Sister Golden Hair

"No shit."

"And that was wrong of her, because like you said, I have no business checking in with you. I've been a shitty brother for the past decade or so now. I put football first, second, third, fourth and fifth, and you and everything else took a backseat. I thought that the only way I'd ever make it to where I am was to focus my entire being on the game of football and block everything else out. And I did just that, but sacrificed so much in the process. Too much...and it didn't have to be like this. I could have still hung out with you, sat on the couch every night and watched a little television. Or when I went away to college, I could have called or texted or whatever. But I didn't, and as the older sibling, that's completely on me."

I had adjusted myself so that I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, facing the door as he spoke. His words sounded nice so far, but it still wasn't quite enough. I decided just to remain silent and see what else he had to say.

After not saying anything for a minute, I thought he was done. Surprisingly, however, when he next started to speak, he sounded a little emotional.

"I'm lonely, Candy," he said to me with a tremor in his voice. "I mean, I've got friends and whatnot I guess, if you can call them that. I hang out with some of the guys on the team from time to time. I go out on casual dates here and there, but never anything serious. You asked me why I came home? It's because I'm alone. A lot of my teammates are older and have families of their own. Some of the others...well, they're alright, but just not people that I'm super close with. I haven't felt truly close to another human being in years, and...well, I hate it. I've reached a point where I think I've blocked everyone out in order to obtain this 'success' that I have, or whatever you wanna call it. I came home because I missed you guys...missed you."

I was shocked. My first instinct was to accuse him of being full of shit, but something in his voice told me that he was being completely truthful.

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately," he continued. "I know it's weird, given how little we've interacted over the years. But as good as I've done on the football field this year, I've been grasping at something, looking for more. Connection, maybe? It's strange, but my whole life, I've never been as close to anyone as I used to be with you. I miss that, and I want it back. So if you don't want to believe me, or even if you do believe me and just don't want to forgive me, then I'll completely understand. But if you're willing to try and reconnect...I'd be pretty grateful."

I couldn't help but smile. Here was this seemingly perfect specimen, inside and out, and even he was an emotional wreck, it seemed. It felt good not to be the only one going through hard times. Maybe misery truly does love company, I thought.

I got out of my bed, walked over to my door, and opened it. Jet was sitting on the floor, cross-legged just as I had been. He looked up at me with sad eyes that glistened slightly. I truly empathized with him in that moment, and felt closer to him than I had in years.

"Quit being such a fuckin' pussy and let's go watch some more TV," I said harshly, smiling to myself as I walked away from him.

*****

A few days had passed and Jet and I slowly started to bond once again, most of which revolved around the television.

"So...are you really a millionaire then?" I asked as an episode of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air ended.

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied.

"Could you, like, write me a check for, I don't know...$100,000?"

"No."

"No?"

"Only because I don't have a checkbook, though. Who writes checks anymore?"

"Good point. I was just wondering if you had spent all your money you've earned on cars and clothes and shit."

"Nah. That's not really my style. I live in a pretty simple little apartment. I've saved just about all my money that I've earned. My only big purchase was this stupid little sports car that one of my offensive linemen talked me into buying."

"What kind of car is it?"

"Um...some kind of new Pontiac thing, maybe?"

I looked at him questioningly. "Not sure they make Pontiacs anymore, Jet."

"Oh," he replied. "Well, it's a pretty cool car. It's got like, I don't know...a certain amount of horsepower and shit. Ooh, and it's shiny and red!"

"Sounds...cool?"

"Yeah. I think I'm gonna trade it in for something more practical though. It was a stupid purchase. Honestly, I miss my old car. How's it treating you, anyway?"

"Perfectly fine," I said.

"Good. Maybe we can take it out later, get some food or something?"

"Nah, it's a school night for me. Besides, I get real sleepy when it's late."

Jet glanced at his phone. "It's 7:30," he said with a judgmental tone.

"Exactly," I replied.

"So how's the social life going?" he asked. "You know...or lack thereof?"

"It's going as well as it needs to," I said. "I hang out with Ally lots."

"Oh yeah, forgot about her. What about dudes?"

