Sad Son Pt. 01

My hand is grabbed, and I am pulled out of line. I try to pull back, but she's stronger. What the hell, it's Michelle. I stop resisting. She stops pulling and stops.

Michelle asks me, "Can you really play the guitar?"

I reply with a smile, "At age eight, I used my savings and bought a used guitar at a garage sale. Since then, I have played in all my spare time. Yes, I can play."

She takes my hand, and we're walking down a hallway. People are staring at us. It's weird. It's Michelle, the hottest babe in the school. What does she want? Why do I care?

I start resisting her as we near the music room her father teaches at.

I stand steadfast and look at Michelle, "Hey, I have no idea what you're up to. I know two things. You have the most amazing blue eyes, and your dad's a fucking prick. Sorry."

My head goes down, and I feel horrible for saying that. She jerks me into the room.

Now she is all sunshine and warm, as she says to her father, "Here's Hal. I want to hear him play. I don't see a guitar ready. You promised mom!"

She's about ready to throw a tantrum.

Her dad says, "It's OK, baby. The amp is right there, as is the music stand and the music. The guitar is safe in the case by me. I don't want it getting sat on."

He looks at me with contempt, "Can you play the solo from Dissimulation by Born of Osiris?"

He now has a massive smile on his face. Many experts consider this one of the most complicated guitar riffs to play. I'm surprised by his choice. It's not jazz, and it's old. A lot harder metal than I expected from him.

He looks at me, "It's what I like. I teach jazz, but I listen to metal. Deal with it."

It took a few minutes to unpack the almost new, amazing guitar. It took a lot of tuning to get every string on pitch. I plugged in the amp, turned down the sound, strummed a few cords to warm up. Then I took a deep breath, and without the music, I played the entire song from memory. It took me three months to master this song. No way I'll forget it any time soon.

When I play, it's just me and the guitar. I feel the strings sing to me, and it fills my heart like nothing else in the world does. It's the only time I can be me and be free.

When I finish, I turn off the amp, unplug the guitar, and then place it back in the case. I now notice Michelle, her father, about ten students in the room, plus a horde outside of the room, are all frozen and speechless.

He runs off and comes back with an acoustic guitar like mine and asks me to play some Santana. I spent all afternoon playing various genres of music with an ever-growing crowd listening to me play. He has me go back to his high school days for some Eddie Van Halen and Eric Clapton.

When I finish, her dad stands stunned and unspeakable.

Michelle asks me, "How can you possibly remember all those songs?"

I explain how my brain works, "I can't remember my sister's birthdays. With music, I kind of feel it. The song becomes part of me. In the first song, your dad picked out a doozie. That is one hard song. Took me three months of constant playing to get it right. Don't think I know every song either. I only play stuff with a hard solo. Your dad tested me with the only hard stuff; I would need music for most everything else."

I am back to being nervous. I am literally shaking with everyone here and talking about what they saw and heard.

Almost stuttering, I ask Michelle's dad, "Um. Mr. Hurley. We all missed some classes. Can we get some passes ... please? I think all those people need one as well."

He turns around and is stunned to see a huge wall of people looking at him expectantly for a pass.

He thinks quick, "Come put your name on this paper, and I will turn it in for all of you. I'm not writing out sixty hall passes."

I quickly sign since I'm close. Now I quietly slip out of the room before they remember who I am. Now I can run home and hide.

*****

So much for my excellent planning. Casey is by the door of our home in a micro bikini. I stop in my tracks, dumbstruck by the incredible body in front of me. No smirk, scream, calling me pervert, nothing. Oh shit, I'm in big trouble.

She says to me in an even voice, not giving away her hate, "I was looking for you. You're home late. Do you have math homework?"

I can't talk.

Then, in a smooth and calm voice, she asks, "Hal. Do you have any math homework?"

Is this a trick question?

Cautiously, I reply, "Yesssss."

She seems happy, "Good. Get it and meet me out by the pool."

She walks out to the pool. I put my backpack on the table, pull out my math textbook and folder, a pencil, and follow my sister. She just laid down on a chase lounger, stomach down.

She says, "Shoot. I forgot to put on some sunscreen. Would you grab some and rub it in? I had a rough day and don't want to move."

That's a no-brainer. I run into the house, grab a bottle, and bring it out.

