Runaway

(Preface)



This is a short note to the people who have read my stories in the past, and are looking for a certain type of story. Well this ain't it. This is a bit of a departure from my usual fare.

I have hit a wall when it comes to describing sex scenes. There are just so many ways for this author to portray the sex act, and I feel that I'm repeating those same scenes ad naseum. So I have taken a new tack.

This is more of a love story than a jerk-off story. Meaning, the sex in this story is more like in real life, and less like a porno movie. This might disappoint some of my usual readers, or maybe not. Either way, I have to write about what I feel most passionate about.

If I haven't scared you off already, give it a try. Thanks.

D.S.

P.S.- All characters that have sexual relationships in this story are over eighteen, though they wish that they weren't.



It was a familiar sound, harsh and loud, but in the darkness, and in my torpor, I was clueless as to its origin. Then slowly, as I awoke, I realized that it was my phone. By the third ring, I sat up in bed, and in the darkness I found the phone alight on the nightstand.

Normally I used my phone for my morning alarm, but it was only 2am, and it was my day off. The phone was lit up, and ringing a fourth time before I finally found the call button, and put it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Connor?" I heard a familiar voice.

"Yeah?"

"It's me, Denise." I was still half asleep, and the name was meaningless. Denise? Denise who? I asked myself.

"Yeah?" I asked not knowing what else to say while I sifted through my thoughts in an attempt to figure out whom Denise was.

"Connor, I'm so sorry I woke you, but it's an emergency! Courtney's gone."

Holy shit, I thought, it was my sister Denise. It had to be. The only Courtney I knew was my niece, but I hadn't spoken to my sister in eight years.

"What do you mean she's gone?"

"She's been kidnapped!" Denise sounded hysterical. "I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call."

"It's alright," I answered. Courtney, I thought in my head, the girl had to be around sixteen now. "How do you know she's been kidnapped?"

"It's that fuckin' asshole I was dating. He took her. I know it."

"What? Who?"

"I was dating this guy for about six months, and I broke it off with him. He was getting too involved with Courtney, so I broke it off. I just woke up, and for some reason I checked in on her, and she was gone. She left a note saying she was leaving home, and I shouldn't try and find her."
"Oh fuck!" I muttered. "How do you know she ran off with this guy?"

"I don't. Oh Jesus. But it has to be him. She's a good kid. She wouldn't just run off like this on her own."

"Okay. I'll come right over. Give me your address," I said as I turned on the light, and grabbed my shorts off the floor.

As I got into my pickup truck, the cool of the night air was noticeable after a long hot summer. I knew the town that my sister had given me for an address, but I didn't know the street. She had moved since we had last talked. I punched the address into my GPS as the truck was warming up.

"Calculating," the digital voice chirped in the dark. "Drive point one miles, and make a left onto Main Street."

"I know that much," I answered back needlessly to the automated voice.

Denise and I had been very close when we were younger. We fought at times like any two siblings will, but after high school that just ended, and a different relationship ensued. For me it was a confusing time.

There is a certain norm that sibling relationships are supposed to adhere to, but rarely do. I can't tell you how many people I know who hate their families, while other people have just casual relationships with their kin. They only see their family on rare occasions. Yet there are those who have a very close family relationship. I find them to be in the minority.

As for my other brother and sister, I either didn't care for them, or I didn't care about them, but Denise and I were different, and in my case, more different than I wanted to admit. That's why the trouble started.

Denise and I both got married, and though I got along with my brother-in-law, my wife hated my sister.

"You and your sister's relationship is just weird," My ex-wife would often say during our fights. "It's abnormal." She would never elaborate, but I knew. I thought it was weird too.

I didn't think that Denise was weird, but I knew I was. I was too attached to her, and I don't mean in a big brotherly way.

Eventually a huge family fight broke out, and Denise and I hadn't talked since. I don't even remember what the fight was all about, but it was mostly between my ex-wife and Denise's ex-husband. The schism wasn't resolved even after Denise and I both got divorced from our respective spouses, too much hurt had been inflicted.

When I pulled in front of Denise's house, all of the lights were on. It was three in the morning, but the front door was wide open like it was noon. I guess Denise was hoping that Courtney would see the error of her ways, and come home. Not likely.

