Chapter 2

Dylan

I grip the steering wheel of my Audi. The leather feels good against my fingers. Reaching into my pocket, I slide out a carton of cigarettes and pull one out. I flip open my lighter and an orange and blue flame appears. It flickers and waves. Rain steadily drops onto the car. I close my eyes and take a long drag. The smoke relaxes me and as I inhale every piece of it. The smoke twirls around my nose. I flick the cigarette butt out the window.

Fuck, I am horny. My dick throbs underneath my jeans, hard as a rock. I suck more smoke down. It's been a few days since my last fuck. I glance out the window and see a man and woman walk into the bar. I bet he's going to get laid, but she isn't really my type. She doesn't have enough meat on her ass. I like to be able to get a handle full when I want.

My phone lights up. It’s a text message from George reminding me that he would like to see me this time for Thanksgiving. I stare at it, contemplating my response. I haven't reached out to him in a while. I've been traveling Asia, trying to build relations for my technology company. I should go. I can't even remember the last time I was at home for the holidays. It will be weird now since he has a new wife and a fucking step daughter. What was her name again? Christy? Fuck. I don't know. I just remember a tall, gangly girl. Poor thing. I text him back letting him know I will check my schedule. I don't want to commit to anything in case something or someone better comes up. I watch a busty blonde in tight jeans walk by my car. Our eyes meet. Too old I think as she walks past the car. I turn the engine on.

The rain starts to thud down even louder now. I stop at the intersection. If I turn right, I will end up at my Dad's, or I could go back left, to my apartment. I'm not sure which one is better. Dammit. I should go to my Dad's. The guilt is building in me the longer I wait. I turn down the road. I guess I will just have to take care of this boner myself. I chew on my bottom lip and try to think of any girls from high school who might still be living in the town. But none come to mine, all the good ones moved on after college.

After a few hours, I arrive at the large estate my father has built. The white pillars stand over a wraparound patio. Everything was built and designed by his ex-wife, my mother. A horrible woman who ended leaving us both for the gardener. My car pulls up next to what I am guessing is Martha's BMW. My dad only drove Volkswagen. The rain was starting to let up now. I pull my leather jacket over my head and run into the house. My key slides into the lock and I open the door, closing it behind me with a woosh from the wild wind. My father stands in the foyer with a look of shock plastered on his dark round eyes. His silver hair is slightly disheveled.

"Hey, stranger," he laughs. I brush off the few leaves that stuck to my jacket.

"How are you doing, old man?" I ask, walking over and hugging him. He smells like pine needles and cigar smoke.

"Some weather we are having," he laughs. My dark brown hair is already damp from the outdoors.

"Seriously." my eyes dart around, looking for Martha or her daughter.

"How was the drive?" he asks.

"Fine." I hang my coat in the closet and look at the house. It is almost as though the whole place has been gutted and changed.

"Looks good in here..."

"Thank you. Martha redid it all when she moved in. She's an interior designer."

"Great," I say, smiling. I am happy my dad seems to be doing well.

"Is she here?" I ask.

"Yeah, she and Crystal are upstairs."

Crystal! My mind turns back. That's what the girl's name is. I should have remembered that. I nod. My father cups his hands around his mouth.

"Martha!" his voice carries up the winding staircase. In a matter of seconds, the tall, lean woman peaks her head over the railing. She has pretty green eyes and her eyes cascades down her shoulder. I remember Martha well. She smiles wide and runs down the stairs.

"Dylan! You made it! Oh, my goodness." She hugs me tight; her thin arms wrap around my waist. "Woah, you've put on some muscles," she laughs. "This is just wonderful that you are here."

I smile.

"Thought I could make an appearance.”

"Well, we really appreciate, and are so happy," George says, resting his hand on my shoulder. He shakes me slightly, but I don't notice. My eyes move up to the top of the stairs, where she stands. Tall like her mother, but with the perfect shape. Her breasts push under her tight shirt, and her skirt hugs her curves. But my eyes don't stop there. They trail up to her green eyes and full lips. Blonde almost silver hair is pulled up into a high ponytail. She looks like a sleek, elegant cat, perfect for a pet. My cock nearly doubles in size at the sight of her. I pull away from my parents.

Who is this? It can't be Crystal, is it? No Crystal is a girl...this is a woman, ready to be taken. I cough and clear my throat, unconsciously slipping my damp hair back away from eyes. She seems to freeze at the top of the stairs. Her eyes flicker back and forth.

"Look, Crystal. Dylan came!" Martha says happily. The realization my cock wants my sister suddenly bangs on my head, and I almost shake my head, to try and get rid of the desire for her. Crystal smiles.

"Hey, Dylan," she says in a soft, raspy voice, as she comes down the stairs. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to stare at her breasts.

