Sisterfest Ch. 05: Carys & Mike

All persons participating in sexual activities are over eighteen. This story contains scenes of a sexual, incestuous nature.

Please vote or comment as you see fit, and remember, things happen here because I need them to, and not necessarily how they would in the real world, because this is just a story, in a made-up time and place that sometimes looks like reality but mostly isn't. Read and enjoy,

BB1958

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Carys & Mike: A Sisterfest Romance

Carys Kershaw:

All through my most formative years, through the storms of childhood and the turbulence of my teenage years there was only one constant, one anchor in a world I felt increasingly adrift in; my sweet big brother, my Mikey. Of all the people I knew, of all my (admittedly sparse) family I might have turned to, I only ever really trusted Mikey; he's the one who fixed the things I couldn't, played with me when I needed a friend, never judged me when I pulled a stupid, and always, always had time for me, my problems, my wishes, my hopes, and my dreams. Mum and Dad were good, but they didn't think kids had problems, life was easy for them, so they never really drilled down into what was going on with me; they were happy, so they assumed I was too.

From earliest years Mikey was who I needed most; he was my favourite playmate, my staunchest defender, my rock who never judged me, and the one thing I knew, with rock-solid certainty, would be forever in my life to defend, protect, shield, and shelter me. I'd never seriously felt the need to copy-cat my friends and go trolling after boys as soon as they realised they had the bait to stir a boy's interest; all the boys I knew were scrawny no-hopers compared to Mikey, none of them were sweet enough, nice enough, tall enough, or had hair black enough or eyes the right shade of blue; it puzzled me that my lovely big brother was literally the best, most attractive boy I knew.

These feelings persisted all the way through primary school, where I just took it for granted that Mikey was just better at everything than anyone I knew, and then came secondary school. When my friends were trying their best to attract boys, I stayed clear of that stuff; none of them were Mike, so none of them were worth my time. I think by the time I hit sixteen my mother was starting to be concerned; I'd never been on a date, even the innocent Saturday night 'take me to the cinema and try and slide his arm around my shoulders' type of date that all my friends were raving about in school. The truth was, I just didn't find any of the boys in my school attractive or intriguing enough to even want to go there in the first place.

I had no plans to go to university, I really didn't want to leave my family and friends behind, and let's be honest here; my A-level exam scores were nothing to trumpet from the rooftops, unlike Mikey, who just seemed to be breezing through his architecture course at the University of Bath, which had caused no slight friction when he'd been accepted; I needed him near me, although I couldn't really give a hard and fast reason why he should be, not down at the other end of the country doing who knows what with God knows who. I was seriously conflicted; I wanted him to be the best he could, doing what he obviously loved, but he needed to be doing it where I could see, feel, and hear him anytime I needed him.

That whole raft of loose and barely understood, let alone clearly defined, feelings over Mikey made me very, very unhappy, and I really couldn't tell anyone, especially the parents.

I couldn't really get a job, what with having no real qualifications and zero experience, and university was out of the question with my less than spectacular A-Level results, so I took mum's suggestion to heart and went back to school, to the local technical college to do a 3-year BTEC in office management and Business Administration; dad promised me if I managed to pass each year with a minimum of a Distinction there would be a guaranteed place for me at his firm when I qualified, he'd see to it.

So I did; dad's company was part of a huge international conglomerate of a dozen or so huge manufacturing divisions that made everything from televisions to toilet paper, fridges, washing machines, car parts, motorcycles, and aerospace components, and working in any of the divisions was pretty much a guaranteed job for life. Also, it meant I got to go home at night and spend the weekends with my friends, unlike poor Mikey; architecture is an exacting, unforgiving discipline, and Mikey was burning the candle at both ends to keep up with his study, projects, and work-placements. He never complained, though; when I spoke with him all I got was his passion for his chosen field, no hint of regret, of wrong choices made, of feelings that he wasn't going to make the cut; he loved the pressure, the things he had to do to be creative and not be labelled derivative or a plagiarist, the creative processes he was going through to be different, original, and credible.

