anybody who the father was, because nobody came knocking on our door.

The medical side of things was the easy part. It was school that was hell.

We should have expected it. In fact, that Saturday, Dad said something about how school might be harder than it was worth, and that he could home school Addie. Mom said no in that tone of voice that brooked no argument. At least not from Dad. Maybe she considered what was going to happen in school to be part of the test of whether we could make it as parents or not. She didn't say.

Addie didn't tell anybody, but of course she didn't have to. We only had three more months of school left, but when you're maybe three months pregnant ... and a cheerleader ... it's impossible to hide the baby bump, even if it's not a big one. And rumors got started, and people wanted to believe them, so pretty soon it was common knowledge that Addison Stapleton, the Ice Queen, the girl no guy could ever get more out of than a few kisses, had been spreading her luscious cheerleader legs for somebody.

Her friends deserted her as soon as she wouldn't tell them who the father was. Her coach adopted the attitude we thought our parents would but, thankfully, had not. It would set a bad example if she were allowed to stay on the squad, or return next year. Sorry.

What took me by surprise was that I wasn't immune. I was also besieged by people, both male and female, all of whom wanted to know who had done the deed with Addison. My stock answer of "How the fuck should I know?" wasn't received with grace. A lot of guys seemed to think that fantasizing about who had done it, and when, and in what setting, would somehow make me feel better. I didn't get in any fights, but I can honestly say the only reason was because I knew that wouldn't come down on the "mature" side of things with my parents.

It wasn't bad enough that kids in general (and a couple of specific teachers) treated Addison like she had leprosy. What hurt her the most was that even our cohorts in crime abandoned us. I'm talking, of course, about Jerry Thompson, Cindy Jenkins, and Kerry and Natalie Watson.

Why they abandoned us became clear when Cindy and Natalie pulled Addison aside in a stairwell one day and asked in a harsh whisper, "Did you tell your parents about Vlad?" She knew they weren't talking about the clothes she had modeled for Vlad. What she was curious about (to say the least) is how they knew she did anything but model clothes for Vlad.

That was how we learned that Cindy had recruited Addison because Vlad paid her extra to find her other models who "might be interested in making a lot of money." Cindy already knew about Kerry and Natalie, of course, because she and Jerry had worked with them, making Vlad's little fairy tale porn flicks. So it wasn't much of a leap of imagination for her to think that the reason Addison was such an ice queen was because her brother was taking care of her needs at home. It wasn't true, but it was what she was able to imagine.

Maybe it was a little prophetic, come to think of it.

Anyway, it had always been Vlad's intent to get us involved in fuck flicks. His whole modeling gig was a cover for finding and grooming underage performers, especially siblings, to get involved in what made him hundreds of thousands of dollars. And when things got kinky, such as when Cindy told him, "The reason Addison quit is probably that she's pregnant," he packed up and disappeared to somewhere else, where it was less likely he'd be the unhappy host of a police raid.

Want to hear something funny? When Addison asked Cindy why she thought we might want to do that kind of thing, and Cindy told her what I explained above, she added, "Plus I wanted to fuck your brother. I think he's a hunk."

That's what destroyed their friendship forever. Cindy never knew it, but Addison couldn't stand the thought of me being in bed with her.



If this is sounding a bit disjointed, I apologize. It's not intentional. It is a byproduct of the fact that our lives were a bit hectic during that time period. You know some of why it was hectic. We were busy coping, and trying to prove to our parents that we deserved to be parents ourselves. But there was something else that happened which caused even more upheaval in our lives.

Mr. Thompson (sorry, I don't know his first name), Jerry's father, listened to some religious radio channel, and I guess there was a commentator one day who said it was a parent's duty to be intimately acquainted with what was on their children's' computers. I gather that porn was mentioned. So Mr. Thompson felt it was his duty to go examine Jerry's computer.

Jerry, it seems, had snuck a flash drive into Vlad's studio and made a copy of the first movie in which he got to fuck not only Cindy Jenkins, but Natalie Watson as well. And, of course, Kerry fucked both girls too.

And Mr. Thompson found it.

We've thanked our lucky stars more than once that he didn't get anything of us, either in still shots or movies. We know this because the police never came to talk to us. That also gave us reason to thank our lucky stars that the other four never ratted us out. That didn't repair things between Addie and Cindy, but we were still very thankful.

It hit the news, of course. I don't think that was Mr. Thompson's intent when he went to the police with the whole computer, demanding that whoever "visited this abomination on my son" be found and prosecuted immediately, but of course something like that is impossible to keep quiet. It didn't help that the police decided they needed to search the rooms of all the "juvenile participants", and showed up with lights blazing, instead of in unmarked cars. But we're a small town fifteen miles from the metropolis the university is in, and we might not even have an unmarked car, for all I know. We certainly don't have high profile juicy sex scandals, which is also probably why it couldn't be kept quiet. Somebody told his wife, who told her friends, and on and on.

