Ocean Apart

This story is a work of fiction. All participants in sex are over the age of 18yrs. This is a long story that consists of multiple parts. It will have a long build up so please be patient to get to the naughty bits.

There is anal sex involved in this story.

This is my first endeavor in writing, and while I would like feedback and helpful criticism to improve, I will not reply to abusive comments or emails.

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Present Day Paul

Blarghhhhh.....! God, the retched sounds. Time's running out to change my mind and forget it. My internal struggle with what I'm about to do is making me sick. Kneeling before the porcelain god, I pray for relief. My anxiety is out of control. Who gets physically ill at the thought of seeing their family? Me. That's who. I dread what's to come.

I abandoned them; I left her. Will she even want to see me again? Even though I had a great childhood, I was hopeless, emotionally broken, and confused when I left. Now I'm returning full of angst and fear. I wrote them off, and now it's time to fix what I've broken and help them out.

After what feels like hours, the taxi arrives. I quickly clean myself up and run out to meet my driver. It's time to leave my home in Lisbon and make the twelve-hour trip back to Vancouver. I left my parents' home when I was eighteen, and now, I have to go back...I don't want to, but it's not a choice. My dad was seriously injured in a work accident, and he needs my help.

The Beginning

My mother died during childbirth...my birth. I've tried to not feel guilty about it over the years, but it sometimes crept up on me. At first, my father resented that I was the cause of my mother's death, even though it really wasn't my fault. It wasn't until he met my stepmother, and stepsister that things turned around. They dated for two years before getting married and they filled a void in our lives. Her name is Amanda, but I call her Mom. Over time Dad's resentment and my guilt abated.

Amanda was also recovering from a tragedy when she met my father. Her husband had just died from cancer. Her daughter was three years old when that happened. Her name is Samantha. Even though Amanda took my father's last name, they had Samantha keep her father's family name. Miller.

Samantha was my protector and best friend. We did everything together. We were inseparable. Mom and dad often joked that we followed each other around like we were joined at the hip and that Samantha always hovered over her little brother.

Samantha enjoyed her dolls and dresses while I was the typical boy with a ton of energy that needed to be burned. But that didn't detract from us hanging out at every opportunity, whether we played games, watched movies, or sat around and talked.

My Early Years

Samantha and I had new adventures to look forward to when I began kindergarten. I finally got to see her during the day...well, when we weren't in class anyway. Even though I had my own friends, we often hung out during recess. She always made time for me.

It was in elementary school that I learned to love soccer. Samantha would sit on the sidelines and cheer me on when we played. Dad liked soccer too. Whenever the games were on television, he, Samantha, and I would watch them together. Sometimes, I wondered if Samantha was just there to be with me because when the game was over, we always went outside to do something she liked, like riding bikes.

When I turned eight, our parents decided we needed our own activities, so they enrolled me in the community soccer league and Samantha in dance classes. We were each other's greatest fans. She was always at my games, and I was always at her recitals.

By the time I was ten, I was already very good at soccer...thanks in part to Dad setting up a full-size net in our backyard. I maintained possession when challenged and always got to the right place at the right time to score. My understanding of plays and ball handling was quite good, and my strikes were accurate. Not to toot my own horn, but I could run at a full sprint without getting winded.

Around that time is when Samantha began changing. She got her period. We remained close, and I tried to console her through her pain and discomfort. Our activities changed, though. We no longer played in the backyard or rode bikes. Instead, we spent more time taking walks, discussing our daily lives and sometimes laughing at our embarrassing stories.

Things changed again when she turned sixteen and entered high school. It was a difficult time for both of us because we would never attend the same school again, and we couldn't walk home together (which was our time to catch up and talk) or see each other during the day. Samantha became a cheerleader and didn't come home until close to dinnertime and was gone almost every Friday night. With all of this, we still remained best friends, but I missed her at school. One of my fondest memories was doing our homework together in our rooms. On the weekends, we watched soccer, movies or took walks. We took a lot of walks!