Mike Kershaw:

From earliest days, my favorite person was my cute, happy little sister, Carys, Rys for short. No matter how busy I was, or how lazy I was feeling, I couldn't not play with her, sit with her, read to her, or just listen to her while she babbled and chattered about her dolls, her favourite kid's TV shows, any and everything. Rys was going to be a gorgeous young woman, I could see that even then; her clear, translucent complexion, her jet-black curly hair so black it was almost blue, her stunning bright blue-violet eyes, huge and appealing, and her sweet, rosy little Cupid's bow mouth added up to just the prettiest, most beautiful little girl I'd ever seen. Add to that the fact she was so bubbly and good-natured and what I had was the perfect little sister, sweet, good-natured, and fun to be around. Oh yes, I adored my baby sister from the day mum brought her home from the hospital; she owned me, and I didn't care who knew it.

Carys was happiest when I helped mum tuck her in at night. She wouldn't let me go until I'd checked under her bed and in her closet that there were no monsters or goblins hiding there, then I'd read one of her simple fairytales to her, and then do a sweep one more time so she could sleep undisturbed. Mum always said I was such a sweet boy for playing up to her, but I wasn't playing; my little sister trusted me to keep her safe at night and I wasn't going to let her down. Being four years older than her meant that I was the token grown-up in her world; mum and dad came and went, and did parent things, and we loved them dearly, but if Rys really wanted something done, or needed something, or just needed to be believed or understood, she came to me and I'd do what I could, because I loved my adorable baby sister.

As we grew, our relationship never really changed in any significant way; Carys did her thing, and I watched over her. As she hit her teens the local boys started taking an interest in her, for a very good reason; she was probably the prettiest girl in town. I doubt she knew, or even cared, that the town saw her that way. One thing about her was her total lack of interest in attracting any kind male attention, and she never showed the slightest interest in any of the boys in her school or the youth clubs and activities she joined. This meant she spent most of her time either doing girly things with her girlfriends, or in my orbit, which suited me fine; I didn't like the idea of other boys liking her, and I never really worked out why; all I knew was I didn't want any of those scrawny, pimply, posturing loudmouth losers anywhere near her.

One boy made the mistake of attempting to grope her while his jackass friends held her and hee-hawed like a herd of donkeys at how much fun it was, then thought they'd gotten away with it. Foolish, foolish morons, did they really think she wasn't going to tell me? The boys who'd held her got the kind of beating that makes Christian believers out of us, but the boy, man, really, he was over eighteen, who'd tried to grope her lost all his front teeth one dark night and had both his hands slammed by an unknown assailant in a car door as an object lesson in how precious one's hands are, and how one should keep them to oneself; I understand these days if he wants to pick his nose, wank, or scratch his balls he has to ask someone to help out, but he certainly learned a powerful lesson; don't touch my little sister.

Being away from home, even if it was at university to study the one thing I'd always wanted to learn nevertheless still hurt in deep down, unique ways; I missed Carys, I missed her bringing each least little thing to me to show me, ask me about, ask if I'd like it, or if it suited her. I'd start awake at night in my digs absolutely sure Rys was sitting on my bed because she needed me, or I'd hear her voice as I was falling asleep and jerk awake again. Nights that happened, I literally had to get out of bed and search every single nook and cranny in my poky little student apartment just to assure myself she wasn't there, that I hadn't really heard her, that I was alone all the way down in Bath, and she was alone all the way up in Leominster, in Herefordshire.

Carys was fourteen when I left for university and the lost, scared, heartbroken look on her face the day I packed my car with my final bits and pieces almost convinced me to just call it off and find a university or technical college closer to home just so I could be near her. Cary's hugged me, and I could feel the desperation and loss, and that nearly decided me there and then.

"I don't have to go, Doll-Eyes, I can find someplace else closer to study, it's okay, if you need me I'd rather be with you than leave you alone, baby, honest!" I murmured.

Carys stepped back to stare into my eyes in shocked surprise.

