Fostered Care Ch. 01

NOTE: The protagonists of this story are foster siblings, not biological siblings. For me that is a neat way to side-step the more distasteful, biological aspects of incest stories; yet it still has a bit of that forbidden, titillating, taboo-appeal in terms of the emotional side of a brother-sister relationship – which I've tried to expound upon in this first chapter. Technically this story doesn't have to go in the 'incest/taboo' section, but it might cause offence if I post it elsewhere, so this is where it goes. For those who think going the 'foster siblings' route is a bit weak – a 'cop-out' is what it might be called in Australia – then feel free to go read one of the other millions of brother-on-sister stories here. Otherwise, read on and enjoy, with my thanks; I'm keen for any and all comments and messages, tell me what you think and if you're enjoying the story. I tend to need encouragement to keep these things going... thanks.

CHAPTER ONE – Adoptive brother and sister, resisting forbidden urges.

Shaun was adopted into Christine's family when he was only six months old, and 'Chris' barely three months older. Their parents had been close friends for a long time, so when Shaun's parents were killed in a car crash, his parents' will named Bill and Therese Cleary – Chris's parents – as their preferred guardians for Shaun. With no surviving grandparents and only a few aunties and uncles living overseas and never seen, Chris's family was the only family Shaun knew as he grew up, and so he was embraced as one of their own, and they were they only family he ever knew.

Bill and Therese sat the kids down after Shaun's tenth birthday, and explained that they were now old enough to know the truth. It hit Shaun fairly hard, as could be expected, but 'mum' and 'dad' were really good about it. They shared old pictures and stories of Shaun's biological parents, and told him what wonderful people they were and how much they loved him, and how sad everyone was when they died. They also told Shaun how it was an honour for them to be chosen to look after him, and – most importantly – how Bill and Therese loved Shaun very much and thought of him as a son of their own; this made accepting the news much easier for Shaun. Though Bill, Therese and Chris weren't his true father, mother and sister, to him they always had been, and he decided that they always would be.

Shaun and Chris had always got on like a normal brother and sister did: squabbling occasionally, but loving and supportive of each other, always standing up for and standing by the other if there was trouble at school. Upon learning that they were only brother and sister in spirit, nothing changed, they thought of themselves as brother and sister just as always. As they grew into their teens and the hormones started to kick in, it was perhaps only natural that their relationship became a little more physical; nothing overt, of course, taking the form of playful wrestling matches around bedtime, interspersed by the occasional straddle, grope or even the odd kiss – instigated by the both of them, driven only by natural curiosity and primal urges, fired perhaps by the subconscious realisation that there was no biological reason why they shouldn't fool around a little.

It didn't take long for their parents to sense what was going on, and it was near their sixteenth birthdays that they were sat down and given 'the talk': in a calm, rational and reasonable forum, it was explained that even though Chris and Shaun were not siblings in the biological context, their relationship was very much of brother-and-sister in the emotional sense; if they were ever to take things too far in a physical fashion, it would have a profound impact upon their relationship and the entire family and they would regret it forever. Shaun and Chris realised the gravity of the situation, and they swore and promised to their parents that they could see what they meant, and that they would never ever take their love into the physical, sexual realm – no matter how tempting it might become.

Having been tempered thusly, Shaun and Chris looked further afield for their sexual exploration and development. Shaun rapidly matured into a handsome young man and he became very popular with the ladies at school, trying his hand with increasing success amongst the beauties in more senior years and even rousing some interest amongst the younger ladies of the teaching staff. And Christine – widely regarded as one of the more beautiful girls in school – was more conservative and traditional in her quest for love than Shaun, going steady with a nice young lad of her own age by the name of Peter; she and Peter did not consummate their relationship though, settling instead for some very heavy petting behind closed doors. Their eighteenth birthdays came and went, and Chris and Shaun found themselves in the final weeks of their senior year at school, which is where our story begins proper.

*

Shaun wandered into the bathroom after breakfast, to find Chris in the shower. "Morning sis," he yawned.

"Hey bro," she replied, not pausing with the soap. It was often the way of their mornings; he ate a lot more than she did at breakfast, so she was usually first into the shower, but she didn't mind when he came in to brush his teeth while she bathed. They had always been very open about nudity while growing up, watching each other grow and develop in a fascinated, scientific kind of sense; they had even had a 'pubic race' at an earlier age, counting as their pubic hairs came in by their twos and threes and keeping a day-by-day tally. "Big day today?"