Anyway, when that story exploded in the paper, that's when we found out about one of the more difficult decisions our parents had been required to make. Believe it or not, neither Addie nor I thought about the fact that our parents never went after Vlad. Legally, I mean. Thinking back on it, I might not have been surprised to find out my father had murdered him and cleaned out the house and then drove the truck with all the evidence in it into a lake somewhere. I'm kidding. I think. I mean he'd have to have been gone a long time to do that, and I'm sure I'd have noticed that.

But the point is they were faced with making one of two decisions. Report Vlad to the cops, whereupon his studio would be searched, and all the pictures and films we'd made would be confiscated ... and viewed by who knows how many people. That decision would also mean that everyone would eventually learn how Addie had gotten pregnant, and by whom.

The other decision was just as hard to swallow: do nothing about Vlad.

What would you have done? You could seek justice and the protection of many more than just your own kids, but would run the risk of destroying your children. What if Social Services decided you were bad parents, and took your pregnant daughter away from you? What if there were some law that had been violated that meant your son had to go to prison until he was an adult?

Or, you could look at the facts at your disposal and decide that the kids who had gotten involved in this illicit scheme were stupid, but that nobody seemed to have been coerced into anything, or injured in any clearly visible way ... and do nothing about the man who had helped seduce them.

I suppose you could leave a cryptic message on his door, saying, "We know what you do here. You have until noon to get out of town, or we're coming for you."

The point is that none of those are good choices. But you have to make some choice.

So what do you do?

My parents decided to concentrate on salvaging what they could from their children's situation. They chose to concentrate on our mental and emotional health, instead of tilting at the windmills that society might demand they do.

Actually, I don't know about that cryptic note business. It wouldn't actually take much to do something like that. It could be done quickly, in the dark of night, and the risk of capture would be vanishingly small. But the thing is that I can't see my dad doing that. Knowing what kind of skill set he probably still has left over from the Army, and knowing how he must have felt towards Vlad for corrupting his little girl, I just can't see him stopping at putting a note on the door. Now my mother, on the other hand ... I have no problem envisioning my mother marching up to his door and putting something on it that would make him pull up stakes. She would have thought of that as protecting other kids. She's been in a lot of foreign countries, where you had the government, which you had to cooperate with to be there at all, and then had the local elders or whatever, who had their own rules about justice and such.

Anyway, when the shit hit the fan, our parents recognized the possibility that we might get dragged into the whole mess. After all, we had parked the bug behind his house dozens of times, and some neighbor must have seen it there. That would come out in interviews, and someone would try to track down the owner of the vehicle described. And then we'd be interviewed, and just that fact, whether we admitted anything or not, would bring the stain of shame upon us all. I guess they didn't see any good that could come from that, especially since the paper said the mysterious Russian man had disappeared without a trace ...

So they sent us both to Montana for the summer, to work on our Aunt Maureen's horse ranch.


Aunt Maureen is my mother's older sister. And I mean older. Apparently mom was a bit of an accident, and was ten years younger than her big sister. Maureen went to "The Cow College" In Minnesota, to be a veterinarian, and then went to help run their grandfather's ranch in Montana. We'd been to the ranch before, when we were smaller, and we both loved Aunt Maureen, who was as different from our mother as it was possible to be.

Aunt Maureen was rough, and somewhat foul-mouthed, at least around the men who worked for her. Her face was already crisscrossed with fine lines that we would later learn were the result of spending so much time out in the weather. She rode a horse like she was born on one, and she wasn't afraid of anything. I still remember her stalking a mouse in her kitchen and stomping on it with her boot as it tried, frantically, to get away. Most women (and a lot of men) would have jumped back when that mouse dashed across the floor. Not Aunt Maureen. She killed it, saying, "Damned vermin!" She didn't have a husband to kill the mice for her. She was divorced.

What we did not know the last time we'd been to the ranch, back when we were ten and eleven, was that Aunt Maureen was divorced because she couldn't keep her hands off the hired hands. Our mother knew her sister had a prodigious sexual appetite, but we didn't. And, truthfully, that may be why we hadn't visited more often than we had.

But events were driving decisions now, so to the ranch we were sent.

The ranch had a name, which we hadn't paid much attention to before this. It was called the "Broken B" and the brand they put on the horses was in the shape of the letter B, but with the bottom part not quite attached to the upright. It sort of looked like while someone was making the shape out of iron, they got to the bottom part and got the bend mostly made, but didn't quite finish. Aunt Maureen explained to us that the way the ranch got its name was that her great grandfather, whose name was Bernard, almost went bankrupt trying to make a go of things when he established the concern.

Of course our parents decided to give Aunt Maureen some pertinent details. It wouldn't have been fair for her to find out on her own, and they knew it was impossible for someone living with us to miss the fact that Addison was well and truly knocked up, and that we were crazy for each other. Crazy in a much-more-than-brother/sister kind of way.

By the way, that was one of the more humorous parts of this whole escapade. After they found out about Addie and me, our parents spent a lot of time with their heads together, and asking us questions, trying to work it all out in their minds. Apparently there was no history of incest in either of their families (big surprise?), and they were puzzled about how this could happen. Dad kept saying that he should have known something was up because of this or that thing he remembered seeing, but hadn't paid attention to at the time. Like the time when we all sat together on the couch to watch something on TV and she rested her hand on my knee. And there was a time when Addie had teased me and I slapped her on the ass and she had just laughed instead of getting mad. As for Mom, she said she felt something was different the minute she got home, but couldn't put her finger on it, and just assumed the natural change in us as we matured while she was gone, was the reason.

