tagIncest/TabooMerry Christmas, Baby Sister

Merry Christmas, Baby Sister

byrescatooor©

She couldn't even wait for me to fly with her.

You'd think that 10 or so months of unofficially dating (since officially dating was out of the question) would mean something. Not so much with Ellen apparently. She could've easily waited. It would've meant a day; that's all I would've needed to finish at the office. But no. She just had to travel to Saskatchewan as soon as her classes ended.

"We are siblings for fucks sake. We live in the same goddamn city."

"Yeah, but everyone else from the flat is leaving. Besides, I have plans to meet up with some friends in Regina."

I pondered our argument on the plane to Regina. The dull flight would've been more entertaining with some company. It wouldn't have killed her to wait one more day. Maybe something sketchy was up.

After what had felt like an eternity, the plane finally touched down on the icy runway of Regina Airport. I was travelling light so I was able to skip the baggage claim. As I found my way into the tiny arrivals area, I immediately spotted Mom and Pops. Mom was looking good, had apparently just been to the hairdressers for the occasion and cropped her hair short. Some blonde highlights in her chestnut hair gave it a fresh look. Pops though... Well, he looked as Popeye as he had always looked. If it works, why change?

Mom's eyes sparkled as she took me in for a tight hug. "Welcome home, sweetie!" The familiar smell of cigarettes oozed out of her clothing.

The amount of affection she unashamedly showed me in public would've been embarrassing had I been in my teens. I had matured enough to appreciate it.

"How was your flight?" asked Pops, as he took me in for a hug.

He was not my biological father, but he had played the part for as long as I could remember. As Mom had never wanted to deceive me, she had confessed to me that he wasn't exactly my "dad" even if he was more than willing to be it for me. Consequently, I had always called him Pops. The name stuck.

I was happy to see my parents, I truly was. Yet one piece was missing.

"Where is Ellie?" I asked them confused.

My mother grinned awkwardly, clearly apologetic.

"She said she'd rather wait at home. She wanted to get some things done before your arrival."

"Isn't she a busy bee," I sighed and rolled my eyes.

She laughed light-heartedly at my remark. Ellen had inherited Mom's cheerful laughter. In many ways they looked very similar as well; both were quite short, a little plump. It would've been a lie to say that Ellen hadn't taken after her father as well, especially in the shape of her face, which was quite round. But thinking about their similarities always weirded me out. Seeing Ellen's lovely feminine qualities repeated in Pops disturbed me. Especially now.

The car ride passed with us exchanging pleasantries, talking about weather, general catching up. But the thought of Ellen not being there upset me.

I hadn't seen her much of late, and she never allowed me to come over. I had helped her with her move-in once it had been confirmed that her application at the University of Vancouver had been accepted. But after I had carried in the last of her furniture into that apartment that she'd be living in with a few other students, she practically pushed me out of the front door. Despite the proximity I was never invited over, and she would always insist on meeting me at my place. Admittedly I had no roommates to worry about. We had a lot of fun at my place, but it always felt like she was hiding me like a piece of dirty laundry.

Pops parked the car on the street in front of a mountain of snow. This mountain, I suspected, was their newly purchased home. Only windows and the front door had been dug out for access. It reminded me of those Hobbit homes in Lord of the Rings films.

"Welcome home," Pops announced, confirming my fears.

"I didn't expect an igloo," I jested.

"I take it you are volunteering for some shovelling then?"

"Sure," I sighed. I wasn't exactly thrilled to commit myself to manual labour, but Pops wasn't getting any younger.

I grabbed the single piece of luggage from the back of the car and followed Mom to the charming-looking wooden door. It was your usual brick house that you'd expect to see in a suburb, from the little that I could see. At least it looked more robust than the shack we used to call home.

As soon as I stepped in, it felt like I had been place in an oven. Not only was it warm but the indoor lighting had a homely yellow glow to it. The furniture was old, most of it from Mom's family heirlooms. Your average person would've disposed of it ages ago, but Mom loved antique. You couldn't talk her into replacing any of it. Pops, on the other hand, had never particularly cared for home decoration, safe for his beloved photographs. I could see the mismatched picture frames covering the walls of the hallway, each of them containing a long-forgotten instant of my childhood. I was certain I would find more pictures in the other rooms of the house.