I continued to excel at soccer and moved up to a division league. When winter came, I changed to indoor soccer to keep myself in shape. Samantha never failed to show up. When I looked into the stands, she was always there, rooting me on.

For the first time, I saw Samantha differently; she had an athletic build from dance and cheerleading. Her long dark hair framed her face and flawlessly smooth skin, and she had a cute button nose. Her best features were her sparkling deep blue eyes and naturally long eyelashes. She carried an aura of confidence without being pretentious. I didn't understand all of it, but she was changing.

Throughout her time in high school, Sam got a lot of attention from the guys and even dated a couple of them. Her dating stressed me out! She dumped them when she saw how selfish they were, which made me happy.

When Samantha crossed the stage to receive her high school diploma, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face because of how happy she was. After the ceremony, we celebrated, and she talked about her plans to attend the University of British Columbia. She wanted to study finance and marketing. Samantha was the smart one.

Later that night, I went to her room and knocked.

"Come in," she said in a sing-song voice.

Slowly opening her door, I stepped into her room. I always enjoyed being in there. It smelled like her...vanilla...her favorite scent. "Hey...I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you...and...that...I love you."

"I love you too, Paul," she replied as she crossed the room into my arms.

Holding her tight, with her head resting on my shoulder, made me feel like a man. Samantha's perfume flooded my memories of her leaning against my arm as we sat next to each other on the couch watching TV. I didn't want to let go, but when she pulled away, I had no choice.

Up until then, Sam was just my sister, best friend, and confidant. Someone I could tell all my dreams and secrets to. But now, she was also this brilliant, beautiful woman who stirred my soul.

When I finally left her room, I had to take deep breaths to gain control of myself and my feelings.

My High School Years

When I entered high school, my body became leaner and stronger from eating healthy and hitting the gym. Hair grew on my chest and face...and other areas. My features became more adultlike, and my voice deepened. Scary times for a young man. Even Samantha noticed...I caught her giving me sideways glances every now and then.

I struggled between my physical changes and being in a new environment.

I was lonely.

I missed Samantha terribly, so I threw myself into soccer, playing on both the school and divisional league teams.

As one of the school's soccer stars, I was popular. The guys thought I was cool, and my buddies kept trying to set me up with girls that were interested in me, no matter how many times I told them not to. I didn't want to date...there was only one woman I wanted, and I spent all my free time trying to be with her.

School soccer was just for fun, it was division league that I took seriously, and Samantha always attended those games to cheer me on. With her cheering, I felt like I could conquer the world. She was my inspiration to succeed.

I made new friends but never formed close relationships with any of them. I was alone...by choice. Soccer and any stolen time with Sam dominated my world. On Saturdays, I watched games with Dad, and if Samantha was home, she would join us. But that was rare.

Besides being ensconced in her university classes, she took notice of a different class of guys. Bigger and more mature. Her school was only thirty minutes away, so she lived at home and drove to her classes. It didn't take long before she spent more time with her new friends and less time with me. On the other hand, I had only two priorities, soccer and trying to spend as much time with Samantha as possible.

Six months into tenth grade, my relationship with Samantha began to deteriorate. During a tournament final, I noticed her sitting with a guy...leaning over, laughing, and talking, while I busted my ass on the field. It infuriated me. It was jealousy, plain and simple. How dare this guy take Sam's focus away from me. Rather than let my feelings distract me from my game, I used them to fuel me. I decided to show Sam that I deserved her attention more than the guy she was with. I played more aggressively and challenged opposing players more eagerly. If I had the ball, I was off to the races. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't selfish. If a teammate was in the position to score, I gave them the ball. But if I had the opportunity to score, I took it.

After the game, Sam and I had our first real spat. I was packing my gear when my family came over to congratulate me. Only Sam wasn't alone. She was with that guy! She introduced him as Matt. Matt! He tried to shake my hand, but I ignored him. Sam was furious and threw me her death glare. I decided to leave before I dug a deeper hole for myself, so I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned away. It was customary in our home to always greet or say goodbye to women by kissing them on their cheeks. So when Sam turned away, it was not only rude but also an affront to my Portuguese heritage.