Anyway, when Aunt Maureen picked us up at the airport in a truck so old and beat up that I couldn't believe it actually still ran, she already knew who was responsible for Addison's swelling belly. We knew that, but that was all we knew about what our parents had shared with her.

Her reaction, shall we say, was not what we expected.

She slugged me on the shoulder, knocking me a good two feet.

"You rascal, you," she crowed, grinning from ear to ear.

Then she turned to Addie, and said, in the most caring voice, "We're gonna take good care of you, honey. When it comes time to drop that little filly, old Aunt Maureen is gonna make sure everything goes just fine."

There was no condemnation. No judgment. No harangue about moral failings. She just took us in like she was glad to see us.

When she helped us take our luggage into the house, she took us upstairs in the old farm house.

"The way I see it," she said, when she showed us our room, and told us it was our room, "the damage is already done, now ain't that so? You can't get her pregnant again. Not yet anyways. Not that I think you should try that later, mind you. I suspect this one has caused a mite of trouble. You wouldn't be here if it hadn't. Am I right? And knowin' how you got that way, Addison my sweet, I suspect if I didn't let you all live in sin, you'd be spendin' valuable work time sneakin' off to sate your lusts, now just wouldn't you? Your Aunt Maureen knows a thing or two about that. I do have to admit that. So you two just spend five minutes settling in here and then come downstairs. We got work to do."

That was our introduction into the fact that we'd be staying in the same room while we were there. And there was only one bed, a big feather bed that must have been a hundred years old. We would come to love that bed, and in later times, be very thankful that it hadn't been tossed out when fancier, more scientific mattresses had been invented. Nothing can keep you as warm in a Montana winter as a good feather bed. Of course we were there during the summer, but we would still come to love that bed.

But what was most important was that we were welcome, despite the mistakes we had made. Like I said, she just acted like she was glad to see us.

Which I suspect she was, based on the list of chores we both got assigned. She had hands about the place, but they were always off doing the important work, which left stable cleaning and hay hauling and things like that to get done whenever somebody had time.

Or when two teenagers with nothing to do showed up.

It was hard work, but we didn't mind.

I think that's because we got to do it together.

And ... at Aunt Maureen's ranch ... we got to sleep together too.




So what else is there to tell you? Let's see.

We got there in the middle of March, so there was only two and a half months of school left. I can't say either of us was happy about going to a new school. Our cover story was that I was her step-brother, and that her mother and my father had been involved in a terrible accident that put them both in the hospital for what was going to be a long time. Maureen, being Addison's aunt, had agreed to take us in until our folks were finished with the operations and rehab and all that would be required before they could be effective parents again.

So the kids in our new school felt sorry for us. And, with Addison's pregnancy clearly showing, she wasn't besieged by guys trying to hit on her. Besides, we only had two months of school left, so we weren't under the same kinds of social pressure we'd have had to endure if we'd stayed back in Hastings.

As for the academic part of things, Addison had it easier than I did, sort of, because they had basically the same classes she'd been in. She was ahead of the game in some cases, and behind in others. But the teachers helped her catch up with some tutoring after school. For me the problem was that their requirements for graduation were slightly different than the school I had left. Montana required, for example, more credits in physical education than Hastings had. I also ran afoul of other requirements that could have required me to either take summer school, or extend my high school education by another semester.

But folks in Montana aren't as "wrapped around the axle", as they say it, as people are in more heavily populated states, when it comes to rules and regulations. They take a more pragmatic view of things. So they put me in a phys ed class when I got there, and the teacher ran me through a bunch of tests, to find out what kind of shape I was in, and by the end of the year he passed me in the course. They had a required class they called "Senior Literature", and I was told I had to pass that or take it in summer school. When they gave me the book, it looked familiar. When Addie saw it after school that day, she said, "What are you doing with my English book?" It turned out what was "Senior Lit" In Montana was Junior English where we had come from. I had already taken the class, or at least used that textbook. So they did some research and called back and forth, and decided I had, in fact, already passed "Senior Literature." But I had to have more credit in English, so they dropped me in Remedial English, where the teacher, who knew what was going on, had me help tutor the other kids and passed me based on that. Speech was similar. When the teacher found out about all my experience in plays and musicals, he agreed to give me the summer school course, but not make me wait until summer to start it. I started that in March, and was able to finish it up two weeks after graduation. They let me graduate, but didn't give me the diploma until I finished the Speech class.

Graduating from a school I'd only attended for a little more than two months wasn't something I'll call a highlight of my life. Not that I wanted to attend another year of high school just so I could feel some investment in my alma mater. Besides, the other things going on compensated for that. Our parents did come up for graduation. Of course they couldn't tell anybody who they were, because they were supposed to be in rehab. That's another one of those things you put in the box that holds "things we laugh about now, but didn't when it happened." We had a little party at the ranch, but then they had to get back home for work.

