Brother from Another Mother Ch. 01

"You got cum in my hair," Abby groaned. She ran her hand through it, smudging it into her long, black locks and causing her to groan once again.

"I'd have been content to finish inside you," I countered. "You're the one who insisted on the face."

"Face turns me on," Abby continued, standing up and making her way back towards the pile of clothes we'd haphazardly left on the floor. "Hair does not. Now I have to wash my hair again before dinner."

I flopped down on the hotel room bed with a huff. Today was finally the day. After meeting as college freshmen and dating until we were both seniors, I was finally going to meet her family. This was the first Christmas break that we'd gone to see hers instead of mine. She had grown to love mine, and they had grown to love her. My father was the only one who never met her. His company always had a work trip planned for the weeks surrounding Christmas. It felt like he was gone for half of my childhood, and part of me held a grudge for him missing the beginning of my adult life too.

I'd insisted on seeing her family this year, despite Abby's protests. She always claimed her family was too difficult to get along with. Especially, she said, her father.

"They don't like outsiders," she told me. And boy did I feel like an outsider.

She and I met at the University of Michigan. I was from Kalamazoo. She was from rural South Carolina. The hotel room we were in that night was in Virginia, but already I felt like I was in a foreign country. I did not understand the south, and the south did not understand me.

Abby kicked the clothes across the room and headed straight for the shower instead.

"You think we'll make it in time for dinner tomorrow?" She called as she turned the water on.

"I think so," I nodded. "The way you drive, we might never make it at all."

"Don't make me come out there and slap you," she laughed.

"Don't worry, I won't tell your mom," I smiled.

"It's my dad I'm worried about," she said. "He's the hardcase."

"Don't say hard, you're gonna make me wanna join you."

"Already? We just finished?"

"Are you complaining?"

"Not by a long shot."

I jumped up in an instant and practically ran to the bathroom, pulling aside the curtain to reveal the glistening nude body of my girlfriend. I wasted no time in gently pushing her against the wall and pulling her into a passionate kiss. My tongue curled around hers, evoking a delicate moan from the back of her throat.

"i love you," she whispered dreamily when our lips finally parted.

"And I you," I replied, thrusting my member into her. She let out a little gasp.

I began pumping slowly, fondling her breasts as the water ran over them, like a river flowing over trembling mountains of flesh. They weren't huge by any means, but her breasts had always been a comfort and a companion to me. Just the right size for my hand, I would tell her. She would blush and tell me my dick was just the right size for her pussy.

"Come on, you can do better than that," she giggled as she bit into my ear. I obliged the lady, grabbing her ass and lifting her against the wall as I began pounding her with force.

"Fuck yeah!" she cried, forgetting for a moment that it was midnight, and the thin walls of the Virginian Super 8 motel would not protect the neighboring room from her cries. She noticed immediately and blushed. I loved her blushing. I loved her strange, twisted modesty.

Water splashed all over the floor as our bodied flailed together, pounding against the subway tiles of the shower wall and against each other's warm skin. Every bit of her body felt like it was on fire as I mercilessly fucked her pussy. Every curve seemed to tremble with sexual delight. Her ragged breathing and sweet, subdued moans were driving me crazy.

Even though I had just came, I felt it coming again.

"I was hoping I'd let you finish this time," I began between ragged breaths.

"Oh you're about to," she moaned. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body began to spasm violently as her muscles contracted.

That was all I needed to see. I exploded inside her, pumping shot after shot of cum deep into her vagina. We collapsed together onto the shower floor, letting the water wash away the sweat and fluids, both gasping for air. She pulled me into a close hug, her breasts pressing against my chest. Despite them, I could feel her rapid heartbeat. Her face was flushed again. I smirked - for a different reason this time.

"Marry me," I said. I didn't know where it came from. I didn't know why I said it. But I did.

"What?" she asked, releasing me from the hug.

"Marry me," I repeated. "I want you to marry me. I never want to leave you. And despite the fact that we're on the floor of the shower we just had sex in, and that you only took that shower because we had sex before it, it's not just about the sex. I love you, Abby. And I want you to be my wife. I want to be your husband."