Instructions are provided, "Anything exposed to the sun, I want it covered. Start at my feet and work up. Untie my top, but no touching me inappropriately."

As I shake, holding the bottle, "Um, Casey, you have so much skin showing, I'm not sure where that line is. I mean, you're wearing a thong. I think you want that covered, but that's ...."

She giggles, "Pretend that I am your girlfriend. A quarterback is rubbing me down. How far would you let him go?"

With as serious a voice as I have, "He's not touching you. How does that help?"

She tries again, "Do enough skin to keep me safe."

That's kind of vague. I pour the coconut-scented oil on Casey. I work it into her skin, so it's even. I do rub her ass cheeks. What a glorious feeling that is. I stay far from the upper end of her inside thighs. I get her string for the top and oil her back up with skill. I do the sides of her ribs, other than where the breasts are. I only go about halfway. She asks me to go further, but that's as far as I dare go.

Rubbing her body is incredible. It's also an issue. I am getting hard. I mean hard as in its swinging back and forth. I've tried to keep it away from my sister, but that's hard to do. Her skin feels like it's on fire. She's producing enough heat, it warms my hands. I'm shaking like a leaf as I touch some areas on my sister I shouldn't even see. I thought I might get a moan out of her, but she hates me too much.

Casey's thinking, "HOLY FUCK. DAMN, his hands are awesome. NO! NO! Don't you dare moan. NOT to Hal. I literally want to cry out. It's killing me to stay absolutely still. OH MY. Those hands on my ass almost made me orgasm. No way I discuss this with my sisters."

When I finish, I put the cap back on, and she says to me, "Start your homework right here. If you don't understand anything, ask me."

She lays on the chair for ninety minutes while explaining algebra to me. I'm in Advanced Algebra. However, I never completely learned Algebra. Casey explained it's like building a tall building with Legos. You must have a firm base before you can add on to it. So, not only did I not understand quadratic equations, but I was lost back in the proper order of operations.

Casey was excellent at explaining everything, and now, after ninety minutes, I can do my homework. Casey has filled in all the missing holes I have needed but never learned before. It feels like rain, so we go in.

Before Casey gets up, she looks like she's going to do something wrong; it's the look on her face. She's smiling too much.

She asks me, "Would you like to see my breasts quickly?"

I am stunned; of course, I want to see her breasts. Any breasts will do.

Yet, stupidly, I say, "No." She is clearly taken back by my answer. "Had you really wanted to show me your breasts, you wouldn't have asked. The fact that it would only be a flash and you're asking me tells me you really don't want to do this. So, to protect you, I say no. I need to use the washroom NOW!"

I run off to the washroom. I can enjoy ten minutes in the shower beating my meat with only Casey around. With pictures of Casey in my mind, I lasted two minutes. Then it's back to my room, and I work on my English paper.

At 5:00, Andrea comes into my room. My door was open. She wants to sit down, but there is no room for a chair. She takes off her shoes and climbs into bed with me. I almost wet my bed in shock.

She asks me, "English?"

Dejected, I say, "Yeah. Doing this stupid paper for the second time. Someone stole my last one. It's so late; it only prevents me from getting a zero."

She almost said print out a new copy, but then she noticed that I didn't have a computer.

She asks me, "Can you type?"

I reply with a frown, "I can find the keys."

She gets out of bed. Well, that was quick.

She then surprises me by saying, "Come along, Hal. Let's try something new."

I follow along as she walks into her room. This is mom and dad's old room. It's huge. She uses half of it for an office. Andrea handles the money and all the bills. I get a small allowance. She sits at the computer and sets something up. She has me sit down, put a headset with a mic on, and then has me say the words on the screen. She tells me I'm training the computer. Ten minutes later, she has me click on an icon to get an almost blank page.

She looks quite amused as she tells me, "I want you to read your paper, what you have written down so far. Then I want you to turn to me and tell me the rest of the story or whatever you need to say."

I explain, "I'm answering a bunch of questions."

She adds, "When I press this button, you will see a 3,2, 1, and then you can start reading. Ready?"

I nod. She presses the button. I read the few pages of text I have. Then I get out the questions and start answering the questions. It wasn't so bad because I had done this before.

When I finish, she instructs me how to save, run the proofing software, and print. I'm done, and it's READABLE! Wow.

Becky and Donna yell up, "DINNER!"

Too much yelling in this house.

