Love on the Tracks

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Siblings discover that they're meant for each other.
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epiphany65
epiphany65
3,779 Followers

Here's a fun, rather self-indulgent story I wrote. If you're not a Dylan fan you might not appreciate the humour, but I hope you like the story anyway.

###

"Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet." -- Bob Dylan

The ringing of the phone startled Jim Mellor as he lay on his couch, staring up at the ceiling. He looked at his watch, then the phone. It was almost three on a Saturday afternoon and this was the fourth time the phone had rung that day. He had ignored it the previous times, content to listen to music while wallowing in misery and self-pity. But now he decided to answer it this time, just to make the ringing stop.

"Fuck," Jim hissed as he listened to the sixth ring of the phone. "Okay... I give up... I'm coming..." he spat out as he got up to answer the phone.

"Jim, are you okay? I've been trying to get you all day."

Jim felt somewhat relieved when he heard the voice of his older sister, Amy, on the phone. If there was anyone he could bear to talk to in his present state, it was her. He gripped the phone tighter in his hand and sighed.

"Yeah... I'm okay," he said wearily.

There was a long pause, then Amy said "Shit, do you have a band playing there? What's that music?"

"Dylan," he intoned flatly.

Amy Mellor was not surprised by her brother's answer. She wondered why she had even bothered to ask. For years Jim had been a huge Bob Dylan fan, often saying there are only two types of music: Dylan, and everything else. Amy often liked to hector her brother by telling him she would rather listen to cats fucking than Dylan, but she secretly enjoyed many of his songs. Besides, anything her brother was interested in she made a point of familiarizing herself with. And with Jim, at least a cursory knowledge of Bob Dylan was essential if you were going to relate to him. It was as though the lyrics of The Poet Laureate of Rock 'n' Roll were the very key to understanding her younger brother. She could almost gauge his moods based on which album he was listening to at any given point.

"Which album?" Amy asked.

"Blood on the Tracks," came his reply.

More silence, then a groan. "Shit, Jim, what's wrong?" she asked, now sounding concerned.

Jim let out a defensive laugh and cursed himself for not turning his stereo down before answering the phone. "What makes you think something's wrong?" he asked, trying to sound blithe.

"Okay, now I'm sure of it because you just answered my question with a question," she said. "But there must be, if you're listening to that album and ignoring the phone. Remember Dylan himself said he couldn't understand someone enjoying that sort of pain."

Jim let out another sigh. "Sometimes I regret sharing my musical tastes with you," he joked.

"Okay, quit avoiding my question, Little Brother," she said with a dim laugh. "What's wrong?"

Jim felt the sweat on his palm begin to coat the phone. His eyes darted to the stereo, then to the wall in front of him. "Shelly dumped me," he said.

"What? When?" his sister blurted out.

"Last night... almost as soon as I got to her place," he told her.

"Why -- if you don't mind telling me," she said.

"To tell you the truth, I'd really rather not get into it right now," he told her. "It's still a fresh wound. Sorry, Amy. Give me some time, then I'll give you all the gory details."

"Okay... whatever you're comfortable with. But, right now, don't wall yourself off. Get out. Do something," she encouraged him.

"I don't need to go out," he insisted. "I can do things here."

"Yeah -- like listen to "You're A Big Girl Now" and "If You See Her, Say Hello" over and over, till you cry a bathtub full of tears."

Jim laughed. "Well, "Idiot Wind" is playing now, and it sort of suits my mood."

"At least it's not "Dirge", huh?" she said with a feeble laugh. "Look, why don't you come over here and hang out? You shouldn't be alone right now. I promise not to play any of my U2 albums."

"Thanks, Amy, but that's okay," Jim said, surprised that he was now smiling.

"Seriously, Jim -- I'll make a big pot of spaghetti and some of my world famous sauce to go with it. What do you say? It would be good to see you and spend some time together, regardless of your mood. I hardly saw you while you were dating Shelly. I've missed you," she said, pleading with him.

Now Jim felt pangs of guilt as he listened to his older sister. She was right. In the nearly six months that he had been dating Shelly he had neglected his friends and even his own sister. Getting together now would be beneficial to both of them.

"Okay. Thanks. Give me about an hour," he told her. "I want to grab a shower so I'll feel like a human being again."