She stared at me blankly for a moment, and then started laughing. She didn't stop for a good long while, so I joined in, though I didn't really know why. Somehow, I wasn't afraid she was going to say no. I knew she would say yes. I knew that we were meant to be, and she did too. We'd talked about it before. Why wait any longer?

"Okay," she said. "Okay, I'll marry you. But when our kids ask about the proposal, how are we going to tell them it happened?"

"We'll say it was very romantic," I smirked.

"But we'll always know the truth," she smiled, and pulled me into another long kiss.

"Don't get this started again," I said. "We have to leave eventually. If the maid came in and found us like this-"

And there was that blush again. She was the sweetest girl I ever met. And she was going to be my wife.

* * *

We pulled into the driveway at around 5 PM, early enough to be there for the Abernathy family's usual dinnertime. Now about this, I was nervous. Abby had been prepping me for the last hour on what to say and what not to say. Apparently, half of her family was extremely hung up on the Confederacy being the glory days of the south, and the other half was as anti-confederate as they could possibly be. She assured me that this was the most important issue I could take a side on, so I should take neither side.

"No one will be automatically happy with you, but no one will hate you," she told me.

"The Confederacy is really that big a deal with your family?" I asked incredulously.

"Welcome to South Carolina," she mumbled.

"Your accent is really coming out the closer we get to home," I laughed.

"Ew, don't say that," she groaned. "I hate southern accents."

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I always loved your voice."

But I understood why she hated southern accents when we exited the car and I heard her mother's voice for the first time.

"ABIGAIL BEATRICE ABERNATHY, IS THAT MY LITTLE GIRL?" the woman seemingly appeared out of nowhere from behind the quaint little ranch house, bouncing on air as she made her way towards the car. She wasn't yelling, but it sounded like she was. Every word was projected like she was an opera singer, but without any of the beauty.

"Mama!" Abby cried, running to embrace her mother. "I missed you so much!"

"AND WHO IS THIS TALL DRINK OF WATER? ABBY, HE SURE IS A CATCH!"

"Aw, mama, stop it," Abby giggled. "This is Timothy, you know plenty about him."

"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," I smiled curtly. Abby had insisted I call her parents sir and ma'am. Otherwise, she claimed, they'd think I had no respect.

"AND IT IS OH-SO-NICE TO MEET YOU!" Mama Abernathy cried, pulling me into an unexpected hug of my own. I cast a terrified look at Abby, whose expression told me in no uncertain terms to roll with it. So I did, hugging her back in a way I hoped was customary and not awkward.

"JOHN!" she cried. "JOHN! GIT YER BUTT OUT HERE, YOUR DAUGHTER IS HOME!"

When I finally released myself from Abby's mothers grasp, I felt like I had been choked. She had a very strong grip. Just like, I mused to myself, her daughter did.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," John called from the other side of the screen door.

That's funny, I mused. He doesn't have a southern accent at all. I turned to look at the door, and in a moment I understood why.

"Papa!" Abby cried, dropping the bags she'd just removed from the car and running into her father's arms. He pulled her into a hug and spun her around like a little girl as she giggled in joy. It was a beautiful moment, spoiled by the fact that I collapsed to my knees, my head suddenly woozy. I felt like the entire world had just come crashing down.

"Oh my God," I heard John say as he turned to look at me.

"What's wrong, daddy?" Abby asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"He's..." I gasped, struggling to believe what I was about to say.

"Don't say it," John shook his head. "Please, don't say it. Let me explain."

Then I was mad. Then I was furious. He did this to me, my family - my mother. Ruined my life in so many ways, and then there was this sick joke one top of it all. No, I was going to say it. I was going to shout it to the world. The world needed to know what a terrible man that he was.

"That man is John Spencer," I spat, rising to my feet. "That man married Laura Spencer in 1993, and she gave birth to me in the year 1999. That man isn't just your father."

"No," Abby croaked. Her face went pale, realizing what I was about to say. Flushed red was a better look on her.

I took a deep breath, and said the words that would change my life: "That man is my father, too."