Home sweet fucking home, I think, as soon as I walk up to the intersection and press the pedestrian walk button. Just a couple more blocks to the house.

California’s so fucking hot; it's like walking through an oven. Even my balls are sweating. How do people walk through this shit?

I guess I could've called a cab, but the house isn't far from the Amtrak station, so I took a train, and now I'm walking. I figured I'd take it all in. And for the most part, I've been soaking it all in for the first time in a long time.

I knew I was getting close when those nuclear tits came into view off the I-5. If you've never seen them, you should. They're nuclear reactors that power the area, sitting right along the coast, and the guy who designed them must've had some fucking sense of humor because they look like a perfect pair of tits.

I feel a thin line of sweat run down my face, and another bead of sweat trickle down the contours of my abs. I stop and take a drink of water and survey my old neighborhood. If I'm being fucking honest, I wish that I didn’t even have to go home. I could be hitting the beach right now, working on my tan, surfing the T-Street break, and picking up the girls clamoring for a taste of the dudes brave enough to ride San Clemente's most consistent waves..

"Hey, hottie!" someone shouts.

I barely hear the voice from the convertible at the intersection. I’m lost in my thoughts about my stepdad Daniel asking me to come home. It's my fucking summer break and I thought I'd chill with the guys before we all hop on a plane to Bali. But those plans got derailed quicker than I can get in a girl's fucking skirt. Poof. Those plans detonated pretty fucking fast.

But yeah, there’s a girl calling out to me.

I mean, I’m not surprised she’s impressed enough to call out. If you see me, you know what I’m working with. My fucking 8 pack abs that you can see through my tight shirt. My ripped body. My tattoos.

My fucking face that’s cut and and deep, soulful eyes.

But more than anything, my giant fucking cock. She can probably tell what this cock does.

Hell, she can probably tell my entire body was designed to fuck.

That’s right, Colt Morgan was built to have sex.

"How may I be of service?" I ask the dark-haired girl in the convertible next to me at the stoplight. I play it casual. There’s one thing about San Clemente girls. They never fucking fail to surprise me.

"In more ways than you can think," she purrs.

Holy shit!

Sure, the girl’s got wavy dark tresses. But she’s got a slutty vibe in her face that I’m fucking familiar with. This is a SoCal chick. One of those who’s driving that car on Daddy’s money. She’d probably drive a jalopy if it meant he’d pay more attention to her.

But he doesn’t. So she’s out. Trolling for guys.

The girl knows she’s got a limited window of time to impress me if she wants me to fuck her. She doesn’t waste time as she starts to lower her top, flashing her big boobs. No doubt they’re fake. They’re fucking huge—symmetrical and extra perky—just the way I like them. I bet they'd fit nicely in my hands. They look like two big melons squashed into her thin vest. I’m so tempted to follow her home as she lowers her top further, leaving nothing to the imagination.

I can hardly speak; I feel as if I’ve got one of those big melons stuffed right in my fucking mouth. I'm not kidding when I say that I can practically fucking taste her.

I blink to bring myself back to reality. "Those," I point to them, my fingers aching to touch her because I’m getting so fucking hard, "could stop traffic!"

She laughs, "I think that they’ve already done that. So, big boy? Are you going to follow me home or are you going to sit there and look at them all day long?" She's chewing gum, and I watch as her moist lips open and close seductively. If I'm fucking honest, I can already imagine something else between those lips.

Like I said, I know these girls and what they’re all about.

Underneath that perfectly coiffed Neiman Marcus look, she’s a nasty fucking slut ready to spread her legs and let any dude with a dick defile the shit out of her.

I could do things to her that would make you raise your eyebrows.

But I’m so over it. It’s not new.

I’m just about to answer her but from the look on my face I know she can tell she’s going to be shot down. That’s why when the light turns green and she drives off without a word. For a minute I think about following her—maybe jotting down her license plate, getting in a car and finding her, but then my phone rings and I see it's Daniel calling. I guess I need to take a rain check. I can’t get distracted; I’m only here for a couple of days. Besides, there'll be plenty of girls like her in Bali.

I love being back home. Yes, the weather’s fucking hot, but the girls are even hotter.

I take a right down to the house, wondering what the big drama is. It's not every day that I get called back home. Daniel, my stepdad, was married to my mom when I was little. I used to call him Dad until my mom died and he married Clara, my new stepmom. I never liked her, wild and unpredictable, and of course I didn't fucking like the fact that my mom was being replaced so soon. Besides, Clara was a drug addict, and after only one year she bailed out on him.

As soon as I walk up to the house, I take a deep breath and call out, "home sweet home." I drop my bag from my shoulder and can feel a trickle of sweat running down the middle of my back

I look around the driveway before walking into the house. Daniel’s car isn’t here, which I find strange, seeing as he was calling me only a few minutes ago. I suppose I should call him back, but I just want to dump my things inside first and get out of this heat.