I walked up the path, and when I got to the front stoop, I rang the bell. She lived in a typical Long Island Cape Cod style house, complete with two "dog-eared" dormers on the roof. It was a center hallway cape, which meant it had more square footage than your typical capes.

I could see Denise walking around in the house, and when she saw me she hurried to the door. She looked wonderful.

Despite her frantic state, and the fact that she was over forty years old, it didn't matter. She had a radiance that shone through all of that. She was an elegant woman, and she dressed and acted accordingly.

She was dressed in just a simple pair of navy Bermuda shorts, but they were cut high, and with my sister's long legs they were exquisitely sexy. Her top was a turquoise, vee-neck smock that showed just a hint of cleavage.

Her long blonde hair had darker highlights, and was pulled back tightly in a ponytail. She had some cute freckles across her cheeks, and her blue eyes flashed hopefully at me before she buried her face in my shoulder and broke down.

I finally got her calmed down inside, and then I sat down with her on the couch in the living room.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know who to call. I called her father, but he's off with his slut girlfriend, and he told me to call the police. When he said police I thought of you."

"Neese, I'm retired now."

"I know," she sniffled.

"We have to call the police."

"Okay."

When the cops came to the door fifteen minutes later, Denise first went over the story with the uniformed guy, and then a second time when a couple of detectives showed up later. I stood up against the sink in her kitchen, drinking too much coffee, and taking my own notes, as the sunrise cast shorter and shorter rays of light upon the tile floor.

The interviews were competent, but perfunctory. I knew that the detectives were going to treat Courtney as a normal runaway. I had my doubts about such an appraisal.

From what my sister had told me it sounded more like my niece had run off with a sexual predator. This was some scary shit. He could eventually get her into drugs and prostitution. I'd seen it before.

It was mid morning when the police finally left. Denise was still a mess.

"You should get some sleep," I told her.

"I can't. Shouldn't we go and try to find her?"

"Where ever they are, it isn't around here, at least anywhere that you would know. It's going to take some fishing around to get some info."

"Okay," she said disappointed.

"Why don't you at least put on some pj's, and I'll take a look at Courtney's room."

She agreed to that, and we both walked upstairs to the respective bedrooms. I pealed off to the girl's room when we hit the top of the stairs, but I wasn't optimistic about finding much.

I found a laptop, and started it up, but mostly I looked at my notes. All the time that Denise was talking to the cops, I had been taking down pertinent information.

The guy's name was James McGee. I had his birth date and I figured that made him thirty-eight years old. I had a couple of pictures that Denise had taken of him. I also had his last known address, and I would go there next, but first I had to make a call.

It was nine thirty in the morning. Still early, but I knew an old partner of mine, Danny, would be up. He was still on the job, and he probably would be at work over at Queens Highway where he was a boss.

Denise's bedroom door was closed, but I closed Courtney's too, and I made the call from my cell.

"Connor my boy. What gives?" I heard him answer.

"Is this a bad time?"

"It's always a bad time, but what's up?"

"I've got a situation, and I need some info."

"What kind of situation?"

"My sixteen year old niece ran away with a thirty-eight year old douche bag."

"Holy shit. I'm sorry. What can I do?"

"I have his pedigree. Can you run him for me?" There was silence on the phone. I had never asked another cop to do such a thing. It was considered corruption by the brass, and if he were caught, he would be risking his job. Even though we were good friends, I started to think that maybe I had overstepped. I was about to say fuck-it when he answered.

"Okay. I've got a pen. What's his info?"

"Are you sure Danny?"

"Just give me the info. Don't be stupid."

I gave him what I had, not much, and then he told me he'd call me back when he could. I thanked him, and then hung up. I knew I had asked for a lot, but this was a family matter, and he knew that I would do it for him.

I thought about my sister and this guy. I didn't like the hollow feeling it was giving me. A visual of my sister on her knees giving some guy head flashed into my brain. Let's not go there, I thought, and quickly shifted my focus.

Still, I found it ironic that my sister could date someone for months, and have very little information about him. If they had dated for six months then she was probably fucking him, and yet when the cops are at her door, she had very little to tell them about this guy.