Dinner starts off quiet. No talking, yelling, or fighting. They're not even picking on me. I then notice that they're all staring at me. I want to fade away and hide under the table. I feel they want to pounce on me. It's been too long; they're poised.

All I get is Gail asking, "Well ...."

I know I'm the dumb one in this lot, but that isn't even a question.

I'm clueless, "Well, what?"

Gail looks like she won. What's the game?

Gail taunts me, "Want to talk about going back to school today? Anything different?"

I am near tears, "What do you want from me? I got punched, and a girl ragged at the guy. The football team pushes me to the floor unless there is a crowd nearby. People seem scared of me now. I'm a leper."

Gail prompts me, "How was lunch?"

Oh yeah. I smile.

I weakly say, "Michelle took me to her asshole father. He wanted me to tryout. Not only does he pick out one of the hardest songs ever to play, but he also then gives me the piano music rather than the guitar music. I rip through that. Then he names off some old-school groups and songs by some classical guitarists. I made that guitar scream. Then I came home."

Gail adds, "Students came out from the back rooms to listen to him, and they're stunned at the insanely hard stuff he's playing. Students walking by stop, pop in, and are then pushed further in by more students stopping by. In the hallways, they heard the concert going on and were drawn to his sound. They said it was like lightning bolts were shooting off the strings."

I blush; I now remember the group that was there. It was a bunch of them.

Emma seems surprised, "You didn't notice all those people in the crowd?"

She knows so little.

I am ready to sprint to my room when this goes bad.

Ok, I will explain, "I play to forget about the world. I'd rather not be here. It's not so great for me. In my mind, music creates a world for me. I feel no pain, nobody looking over my shoulder. I get to be me. I get to be a person people like. I escape reality. I shut off the world and escape. So no, I didn't see or hear them. They hate me, and tomorrow it will be more of the same."

I stand up and run to my room. I close the door, turn off the lights, and lock my door. I strip to my shorts and reach over for my guitar. It's not long before I'm lost in my own music, a soft yet sad sound.

*****

Gail's point of view:

I deadpan, "That did not go as expected."

Faith pushes me, "Ya think!"

Donna asks, "How did Hal respond to Michelle? She knew enough that they had to communicate, right? Ooooo, he likes her."

I explain, "She is the head cheerleader. She is the hottest, most popular girl in school. She dates a football player with a good scholarship. Her parents, I mean her step mother, has money. She's a good kid but very selfish. It's all about her. He can do better.

"Oh yeah. Her mother predicted that he would be the best lover in school soon. She wouldn't explain when Michelle asked why. So, she asked me, I played dumb."

Casey says, "Ok, I'll bite; how does he get to be the best lover at his school? He has zero experience."

Becky is annoyed, "She knows about our plan."

Andrea asks, "How? None of us have said anything. How does she know?"

Emma answers, "She's guessing. Seven sisters in the same house. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what seven loving older sisters might do for a hard-luck brother."

Faith laughs, "No. She's speaking from experience."

We all blush at the idea.

*****

Andrea's point of view:

I don't have much lingerie, never had much use for it. I do have a bright red bra and panty set with lace that will do nicely. I strip in my room and put the set on. I get sneers from my sisters as I walk past them.

I tap on Hal's door, and he grants me access. He's in boxers and reading a history book.

I instruct him, "Bring your book and follow me. I want to know what you're working on in school."

He's staring at my breasts. Wow, that sends tingles up my spine. He's right behind me. I make sure I swivel my hips more than usual. I can almost feel his eyes on my ass. Damn, that feels awesome. My pussy is leaking.

I get in bed, and he gets in on the opposite side. I move much closer to him, "accidentally" hitting his head with my breast.

I put my arm around him and explain, "By reading aloud, you will remember it better. It's weird to read to yourself, so you will read to me. Please continue where you left off."

My arm is around him, holding him close enough that my breasts are touching his arm. He never moves that arm, only his left arm when turning pages. I never dreamed this would be so much fun. Because he is reading to me, he can't see his dick hardening in his pants. I rub my hand on him. It grows faster.

I look, and it's a nice chubby. I keep watching; it keeps growing. No fucking way! Wow, his size, that thing's huge. I don't mean porn star, nowhere near that obscene. It's hard to tell for sure. It's something I want to see in more detail.

