Stinky and Fudd

Stephen gritted his teeth when he came. He pushed himself deep into Frances' cunt and let himself go. He slammed himself into her again, and then again, and he pumped his essence deep inside her.

Stephen collapsed on the bed, pulled Frances close, and swept a lock of dark hair from the corner of her mouth. Frances seemed ready to say something when Karen called from the foot of the stairs. "We need to leave for the club in about an hour."

"Oh God," Frances said. "I've already spent too much time with your mom."

Stephen pulled back, so he could focus on Frances' face and said, "She's too much sometimes, but I wish you'd try harder to get along."

"I'm sorry," Frances said and snuggled close. "But I'm marrying you, not your sister or your folks."

"We're kindof a package deal," Stephen said.

* * * *

The rising sun was just breaking over the clubhouse, so Frances leaned back on the court-side bleacher, shielded her eyes, and asked, "Men don't usually play tennis against women, do they?"

"Only in mixed doubles," Stephen said, "But Summer is serious and I'm a hack. I played against her when she was still a teenager just to let her practice, but the last time I took a set she was sixteen and getting over the flu. I don't have a chance."

Hiking the mountain had been Stephen's idea. He agreed to play one set against Summer to get her to hike with him, and now it felt like a bad idea.

"He'd have a better chance if he could figure out how to land his forehand," Karen said, and Alan laughed. "Maybe if he didn't fault on his serves so much, that would help, too," she added.

Summer walked onto the court with her little white skirt bouncing around her thighs, which were still a little red from yesterday's sunburn. Her pony tail was fastened high on the back of her head, and it swung behind her as she walked. She pounded a ball into the court, caught it, and then laughed at her brother. "You're moving like an old man," she said.

"I'm sore!" Stephen complained. "I have to warm up. Then I'll be okay." He stretched his legs to prove what he meant and winced.

"I'll send you some soft lobs," Summer said, "And we'll see if you can chase them down." They both left water bottles with Frances and took the court. Summer was true to her word. She started with soft lobs, and when he was getting to those she put more heat on the ball. When he started returning those she said, "Okay Fudd, you're warm. Let's go. I'll even let you serve first."

Summer knew her brother's game. She played to his reckless forehand until she was up three games to one. That was when Stephen called his sister to the net and said, "I need water."

They walked together to where they left their water bottles and found Frances talking with Karen. "Kids?" Frances asked, "I'm not planning kids. I'm not the nurturing type. You'll probably have to get grandkids from Summer."

Summer glanced at her brother and saw his face go red. She touched his arm with his water bottle to get his attention. He glanced at her then back to Frances. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

Stephen downed some water, splashed more on his face, and threw the bottle across the court. He put a big hand around Frances' arm and pulled her up. "We need to talk," he said, and walked her off the court.

"What are you saying?" Stephen asked. He backed Frances against the clubhouse wall and kept his voice low so his mom and dad wouldn't hear. "We planned on kids. You've always told me we would, and that's what I told Dad. Now you're telling Mom something different."

Frances pulled away from Stephen and rubbed her arm. "I don't want your mom to get her hopes up," she said. "I know you want kids, but if it ever happens then it won't be soon." She glanced to where Summer talked to Alan and Karen, and then when she looked back she touched Stephen's chest. "Besides, if we have kids then I won't have as much time for you."

Stephen was still angry when he left Frances by the wall. He picked up his racket, swung at the air, and said, "Let's finish this."

He crouched to wait on Summer's serve and when it went to his forehand he slammed it back, but this time it shot past Summer with enough top spin to pulled it down. The ball stayed in, as did his next serve, and the one after that. Stephen was up five games to four when Summer stopped and motioned him to the net. "I don't know what went on with you and Frances," she said, "But you should play angry more often. I need water."

When they returned to play, Summer went to Stephen's backhand. It worked to bring them into a five game tie, but that was as close as she got. Stephen sent a forehand smash past Summer and into the left corner to take his seventh game, and they met at the net while Alan and Karen clapped and whistled.

Summer extended a hand to her brother and said, "Good set." The morning was humid and it had grown warm while they played. She—like her brother—was dripping with sweat.

