Fortune Teller

FORTUNE TELLER

By

de Vere

This is the first story I have written specifically for Literotica. I hope you enjoy it!

My sister has always been into the stupidest shit. Far back as I can remember, the crazier it was, the more she believed it. Crystals and pyramids. One Direction. I think she believed in Santa until she was 14 or 15.

So, when she took me to a fortune teller, it didn't surprise me at all. The last thing I expected was for that visit to turn me into a believer.

It all started when Ginnie took me to this party to meet some friend's sister. My sister was trying to do me a favor—and I needed one. Ginnie is short for Virginia, which is as inappropriate a name as had our parents had named me Cassanova. It is probably impossible for 2 people to share as much DNA as she and I do to be any more different. She is three years older than me, and everyone says we share a family resemblance. If anything, we are more like mirror images, looking exactly the same except completely opposite. Let me tell you first about Ginnie.

How can I best describe her? Gullible is the first thing that comes to mind, although you already knew that. Hot is the second word I think of, although I am reasonably sure that is what everyone else on the planet thinks of first, whether they see her at a distance or know her well. But I have known her since she was just a little girl, and back then she may have been pretty, but kids don't notice that sort of thing. They do know when someone is naïve and susceptible to all manner of foolishness. So, long before I noticed she is hot—about the time I hit puberty—I had long before concluded she could be convinced of anything. She is also popular, the way hot women are.

What can I tell you about myself? I was 18 at the time, and was none of the things my sister was. I was shy as hell, still skinny as a rail and into fantasy gaming. I dreamed of nothing more than being a superhero, but had to be satisfied with being a shy, introverted college freshman who spent most weekends playing D&D with my buddies in Alex's basement like we had since we were twelve or reading alone in my room.

Ginnie must have really pitied me, because she dragged me to that party to meet the younger sister of one of her sorority sisters. I knew it would be a disaster, but Ginnie can be persuasive. And I really wanted to get laid. If my big sis could eliminate the pain and difficulty of actually meeting the girl by introducing me to the girl, maybe I had a shot.

It wasn't a big party, and I did not know many of her sorority sisters or college friends. In fact, it surprised me that she wanted them to meet her dorky kid brother now. I had seen their photos, and many of them were even more beautiful in person. The place was crawling with guys who seemed to share my opinion. Two guys must have been there for every girl, which is why I hate parties so much. What if Kelly—the girl I was here to meet—preferred these guys?

Several guys stopped Ginnie as she dragged me by a wrist through the crowd. She introduced me to a few, but kept going. We went into a couple of rooms before she pulled me close enough to shout into my ear, "There they are."

It's funny what you think about when meeting a girl for the first time. Kelly had not seen us yet, but I had seen her, and her sister, Kayla, had seen me. An unwanted hierarchy immediate popped into my head. Kayla was hotter than Kelly. A lot hotter. But Kayla was nowhere as hot as Ginnie. It was just so obvious.

Kelly looked like she was homeschooled. Shorter than her sister and a little spongy, with wooly brown hair down to her shoulders, clothing far more conservative than any of the other women at the party and a frightened expression on her face. Her tits were nice, though. Before even meeting, I decided to ask her to join us in Alex's basement.

"Kayla, this is my brother, Bradley."

'Hi, Bradley!" Kayla shook my hand with an excited expression on her face that her sister did not share. A soft, warm hand. I didn't want to let go. "I'd like you to meet Kelly."

"Hi, Kelly."

"Hi, Bradley."

Ginnie said, "Why don't you two get to know each other for a minute. We'll be right back." So, just like that, my sister left me to sink or swim on my own. Kayla did the same to her little sister, who already looked bored. The older sisters went across the room to where Kyle was hanging out with some of his jock buddies. Ginnie had been screwing Kyle for a few months and, from the look of it, Kayla wanted some of his friends to screw her.

My job was to screw her sister. "So, where do you go to school?"

"Fairmont High," she said, then quickly added, "I'm a senior. Are you in high school?"

Thanks. I enjoy people thinking I am 12. Great for the ego. "No, I am in college." I looked over at Ginnie, hoping she might come bail me out, but Kyle had his hand on her ass, so I am on my own. "Do you like gaming?"