"Sadly, no dudes. You?"

"You mean dudes?"

"Chicks, I mean."

"Meh. Like I said, I date some, but it's super casual. Being an NFL quarterback kinda gums up the works, you know?"

"I can imagine. I remember when you still lived here, you pretty much only engaged in football related activities. Still the same then?"

"Worse. I get paid way too much money to take the job lightly. I'm constantly studying plays or watching film, and that's when I'm not at practice or a game."

"Are you supposed to be working now? I mean, during the offseason?"

"It's kinda my call. I told myself that I wouldn't touch anything football related until April, and I plan on sticking to that. I'm still working out everyday though to keep my body in shape."

"I see."

This is how our conversations had gone over the past few days, somewhere between small talk and catching up. It was nice, but I could see where it was going to take us more time to get back any kind of chemistry that we had so many years ago.

"Wanna watch a Saved By The Bell?" he asked as he looked around at various streaming apps.

"No!" I replied hastily, feeling myself instantly blush at the thought of Kelly and Jessie 69-ing. Jet looked at me with an understandably confused look. "I mean...I've watched that show a lot lately," I explained. "Just turn on another Fresh Prince, will you?"

"Whatever floats your boat," he conceded, seemingly not affected by my unusual response.

After a few minutes, I decided to make an attempt to tap into something more substantial within my brother. "So not into cars, not into money or nice things, no time for girls...what else is there, Jet? Give me something."

He just shrugged. "I like old shows."

"I already knew that. Come on man, you can't be that one-dimensional, can you?"

He glared at me, but with a smile on his face. "I'm not one-dimensional. Just...focused."

"Focused, huh? Is that what you call it?"

"Well what about you?" he asked, turning it back on me.

"What about me?"

"These past few days it's not like you've shared much of anything about yourself with me."

"Nothing to share."

"Of course there is. How about your writing?"

"Eh, I've been kind of taking a break from writing lately," I replied. "Been doing a lot of reading though." I thought about Irish and smiled.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh...nothing you'd be interested in," I said slyly. "See, there are no balls in the stories I read." With a slight blush, however, I realized that I wasn't exactly being honest about that.

"Actually, I-"

"Hey Jet!" Dad said as he suddenly entered the living room. "Wanna go out into the field next door and throw the ol' pigskin around?"

"It's kind of dark out there, isn't it?" Jet replied.

"We'll turn the flood lights on," Dad said with an excited tone. "It'll be like Monday night football or something! What d'ya say?"

"Well, I was kinda trying to hang out with Candy tonight," he said with a glance my direction. Surprisingly, something in his eyes told me that he was hoping I would chime in and save him.

"Oh," Dad replied, clearly confused on Jet's choice of activities. What could ever be more fun than chucking a football around with the daddy-o? "Well...Candy, how about you join us?"

"No thanks, Dad," I said. "You two go ahead. I'm gonna go in my room and shave my tongue or something."

"Have fun dear," Dad replied, dismissing my comment. "See you outside in five?" he asked, turning to Jet.

"Sure Dad," Jet confirmed.

I smirked at Jet as Dad left the room. "So much for not touching a football for a while, huh?" I teased.

Jet laughed. "Yeah, I guess it was inevitable that this happen. You know, you could've saved me back there."

"Not possible," I replied. "Once Dad sets his mind to anything that involves the combination of you and football, nothing in this world can divert him. It was out of my control."

I went back to my room and got on my phone. I hadn't checked for any messages from Irish since the previous night, so I decided to pull up the hot-smut website and see what was there. Just as I had suspected, Irish still hadn't sent me anything, so I decided to reread a couple of my favorite Sex By The Bell stories to pass the night. Before I could get the first story pulled up, however, I got a notification telling me that I had just received a new message from "fighting4irish". Excitedly I clicked on the message and saw a short body of text and an attachment. Clearly Irish had sent me some, or all, of his newest story, and my heart leapt with joy.

"Hey Toxic Sunshine, sorry I haven't gotten up with you lately," he had written. "Been busy with this story and other uninteresring life stuff. It's not done, and I wasn't going to send it to you yet, but on a whim I decided I just couldn't wait any longer for your feedback.