Looking back on that, it is only now that we can realize how hard this must have been on Mom and Dad. They never showed it. They always smiled and hugged us and supported us with nothing but love. But it had to have been a very dark time in their lives. Later that would change, thank goodness. But let's not get out of order.

That summer we worked hard. Because we worked hard we got along well with all the hands. They knew we lived in "the big house" but as family members they didn't find that strange. Whether they knew we lived in the same room, I couldn't say. It's possible, because occasionally, a hand would show up "to talk to the boss" and then end up staying the night in her room. We thought that was funny, because Aunt Maureen was in her fifties, and the hands were in their twenties. Apparently she was a tiger in bed. The fact is that with that going on too, we didn't feel all that unconventional at all.

While we worked hard, we loved hard too, most nights in that feather bed. If you've never been in an old fashioned feather bed, the mattress, which is a foot thick, is supported by canvas webbing that is stretched across the frame. That webbing sags over time, and when you compress twelve inches of goose down in the middle, the sides kind of curl up to enfold you. If you have someone with you, the two of you are literally thrown together. You can't roll apart, even if you want to. Well, you can, I suppose, but as soon as you relax, the bed will roll you back to the center.

Of course, we didn't want to roll apart. Sleeping together again was such a treat, we loved it, even when we got sweaty in that bed. The only down side was that getting out of it took some effort. You had to get on all fours and crawl to the edge. But you get used to that, just like you get used to getting up when it's still dark and moving around right away. No lazing around in bed on a working ranch. Trust me on that.

I don't know whether it was all the work we did or not, but as Addie's pregnancy progressed, the changes in her body weren't quite what I'd expected. I'd seen pregnant women before, of course, but most of them looked like it was a lot of work to carry their baby. They looked heavy all over, sort of. I'm not saying they weren't attractive. Some were and some weren't. But their original looks didn't have anything to do with it. The ones I'd seen in the past just had that beached whale kind of appearance that women complain about when they're pregnant.

Not Addison. She was slim and trim everywhere except her baby bump, and as that grew to maturity, it simply looked like she'd swallowed a soccer ball. Oh, her belly was stretched. No doubt about that. But it didn't blow her up like some odd balloon, and she didn't have back aches and waddle and all that.

There was one accommodation we had to make. Vlad had taught us the doggy style position. She hadn't liked that much, because she had to do some of the work, paying attention to her clit while I paid attention to my cock. Doggy style was good for me, but not so much for her. At least not if she wanted to just lie there and soak it all in. But with her belly sticking out, doggy style was the best way for me to get off and squirt. Of course she still loved sitting on top of me impaled, and belly dancing, jerking her hips forward and back. And that worked well in the feather bed. But it wasn't as good for getting me to spurt. So we kind of got in the habit of letting me go first, sometime in the evening, or even during the day, depending on what was going on. Then, at night, in the bed, it was all about her.

They say time flies when you're having fun. The summer seemed to fly by. It got to be the middle of August, and school was about to start, both in Montana and back home. Obviously Addison couldn't go back home yet. But there had been some discussion about me going back. Our situation had messed up college for me, because there was no guarantee that I'd be able to graduate from high school on time, and that meant I couldn't really apply to any colleges. So Mom and Dad had been suggesting that at least I could enroll in the Tech college, and take some of the classes that would transfer credit to a university once I applied and was accepted. There had never been any talk about doing anything other than going to college, and that hadn't changed.

So I was trying to figure out what to do while I rode standing on the three point hitch of the tractor behind Addie, who was driving. We had gone out to take down a diseased tree, and rather than cutting it up there and hauling all the pieces, I just wrapped the end of a log chain around the trunk, and hooked the other end to the ball on the back of the tractor. Then Addie started dragging the whole thing back to the burn pile out beyond the barn. I had been watching the tree, but it was pulling fine. I admit I was unhappy about the thought of leaving Addison there to have the baby and finish high school without me.

When we got to the burn pile she stood up, kind of spraddle legged, and looked down at jeans that looked like she'd peed herself half a dozen times in a row.

"Unhook that fucking tree, Bobby," she said, calmly. "My water broke and I'm having contractions. I think it's time to go."



Aunt Maureen was the one who flipped out. Addison and I had studied up on all this, including the concepts of Lamaze breathing, so that's what she did on the way to the hospital. Dr. Hobbs, her obstetrician, had been told Addie got drunk at a party and didn't know who the father was. Her previous doctor's records were obtained. While Dr. Anderson had known it was an incest baby, he hadn't put that into the file. His notes just stated that he was concerned about the development of the fetus, and had recommended frequent sonograms to keep an eye on things. Dr. Hobbs had done that, and had more than once asked her why Dr. Anderson had been so concerned. She said she didn't know, unless it was because she'd been so drunk at the point of conception. He said, "Well, the baby is fine, so I guess we won't worry about it." They were both happy.