"No. My hobbies are baking and playing the flute."

Shit.

Despite her decent tits, Kelly and I quickly found out the only thing we had in common is that our sisters were hotter and more popular than either of us could ever hope to be. We tried to carry on a conversation, but I really have no interest in fondant frosting. Even after she explained it, I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. Kyle had stopped playing with my sister's ass, and they were in a corner having an animated conversation with serious expressions on their faces. The rest of the baseball team and Kayla had disappeared, and I could only imagine what that meant.

"Where are you going to college next year?"

"I want to go to culinary school. There is one in New York where I really want to study."

Great. Even if we had gotten along, she is leaving town in a couple of months. Much as I want to get laid, I am the kind of guy who does that sort of thing with a girlfriend. Girls look at me less as one-night-stand material than they do boyfriend material. Back then, even I could not picture myself picking up girls at parties. That was still several years in my future. Ginnie, turned and ran out of the room, and there were tears on her face.

"Don't be like that," Kyle called after her, but after taking a couple of steps like he might follow her, he stopped.

"Excuse me," I told Kelly, and ran off after my sister. She weaved her way through the crowd toward the door we had come in while I tried to catch up. When I finally found her outside, standing beside my car, she was crying like crazy. "What happened?"

"Kyle's ... [sob] fucking some ... [sob] slut!"

"Did he tell you that?"

"He didn't ...[sob] have to...[sob]"

"Are you sure?"

Her tears stopped and her eyes narrowed. "Oh, I know."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll get a ride home with someone."

"Don't be silly—I'll take you."

"What about Kelly?"

"I don't think there is anything there. From either of us."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Hey, you tried. Let's get out of here."

Ginnie insisted on fries. Grease cures heartache, so we stopped at a drive thru and ate in the car while she vented about that asshole boyfriend of hers. He had gone to his ex-girlfriend's birthday party the night before, and although he claimed nothing happened, she did not believe him. Fries dried up her tears and made her angry. She needed to vent.

"That bimbo isn't nearly as good-looking as me. Her butt is too big. Maybe he likes that. I think she has fake boobs. He does like that."

"He's an asshole," I said, and she enjoyed my support.

"Are my boobs too small?"

"No, they are definitely not too small." As much as my sister's boobs entertained me, talking about them made me feel uncomfortable. I guess I did not describe her very well, so now is probably a good time. Ginnie is tall and thin and very blonde, with a body more like a supermodel than anything. At 5'9" and a size 2, big boobs would look goofy on her. Kelly's were definitely bigger, as were her sister's, but any larger on her would make Ginnie look unbalanced. But I was not going to tell her all that, because she might start thinking it sounded creepy.

"Have some of my fries," she said. "You look hungry."

We ordered a second batch for the road and she fed them to me as I drove. The party was across town, so we turned up the music. I let her pick it, even though her musical taste is more toward pop to be considered good. It was after 10:00 by then. We lived way out in the 'burbs, and I took a road that winds the way back while avoiding interstate. After passing out of the business district into an area of older homes under large, ancient trees, a bright red sign glowed from one of them.

"That's what we need—a psychic."

The neon sign said FORTUNE TELLER, and I had no idea what good that might do. "Do you want to stop or something?"

"No, that's okay."

"Not sure what good a psychic would do," I said, not only to support her decision, but because it was true.

"STOP!" She yelled, then said, "Pull in, pull in!"

I had to slam on the brakes to avoid missing the driveway. Luckily, the road was lonely out here, only 2 lanes in this quiet section of this road for the next few miles. We both leaned left as I wheeled the car into a sharp right turn into the driveway.

The Fortune Teller's house was one of the oldest on this section of street. Small and built from wood, it stood far back from the road on a long, narrow driveway. I must have driven past it a million times, and although I remember seeing this sign, never really paid much attention. A sign on the door said OPEN. One of those signs on a string that has a CLOSED sign on the reverse side. I almost expected the door to be locked, but Ginnie turned the knob and the door opened.

Inside, it smelled like a music festival, minus the pot. Patchuli or sandalwood or whatever it was, with a hint of sage. The room looked like a supernatural curios shop, with creepy dolls sitting on shelves and a side table and those paintings of medieval maidens and knights and wolves and shit on the walls. One painting of a Native American woman bathing naked in a stream surrounded by ferns and lush trees was pretty cool. The wolf in that painting was staring at her from the bank like a Peeping Tom who might eat her or turn into a warrior and join her in the water.