I've noticed that he's talking in a higher pitch. I think my body is affecting him. He doesn't know it, but that's our intention. We want to overwhelm him with skin so that a girl in clothes is no big deal anymore. Michelle's mother is correct; this will lead to us teaching him. That is how he will get his confidence back. From what I can see, I think he will be helping us out.

When he finishes, I tell him, "Come give me a kiss before you go to bed."

He reaches over drops a pec on my cheek. I grab him, preventing him from running away.

Time to start teaching, "Oh no, you don't. Tonight, my first lesson is to teach you how to kiss. Soon, you will need to kiss Michelle."

Hal laughs at me, "She barely even knows I exist. She has a stud boyfriend and is way too popular to be seen with me."

I respond, "Who filled in Gail about you? Who took you by the hand to the tryout? Who got you that tryout? Who watched you nail all those songs? Things are going to be different around here. Go with it. We're only trying to help you out. Michelle will soon see the real you, and no other man will be enough for her.

"That means that you need to learn how to kiss. Now do it the right way. Bend your neck, apply light pressure, and hold me like I'm the girl of your dreams."

The mother fucker shocks me by saying, "You ARE the woman of my dreams," then proceeds to plant a beautiful kiss on my lips. His tongue rolled over and around my tongue in one of the most sensuous kisses I've ever experienced. We held it for a while before our tongues ran into each other. Shocked, we pull back, and then I attempt it again.

As we pull away, I am shocked, "Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

Bashfully, he whispers, "I love you for taking over the family, stopping family services from splitting us up, and being the most caring sister ever. I have never kissed anyone like that before. Is it always so awesome?"

I laugh at his naiveté, "No. Most of the time, it's nothing or average. That was an A+ kiss. Thank you, now go to bed."

He got up slowly, looked at me one last time like he was taking a picture, and silently walked out of my room. I'm sleeping well tonight.

*****

Hal's point of view:

It's six-thirty AM when I am woken up by Emma. She's in just a robe, has a towel in hand, and pushes me to wake up. I'm awake and sit up.

She whispers, "Hurry, you can take a fifteen-minute shower! But only if you hurry!"

I am out of bed like a bat out of hell; I take the towel she handed me and run to the open bathroom. It never occurred to me that my sister would be right behind me. She closed the door. In a whoosh, my boxers are off and hanging on the sink with my towel. I jump in the shower and close the curtain as I adjust the water temperature.

Within seconds, Emma is in the shower with me! I turn around, so I can't see her. She laughs at me. I feel a washcloth running over my shoulders and back. She's cleaning me. A second washcloth is placed in my hand. WHY?

Emma grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around. HOLY FUCK! She's got long brown hair that's straight because of the water. Her gorgeous eyes have mischief in them. Her huge tits need cleaning.

Emma says to me, "By adding my time to yours, we get more time. I need you to clean me. ALL of me needs to be cleaned because I'm a DIRTY girl."

I laugh back at her, "Oh yes. You most certainly are a dirty girl. I take it this is part of my newly expanded education?"

She nods her head as she bites her lower lip seductively. I love that look.

I have been rubbing her breast way too long. My cock is as big as it's ever been. It almost hurts from so much blood pouring into my friend. Emme has an incredible body. I use one hand on her shoulder to bend over and reach down. I only use a quick up and down on her pussy. No way I ruin this. I'm not getting clean as she is mesmerized by my dick. I end up cleaning myself up. We both feel like time will run out, so we exit the shower.

She only handed me one towel; I use it to dry her off. OH MY. Rubbing hard on her tits is terrific. I squat down to do her legs and stop as I am eye to eye with her pussy. A light brown tuff of hair covers her mons. It's like a landing pad for your balls if buried to the hilt.

The towel is in my hand as I rub it back and forth over her pussy. I almost burst from doing that. She grabs the towel from me. I stand up, and she squats. Now I see her tremendous tits bouncing free while wrapping the towel over my dick. Next, she pulls down the right side, then the left side, back and forth like a professional leather shoe polisher.

When she finishes, she turns me around and dries the rest of me off in about thirty seconds. I'm still wet. While still behind me, she presses her breasts into my back, forcing my cock to point straight away from me. Her hand comes around, strokes me once, then she says into my ear in a low, sexy as hell voice, "You might want to take care of that loaded weapon. It looks mighty dangerous."