So Addison went into labor not worried that there might be something wrong with the baby she already loved so much, and which both of us had stroked and talked to inside her belly for literally hours and hours. That I got to be there too, was the result of our cover story about Addison and me. People knew the sad tale of how we came to be at the ranch. And it was also assumed that it must be too soon since the accident for either parent to show up for the birth.

So nobody thought it was odd that a girl might want her step-brother, the only member of her family capable of being there to support her, in with her during labor. Especially since he had helped her train to do the breathing. Aunt Maureen was there, of course, but she left often, usually after a particularly strong contraction. She might have had a whole string of lovers, but she'd never had children. It became obvious that one reason she'd paid such careful attention to birth control was that the idea of going through what Addie was going through terrified her. She could face down a rampaging stallion with no problem, but have her watch Addison work through a strong contraction ... and she was reduced to a wreck.

It was different for me, for some reason. Maybe it's because I was the reason she was there, and having to go through all that. I wanted to be there, to help her if I could, and support her while she delivered our baby.

I'll tell you this. Watching a woman force a baby out of her body is a fascinating thing. She goes through all this pain that is obvious, and cannot be avoided, and comes without warning, whenever it's ready to come. And it happens hundreds of times over hours and hours. She gets worn out, and can't get comfortable, no matter what position she gets in. And if she somehow does find a comfortable position, a nurse tells her she has to move because the baby is being stressed by her being in that position. But through all of that, Addison didn't whine and moan and complain about it. She cried out in pain, but it was just that, an honest response to pain. She didn't tell me she hated me for doing this to her. In fact, more than once she pulled my ear next to her lips and whispered that she loved me!

And then, after all that, when she's wet with sweat, and the cords in her neck are standing out so starkly you could clip a clothes pin to them, and the doctor says, "Come on, Addie, one more push," and she finally flops back and says, " I can't!" In this tortured voice, you feel so helpless. You can't do anything for her except hold her hand, and tell her you love her, and none of that helps, because there's this huge thing stuck in her vagina, and everything hurts.

But the doctor has seen this a hundred times, and he sits patiently between her spread thighs, the only other man in the world who has seen her there, and he wheedles her into giving it one more try, and she grabs the steel railing that keeps her from falling off the table and strains and grunts for a push that seems like it lasts five minutes, not breathing at all while she does it. And the doctor praises her and asks for one more, and she's crying with the frustration of wanting to do what he's asking, but being too tired, and too out of breath.

And then, so suddenly it takes your breath away, the head pops out, and the nurses all make this unique kind of sound of approval as the mother's breath rushes out at the incredible, sudden loss of pressure in her groin. And this time she pushes instinctively, rather than because her uterine muscles demand it, and the doctor's hands do this funny little twisting thing while supporting the baby's head and the little body fairly squirts out into his hands. As this happens, you see the baby's shoulders hunched together, at first, and that baby looks slimy and blue and not quite human, somehow, until suddenly its arms wave and it cries and announces to the world that it liked being in the warm, safe cocoon of its mother's womb, and is not happy about losing that security. It flowers, there in the first blanket to touch its skin. It becomes a real, live, human baby.

Your baby!

And then you watch as it takes too long for the nurses to do whatever it is they're doing to the newborn, and the doctor says, " It's a boy!" which is unnecessary, because you've known that from the ultrasounds for months, but it shocks you into a big, goofy grin anyway.

Okay, I'm back. Whenever I remember those sixty seconds in time, when my son came into the world, it just takes me back.

Anyway, the reason I said the nurses were taking too long was because Addison, who had been braver and stronger than I could ever be for the last sixteen hours, was so tired that the only strength she had was to try, feebly, to sit up while she turns into a whining girl again and uses her pouting voice to ask, "Where's my baby?!"

There is nothing like watching a woman being handed her baby for the first time. He was still crying, but as soon as his naked skin touched hers, he quieted. Maybe it's smell. That's the only thing I can think of. A baby knows its mothers scent, and that calms him.

"You can try to nurse him," said a nurse, standing beside Addison's head, "but he probably won't take the nipple for several hours. He isn't really hungry right now. It's all too strange for him."

And then they had other things to do with Addison. She had to keep pushing to get the placenta out, and they took the baby off to clean him up, and ink the bottom of a foot and put that on paper and whatever else they do to babies. And suddenly Aunt Maureen and I weren't needed any longer, so with a hurried grab at her hand I told Addie we'd see her later. She smiled tiredly and we left.

Aunt Maureen and I left the hospital and went to a diner, where we had our first good meal in what seemed like days. After we ate, we went back to the car, an old Lincoln Continental that Aunt Maureen's father had purchased new. She'd taken good care of it and it was still in mint condition. She hadn't batted an eye at putting her niece into the back seat while she was in the process of having a baby, to take her to the hospital. When we got in, she didn't start it. Instead, she turned sideways in the seat and looked at me.

"So what are you kids going to do now?"

"Go back home, I guess," I said. "I mean, that's the plan, as far as I know it."

"Aren't you going to college?"

"I sent in some applications, but all this ... other ... happened and we ended up here, and all our plans got kind of shelved."

"So you're going to go back to Hastings and work at McDonald's or something?"