"Hello?"

A curtain on the far side of the room opened and an elderly woman with long, crazy gray hair walked in. She must have terrible arthritis. Her feet shuffled and she was bent forward into nearly a hunchback. "Come in, come in. Sit down." The old crone waved to the chairs on the far side of a table covered with a woven cloth embroidered with brightly colored designs.

"We thought you were closed."

"No, dear," the Fortune Teller answered Ginnie. "So many people need answers late at night. What answers do you seek?"

We were sitting by then. I let Ginnie talk, because this place gave me the creeps. The woman must be a witch, although she wore a robe of dark colors similar to the table cloth, only duller in color. "It's about a guy."

"Isn't it always?" The woman looked at me and cackled.

"No, not this guy...."

"Shhh! Don't tell me anything. The cards already know."

"Don't you want me to tell you what this is about?"

"The less I know, the more you will believe the answers the cards give." She already dealt three face-down on the table. "A reading is $20."

Ginnie put a bill on the table and looked at me. "This isn't me ..."

"Silence!" The witch snatched up with bill with gnarled, wrinkled fingers. "Trust the cards."

She placed several more onto the table. They were thick and decorated with an ornate pattern similar to her dress and looked to be as old as the fortune teller. She turned two over, then looked at Ginnie. "You are a Scorpio."

"Yes!" Ginnie answered with excitement in her voice.

Staring at me with watery eyes, the woman said, "And you are a skeptic."

"No offense."

"None taken." She turned over another card and stared at my sister. "Betrayal."

"Is it true?"

Turning over another card with brittle, bony fingers, she continued. "Another man betrayed you, not the one at your side now."

"Exactly!"

She turned over the card of a knight in armor. "This young man has a true heart."

Maybe it is not complete bullshit. Often while playing D&D, I portrayed a knight called Cunning Linguist.

"A skeptical knight and a spirited Scorpio." She again looked at me and flipped another card. Virgo. "The virgin knight."

When I said nothing, she turned over another card, this one painted with a black, shadowy figure with horns and red eyes. "And the betrayer. A demon, although clothed in finery. A deceiver."

She had Ginnie eating out of her hands by now. "Yes! What does it say about us?"

Those fragile fingers placed 4 more cards down. "These will tell your fate. Stop now, if you wish not to know."

"That is the reason we came here—to know."

The first card she turned over was a sexy, naked woman with blonde hair who looked strikingly similar to Ginnie. The fortune teller read the description below the woman. "The Star." Another card. "The Hermit." She looked at me, then turned over the last two, flanking those representing us. "Lovers," she said on one side, then turned over the card next to The Star. "Oh, dear."

A man hung upside-down from a gallows by one foot. Ginnie looked from me to the witch. "What does that mean?"

"It means you have a choice."

"Choice of what?"

"These are your two fates, and you must choose between them."

Finally, I said something. "Our choice is to become lovers—us—or someone will be hung?"

"You can choose to become lovers, or you can choose not to. If you choose not to be lovers, then there will be terrible consequences."

"What consequences?" Ginnie's face showed genuine fear.

"That is hard to say."

"Can't the cards tell you more?"

"They can. But I must warn you, you may wish not to know more. The Hanging Man is warning enough."

"Look, Bradley is my brother, so...."

"That is clear from your faces," the fortune teller answered.

"So, you are saying I must sleep with my brother to avoid disaster?"

"No," she answered, her voice slow and scratchy. "You can see the cards for yourself."

"What kind of calamity?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

I didn't, and I told them, but Ginnie persisted, so the witch took the top card from the deck and laid it across The Star and the Hermit. On it was painted a ruined landscape of burned buildings and smoke.

"Horrible calamity." Then the fortune teller laughed like a witch in a bad movie. "

"Would you screw your own brother because the cards told you to?"

"Who said what I have done, or have not done." The old woman looked at me and smiled. "It hardly seems a terrible sacrifice. He is handsome, with big, strong hands."

"Thank you," I said.

The old woman smiled at me, then turned back to my sister. "You have done worse. Much worse."