My stepsister Karen’s car is in the drive. Strange; I didn’t know that she would be here too. I thought that it would be only Daniel and I.My stepsister is crazy about her boyfriend Zach, even though everyone knows that he can’t keep his dick in his pants. I tried warning her once and she nearly bit my head off. Lesson learned. Now I keep my fucking mouth shut.Then again, I did see on her Facebook profile recently that she had posted a photo of him getting a BJ from some other chick. Sucks to be him right now … or her I guess.

But she can't say I didn't warn her.

I'm sure Karen will forgive him. She's always fucking covering for Zach. It's a crazy kind of denial. She seems to turn a blind eye to everything else that he does. But maybe I've been wrong. Maybe she never knew about any of this until now. Or maybe love really is blind.

I wouldn’t know, because falling in love is the last thing I’ll ever do. Fuck that. I saw the way Daniel fell apart when Mom died, and he wasn’t much better when Clara kept running off. There's one thing I know for sure: love is a losing game. You can fucking quote me on that too.

I take my time entering the house. I’m just about to go to my room, when I decide to head to the kitchen. Fuck, I’m dying for a drink, so I dump my bag by the stairs. It was a longer walk that I remembered it being, and I hate sitting in a car sometimes because I feel as if I’m driving in a cage or something; I prefer to move around, take in the natural breeze and surroundings when I can. But today, with these California temperatures, I'm thinking that was a mistake. I should've drove. There was nothing but hot air and oppressive sun beating down on me

I’m in the kitchen just about ready to grab a cold beer from the fridge when I see Karen. She's sunbathing by the pool. I wonder if she came here because she caught Zach with another girl. After seeing her Facebook post, I'm fucking dying to hear what happened. But the temptation to stand here and admire her body while sipping on a beer is strong, even though we’re officially family. Fuck, has she filled out or something? I don't ever remember her looking this fucking hot. She's wearing a bikini, lying in a reclined patio chair, a mixture of sweat and sunshine bouncing off the tops of her tits. I turn away thinking that I shouldn't be watching her sunbathe; she's my fucking stepsister!

I close my eyes and move closer to the porch door like a moth to a light bulb. I don’t even realize that I’m staring, but suddenly she is standing up and looking directly at me.

She waves to me, "Hey!"

Fuck. I need to adjust my cock; it’s on full alert as I look at Karen.

I open the door. "What are you doing here?"

I don’t know why I said that. This is her home too. She’s nothing but a sweet temptation. It’s as if her boobs are screaming fucking "squeeze me" and somehow her waist is more pronounced. Then again, I’ve never seen her in a swimsuit before, let alone a bikini that leaves nothing to the imagination.

"I live here silly! I could say the same thing about you." She smiles, her hands on her hips. "Why don’t you come and join me?"

Fuck, when did she get so feisty? I realize as I awkwardly reposition myself that my dick’s pointing like a radar mast in her direction.

"Oh you mean sunbathe?"

She takes off her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow, "What did you think I meant?"

You don’t want to know. You’re my stepsister, and I just got home. This is too much to take in at once. Then again, she just split up with Zach, so maybe she’s feeling lonely.

I blurt out, "Sorry about that thing with Zach."

She doesn’t even blink an eye after I mention his name.

"Good riddance to that asshole!"

Wow, I wasn’t expecting her to say that about the love of her life. Maybe he wasn’t that much of a boyfriend after all. Then again, her not-so-subtle message about him coming too quickly made it clear that he didn’t satisfy her in the bedroom. Maybe…

Stop. This is fucking crazy. She’s my fucking stepsister.

But…

Karen’s hot.

There’s no fucking denying that. All the fucking moral grandstanding doesn’t get past the simple biological desire to take my hard 12 inch fuck tool and stick it inside her. To spread her wide open and fuck the living shit out of her. To smell the steam from her pussy and empty a quart of cum inside of her.

"Are you going to stand there staring at me or come and join me?" she asks as she puts her shades back on and sprawls her body out on the towel.

I peel off my shirt, reminding myself that she’s my stepsister. But my cock keeps thinking otherwise as I get down to my boxers. She looks up and says, "Superman! Nice."

Trust me to pick the worst day to wear these boxers. A girl got them for me after claiming that I was like Superman in bed. Fuck, I’m not sharing that story with Karen. Especially when I’m trying so damn hard not to look at her body. Or maybe I could tell her that I’m like Superman in bed.

What's the worst thing that'll happen? She could tell me to fuck off. Then again, she could ask me to show her. What's the likelihood of that fucking happening?

All I know is that she’ll soon realize that she wasted six years on Zach, especially if he always came before she did. I'm guessing that means she probably hasn’t had an orgasm in that long. And with that body? That's a fucking shame.

Fuck, I need to keep myself in check big time.

I’m having too many nasty thoughts.

And every single one of them is about Karen.