"That doesn't sound so attractive," I sighed. "Mom and Dad say I should go to the Tech when I get back, and start college that way."

"You do good work, Bobby. You're a natural with horses. Why don't you stay here?"

"Mom's going to help Addie with the baby," I said. "Addie has to finish school."

"That doesn't mean you have to be there too," said Aunt Maureen.

I think I looked shocked or something. She laughed.

"Can't stand the thought of being separated? You know that's what got you into this mess in the first place."

"I know," I said. " I don't know what to do."

"Want to know what I think?" she asked.

"Sure."

"I think you should go to college. Get yourself an Ag degree. And then come back here and help me run the ranch. One of these days I'm going to get tired of all the work, and want to relax a mite. And I'm not going to live forever. I ain't got no kids to leave the place to. I'd hate for some shark assed big corporation to buy it at auction and then sell it all off in pieces."

She frowned at the thought, but then her face relaxed.

"Then, after your sister finishes school, she can either join you at college, or come back here and work. Martha's in the same fix I am. She's gonna quit workin' one of these years and then I'm gonna need a new cook. Addie's good in the kitchen. The two of you could end up owning this ranch."

"You'd give us the ranch?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"I'd sell you the ranch," she corrected. "Part of the deal is I get to stay here until I croak. I'm gonna need somebody to take care of me in my dotage."

I opened the door. "I need to go talk to Addie."

She laughed. "Give the girl time to catch her breath. If I'd gone through what she just did, I doubt I'd want to see your ugly mug right away."

"She loves me," I objected. "She told me so a bunch of times in there."

"Be that as it may," said my aunt. "Now's not the time to hit her with something like that. Let's let her get her feet on the ground. And you're right. She does need to go back home for some help with that baby. I know nothing about the little rug rats, and don't want to learn. At the same time, you need to make plans. You're a man now, Bobby. You're gonna have to make your way in the world, one way or another. I know the popular thing these days is for kids to hang around the home place when they should be out doing something useful, but that don't mean you have to sign on to that plan. I've got friends at the University of Minnesota. I s'pect I can get you a seat there, and quite likely a scholarship too. It all depends on whether you're willin' to do the work to earn a shot at ownin' this ranch."

I closed the door again. My mind was whirling.

She let me think about it for two more hours and then said it was time to go back to the hospital and see Addison.

I knew I would have to have made some decisions by the time I saw my sister again.

And then it would be her turn.

Epilogue

My sister has a vivid imagination. She still swears that's why she ever agreed to do anything sexual with me in the first place. She says she closed her eyes and imagined us doing what Vlad was suggesting, and all she could see was a warm, sunny place where she didn't have to be afraid, and could try out some things she was intensely curious about.

I have often wondered if that was the only true thing Vlad ever told us ... that in Russia, this attitude about trying things with someone you know already loves you is more acceptable than it is here.

Anyway, she had no problem whatsoever adopting Aunt Maureen's idea of a possible future for us as her own. In fact, ten minutes after she heard about it, she was making plans with Aunt Maureen about how to make it all happen.

I'm making it sound like it was all sweetness and light. That was not the case. Addison wanted to stay at the ranch, and finish school there. Aunt Maureen wanted no part of that, insisting that her sister needed to help raise the baby, not her. I think some of the terror childbirth had caused in her remained, hanging around in Maureen's brain, and the thought of the horrible unknown of having a tiny, helpless baby in the house, and that she might have to be responsible for that tiny, helpless thing's health while Addie was at school, just scared her to death.

That part was out of our hands anyway, which became clear when our parents arrived, having driven straight through, without stopping for anything except food and gas, changing drivers every four or five hours while one slept and the other drove. While they hadn't been in favor of the making of this baby, once he was out into the big, wide, world, he instantly had two loving, doting grandparents.

And my mother made it crystal clear that her grandson and his mother were going back to Hastings, where her daughter was going to finish high school.

About that, both parents were firm. The rest of the "plan", however, fascinated them as much as it fascinated Addie and me.

I don't think either of them had ever envisioned me as a veterinarian, which was what Aunt Maureen's intentions were. As an alum from the school of veterinary medicine at the university, she had pull and access to programs in that field. She was correct in her belief that she could not only get me into the university, but that, if I declared a major in Biology and then went on into the vet school, I could get scholarships to help me with that plan.

Of course it wasn't as easy as just that. I had to take all kinds of tests, to see if I was well suited for that course of study. I had to sign papers that, if I changed my major or failed to complete it, required me to pay back the money. I had to maintain a 3.0 grade point average in all courses that were required for the degree, and a 3.5 grade point average in all other courses.

And then there was vet school, which was another four years of unbelievable hard work.

Of course, as an eighteen year old who suddenly has the hope of fulfilling his dreams on multiple levels, I had no idea how hard the suggested course of action would be. I suppose that's why teenagers reach so hard for the stars. They do look like they're not all that far away.

I'll be completely honest. If I had known then what I know now, I doubt I'd have been brave enough to try it. But three things got me through my college education.