Ginnie's mouth fell open, eyes wide. "What do you know about that?"

"You do sometimes have poor judgment," I said, not necessarily supporting the fortune teller. Then again, I certainly did not want calamity and death. The other option certainly made much more sense.

"The cards know all," she answered. "I only read them."

"But you are the fortune teller!"

Those wrinkly fingers gathered up the cards. "The cards speak to me. Give me the fortunes. I merely relay them to you. The choice is yours. You have been warned." Then she stood up and, without another word, went back through the curtain and left us sitting there in confusion.

Ginnie looked at me with pleading eyes. They were red, which always set off the blue color so brightly. "What did you think of that?"

"Honestly? I did not expect that. What did you think of it?"

"Other than it being bullshit?"

"You think it's bullshit?"

"Don't you?"

"Hey, I just stopped where you told me to stop. You are the one who paid to hear your fortune."

I drove slowly, in silence for the first mile or so. Ginnie asked, "What would you choose?"

I laughed. "You want an honest answer?"

"Yes."

"It's all a show. A pretty convincing one, but only a performance. She probably assumed we were dating and wanted us to have a fun night. Nice old lady."

"She recognized we are related. Anyone can instantly see you are my brother."

"It was only an act."

"But she knew so much!"

"Don't tell me you believe that."

"What if it's true? What if we have to choose between calamity and some disaster?"

"That's a pretty easy decision, isn't it?"

"So you would do it?"

Again, I laughed. "Sure. Why not?"

"The idea doesn't creep you out?" The insult must have shown on my face. "Wait, I didn't mean it that way. It's not that having sex with you would be disgusting or anything." Then, realizing she was digging a deeper hole, she shut up. We were close to home by then. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "Was it true?"

"Which part?"

"Are you a virgin?"

"That's none of your business."

"Oh my god! You are?"

"Leave me alone."

"It is true!" When I said nothing, she said, "Well, you certainly don't want to lose your virginity to your sister." Another long pause. We were a couple of blocks away. "Not that I'd mind it, but I am sure you want something—different."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"It's kinda hot. I mean, for me. Probably not so much for you."

"It might be hot," I answered.

Our turn came into view of the headlights, which lit the sign to our neighborhood. "Keep going."

"What?"

"Don't turn. Drive past."

So I did. After a block, I asked, "What are you thinking?"

"Neither of us wants calamity."

"No, certainly not," I answered. My hands were shaking as I gripped the steering wheel.

"Pull in there." A small church was approaching on the left, so I turned in. The parking lot was around back. I turned out the lights before we got there, so no one passing on the road would see a car driving there this time of night. She was giggling; I was thinking she had discovered a great way to get revenge upon Kyle while avoiding an asteroid striking earth or something similarly unpleasant.

"How do we..."

"Look, if this gets too weird, you can stop. I'm totally cool with that," she said. "Just tell me. It won't hurt my feelings."

"Same with me."

Ginnie said, "Let's get in the back." When she climbed between the seats, her ass was inches away from my face. I may have pushed her bum playfully, then climbed back after her. Then we stared at each other in the light of a streetlight behind the building and laughed nervously together. She stopped laughing and stared into my eyes. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Of course not." Just my virginity. And my big sister. I had no idea how to make a move like this on any girl, let alone my sister. "Do you want me to...?"

Light fell on one boob, illuminating in brightly while the other was in shadow. So, not knowing how to get this ball rolling, I just grabbed it. Not hard—she is my sister, after all! But I held it and squeezed it and it felt incredible! Not at all how I expected it to feel. I may be a virgin, but I have felt tit before, but hers felt different. More like an over-ripe peach than a water balloon. She looked down and smiled.

My dick sprang to life instantly, and in less than 2 seconds was completely hard. Which was a problem because it was down inside the leg of my jeans, so it was pretty uncomfortable. I was just about to try to extricate it, but that is when my sister started kissing me. A big, wet, sloppy, tonguey kiss. I won't lie to you: it was the best kiss of my life. I mean, she was all into it, trying to save the world and all, and I was, too. Her tongue attacked mine, and I did nothing to fight it off. There was nothing romantic about it. It was pure hunger. I might have preferred romantic, but this might have been better.