Stephen laughed and took her hand. "I didn't think you could get so hot just watching the ball go by," he said. He tugged her closer and sniffed the scent that rose from her neck. He spoke quietly with his lips near her ear, and said, "Stinky."

"Fudd you!" Summer said. She pulled her hand back and punched her brother's arm, so Stephen was rubbing a knot out while they walked back to where Frances waited with Alan and Karen.

Summer dropped onto the bleacher to finish the last of her water and stretched her legs out in front of her. Frances sniffed at her and turned away, and Summer rolled her eyes.

"We were talking about a picnic." Karen said. "What do you think?"

"Anything's fine as long as I get fried chicken and potato salad," Stephen said.

"I'll need ice cream," Summer added. She set her empty water bottle down, picked up the hem of her skirt, and fanned it to cool herself. "And time to shower and change."

Stephen stared at his sister's legs—and at the bit of her damp, white shorts that showed each time she lifted the skirt—until Alan got his attention. He tossed his keys to Stephen and said, "We need to stop in the clubhouse. Would you start the car and cool it off. We'll be there in a minute."

Stephen walked to the car, and Summer and Frances trailed behind him. He could hear them talking, but he couldn't understand what they were talking about until he heard Frances say, "Bitch!" She ran up beside him, tucked her hand around his arm, and when Stephen asked what that was about she said, "Never mind."

It wasn't until after Stephen was showered and Summer was there packing the picnic basket that Stephen was alone with his sister. "What happened with Frances?" he asked.

Summer was arranging things in the basket, so she could fit in a box of plastic forks. When she looked up she said, "I guess I pissed her off. I wanted to hear about your argument this morning. She didn't tell me much, but then she said, 'My mom's always said that I could fix any relationship problem with a good blow job.'

"I guess I know what you'll be getting tonight," Summer said. "Any way, I asked her, 'Wasn't your mom divorced like three times? Shouldn't you be getting your relationship advice from someone else?' Then she called me a bitch."

Stephen looked up when Frances came down the stairs with her head bent over her cell phone, and then he turned back to his sister. "I'm not very happy with Frances, and now I'm not very happy with you. You told me you wouldn't hold her mother against her. I should have known better."

Summer walked away when Frances squeezed herself against Stephen. "Do you guys have the whole afternoon planned already?" she asked.

"Afternoon and evening," Stephen said. "Aunt Mae is opening a new show at a gallery up town, so after the picnic we're going to the reception then taking her to dinner." He searched Frances' expression, then added, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told Summer about your mom."

"That's okay," Frances said. "My mom isn't perfect. Only your mom is perfect." Her sarcastic tone made Stephen cringe.

Frances affected a cute pout and slipped her hand down to the front of Stephen's pants. "Do we have to go to the reception and all?" she asked. "I've had too much of your family, and not enough of you."

Stephen groaned and pushed Frances' hand away. He wasn't ready for her solution. "I brought you down here—and my folks paid your way—so you could get to know the family, and the family could get to know you. So, yeah. We have to go. We'll have time later."

Frances' cute expression dissolved. "Maybe later I'll be too tired," she said. She turned without saying more and walked away.

If Frances was too tired when they got home, then Stephen couldn't tell. She waited while he said goodnight to his folks then ran the stairs ahead of him. "Don't go anywhere," she said and dodged into the bathroom.

Stephen sat on the edge of the bed to wait and was blinded by the bathroom light when Frances opened the door. She turned the light off and when his eyes adjusted again he found her standing in front of him.

"Stevie," Frances said, "You have to give me a chance to make things better." She unbuttoned her blouse as she spoke, and then unhooked her bra and let if fall at her feet.

To Stephen, making things better didn't start with sex, it started with the truth. Instead of complaining, he asked, "How could I say no?"

Frances unsnapped and unzipped her shorts, wiggled out of them, and pushed her thong down. She stepped close and first ran her fingers through Stephen's hair, then cradled his head in her arms.