The first, but not the most important, was the concept that I would own the ranch one day. The second was that, through it all, Addison never doubted that I could do my part. Every time we saw each other, she reminded me that what I was doing was for us, and our family, and that she loved me for making the sacrifices I believed I was making.

By far the most important, though, was that each summer I got to spend on the ranch with Addison and Bernie, as we commonly called him. Bernard was named after our ancestor, who spent his life creating the Broken B Ranch. And those months, where I finally got to be with her again, and catch up on everything that had been done while I was off in Minnesota, were what kept me going.

Meanwhile, Addison graduated from high school in Hastings, and went to Tech to start a business degree. Two years later she moved to the ranch for good, and finished her degree online. Actually, she never actually graduated. Basically she took the courses needed to understand how to run the business and invest for the future and things like that. And since Aunt Maureen had never done any of this, it was quite helpful. The Broken B stock had always been sought after, and she had two stallions people would pay to have their mares put with. She had never been what she would call "rich" but when Addison started applying what she learned in school, the books began to look a lot better.

It is difficult for me to describe this stage in our lives. For one thing, I was gone eight months out of the year, and what I was doing took every ounce of concentration I owned to get through. In one sense, it was good I didn't have a family with me, because if I had, I'm not sure I could have pulled it off.

And I also have to admit that I didn't make it any easier on Addie. That's because every summer, and during the break every year between semesters, I went home to that feather bed, and tried to make up for all those nights I had to sleep alone.

And that didn't help because my sister never went on the pill.

And by the time I graduated as a doctor of veterinary medicine (with emphasis on large animals) I had visited two more children on the poor girl.

I don't know whether it was because everybody knew how hard I was working, or because they finally threw up their hands and gave up, but our parents, while they frowned about us having more babies, never flagged at accepting them into the family. They did draw aside, when Addie admitted to them she was pregnant for the second time, with Vanessa. Their question was, "We know the first time worked out ... but are you sure you want to go on this way?"

Our answer, though disapproved of, was accepted. What else could they do? Our children, who now consisted of Bernie, Vanessa, and Jordan, were spoiled rotten by their grandma and grandpa. Their other "Grandma", who they addressed as "Granny Maw", was over her fright about having babies around, and had become thoroughly embroiled in raising them.

But I want to make it crystal clear here that neither Addison nor I were happy while we were separated. Had we been normal people who got married and then did all this, we might have ended up in divorce. But we didn't think about it like that. She was my sister. She'd always be my sister, and nothing could ever change that. And it was the same for me. We couldn't get divorced. That word didn't even make sense when it came to our relationship. And I knew there could never be another woman for me, while she was convinced that no other man would ever lie in that bed, or any other, with her. And while that sounds like a positive thing, it only made the separation more painful for both of us.

So when I finally got back to the ranch, there was practically an orgy of relief and relaxation. Not that everything went smoothly.

When children are raised in a matriarchy, with a mother and two grandmothers doing the vast majority of all child rearing, the children can tend to view men as "those odd people who show up once in a while and say and do interesting things." They all obeyed their grandfather, for the most part, but it was the women who called the shots.

They knew who I was, of course. True, when I'd been gone for a semester, and suddenly came back, they were confused about things for a little while. But they knew who "Daddy" was. And they knew they had to do what Daddy told them to, but I'll be honest. That was because Mommy insisted they do what Daddy said.

And when I got back there permanently, and the whole dynamic changed, because I was finally fully integrated into both the running of the ranch, and being a full time father, there were some bumps in the road. But that only lasted six months or so. When daddy expanded chores into areas that were both more fun and more dangerous, he won the hearts and minds of the children. Mommy wasn't so happy about it at first, but she got over that too.

Over the next nine years, we had added another boy and girl to the family, and built a new house which was ten times more energy efficient and probably a hundred times cheaper to maintain. Maureen couldn't bear the thought of demolishing the old house and, while it wasn't efficient to cool and heat, it was structurally sound. So Addison came up with a business plan to renovate it and turn it into a bed and breakfast, to draw on the tourist trade. Tourism brings what are called "new dollars" into the system, meaning you aren't recycling something already there, and the micro economy involved draws in funds that would not otherwise be available. It's a little like prospecting for gold. You don't spend any more money doing that than you would just staying alive, and if you find gold, you get rich. You have nothing to lose except time and energy, both of which you would spend doing something anyway.

Of course renovating a hundred year old farmhouse does take both time and money, which has to come from the micro economy involved. It's a gamble as to whether that will pay off or not. And putting money back into the infrastructure had tax advantages, so even if it didn't work out, it could still be less than harmful. But Addison thought people might want to spend some time in Big Sky country on a horse ranch.

She was right, as it turned out.

People did want to spend time on a horse ranch. And it also turned out they loved Denise's cooking. Martha, the cook when Addie and I had first arrived, had, indeed, retired. Addison hadn't taken her place, though. Instead, her daughter-in-law had been invited to come learn the trade while her husband was overseas on a tour in Afghanistan. She had taken to it happily, needing something to do to keep her mind off of worrying about her husband. When Dennis got out of the Army and came home, he liked it there, hired on as a hand, and became our expert coyote hunter.