"Hi," I say. Speak! I scream in my head. "How are you doing?"

"Good," she says again. Her eyes are shy about looking at me. Can she tell that I want to fuck her more than anything? I dare not hug her. I can’t risk her feeling my cock. That would be weird. Jesus - really weird. Martha turns clapping her hands.

"Well, you are just in time for our pre-Thanksgiving dinner!"

"It’s true," George begins. "Martha thought we could warm up our stomachs for tomorrow with a serious feast."

We follow them in the kitchen. I walk behind Crystal, watching her ass bounce under the skirt. I bite my lip. I bet she tastes so good. Fuck, I almost choke on a cough. I have to stop!

The table was full of food, mostly pasta, and Italian dishes. George leans over into my ear.

"Martha's Italian."

Martha hears him and winks. But my eyes stay on the Italian daughter. She sits quietly at the table with her hands folded perfectly in her lap. She is thinking about every move. I wonder what she thinks about me? Does it matter? I try to remind myself.

We dig in. Martha and George do most of the talking; otherwise, there are multiple moments of prolonged silence.

"So, how's work going?" George asks me through a bite of garlic bread. I sigh and lean back.

"Hard. Have a couple of deals coming through set up for after Christmas."

"Big ones?" he asks. Martha coughs.

"George, I thought we decided to keep business discussions at a minimum this holiday. It's about family."

"Sorry," I say.

"No, you're fine," she sighs with a kind smile. Another moment of silence build. I try my best not to stare at Crystal too much, but my boner keeps wanting to think of ways to put itself inside of her.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" I blurt out. What the fuck?! Crystal looks up.

"Uh...no... I don't."

I cough. That is the stupidest thing I could have said. She smiles though. God, she is beautiful. It feels as though I have been cursed by something or someone, to have such a perfect creature in front of me, but no way to have her. Why does she have to be my step sister? If she weren't, I would have her on her knees right now. I clench my jaw. She looks back down at her food.

"Crystal is very busy with her school work," George says, pulling me out of my lust. He is just happy I am making an effort by being a part of the family.

"What's your major again?" I ask. That's better, more something a family member might ask.

"Pre-med."

"Wow, that's impressive. I hated college." She smiles again. I love it.

"It's not too bad, just a lot of reading."

"I bet," I say. Our eyes linger on one another for a bit too long. She suddenly looks away. Am I already pushing these limits? I need a cigarette or something to do with my mouth.

"What did you study?" she asks. So, I'm not scaring too much.

"Business and software engineering."

"That's great."

Your ass is great I say in my head. I probably should go back home after this meal. This is complete and total torture. But I can't and don't. I stay until the end of the evening, trying to keep my focus off of my step sister. The dinner comes to an end, and we retire to the living room. I watch as she sits in the large armchair across from me. Her long legs are crossed over, hiding from me. My mind races with excuses for us to be alone, and what I could do with that time. I think about how tight she must be. She seems like a good girl, probably doesn't get around to much, likes to focus on her schoolwork, which means she has to be tight. I shift my legs to help conceal the hard on I have. It’s been going strong all night. Our parents talk to us, but neither of us says too much. We are aware of each other's presence. She suddenly stands up.

"I'm going to go upstairs real quick," Crystal says, her eyes catch mine, and they hold. I lean my head back and give her a half smile. My gaze follows her up the stairs as she disappears.

"She really is growing up," my father sighs.

"I know it makes me feel old," Martha laughs. I chew on my lip.

"When will you be heading back?" George asks me.

"Probably Friday," I say shortly. My brain wants to think about what she is doing upstairs by herself. A half hour goes by. Martha looks down at her watch.

"Crystal!" she shouts. There is no response. My stepmom looks to me, “Dylan, would you please go get Crystal. I would love us to be able to play a board game. Spend some time together." I don't waste any time or object.

"That would be fun," I say quickly, walking up the stairs. I am not too sure what room is hers now. I bet it’s probably the second guest room down the hall away from everything else. I knock on the door. Maybe this isn't it. I slowly push it open, and there across the room, her bathroom door is slightly ajar. The light from the bathroom seeps out into the room, and I can see perfectly right into the bathroom mirror, which reflects the shower. And what I see in the shower almost makes me moan audibly. I feel my cock jump. Crystal's perfect body is right in my view. Water runs down her supple breasts, over her tight ass, and onto her pussy. I almost cannot handle it, seeing her there. My hand slips into my jeans, and I grasp a hold of the cock and move my hand back and forth fast. I see myself in the mirror standing behind her, bending her over and fucking her hard. My hand moves quickly. I start to feel the release I have been craving all day. But then, she closes her eyes and leans back against the shower wall. I see her hand slide down her stomach and onto her clit, where her finger begins to touch, pushing her pink lips apart and opening them. Her fingers crawl inside of her. Fuck, I wish that was me. I lean against the frame, my shaft pulsing in my hand. Her other hand pinches her erect nipple. I can see her chest rising and falling with each breath. Her hands move faster, and so does mine. She moans softly, tilting her head back. She needs me inside of her. I know it. I groan under my breath. Her eyes snap and open, locking right onto mine. I freeze, dick out and in my hand. She does too. We stare at one another. Fuck. Jesus. My cheeks burn a bright red and mouth goes dry. I quickly zip my pants back up. But Crystal doesn't try to hide from.