Later that night, she interrupted me, kicking the ball around in the backyard and tore a strip into me.

"You were fucking rude, Paul! How could you embarrass me in front of Matt like that? You were raised with better manners! I can't believe what a little shit you are!"

"Me? I'm the little shit? You're the one who brought that stranger to my game! You're the one who embarrassed me by turning away when I said goodbye."

"Stranger? Who the fuck do you think you are? He's my friend, and I can hang around with anyone I want!"

"Why Sam? Why did you have to bring him?"

"What do you mean? I like Matt, and we spend a lot of time together!"

"Why? You have me, Sam! Why do you need to be around him? I'm here...I've always been here, and I always will be."

Sam softened after that. For the first time, she realized that I loved her...more than a brother should. It must have been the tone of my voice that gave me away. I couldn't handle losing her.

"Paul, you know I love you, and you'll always be the most important guy in my life, but--"

"But what, Sam?"

"But you're my brother, and there are certain feelings that aren't right for us to share! You understand that, don't you?"

Her words stung and hurt. I teared up at the thought of my world crumbling because she was with someone else. "No! I don't understand that, Sam! Fuck! You just said that you love me. And I don't know how often I've told you that I love you. So...no! I don't understand why you're choosing him over me!"

"Paul, It's not that simple!"

"Sure, it is! Who knows and cares for you like I do? Haven't I made you happy, Sam?"

Not waiting for an answer, I kicked the ball away and ran off. I couldn't be next to her at the moment or be seen crying. I needed to get the fuck out of there.

"Paul, please come back and talk to me..." Sam's voice trailed. She knew I was emotional and hurting, and instead of pursuing me, she let me go to sort out my feelings.

From that day on, things were different. Soccer and school were my only focus.

Mom and dad noticed I wasn't the happy and outgoing guy they were used to. The only time I came alive and confident was on the field. Afterward, I retreated back to being quiet and reclusive. When Sam was home, I limited our conversations to ensure she wouldn't see my unresolved feelings.

Dad tried to talk to me, but I declined. Then Mom tried, sensing it had to do with girls, but I refused to have that conversation with her! What was I to say? Yeah, hey, Mom...I'm jealous of Sam spending time with other guys because I love her! So, I politely made up a bullshit story that school was becoming too demanding.

Dad or Mom must have mentioned something to Sam because one Saturday, about a month later, after the England vs. Germany game, Sam asked if we could take a walk. I agreed.

We talked about high school, university, and soccer. At one point, she mentioned how my legs were looking like tree trunks. I blushed that she noticed something about me because I was desperate for her attention. As the conversation continued, she asked about girls and my interest in them. Having been reprimanded the last time I allowed my jealousy to surface, I changed the subject and asked about her friends and social life. Basically, anything to steer the focus away from me. Like I said before, Sam is a smart girl, and I think she caught on to what I was doing.

My heart leaped when she put her arm around me as we walked. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You don't seem your usual happy self. Is this about...uh...you know...our...uh...our relationship? I know we don't spend as much time together as we used to, but you can still talk to me about anything, Paul. You know that, right?"

I couldn't answer her honestly. If I put myself out there again, she would simply try to assuage my feelings. So all I could do was give her a fake smile and answer, "Yeah...sure...I'm all right, Sam. I'm just going through some stuff."

"Maybe I can help you with your stuff. I'm here for you. Talk to me."

"I..I..can't, Sam. It's something I have to deal with," I replied as my eyes watered.

"Okay, but I'm here for you. Anything you want to discuss, I'm here for you."

"Yeah...sure." I knew that she thought we could discuss anything, but in reality, we couldn't. I was a ship on a stormy sea, and I couldn't let the waves sink me.

We eventually returned home, but before we went in, she pulled me into a tight hug and whispered, "I love you, Paul. Really, I do. I don't know what I'd do without you."

If only that were true! I longed for her love, but all she ever gave me was a hug, a smile, and an excuse.