"That's perfect. I have to dash out for a few things. I'll meet you here in an hour. Thanks, Jim. Don't think I'm doing you a favour either. I want to spend some time with you; it's been ages," she said.

"I know... I'll see you later, Amy," he told her.

Once he was standing under the spray of the hot water in the shower Jim found his mood beginning to improve. Then he realized it was all because of Amy. She was as much like a friend to him as a sister, although she was almost four years older. He valued the relationship they had greatly and glad they were close -- both emotionally and in terms of distance. Her apartment was just on the other side of town from his, which meant they could visit one another often. Unfortunately that had dwindled once he got involved with Shelly. Now Jim regretted this even more and vowed to himself to rectify it.

As Jim drove his car to his sister's apartment he found himself smiling. The closer he got, the happier he felt. When he arrived at Amy's apartment on McDougal St. he could smell food cooking. Until she had asked him to come over, the thought of eating had almost nauseated him. Now he began to feel the beginnings of hunger pangs as the aroma of his sister's spaghetti sauce hit his nostrils.

"I'm so glad you decided to come over, Jim," Amy said as she greeted him at the door. Her brown eyes sparkled as she smiled at him. Even before he had a chance to close the door behind him her arms were about his neck and her full lips were pressed to his cheek where she planted a loud, smacking kiss.

"Well, I couldn't turn down your spaghetti," he said.

Jim pushed the apartment door closed with his heel and returned his sister's hug. Now the scent of her perfume overwhelmed that of the food on the stove and Jim closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. His hand moved up Amy's back as he felt her brown hair tickle the side of his face. Her firm breasts were pressed hard to his chest and Jim's senses were flooded with with the scent and feel of his beautiful sister. His cock began to stiffen as she shifted against him, rubbing her breasts over his chest. Through her blouse he felt no bra strap and suddenly the image of her heavy breasts moving freely as she walked about filled Jim's mind. When he felt the curve of her stomach pressing harder against his erection he slipped his arms from around her and took a step back.

"The food smells wonderful," he said, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock.

"Thanks," she said. "I hope it tastes as good."

Amy turned and walked towards the kitchen. Jim followed her, his eyes glued to her tight grey skirt hugging her hips and ass. Her backside looked firm and just round enough for his taste. But it was always his sister's front that Jim was most preoccupied with. Her thick brown hair and eyes that were a shade darker made her very striking -- not to mention her breasts, which seemed to be the object of either desire or envy of both men and woman.

"You're a great cook," he told his sister. "I've never had anything you've made that wasn't delicious. The man who marries you is gonna end up weighing a ton."

Amy let out a bittersweet laugh and looked back from the stove at her brother standing beside the kitchen table. "Well, it seems like no man wants me, because I'm twenty-six and still single," she lamented.

"Don't give up," he advised her. "There are worse things than being single -- like being married to the wrong person."

Amy stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce to reflect on her brother's statement for a few moments, then nodded. "Yeah, you're right," she concluded. "I've dated a few Mr. Wrongs in my life. I think it's time to find Mr. Right."

"I know what you mean," he said.

"So you're looking for Mr. Right too?" Amy turned from the stove again and grinned.

"Shut up -- you know what I mean... Ms. Right," he chuckled.

Jim pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. He ran his eyes down his sister's body, then back up again, lingering on her left breast. It gently quaked inside her blouse as she stirred the spaghetti sauce and her nipple was very hard. He had an erection that seemed to refuse to die and he began to worry that she would notice it.

"Here -- taste this..."

Amy turned from the stove holding a large white plastic spoon with spaghetti sauce on it in her right hand. She held her other palm beneath it as she leaned over her brother, holding the spoon close to his mouth. "How does that taste?" she asked.

The spaghetti sauce tasted perfect in Jim's opinion. It always did when his sister made it. But what he was really concentrating on was the view down her blouse he had as she leaned over. Amy was wearing a jade-coloured blouse with the top two buttons undone. Jim had thought nothing of it earlier, but now with her hovering over him he could see her heavy, round breasts gently swaying inside her blouse.

"How is it?" she asked nervously.

"Perfect, as usual." Jim raised his eyes. His sister was smiling, but it didn't seem to him that it was because of his reaction to her cooking.

"Good. It always makes me happy when a man likes the taste of my sauce," Amy said as she returned to the stove. She turned her head around and gave him a wily grin, then let out a sexy laugh.