I won't say the B and B was too popular, but by the time Bernie was ten, it was booked solid two years in advance, and Maureen was complaining that it was taking too much of her time to administer.

That was when Mom announced she was taking early retirement from the university. She'd been complaining about not getting enough time with her grandchildren, and intended to visit much more often. While the kids had been down to Hastings for a few days every once in a while, that's hard to make work when what is basically a single mom is raising them, and working on a ranch at the same time.

So when she called and announced she'd have more time to spend at the ranch, she and Addison got to talking and the next thing I knew we had hired a new host and hostess for the B and B. Dad could do his job anywhere, and besides, he was thinking about retirement too.

And that's how it turned out that, some eleven years after Vlad Zharkov "destroyed" our lives and disappeared into the ether, we were all together as a family on the Broken B Ranch, raising the results of Vlad's criminal interference in the lives of two teenagers who fell in love with someone they weren't supposed to fall in love with.

You might wonder how the surrounding community viewed all this. Well, as it turns out, working as a ranch hand isn't for everybody. It's hard, dirty work, and there aren't regular hours. The time the horses need you the most is when the weather is the worst. Of course anything that threatens them, threatens you as you try to help them survive, whether it's getting them out of the way of flash floods, or helping them get through deep snow to feed, or driving them off the hilltops during a lightning storm. And even though horses can be very affectionate, when they don't want to be herded or caught, they are very capable of avoiding both.

So a lot of men who sign on for that kind of work don't last all that long before they decide they want to look for something a little more conventional.

Some stick around longer than others. Being invited into Aunt Maureen's bed can have that effect on a man, even if she's old enough to be his mother. She's trim and shapely and, as I said, apparently a tiger in bed.

But by the time I graduated from vet school and moved back home permanently, there wasn't a single hand left on the ranch who was there when Addie and I first arrived. The foreman was a man named Cody Burns, and he was quite possibly the only hand on the ranch who hadn't spent the night in Maureen's bedroom. That was because he was happily married with three kids, and lived in Tipper's Corner, the town twenty miles down the blacktop road from the ranch. He "knew" I was Addison's step brother, but had not been told the original cover story about our parents "accident." He had met them, in fact, before he met me. And while there were a few people in the area who might remember about the accident they'd been told of, all of them had also been told that, eventually, the parents would recover. My dad, in fact, had a limp. It wasn't from the fictitious accident, of course, but people who saw him later didn't know that. And by this time, everybody who had seen them had forgotten about all that anyway.

So when our mom and dad showed up to run the B and B, and live on the ranch in their retirement, nobody thought a thing about it.

There was one other thing we had to make a decision about. When the children were born, Addison left the names of the fathers as "unknown" for obvious reasons. At least to us. But that denied me any legal claim to having the right to provide for their care, or make medical decisions and things like that. Even though there were probably a couple of people around who suspected that her step-brother was responsible for Addison's pregnancies. Even if their suspicions were true, it wasn't illegal, but they could understand why we didn't feel like we could get married. Addison and I, of course knew we couldn't get married.

So Addison had papers drawn up making me the children's guardian, should anything happen to her, and granting me the authority to make decisions that required such authority in legal basis.

Of course their grandparents make decisions too, as they provide guidance to the children. I'm the only veterinarian within a hundred miles, now that Maureen is retired from that line of work, at least away from the ranch. So I'm often gone for hours at a time. And Addison is busy with her duties as CEO of the Broken B.

So it's not at all odd for Grandma or Grandpa to ride herd on the children, who range in age these days from Bernie, who is in his last year of attending the same high school his "Uncle Bob"went to, down to Annie Mae, who is four now.

And I suppose that's why, while I was helping Addison set the table for supper one night, Vanessa, who just turned sixteen, asked her grandmother the question, instead of asking her mother.

"Grandma? Now that I'm sixteen, and can drive, can I get an after school job so I can make some spending money?"

I think it scared the poor girl half to death when both her grandparents yelled "NO!" at exactly the same time.




The End

[pradeep8715]

Stories:-


A Boy In Babeland - Cheerleader - A Back Rub For Julia - All About Simon - Big Girls Don't Cry - After School Job - Anjali’s Evening Out - House Party with my wife - My wife Bela - Yashodhara's Descent - Good Wife - Cooling Off - Beautiful Housewife Banged - A Remarkable Phase of My Life - A Different Party - A Hero's Welcome - KAMINA (In Hindi) - The Private Party - My Roommate Takes My Girlfriend - Madhu's Job - Oh….Ashley (Running)

[Chrysalis]

Outstanding, amazing story!!
Now, as to the film version: it's just too bad that Jennifer Lawrence could not pass as a girl as young as Addie was when the whole Vlad thing began.
But we'll launch a Nationwide talent search!

P.S.
Okay, it's been a few days since I read this and I cannot get it out of my mind. I so wish that you had included a couple of photos, and I mean just portrait facial shots. It would be so nice to have faces to go with the names. As well, photo real pencil portrait art is one of my specialties!

Will there be a sequel to this wonderful story?

[spankem]

this was a very good story.

[pradeep8715]

Merry Christmas...!!!