Recently I received some inspiration on a topic that I wanted to write about. It's a little...out there. I'm actually pretty nervous for you to read it. As always, give me your brutally honest feedback. I would expect nothing less from you."

I clicked the attachment and brought up the story. The first thing I noticed was the title, "Rimming My Sister". I thought it an odd title, and didn't really have a clue what he meant by "rimming", but I figured it would be explained at some point in the story. Maybe it was that suction cup therapy that some people get where they stick the rims of cups on their skin as a way to help with pain and blood flow.

As I read, I discovered that the main characters were a brother and sister named Greg and Brenda. The story started out with a pair of siblings in their kitchen just shooting the shit. It turned out that Greg was a photographer and Brenda was a model. Interesting, I thought.

The story progressed, and after several more paragraphs, still no new characters had entered the picture, which I thought strange since this was supposedly a sex-based story. Who was going to have sex with Greg, I wondered? Or Brenda?

The story soon reached a point where Brenda enlisted Greg's services as a photographer. It was an awkward scene because not only was Brenda wearing a swimsuit, but Greg kept having to adjust her poses by touching her and moving her body around.

"I think I'm gonna need to oil up those legs," I read out loud from Greg's perspective. "Jesus Christ", I thought. "That'll be uncomfortable."

Little did I know, however, just how uncomfortable things were about to get. Before I knew it, Brenda was on her hands and knees as her brother sensually rubbed oil all over the backs of her legs.

"What the...?" I said aloud as I read about how Brenda reached back and pushed her bikini bottom down so that Greg could oil her ass.

"That's the finest little pucker I've ever seen!" I read once again from Greg's perspective.

"You like that tater hole, don't you big bro?" Brenda responded.

"UGGGHHH!!" I exclaimed loudly as I tossed my phone to the end of my bed. "What the holy hell is this shit, Irish!?!?"

I reluctantly reached forward and picked up my phone. Not wanting to really read much further, I skimmed the rest of the text and pretty much got the gist.

Greg and Brenda ended up fucking each other.

A lot.

Brother and sister.

Fucking. Licking. Sucking.

I did a quick search of the word "rimming" as well, and was aghast at what urban dictionary had to say about it.

"No no no no no no NO!" I whined aloud to myself, filled with horror and frustration at the one person in my life who was supposed to be a constant source of positivity for me.

I went back into my messages and starting formulating a response in my head. Minutes passed, and I still found myself staring at the blank message body, unable to come up with anything to say to Irish.

I wanted to tell him that he was a sick fuck for writing a story about a brother and sister having sex, but I felt like that type of knee-jerk reaction maybe wasn't the best. Instead, I decided to put off any kind of response and just sleep on it. Hopefully I'd dream up a way to preserve my relationship with Irish and look past his new fetish.

*****

The next day I still didn't know what to say to him. It's not like I wasn't aware of that sort of thing existing. I had seen a whole entire section of the hot-smut website dedicated to the topic of incest. I just avoided it like the plague. I figured it was just one of those things that a super obscure percentage of the population was into, like people who liked to eat horse shit or go down on butterflies or something.

I decided that a little investigation was necessary. For the first time ever, I clicked on the link that carried me to the portion of the website that contained incest stories, and to my great surprise, I saw a plethora of tales containing all types of combinations of family members getting busy with one another. I had no idea that so much content existed on this topic. It was shocking and a little overwhelming.

I scrolled through a section of subtopics where you could choose stories based on more specific interests. I skipped over anything involving actual blood relatives and chose a story involving a step-brother and step-sister. That seemed much safer than the rest, I figured.

Thirty minutes later, I was about halfway through the story, and surprisingly not entirely turned off. The story itself was written pretty well, with interesting characters and an intriguing plot. The story was slowly building up the relationship between the step-siblings, and somewhere deep inside of me I found myself rooting for them to get together. By the end of the story, once they had finally hooked up with each other, I had to admit that I was sufficiently turned on.