"You pervert," he spat out, laughing, but excited by his sister's lewd comment.

"Hey, if you want to give me a hand with something, there's some wine in the fridge that you could open," she said.

"Sure." Jim got up and looked inside the fridge. He noticed two bottles of white wine on the top shelf and took one out, then opened a drawer beside the fridge. "Where's your corkscrew?" he asked his sister.

"I thought there was one in your heart," she teased.

"Why is it you know so many Dylan lyrics when you claim to hate his singing so much?" Jim was still searching through drawers as he spoke. On his third try he found a corkscrew and began opening the bottle of wine on the kitchen table.

"Because you speak in rhyme occasionally," she explained. "And if I don't know which song of his you're quoting I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

Jim laughed. "It's just that he says it so much better than I ever can," he said.

"Yeah... well, I just wish he'd spit the marbles from his mouth before he says it," she retorted.

"Judas!" her brother spat out.

Amy turned and glared at him. "I don't believe you... you're a liar!" she said, then let out a laugh.

Jim shook his head, laughing to himself. "Damn... why does the perfect woman have to be my sister..." he mused aloud.

Amy turned from the stove in surprise. "I'm the perfect woman?" she said.

Her brother's remark filled Amy with happiness and as her heart accelerated she could feel herself getting wetter. She already was horny, prompted by feeling her brother's erection pushing into her stomach when she greeted him at the door. Now her panties were becoming damp. Her clit jumped. She cleared her throat and brushed her hair aside as she looked into Jim's blue eyes. She suspected that the hunger she saw in them wasn't for food and she yearned for him even more. But the yearning was as much emotional as physical. Her brother was Mr. Right, and she was sure of it.

Jim gave his sister an abashed smile. "Well, I just meant that since you now so much about Dylan," he said, tripping over his tongue and blushing. "I wish I could find a girl who shared my musical taste -- that's all."

Amy sidled up to her brother. She draped her left arm over his shoulders and pressed her hip to his side as she smiled at him. "I don't think you will, Little Brother. That's a rare bird, indeed," she said. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

"Worse things could happen," Jim said with an awkward laugh. He looked up into his sister's oak eyes, feeling his cock throb again.

Amy slipped her arm from around her brother and went to a cupboard. She brought out two glasses and filled one with wine, then held the other up, offering it to Jim. You want some?" she asked.

"Yes, please," he said. "A glass of wine would probably do me good."

Amy filled the second glass and handed it to him. "Well, I planned on us having more than just a glass. That's why I bought two bottles," she told him.

By the time the spaghetti was cooked Jim was hungry. The wine had whetted his appetite and he filled himself on his sister's spaghetti and slices of garlic bread, washed down with wine. Amy was hungry as well and the siblings talked little while they ate. The silence did not bother either of them -- they were comfortable enough with one another to not have to keep up conversation constantly. But each had another, secret hunger that they felt like they must conceal from the other.

Jim looked up from his plate occasionally at Amy and she would smile or ask him how the food was. Just looking at his beautiful sister sitting across from him made Jim's pulse race, and his cock throbbed in response. And although Amy did her best to hide it, she too was fighting the growing arousal within her. But both of them felt their inhibitions waning, helped-along by the wine and the at times bawdy conversation while Amy was preparing supper.

"That was wonderful. Thanks, Amy." Jim pushed himself away from the table and placed a hand on his stomach. It felt round to him. He'd eaten too much, but his sister's spaghetti sauce was too delicious to just have one plate of spaghetti.

"Thanks," Amy said with a big smile. "I'm glad you liked it." She took a bite of garlic bread and drained the last of the wine from the bottle into her glass, then held the empty bottle up-side down over the table. "Time for you to open the other bottle," she told him.

Jim went to the fridge to retrieve the second bottle of wine and opened it on the counter. He refilled his glass then placed the bottle on the table between them.

Amy raised her glass and reached out towards her brother. "Here's to love, and us finding Mr. and Ms. Right," she said.

Jim knocked his glass against his sister's and took a sip of wine. "Love is just a four-letter word," he said.

Amy laughed and took another drink of wine.

Jim's eyes left his sister and he scanned the kitchen, noticing the pots on the stove and dirty dishes. "How about I give you a hand with these dishes?" he offered. "It's the least I can do after you cooked me the best meal I've had since the last time I was here."