"Yeah, got an assessment in Physics after lunch," Shaun muttered. "Not looking forward to it. You?"

"Got a half-day today – gym class is off after Mr Roberts got zapped by the power point the other day, so I'm going home early."

"Uh huh," said Shaun, grinning around his toothbrush. "Ten bucks says you're bringing Peter home with you too." Chris rolled her eyes at him, which he took as a confirmation. "When the folks are away, Chris and Peter shall play..."

"Shut up," she suggested. "Not like you can talk, you man-whore. Which one of your mistresses are you planning on boinking today? Erin? Rohana? Or will it be the Lauren-and-Jenny tag-team again?"

"Hey: don't begrudge me my promiscuousness," said Shaun, breaking out the big words because he knew it annoyed her. "Don't hate me just because I'm not a moral prude and I'm not afraid to explore my sexual being – unlike some people we could mention."

"Are you making assumptions about your big sister, boy?" Chris asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Not at all – I've heard that Peter's been talking," Shaun told her, pausing to spit and rinse. "He keeps whinging because he's 'not getting any'. Makes me want to punch him," he added, as he started slipping out of his bed clothes.

"Peter wouldn't talk like that," Chris told him, as she finished off in the shower and reached for her towel.

"You reckon?" said Shaun, now as naked as his sister. "I don't like him, Chris – you could do so much better."

"Yeah, well I don't like your little harem of hussies either," she replied, stepping out of the shower. "So that makes us even." She gave him a playful little slap on the arse as they passed each other by. "Nice bum," she appraised.

"Must run in the family," he winked, casting an eye over her own bare derriere as he stepped into the water; she waggled it cheekily at him as she left to get dressed.

*

"Dude: your sister is so hot," enthused Jarrod, as Shaun sat perched with his friends on a window sill upstairs in the maths building, overlooking the playground during recess; Jarrod boggled a little as Christine reclined in the sun, not knowing she was being watched.

"You are such a lucky prick, man," Brad added, his eyes also fixed on Shaun's sister.

Shaun sighed. "Don't you guys have anything else to talk about?" he asked. "Every time you see her, it's 'Chris is so hot! Pristine Christine! Blah blah blah, wank wank wank!'"

"But she is hot," said Jarrod, as a simple matter of fact. "And you get to see her in the shower, man! Every day!"

"I know this," Shaun shrugged. "You don't have to tell me – I already know it."

"But that's just so cool!" Jarrod went on. "Did you see her this morning?"

Shaun pulled a face. "Yes," he droned.

Jarrod and Brad let loose with various noises of vicarious thrill. "Damn," reckoned Brad. "Seeing the hottest girl in the school, buck naked, every morning – no wonder you've got such a great outlook on life."

"And she's your FOSTER sister, too," Jarrod added, with a wink. "You know what that means: technically, you could –"

"Okay, this conversation ends NOW," Shaun told them, with finality. "I'm not interested in fucking my sister."

Jarrod frowned. "Why not?" he asked.

Shaun frowned right back at him. "Because she's my sister. My SISTER. Get it? Foster sister or not, she's my sister, I love her like my sister and she loves me like her brother – so fucking each other would be as wrong as you fucking your own sister."

"I don't have a sister," Jarrod told him.

"Fine: it's as wrong as fucking your mother, then."

"That is wrong," Brad chuckled. "That's very wrong."

"Shut up, man," Jarrod told Brad – he could foresee what was coming next.

"And I fucked his mum last night, and that was pretty wrong too!" Brad added.

"Man: I done told you to shut up," Jarrod snapped; he would have unleashed terrible physical retribution upon Brad to avenge his mother's honour, except Brad was one foot taller and two feet wider than Jarrod, so Brad tended to get away with jokes like that. "Don't you go talking about my mum like that. Especially given the way YOUR mum gets around, all over town," he added, piously.

Brad laughed; he liked to laugh, and despite his dangerous size he always shrugged off the mum-jokes with good humour. "Yeah yeah," he said. "Still: I can't stand that guy Peter," he added, glaring darkly as Peter joined Chris and they snuggled up down below. "You hear him talking about Chris, Shaunie?"

"I haven't heard him, but people have told me he's been talking shit," Shaun nodded, shooting glares of his own at the unknowing Peter. "If he keeps it up I might have to slap him around for a bit."