I immediately found another story involving yet another pair of step-siblings and began devouring it. This one wasn't as well written as the last, but I didn't really care. I longed for more of this new found taboo, and didn't seem to care too much how the characters got there this time. By the time this story was over, I was a horny wreck.

I laid my phone down on the table beside my bed and slid my fingers underneath my shorts. I traced my finger delicately up and down my wet crease a few times as I replayed some of the events from the first story in my head. I could see this girl clearly, and watched as her step-brother perched his naked body on top of hers. I toyed softly with my love button, picturing this boy rocking his body on top of his mother's husband's daughter. Over and over in my head I kept hearing the words "my step-brother is fucking me" as I watched the intensity of the scene pick up. I was certain that I had never felt so intensely turned on before in my life, and it was solely due to the fact that these two people in my head were related AND having sex with each other. It was a very surreal moment for me.

Just an hour ago or so I was repulsed by the idea of anything incest related. Now, as I rubbed my clitoris faster and harder with each passing second, I could think of nothing more in this world that was more attractive to me than that very same topic. In my head the male character thrust deeply into his step-sister one last time and released a torrent of sperm inside of her, and in that very moment I reached my own climax, arching my back and riding out the longest, most intense orgasm of my short life.

When I was finished, I lay stock still in my bed, fingers still comfortably resting in between my legs, not wanting to move a muscle. My bangs were stuck to my forehead from the large volume of sweat my body had produced. Even still, I grabbed my blanket and pulled it across my body, more for the comfort of the weight than anything else. I rolled over and shut my eyes, thinking that maybe there was a chance to save Irish's story after all.

*****

"So what's the deal with the hair, Candy?" Jet asked me as we walked together on a local trail that ran along a wide stream near our house. It was an unseasonably hot day, and Jet had decided for the both of us that it would be good to get out and take advantage of the weather.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" I asked, feeling slightly offended at what I perceived as a jab.

"I don't mean anything bad by it," he insisted. "Honestly, I think it looks pretty cool with the black and the purple. It's just that..." he began, trailing off.

"It's just that...what?"

He shrugged. "I like your natural hair color."

"You mean...your hair color?"

"No, yours."

"Okay Jet, well you and I have exactly the same shade of blonde hair. So what you're really telling me is that you like your own hair color, which is pretty vain if you think about it." He looked sideways at me, and I gave him a small half-smile just to let him know I wasn't actually pissed at him or anything.

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"I think maybe it's a control thing."

"I'm not trying to control you!"

"No, I mean for me. My hair. Sometimes I feel like I have so little control over anything in my life, it's just nice being able to have choices, you know? I could have any hair color in the whole world, and that's a pretty good feeling to me."

"I get that. I'm just a proponent of a more natural look. I've always felt that if you have a certain hair color, or body type, or whatever it is, you should focus more on embracing and accentuating it rather than trying to change it."

"Yeah, easy for you to say," I retorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't make me say it, please. Okay Jet?"

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about."

I groaned loudly and rolled my eyes. "You're talking about how it's best that people embrace their looks and don't try to change anything about themselves, but you are literally the best looking human being that I've ever met in real life. Genuinely, it's like you were hand crafted by Zeus himself and just shoved into Mom's womb."

Jet went silent for a bit as we continued to stroll along on the trail. "Jeez, now I feel like shit," he said eventually.

"Good, you handsome jack-ass you." He smiled and pushed me playfully on my shoulder.

"Now don't stand there and talk about how good I look without talking about yourself, Candy," he said.

"Don't do that," I replied. "We both know that I'm nowhere near your status."

"The hell you aren't! You are just as physically attractive as me, you just don't know it. And that makes you even more attractive, I think. Your issue is just your confidence."

I stared daggers at him. "Thin ice, big brother," I said to him. "That's a sore topic for me, and you know it."

He just shrugged. "Whatever," he mumbled. "You know I'm right." Just then, his hand shot up swiftly to his neck and swatted at something. "Ahh!" he said as he looked at the dead bug in his fingers. "Gotcha!" Another bug began buzzing around his head, and he began swatting at it like a man possessed. "Where the fuck are these bugs coming from? It's still technically winter!"