"Don't you dare, Michael Kershaw! You've worked so hard, you wanted this so much, don't you dare chuck it all over for me! You have to go, Mikey, this is what you really, honestly want, if you don't go I'll never forgive myself. Please don't say you'll give it up, Mikey, I don't want you to not go and then ten years from now blame me because I took it away from you! Go, Mikey, please, don't give it all up, I'll be okay, I'll always be here, and you can come home anytime, this is still our home. Please go, Mikey, for me? Please?"

So I left with a heavy heart and a ton of misgivings, my mind filled with images of my beautiful baby sister smiling me away with crystal tears trapped in her long, sooty lashes; I knew she was right, although I'd never blame her for anything, ever; leaving now to follow my dream was the right thing for me. So why did my heart feel like it was wrapped in lead weights?

Carys Kershaw:

Watching my Mikey leave was like filling my heart with sharp, heavy rocks; my entire life he'd been my one constant, the one thing I knew would always be there for me. I knew he had to go, I knew this was his chance to make something of himself, the chance he wanted more than anything else in the world, but it didn't matter one whit to my heart. No matter how many times I told myself it was what he was supposed to do, no matter how hard I rationalised his need to do this, as I lay in my bed in the dead of night, in the core of my heart, deep down where my real feelings lived, I knew it was a lie and I was only fooling myself. Mikey was the most important thing in my life, he always had been since Day One, a piece of my heart I didn't dare share with mum and dad, a part of me that I didn't even vaguely understand at all, but that didn't matter, because it still broke in a million pieces as he drove away and left me alone. Watching him drive away I finally, truly understood what it was to be lost and heartbroken.

*

I didn't see Mike for two years; his coursework, his need to prove he was capable of being everything an architect should be meant he had almost no free time; when he wasn't in class he was on assignments with different architectural practices, laying the groundwork for entry into the professional network he hoped to be a part of. He studied long hours, day in, day out, picked away at possible opportunities to find and be worthy of the professional experience he desperately needed to qualify, and he did. I was more than shocked when I received a card from him from Milan, from a placement he'd earned with a leading European architectural practice, for the entirety of the four-year course's third year. He was abroad for a year! It was bad enough I couldn't have him in Leominster with me, but for him to be on the other side of the world? It was so unfair, he was so far away, and I'd never stopped needing him!

I was eighteen the year he finished his RIBA Part 1 requirement, four long years and only phone calls and a couple of flying visits. He'd looked dragged-out and worn down, but I never said anything, I was just so happy I could see him at all and be with him, if only for a few fleeting hours, but that was just the start. Next came RIBA Part 2, a Masters in Architecture. Just when other conventional students were packing away their mortar boards and ploughing head-first into the job market he had to go back, another two years full-time study. Six years, I was never going to see him again at this rate! As if that wasn't bad enough, when he'd gotten his Masters he was going straight into yet another placement, a whole year, before he could take his finals. I was sick at heart, eight years, only doctors had it worse, but eight years out of my life with no Mikey, I didn't know if I could survive it. Life wasn't just unfair, it was bloody harsh!

Dad had made one rule: no dating until I was sixteen, and no hanky-panky; we lived in a very small town, and reputations could be destroyed or gained by just one misheard comment or malicious gossip; it was all too easy to "get a name", so mum and dad went out of their way to ensure I didn't. They needn't have worried; to me the local boys looked like genetic mistakes, none of them was anything like my Mikey; ergo none of them was ever going to be good enough, and I was quite happy to keep to the status quo; I stayed away from them, and they avoided me because they knew, whoever dad didn't decimate, Mikey would finish off, and that kept them at bay and their mouths shut.

College wasn't the fulfilling experience I'd built it up in my mind was going to be, but really, it was my only option, the only escape-hatch open to me; it was either get qualified, find a job, and move away, or be stuck here, married to some big-mouthed boozer-loser, buried under a mound of squalling children, condemned to a life of back-fence gossip and TV soaps. There was more to life than that, and I promised myself I'd find it, because the thought of turning into one of the pregnant, overweight drudges most of my school friends had already become scared the life out of me. But I leaned into it; anything that promised me a way out of Leominster was a good thing, yes?