"Let us know if it's gunna go down," Jarrod told him. "We'll be right behind you."

"That's right," Brad nodded.

"Cheers, guys," Shaun said, appreciatively. "It's good to have friends who like to slap people up."

"Amen," Brad rumbled. They all stopped and watched a group of girls walk past them in the hallway. Among them was Erin, a leggy minx with a penchant for short shorts and knotting her shirt above her midriff, who batted her lashes coyly in Shaun's direction. Jarrod and Brad saw it, and they grinned; waiting until the girls were out of earshot, they let Shaun have it. "Maaaaate..." they chorused, suggestively.

"Alright, alright," said Shaun, throwing up his hands. "We all saw it – let's just let it be."

"No chance, Shaunie!" Brad told him, enveloping him in a headlock and knuckling his skull approvingly.

"It's on, mate," Jarrod reckoned. "She's up for it, for sure!"

"She's always up for it, that Erin," Brad reckoned. "At least, she's always up for it with our Shaunie..."

"Okay, okay!" Shaun cried, battling to wrest his head from Brad's armpit.

"So: are you going to hit that?" Jarrod enquired, of Shaun regarding Erin, employing the language of the day.

"Perhaps, mate, perhaps," Shaun allowed, as Brad finally freed him. "I mean, on the one hand, she's always good for it – and she's a bunch of slutty fun, too. But on the other hand, it's always so easy – just a wink and a nod in her direction and it's on. There's no chase, no thrill of the pursuit; it's almost boring."

Jarrod nodded along, taking in the pros and cons thoughtfully. "You're still gunna hit it, though, aren't you?" he pointed out.

"Oh yeah," Shaun nodded, simply. "It's better than wanking."

That split Jarrod and Brad right up, and the hall echoed with their laughter. "'Better than wanking'," Jarrod repeated, tears in his eyes. "We should print that on a t-shirt and give it to Erin! That's great!"

Shaun raised his hands. "What can I say?" he asked. "I speak nought but the truth."

*

Later at lunchtime, Bill and Therese were away at work as always, leaving Chris and Peter safe at home alone. They made a beeline for Chris's bed, where they promptly stripped down: Peter unleashed his rapidly growing cock, and Chris removed all bar her knickers. After a quick roll-around they soon found themselves in their customary position: Peter on his back on the bed, Chris astraddle Peter licking and sucking tenderly at his piece, her feet about his head and his hands caressing her thighs and buttocks.

"Mmm, baby," Peter moaned, as Chris expertly sucked at his cock. "Hey: here's an idea..."

"Hmm?" asked Chris, her mouth full.

"How about you slip off your briefs, and I get a little 'third base' action?"

"Sorry, hun," Chris asked, getting off his throbbing member for a moment. "I'm still not ready."

Peter rolled his eyes, managing to stave off an almighty groan of frustration. "But babe: I really want to!" he pleaded. "Can I at least touch you once, just for a bit?" he added, his fingers exploring up Chris's inner thighs towards that which he yearned, he craved, for so long with no reprieve.

"Nuh-uh," came Chris's negatory, her mouth full again. Peter's hands retreated momentarily, then they started to rise again; Chris made a warning noise, indicating that trouble lay that way. Peter let his hands fall again, but he wanted it so bad, the desire was so strong... his hands shot up almost of their own accord, and for the most fleeting of moments his fingertips were tucked inside her panties, and he could feel the moisture, the heat, he could feel those soft little lips –

"AAAAAAARGH!" he screamed, as he felt teeth. Biting. Hard.

She jumped off him, and stared him down with fury. "What did I say?" she demanded of him, her breasts swaying gently and distractingly. "I told you NO!"

"I know, I know," he placated, subtly feeling around his member for blood or anything that would scar. "But baby, you're so fucking sexy, I really just couldn't help myself –"

"Get out," she told him.

He stared at her. She couldn't be serious.

"OUT!"

She was serious. "Fine," he said, his expression hardening as he got up. "Suit yourself, you frigid bitch." That proved a mistake, as he shortly found himself fleeing a barrage of bedside toys and knick-knacks, some of them made of porcelain and very painful. Safe in the hallway, he had to stop and come back.

"Could I at least have my clothes back?"

They were flung at him. "OUT!!!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" He headed for the door, hopping into his clothes as he went, getting angrier and angrier with each hop. People were gunna hear about this, he decided. He would make sure that she'd be known for the frigid cock-tease that she was.