"Dylan! Did you tell her to come downstairs?" Martha shouts. I cough and spin around fast. My heart is racing. I cannot believe I let her see me like that. I can't believe I was touching myself to my step sister in the shower like some horny fifteen-year-old boy who's never seen pussy before.

"I think she's in the shower..." I fumble for a cover. “Her room is the at the end of the hall right?"

"Yeah!"

"Kay...I'll just, uh, wait till she's all done in there."

I return downstairs to the living room, but the pressure in my balls is building, and it is extremely uncomfortable. This is actual torture. I shift my weight and try to help, but nothing is working. Martha starts to drift off to sleep. George looks over at her and smiles.

"Looks like we shouldn't play a game," he smiles, rubbing her leg. Why did you have to marry her? I beg in my mind. You could have picked anyone. George shakes Martha's shoulder and wakes her.

They say goodnight and head up the stairs, leaving me in my tortured state.

I go to the kitchen where my father has his butler pantry off the back of it. I look through his liquor and alcohol. A lot of wine. More than I ever really remember. I pop open a bottle of some of his scotch and slowly pour into a glass full of ice. I swirl my cup and smell the oaky wood flavor of the brown liquor, hoping this will help soothe my aching dick. I take my time sipping. It burns slightly on my tongue as it travels down my throat steadily.

I can't believe it. I don't know how many girls I have been with, and it's my fucking step sister who makes me feel like some little boy whose never seen a pair of tits before. It's not fair. Just then footsteps appear behind me. The scotch isn't working as well as I hoped it would. I take another sip, but then my back stiffens, and I freeze, I feel the presence of someone behind me. The full kitchen light turns on. I turn around, and she jumps with a slight scream.

"I didn't think anyone was up," she says, clutching her chest.

My cock feels like it might burst. She is standing there, in a sheer silk night gown. I can clearly see her shape underneath it.

"Sorry, I - uh, needed a drink."

We stare at one another for a long moment. Neither one wants to start the conversation that needs to happen. I take another drink.

She had hardly spoken all evening to me, and then she sees me jacking off to her. She must think I am really fucked up.

"And, I am really sorry about early," I mumble out.

She walks, so she is standing on the opposite side of the counter where I am sitting. "Why were you watching me in the bathroom?"

I clench my jaw. Well, I guess we are getting right to it. There are two ways I could handle this, and I am not sure which one is better, but the scotch is starting to go to my head. I can try to bullshit my way out of this and promise her it will never happen again. But that would be a lie. I want her. I should tell her up front, and if it freaks her out, I will say sorry and leave, but there is no way I can spend any holiday here with her tempting me.

"I was watching you shower," I say bluntly. My eyes lock onto her's. Her eyebrows raise up in surprise, and she chews on the bottom of her lip. I don't know what kind of answer she is expecting, but it is what it is. She tilts her head and stares at me.

"Why would you do that?" she asks calmly. God, she is so hot. I just want her to wrap those pouty little lips onto my cock. I feel myself stand as if I am no longer in control of my body or its movements. I walk over to face my step sister. She doesn't dare move. She trusts me. That's a grave mistake. We're inches apart, and I can smell her soft, smooth body. My fingers travel up her arm to her cheek. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Goosebumps spread across her skin and raise up, as my hand trails down her neck to her collarbone, where it slips under the robe and finds her full breast.

"Because I want to fuck you," I whisper in her ear, running my thumb along her small pink nipple. Her eyelids flutter softly. I lean in to kiss, but she suddenly pulls back. Her green eyes avoid mine. My hand slowly falls out of her robe and back to my side.

"This isn't right," Crystal says softly as if she is telling herself more than she is asking me to stay away. She turns around, gaining her posture and gets herself a glass of water. I remain frozen watching her. Does she want it as much as I do? We don't say anything to one another. She finishes her water and sets into the sink.

At the edge of the doorway, she stops and looks back at me.

"Don't be sorry about seeing me in the shower," she says in a low cool voice before her body disappears behind the wall and up the stairs.