"Just give me your jacket, honey. Step right in," Mom instructed, as she put away clothes into a stuffed closet in the hall.

That's when I finally caught sight of her. With one confident step, Ellen entered from behind a door frame on the right to stand right in the middle of the hallway. She was wearing a bright red skirt and a tight long-sleeved shirt on top of it, coloured dark grey. Her rich brown hair fell on her shoulders as if she had put in a lot of effort in making it look perfect. Maybe she had? Her hazelnut eyes sparkled at the sight of me and disarmed me of any grudgeful feelings I may have held until then. Her smile was a pure, unfiltered welcome.

"Andy!" she shouted with excitement, as if I was a puppy to be picked up. She ran into my arms and buried her face against my chest.

"Hey my sweet Ellie," I smiled. Finally, it felt like I was home. Feeling her warmth in my arms was all I needed to feel normal.

"Can't believe you are finally here! Come!" she grabbed me by the hand like she was in a hurry. Not knowing what was up I followed her, leaving our parents behind to manage with the overwhelming mountain of winter coats. Yet they were grinning conspiratorially and shaking their heads at the happy sight of us.

Ellen dragged me into a spacious living room. Large windows opened to a snow-filled garden. Hadn't it been the darkest season of the year, the living room might've been quite luminous. Now the darkness of the outdoors was challenged by the glow of the electric lights and a red brick fireplace where a homely fire was in its full blaze. By the fireplace there was the couch with matching armchairs, all in brown leather, facing a decent-sized television set. On the coffee table in the middle of it all was a bowl of red apples. In the other far end of the room was a white cupboarded open-plan kitchen. The massive kitchen island was something that Mom had been gushing about ever since the move-in. A round mahogany dining table functioned as the room diver in this multifunctional living space. All the pieces of it were familiar from my childhood.

There was an inescapable and delicious scent of cinnamon. Ellen guided me in front of the kitchen island and run on the other side of the counter to take out a pie pan out of the pitch-black oven. She placed it proudly on the marble counter.

"An apple pie," I stared at it, hypnotized by the fabulous colours of cinnamon, green apple and golden-brown crust.

"It's still your favourite, right?" Ellen smiled expectantly, her eyes set on my face. She walked back to my side and wrapped her arms around me.

"I also made some vanilla custard," she added. My left arm was pressing lightly against her soft breasts.

"Is this why you wouldn't come pick me up?" I smiled as it dawned on me.

"That and the fire place," my mother said, entering the room. "We don't want this place burning down so soon after move-in."

"The pie was just a little extra," Ellen grinned and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Housewife material, that one," Pops commented as he took his place in an armchair, strategically placed right in front of the flat-screen TV. He switched it on with a flick of a wrist. "Mind serving your old man some pie as well? A Seahawks game is on."

Mom rolled her eyes. There was little that could come between Pops and his Seahawks. It was nice enough of him to have been there to welcome me home despite my arrival overlapping with the first quarter.

Sure enough, the entire family gathered around the TV, each with our own slice of pie and custard. It felt good to be home. Sitting together in front of the TV felt oddly natural considering how many months it had been since the last time we had come together for a Sunday game. In fact, it must've been almost a year ago.

But, unlike last year, this familiarity felt disconcerting for me. After all, things were not as they had been last year. Or at least they shouldn't be. Now Ellen was my lover.

Or was she? There she was sitting and enjoying her pie like this was a regular family get-together. Not that I wanted our parents to know that we were having sex on a regular basis. God no. But she had been suspiciously distant in the last few months, despite the mad, sweaty nights in my bed.

Mindlessly I ate my slice of pie, taking comfort in its gorgeous balance of cinnamon and sugar. Housewife material indeed. This was surely the best apple pie she had ever created. The romantic in me wished to believe that the secret ingredient was her love for me. And with love I don't mean the family kind.

"Ellie, would you show Andy your room?" Mom suggested as it cut to commercials. "His luggage is already there.

I looked at Ellen quizzically. Mom, immediately picking up on my confusion, rushed into explain:

"You are sharing a room with Ellie. This house has only so many beds. Ellie said you wouldn't mind." She sounded apologetic.

"It will be like the old times," Ellie smiled at me, nudging me with her elbow. She was adorably awkward.