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When summer came, soccer season was in full swing. I lived for soccer. It consumed my life. When I wasn't playing, I was training. Often running five kilometers a day, which seemed like nothing.

Eleventh grade began much like my previous two, except I took my classes more seriously. I loved soccer, but I knew that if I had a serious injury, I wouldn't be able to play it any longer. So, I followed Sam's example and worked harder in my classes.

Samantha continued to live at home. Having two years of university behind her, she now had a firm grasp on expectations and excelled in her studies. Her social life was in full swing with her parties and occasional drinking. We continued to drift apart, but my feelings never waned. I refused to date because my heart belonged to her.

My parents often asked about my social life, but I always steered the topic to something else. Sam knew how I felt, but she was afraid to approach the elephant in the room, and I didn't talk about it because I didn't want to be rebuffed again. Despite sidestepping our predicament, Sam was still genuine and sweet.

The Turning Point

This was when my life went to shit.

It was Thanksgiving, and Sam invited her boyfriend. His name was Ryan. He was friendly enough, but I didn't like him. Sam betrayed me...again!

"Hi, Paul," he said as he extended his hand. "Sam has told me a lot about you."

I learned my lesson before and decided to be more cordial this time, but I still squeezed his hand hard as I shook it.

Everyone tried to get me to talk at dinner, but I was afraid my unbridled emotions would show, so I kept quiet. Ryan asked me questions about soccer, but I just nodded or shook my head.

It was tough not to wail on him and let my fists do the talking. He took the woman I loved. I had to keep myself under control; as much as I didn't want to, I had to. When I finished my supper, I cleared my dishes and excused myself.

"It was nice meeting you, Ryan," I said through gritted teeth. Then, looking at my parents, I said, "I'm going to go lay down. I'm not feeling well and won't be very good company."

"Are you okay?" Dad asked.

"Yeah. Sure, Dad. I'll be fine. I'm just tired from soccer, training, and school."

My emotions were all over the place. I was pissed at Sam and Ryan, and I was jealous. But, worst of all, my heart was crushed. Sam knew how I felt, and she brought a man into our home, declaring him to be her boyfriend. I kissed Mom on the cheek and thanked her for a wonderful meal. When I got to Sam and kissed her cheek, we locked eyes, and she saw the tears running down my cheeks. Her face was full of pity. I didn't want pity! I just wanted her.

Dad and Mom checked on me after Ryan left. I told them I was fine, so they walked out and shut the door behind them. After turning off my bedside lamp, I pulled my blanket over my shoulders and put my back to the door.

"Paul, are you still awake?" Sam asked after opening my door. I ignored her and pretended to be asleep. "I'm so sorry, Paul," she said as she closed my door.

Like hell, she was sorry! She knew exactly what she was doing. Overcome with emotions, again, I broke down and sobbed. I didn't know that Sam was listening from the other side of my door.

My life was being destroyed, but that didn't deter me from playing the game I loved. I continued with both the school and division leagues. I was even voted the best player a few times.

Christmas and New Year's came and went. Sam was spending more time with Ryan now. Somehow, my feelings for Sam became stronger, and with that came hatred toward Ryan. I couldn't stand being around him or even hearing his name.

Sam's twenty-first birthday was the nineteenth of January, and I wanted to get her something special. So, I tried to find something that would convey the depth of my feelings and have her want to be with me instead of Ryan. So, I bought her a gold necklace with a locket.

When I put it around her neck, I whispered, "I love you so much, Sam. You mean the world to me, and you're the best part of my life."

"You'll always own my heart, Paul," she answered softly.

She gave me a tight hug, and I kissed her cheek. Her salty tears dampened my lips, and I didn't want to let her go. I never wanted to let her go, but she had plans with Ryan and her friends, and so, once again, she told me that she loved me but went into the arms of another.

I did what I always did when I needed to vent. I went into the backyard and kicked the ball.

February began well enough but ended in disaster.

School and soccer were going great. Both teams were undefeated, and I was getting straight A's. I was going to be eighteen on the twenty-first and couldn't wait. I would soon be legal and do whatever I wanted. At least, that's what I thought.