I was 20 when my life changed dramatically; one of the assistant lecturers in the Commercial Computing and Accounting class announced she was having a party, she was going to have a baby, and we were all invited. By this time the class had thinned down quite significantly as the slackers and disillusioned dropped out or were washed out, so there were only nine of us left who'd stuck it out and looked to be finishing with a good grade. I usually made it a policy to avoid parties, alcohol, or boys, and all three were going to be there, my three red flags, but I thought 'What the Hell? Got to go to at least one college party in my life!' so I went, and that was where I met Max Elliot, and the slow downward spiral of my life began, although obviously I never clocked it at the time.

Max was gorgeous, there's no denying that; as soon as I walked into party and our eyes met all my senses stood up and screamed; I actually felt weak-kneed in his presence, he was so everything I could want in a man; tall, curly black hair that looked like he combed it with his fingers, pale, interesting complexion, brilliant blue eyes a shade lighter than mine, a firm, square jaw and a wide, generous mouth, just about everything a girl could want, and when he smiled at me I melted; if he wasn't Mikey, well, Mikey wasn't him, either!

We kind of made a beeline for each other, I think I might have trampled over a couple of people to get to him, but I can't be sure, and then suddenly he was there, holding me spellbound. I don't remember what we talked about I was just mesmerised by his voice, his eyes, his smile. We must have talked and gazed at each other all night, but I didn't realise it, I was only aware of him, and when he told me he had to go I was crushed, but then he saved me because he asked for my number, and gave me his, and said he'd call me next day and perhaps we could sort something out.

I floated home, and arrived just in time for mum to look around with the phone to her ear and smile "Never mind, here she is now! Very nice talking with you Max; here's Carys!"

And that's how it started; the innocent, blushing conversations, the chaste kisses, the totally blameless, pressure-free dates, the parties, the college dances, and, eventually, dancing at some of the nightclubs in Hereford, Telford, and Shrewsbury. I was starting to feel that I needed to have a more adult relationship, a relationship that took note of the fact he was a man and I was a woman, not a young girl. Max never pressured me, never tried to entice me into something much more intense than kissing and holding hands, but I could tell he wanted to, and eventually so did I.

Going all the way with Max was fine, but I'd always thought the first time was the special one, moonbeams and fireworks and fairy glitter and it wasn't, it felt weird, and uncomfortable, and not at all what I wanted. Max seemed to have twigged that it wasn't exactly the earth-shattering, rainbows and unicorns experience he was hoping to give me, and to give him his due, he'd tried, but there was something missing, that deep-down spark I'd secretly been hoping for.

Still, he'd proved in my mind he was the one, even though our further experiments in that area still didn't exactly light a fire in me; I knew he loved me, he'd told me enough times, and I didn't know what I was feeling for him, but I told myself it was love and I even convinced myself it was so. When he asked me to marry him I put all my misgivings aside and said I would wear his ring and be his wife. Now I had to tell Mikey, something I was feeling weirdly ambiguous about for no good reason I could fathom; just that there was something deep in my brain that said he wasn't going to be happy about it at all.

Mikey came home specifically to meet Max; I needed the two most important men in my life to be, if not friends, then at least not at swords point. I could see Mikey liking Max, even though I could tell he was trying to hate him, but Mikey, if he's anything, he's honest with himself, and I could see he liked Max, even if he could only grudgingly admit it to himself. I knew, though, that he wasn't happy about me marrying Max, I could feel it coming off him in waves. They both looked amazingly alike, almost like brothers; tall, fair-skinned, black curly hair, glittering blue eyes, wry, seductive smiles, and a sudden chill struck me; was I marrying Max because I loved him, something I was still wondering about if I'm honest, or was I marrying him because he was as close to Mikey as I could get? I didn't even want to think about that, it was a weird, and uncomfortable thought that implied...things, things I knew were wrong to even consider.

No, Max had sworn he loved me, I was sure I loved him, I was going to marry him, and my life was going to be perfect.