"Of course, if you do need privacy, we could set you up on the couch but..." Mom sighed. She clearly felt sorry that the move had meant giving up our bedrooms. It did not truly matter, since Ellen and I had both moved away ages ago. But it made Mom still a little sentimental; her children were all grown up.

"No, no," I laughed, interrupting her. I didn't want my mother to get upset with nostalgia. "Sharing a room with Ellie is more than fine."

She offered me a relieved smile.

"I want you to get some rest during this break."

"I will, Mom. Don't worry about it."

"So, what are we waiting for?" Ellen said, jumping off the couch. The hem of her skirt swirled from the sudden motion. "You can eat more pie afterwards. Let's go."

With a little too much excitement I placed down the glass plate, almost smashing it by accident. Before Mom even had a chance to complain about my recklessness, me and Ellen had flown out of the room and run to what would be our bedroom for the next two weeks.

It would've been too suspicious to shut the door, but as soon as were inside, I pushed Ellen lightly against a wall and stole a mercifully long kiss from her. Her lips were eager, and I had her completely surrendered in my arms.

"I've missed you," I whispered in her ear in between kisses.

"I've missed you too," she giggled as my lips tickled the base of her neck.

Lightly she pushed me back so that she could look me in the eyes. Her gaze was solemn despite the faint smile on her lips.

"But we have to be more careful," her lovely pink lips spelled out. Her brown eyes were studying my expression, as if uncertain I even understood speech anymore.

"They won't find out," I assured her with a naughty smile. I leaned in for another kiss, but she placed her hand on my chest, pushing me back.

"Really, though," she sighed, as if I didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

But the fact is I did. I understood perfectly. I had with some horror entertained a fantasy of our parents finding out about our romance. Just glimpses, since I did not like to explore those thoughts and tried to brush them aside as soon as I conceived them: Pops disowning me; Mom crying; the impact of it all on poor Ellen.

"Really," I repeated sincerely.

She seemed satisfied with my response. Her entire body relaxed from knowing that I'll share the burden of our secret. She grabbed me violently by the shirt and jerked me back to have me kiss her lips some more.

My arms wrapped like tentacles around her, trying to cover every inch of her, absorb the very essence of her through every cell in my body. It was weird how her body could be so voluptuous yet tiny enough for me to feel like I was engulfing her.

Ultimately, she wriggled out of my arms, saying we should hurry back before they'd come and look for us. To my dismay, the small guest room had twin beds in it, one beside each wall. Knowing how little my mother respected my privacy as a teen, it seemed unlikely we could secretly and quietly combine the two to create one large playground for us to mess around in.

The night went on quietly watching football and eating Mom's famous vegetable lasagne. It all tasted a lot better now that my romance with Ellen still stood. I wished I could've squeezed her thigh as we sat in the dinner table, but the intimacy of the round table would've made my teasing too easy to detect. Still, I was looking forward for the dessert to be served in bed.

However, there was no dessert in bed. Whatever dessert there was, was the now cold, yet delicious, apple pie. Ellen retired to bed early, saying she would have to get up early for some Christmas shopping with Mom. When I sneaked into our room, a sexy nymphet wasn't waiting for me in a seductive piece of lingerie, but a slumbering girl in her pyjamas. Despite the disappointment I couldn't help but smile at the sweet image of Ellen's peaceful face, as she quietly snored in her bed.

- - -

Seeing as Ellen would be away anyway, I volunteered to do the housework in the morning. It was already Christmas Eve, and I was determined to spend my Christmas Day doing nothing but eating, sleeping and watching TV.

Mom had left a box with all the Christmas decorations on the kitchen table, as they would later be needed for the tree. After some light dusting and vacuuming, I placed some of the ornaments on the mantelpiece and the green wooden candelabra on the dining table on top of a Christmas-themed table cloth. I found long white candlesticks in a drawer. Once I had combined them with the candelabra, the room started to look festive.

Either there had been a serious snow storm a couple of nights before or Pops hadn't bothered shovelling for a couple of weeks. Judging by the amount of ice, I was guessing the latter.

It was a thoroughly white day. Not only was the ground white from the snow, but the sky was covered by a single diaper of equally white cloud. It was as if the entire world had gone colour blind.