Amy gave her head a shake as she sat her glass down on the table. "No, thanks," she said. "They can wait. I'll do them tomorrow after you leave."

Jim gave his sister a puzzled look. "Tomorrow? I'll be heading home later tonight," he said.

Amy shook her head again, only more emphatically this time. "I'm not letting you leave after the wine you've had," she said. "Even if you don't get into an accident, you could get stopped by the cops -- or kill someone. No way, Jim."

"Yeah, you're right," he said. "That was stupid of me. I'll get a cab."

"Don't you want to hang out with me?" she asked, sounding hurt. "It's been so long, and I was really looking forward to us just sitting around and gabbing."

Jim felt guilty when he saw the forlorn look in his sister's eyes. He frowned. "It's not that. It's just that it's getting late and I thought you'd want to get to bed in a while," he explained.

"It's not late and I'm not tired," she told him. "I just want to sit around watching TV with you and talking -- like we used to. You can have my bed and I'll take the couch if you want."

"No, the couch will be fine. Besides, I'll probably be so tired by the time your wheels fall off that I could sleep on the floor," her brother told her.

Amy laughed and gave her brother a warm smile. She got up from the table and picked up the bottle of wine and her glass. "Good. Thanks, Jim," she said. "Come on, let's go sit down."

Jim took his glass of wine and followed his sister in to the living room. He sat down on the couch to her left. She aimed the remote at the television and turned it on, then placed the wine on the coffee table in front of them.

"I'm glad you decided to stay here tonight," Amy said. "Even if you weren't drinking, some company will do you good -- even if it is me." She turned to him and let out a self-conscious chuckle.

"Especially if it's you," he corrected as his eyes widened and he smiled.

"Awww... you're sweet," she drawled. "I can't believe you're not married yet. Girls must be tripping over themselves to get to you."

Jim stared straight ahead, frowning. Then he let out a sigh. "Not even close. Shelly dumped me so she could get back together with her last boyfriend. It just seems like I'll never find someone to spend the rest of my life with. Maybe my standards are just to high," he said with a frown.

"No, Jim, don't ever think that," she said, sounding very serious. "What are you looking for in a woman anyway?"

Jim drew in a deep breath, thinking. "Well, someone who's smart, funny... the usual stuff," he said, then smiled. "Someone like you, but..."

"But with bigger boobs," she interjected and let out a laugh.

"No... Amy... I wasn't going to say that," he said. "I was going to say 'but who's not my sister'".

A foxy smile formed on Amy's face. She straightened her back, glancing down at her chest for a second, then her eyes met his again. "So, does that mean mine are big enough for you then?" she asked.

"Oh... geez, Amy, let's not go there," he said, almost begging. But the look on his sister's face excited him. It was flirtatious and he had never seen her look at him like that ever before.

"C'mon, Jim, You're my best friend. There isn't anything we can't talk about," she said.

It took a moment for his sister's words to sink in, then Jim gave her an almost startled look. "I'm your best friend?" he intoned.

"Sure -- of course," she said. "There's no one I'm closer to, who knows me as well as you do, or knows as much about me and who I trust as much."

Once more, Jim reflected on Amy's words, then smiled. "Since you put it that way, I'd have to say you're my best friend too," he told her.

"Thanks. You don't know how much that means to me," Amy told her brother. She wrapped her arm around his, tugging him closer and rested her head on his shoulder.

"It's the truth," he said. "I never really thought about it too much. I just sort of knew it and felt it. Everything you mentioned is how I feel about you though."

Amy craned her head and smiled up at her brother. "Plus I'm smart, funny -- the usual stuff. Right?" she said.

"Yeah... definitely," he said.

"So, that brings us back to whether or not my boobs are big enough for you." She raised her eyes to his again and gave him a flirtatious smile.

Jim could feel his sister's breast pressed to his side and he recalled how they looked earlier when he was peering down the front of her blouse. His hard cock throbbed and his mouth was getting dry. "Ah... yeah, I guess they are," he croaked.

Amy giggled and tugged at his arm, drawing it into her firm breast. "You're not sure?" she taunted. "Wasn't the look you got at them when you tasted the spaghetti sauce good enough for you to make up your mind?"

epiphany65
epiphany65
3,779 Followers