I opened the door, and I proceeded to go through Courtney's laptop. There was nothing I could find, but I knew if there was anything it would be on her social media sites. Denise would be better off researching those. She knew her kid, and I hadn't seen the girl since she was eight.

Denise's door opened up and she came into Courtney's room and stood over my shoulder. She had on a pair of loose pajama shorts, and a double tank top. Since she wasn't wearing a bra, the two shirts were an attempt at a cover up. It didn't work. I could still see her nipples through her shirt.

"Find anything?"

"No. Was she on Facebook, or any other site like that?"

"She's sixteen Con. She's on them all."

"Do you know her passwords?"

"I'm her mother," she said with a little attitude.

"Just asking. You wouldn't believe how many parents wouldn't know."

"So you want me to hack into her accounts?"

"Hack? Is that the term?" I tried to lighten the mood.

"I don't know," she said as she ran her hand through her hair, and sat down on the bed next to the desk where I was sitting.

"Yes. I want you to hack into every site that she accesses, but not now. Right now you need some sleep."

"Connor, I couldn't even think about sleeping." She was playing the stressed out mom, but I could tell she was exhausted. I got up, took her by the hand, and escorted her to her into her room. She protested at first, but then she slipped into bed.

"Connor?" She asked as she lay in bed, and I stood over her.

"Yeah?"

"Are you leaving?"

"I don't have to."

"Can you stay? I can use a little support."

"Okay," I said and then started to walk out of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I figured I'd go downstairs and sleep on the couch."

"No. Sleep here with me."

"In your bed?"

"Yes. Please," she pleaded. "I don't want to be alone."

"Okay," I said, though I felt weird. I sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off my sneakers, and then slid under the sheet next to her. She proceeded to curl up next to me, and I could feel her warm breath against my face. My god, I thought, this was something that I had wanted to do since I was a teenager. Now, it just felt strange.

"Thank you for being here for me," she said as she put an arm across my chest. "I've missed you, and I'm sorry that I let all of this shit get between us."

"Me too," was all that I could come up with. She kissed me on the cheek, and I just lay there self-consciously as she fell off to sleep.

For the second time that day my phone woke me out of a sound sleep. For some reason it was set for ring and vibrate, and I felt it more than heard it from the cargo pocket of my shorts.

Denise was asleep on top of me, her hair in my face. We were wrapped together like two lovers, and she felt incredible next to me. I had a huge erection, and I felt more like rubbing it against her than answering the phone, but I didn't want the ring to wake her up, and besides I had a good idea who it was calling me.

I managed to slip out of bed without waking her, and I answered the phone as I ran down the stairs.

"Hello. Connor are you there?" It was Danny's voice, but I didn't answer it until I was on the ground floor of her house and out of earshot.

"Yeah it's me," I finally answered.

"Hey I got that info you wanted."

"Great! Thanks again."

"Don't be. It's not much, and you're not going to like it."

"Okay?"

"We have a James McGee with that birth date living at that address, but he's only had a New York license for less than four years."

"Fuck!" The curse was involuntary, and I had uttered it without being conscious of it. "He's from out of state."

"That would be my guess. Or it's an alias."

"I don't know," I admitted. "I know very little about this guy."

"That's just from the department of motor vehicle. I didn't run an NCIC on him." NCIC is the FBI's national database of criminal justice information. "It's not like the old days. If I had gotten a warrant hit on the guy there would be too many people asking questions."

"I know, and I appreciate it."

"He's a transient Con. That's not good."

"I'll have to dig up where he's from."

"That's what I'd do. He's probably heading there now. Unless he's wanted there too."

"Okay, thanks Dan."

"Not a problem. Sorry I couldn't do more."

"No. I understand. When this is all over I owe you a beer."

"That sounds good. Good luck. I hope you find her."

"So do I Dan. I'll see ya," I said and ended the call.

I felt the weight of the whole world pressing down on me. I knew my sister was looking to me for answers, but I wasn't a detective. I was a precinct cop for twenty years, and the last four of that I was what cops called a house mouse, meaning I worked in the precinct house and not on Patrol.