I had overestimated the arctic temperatures of Canada, since after only a bit of shovelling I was already feeling quite warm in my coat. There was no wind, nothing to cool down my overheating body. Before I knew it, I had ditched the coat, the gloves, the beanie.

After one and a half hours of hard constant work, I had cleared the path to the shed and managed to make the house visible again. The driveway was cleared. All the excess snow was piled up into a private skiing slope at the back of the house in the garden. By then I was already soaked, having not dared to peel off any other layers of clothing in fear of catching cold. I took in a deep breath of fresh air, admiring the finished work. Sadly, I knew it would only take a brief snow storm to undo any good I had accomplished here.

It was a nice bathroom they had, with a rainfall shower and white subway tile. Everything else about the house was so rustic that I hadn't expected to find it equipped with a modern bathroom. My muscles ached from the repetitive exercise. I allowed my mind to go blank as I stood under the shower and felt the water trickling down my body, the tired arms and the back.

Honestly, I was a little smug about my body. Not that it was particularly athletic, but in the last couple of years it had gotten bulkier. I was no longer a stick figure with limbs too long for my own good. There was hair growing on my arms and my chest: I had the body of an adult man. I admired my own attractiveness, took pride in my strength. My relationship with Ellen had made me more aware of my newly-acquired manliness. She seemed to find it irresistible. It made me see my body in a completely new light. It boosted my confidence. And maybe it made me a bit of a narcissist but it added to my self-esteem.

At some point I became aware of the front door slamming shut, which was followed by the sound of heels clicking down the hallway. I quickly deduced Mom and Ellen must have arrived home. Instead of wasting anymore water in my meditative state, I quickly washed my hair and got out with a towel around my waist. Maybe not the most modest of my outfits, but I hadn't thought of bringing a change of clothes. My mother was there to receive me, seeing as the living area was in full view of the bathroom door.

"There you are, hon!" she greeted, ignoring my indecency.

"Hey," I said awkwardly, not quite sure whether to stay for chit chat. Yet words just flowed out of my mouth: "How was shopping? You got everything?"

"Sure did. And I see you've been busy here as well!" She exclaimed, gesticulating at the decorations with a pleased expression on her face. "And the driveway! You've done a magnificent job."

It was truly touching seeing her take such pride in her son doing a little bit housework. It was difficult not to blush at all the praise. She was never one to criticize, especially not her own children.

"Oh honey, sorry!" she exclaimed as she remembered my nakedness. "Go get dressed before you catch a cold."

"Yeah, yeah, will do," I laughed.

I was a little chilly despite the generously high-set heating, so I hurried to the bedroom. My mind was so preoccupied to get myself dressed I was somehow a little confused to find Ellen there. She was lying on her stomach on top of her bed. She was wearing an endearingly short brown skirt, grey knee socks and a baggy Christmas pullover with Darth Vader on it. "Vader Christmas" was written on it in whimsical cursive.

"Hey," I blurted out, surprised.

It appeared she had been the midst of watching a video on her phone, for she was wearing her earphones. Only her eyes glanced up to study the sight of myself in a towel with water slowly trickling down my legs and leaving spot on the new carpet floor. The expression on my face made her chuckle.

"Hi there," she replied cheekily.

I shut the door quietly behind me, unsure why I thought she shouldn't be there. After all, we shared the room.

She merely stared at me quietly, smiling. Evidently, she was very amused by the awkward situation of me having walked in on her. Her eyes never lingered in one place for too long, but they always returned to my face as if to watch my reaction to her eyes darting from one part of my body to another. I felt a bit shy at being examined in this manner. Still, I could feel my cock stirring under the towel, intrigued by her undivided attention and curious where it all would lead.

Her eyes caught glimpse of that too.

She began biting her lower lip, a habit of hers she often displayed when she was aroused. I walked up to her bed, allowing the loosely-tied towel to fall on the floor. It was almost like a dare. With some effort she kept her eyes steady on my face, despite my manhood hanging right on level in front of her. As I stood next to her bed, she did her damnest not to betray her lust. She looked at me as if me showing up there naked was something quite unpredicted, as if she was the innocent prey and I the hungry predator.

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byrescatooor© 8 comments/ 43952 views/ 54 favorites

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