Back in her bedroom, Christine's white-hot fury slowly eased and changed into upset. It wasn't fair. He had seemed so nice, she had really liked him... But in the end he was only interested in one thing, just like all the other girls said about all the boys. Just like Shaun had tried to warn her, all this time.

It wasn't fair. Why couldn't she find a nice guy, with whom she could feel safe, with whom she would feel ready? She was finally able to admit to herself that she didn't want to do it with Peter because she knew, deep down, he wasn't the one. She wasn't a prude, she wasn't frigid; she was a deeply sexual, sensual young woman. Part of her wanted nothing more than to just do it, to find a cock and jump on it and just come and come and come; she pleasured herself nearly every night, caressing herself as she imagined a lover's hands on her body, touching herself as she imagined a lover's cock deep inside her. But she didn't want to throw it away on just any random guy – and she was glad she never gave herself to Peter, tempted though she was.

She laid back on her bed as she heard Peter's car fire up and drive away, tyres squealing angrily. What a prick. They were all just like him at school, too. Why couldn't she find a good one?

Why weren't there more guys like Shaun?

*

Inside an abandoned storeroom at school, for which Shaun had inherited the key from a senior girl a couple of years ago (a reward for a job well done), Shaun had Erin pinned against a wall and he was fucking her like crazy.

They always went a bit wild together, him and Erin. She was 'wanton', that was the word for her; she was lithe and nimble and full of energy, she wanted it done to her and she wanted it done hard. She knew her way around a cock, too; she'd literally pull him into the storeroom and claw her way into his pants, and once she had his piece freed she'd be down on her hands and knees and sucking long, fast and hard, as though it was going out of style. She'd always get him real big and real hard, real fast, in less time than it took her to peel off her own clothes; then it would be a battle, it would be an honest wrestle to keep her from impaling herself on his cock, because he always liked to return the favour and go down on her – he loved going down on chicks, he really did, and it was usually the only chance he'd have to quietly slip on a condom in preparation for the coming fuck.

But going down on Erin was never easy. She was always too keen to get straight into the fucking, so he would literally have to pin her down on a table and forcibly put his mouth on her cunt; she would fight and buck against his efforts, but they both knew it was just a game, because his ministrations would drive her wild and have her coming in next to no time at all. Shaun was always amazed at Erin's ability to come to orgasm almost instantaneously, and stay at orgasm for minutes on end; it must be great for her, but it took a bit of fun out of it for him. Where was the fun in making a girl come when you barely even had to touch her to make it happen?

Once he'd heard enough of Erin's carefully muted screams of pleasure (the storeroom was not far from a teacher's lounge) and he'd had his fill of her heady, sweet, gushing juices, he would get back to his feet and pick her up; she would wrap her legs about his hips, and she would lower herself slowly onto his engorged shaft, her eyes ever-widening as she descended upon him, her pussy stretching and straining around his girth. He would give her one quick thrust, to an instant strangled cry of ecstasy; they would both count silently to five, and then he'd thrust again, long and deep and hard and provoking another cry; then a count to four, thrust, cry; three, thrust, cry; two, thrust, cry; then thrust, thrust, thrust, cry, moan, scream.

The tempo would pick up as yet another orgasm took hold of her, and the fucking soon reached a fury as she descended into half-minded orgasmic madness and he tried to let it go. But it was getting boring. Yes, she was wildly, demonically slutty – which was great, in its own way – but there was no chase. There was no challenge. He liked to work to make them come, and he barely had to drop a hat to blow Erin's mind.

As he pumped away and his orgasm was nowhere to be found, he found his mind wandering – as it usually does. He found his mind drifting to other people, other fantasies; he found himself thinking of things forbidden, acts half-remembered, nightly imaginings that at once enthralled and appalled him.

He thought of Christine.

He tried to think of nothing too lewd, nothing too explicitly sexual about his sister. He thought of her in the shower, her body wet and fantastic – her breasts just right, her hips, legs, arse and stomach curvaceous and finely sculpted, as though she had been chipped from marble by an Italian of the renaissance. He remembered the look in her eye as they exchanged their barbed banter that morning, and every morning. He remembered how she looked him up and down appraisingly as he stripped in front of her, he remembered her hand fleetingly on his arse; he fixed on that look on her face, the approving look, the look that suggested she liked seeing what she saw, and she wouldn't mind seeing more.