I knew that my next move was to go to his old address, but what to do after that was anybody's guess.

I thought about Denise upstairs in her bed. I thought about how great she felt next to me. I knew that I should wait for her to wake, but I wanted that feeling again.

My sneakers were still upstairs next to the bed. I had to go and get them. That would give me an excuse, I thought, as I made my way back upstairs. If she was awake I could just grab my rides and bug out. But when I slipped into her bedroom she was still asleep.

She was on her side facing away from me with the sheet just barely covering her ass. Oh my god her ass looked incredible, and so I slipped back in bed next to her.

I lay there feeling awkward for a few seconds, but then she turned toward me, slipped one leg over mine and snuggled in on me. I felt a dull ache in my chest as I slipped an arm around her, and held her close.





We were in my bed. She was underneath me, and I could see my sister's face. I was aware of her breasts heaving as I entered her, but I couldn't see them. She was stunningly beautiful, and also amazingly compliant.

Though I was fucking her, I couldn't feel it. My dick was hard, and she moaned at every thrust, so I knew I should feel something, but it wasn't there. Just then I heard my sister's voice, but her lips didn't move.

"Connor! Connor!" My eyes opened to see Denise standing at the door of her bedroom calling me. "You should get up. You don't want to sleep all day, do you?"

Holy shit, I thought. I was having a sex dream about my sister. When was the last time that happened? I couldn't remember.

"Okay," I answered her. "Just give me a few minutes to wake up." I couldn't get out of bed in front of her with a raging hard on.

"I have coffee downstairs. Do you want me to bring you up a cup?"

"No. I'll be right down."

"Okay," she said, flashed a pretty but forlorn smile at me, and then went downstairs.

I was glad that she wasn't in bed with me when I was having that dream, otherwise things could have become embarrassing. Before I was a cop I worked at a restaurant in the Hamptons, and I used to "date" all of the waitress's. One morning I woke up and amazingly I was in the middle of fucking one of them whom I had hooked up with the night before. I had been actually sleep fucking. It was a wonderful memory, but one I knew I shouldn't repeat with my sister.

By the time I got downstairs to the kitchen my trouser snake was behaving himself, but as I got a glimpse of my sister scurrying around the kitchen, I wasn't sure that that would continue.

She was still in her sleepwear, and though her shorts were baggy, they were paper thin, and in the light of midday I could see her darker panties underneath. The shorts were also cut high on the leg, and so there was a lot of exposed thigh. Also, the cotton material of her shirts clung so tight to her body that I could see the seductive outline of her breasts. I did my best not to look, though my eye kept being drawn to her tits, and how her nipples played peak-a-boo through the material.

"Coffee?" She asked still smiling that forlorn smile. Her hair was still tied back, but she had errant stands going this way and that.

"Please." I sat down at the kitchen table, and she placed a coffee cup and milk container in front of me. As she was bending down, my eyes were impulsively drawn to her cleavage. I had forgotten how full my sister's tits were. They weren't huge, but they were more than ample for her frame.

"What do we do next?" She asked with a concerned look in her eyes.

"WE aren't doing anything. When I leave here, I will go to this guys house and check it out."

"I'm going with you," she said forcefully.

"Neese, I don't think that you should get involved."

"I'm already involved, it's my daughter, and besides I can't just sit here waiting for you. I'm going crazy as it is."

She was right. How could I ask her to sit by casually? I would want to be there too.

"Okay," I conceded. "Do you know where he lived?"

"Con, I dated him for six months. What do you think?"

A tinge of jealousy slipped into my chest as I thought of her fucking this creep.

"Stupid question."

"When are we going?"

"As soon as you can get dressed."
I had a ham sandwich while I waited, but surprisingly she was ready in less than twenty minutes. Or maybe it wasn't so surprising.

I was a little floored when she walked back into the kitchen. I don't know what I was expecting, but I wasn't ready for her to look so hot. She had on a yellow scoop necked top that was dangerously clingy, and a pair of red jeans. They are the kind of skintight jeans that I believe are called skinny jeans. She wasn't dressed for a stake out, I can tell you that. At least she still had the ponytail, and she didn't waste time blow-drying her hair.