Stephen kissed the skin on Frances' belly and her ribs while he ran his hands down her back and over the curve of her butt. He lifted his lips and pulled her down to get her tit in his mouth, and Frances murmured in his ear while he sucked her.

Frances pushed herself back until her tit escaped Stephen's lips. She knelt between his legs, unbuttoned his shirt and ran her fingers over his chest and down his belly. She unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, and he lifted his butt to let her tug his pants and his boxers down.

Stephen was trained like Pavlov's dogs, so Frances was greeted by his already-stiff cock. She wrapped it with her hands to kiss its sensitive curves, and Stephen brushed her hair back, so he could watch his shaft slip between her lips.

Frances took Stephen's cock to the back of her mouth, and its thick shaft glistened when she backed up to kiss its head again and to tease its flared edge. She pumped Stephen with her hand, pushed her lips deep between his legs to kiss his balls, and laughed when a quavering sigh escaped him.

Stephen was confused—excited and confused—because this wasn't what he wanted, but it felt so good. He caught his breath when Frances started pumping his cock with both hands. She held the head of his cock in her mouth and caressed it with her tongue. His cock burned and seemed to grow in her mouth. He could come—he was about to come—but that wouldn't make everything good again. He didn't want her to think that it might.

The frustration and anger that Stephen felt for most of the day boiled over. He pushed Frances' hands away, and watched the curious expression on her face while his right hand slipped along her jaw to the back of her neck, and his left hand tightened on her hair.

Stephen held Frances' head and slammed her mouth down on his cock. She pushed back, but he did it again and gagged her. Stephen fucked her pretty face while she tried to turn away or catch a breath, and then he groaned through his clenched teeth. Now he could come.

The first gush of Stephen's hot cream choked Frances. The rest splattered on her cheek and down her neck while she coughed and sputtered.

Stephen pulled Frances up when he was done with her and rolled her naked body onto the bed behind him. He turned away from his fiancée and stared into the darkened room with his softening cock dangling between his legs, and he listened to Frances sobbing into her pillow.

Frances quieted then said, "This isn't working, Stevie. I want to go home."

Stephen found his cellphone among the clothes they'd discarded by the bed, and forty-five minutes later he'd traded her Sunday return ticket for a flight out in the morning.

* * * *

Stephen was driving back from the airport when his cellphone rang. He pressed the answer button on the steering wheel, the music cut out, and Summer said, "Fudd?"

"I'm in the car," Stephen said. "What do you need?"

"I don't think I should see you guys today," Summer said. "I'm probably making things worse for Frances than they really are."

"Come on over," he said. "You can't make things worse now. I just put Frances on a flight back to Chicago. She's gone."

"What?" Summer asked. "I'll be right there." Summer was already at the house when Stephen got back from the airport. She looked like she'd been ready for a run when she changed all her plans.

Alan and Karen had a lot of questions, and they talked through lunch. Stephen made up answers for as many questions as he could, but that wasn't enough for Summer. She held her tongue until they were cleaning up, and then she pulled Stephen into the kitchen. She had an acid tone to her voice when she asked, "Wasn't the blow job good enough?"

"It was the wrong thing at the wrong time," Stephen said. He looked past Summer to where Alan and Karen planned their day and added, "And that's really why she left. I guess telling the truth is something we still have to work out."

"What?" Summer asked, loudly enough to make Karen look up. Summer lowered her voice and went on, "You did break up with her, didn't you?"

Stephen shook his head. "I didn't," he said. "I think we can get past all this."

"What's wrong with you?" Summer asked and stamped her foot on the floor. "She's not even the person you want to think she is. You could be making the worst choice you'll ever make!

"She tells you exactly what you want to hear, and then she lays you so you don't ask questions. Right? Every girl in the world knows that a guy's brain cuts out when his dick takes over."

Summer turned away, and Stephen caught her arm. "I know Frances a lot better than you do, Stinky."

"I don't think you're paying attention to me," Summer said and pushed her brother's hand away. "You only know the Frances you want to know, and you aren't being realistic."

"I'm spitting mad, and I'm going to run now to blow off steam," Summer said. She stopped and asked, "Why don't you come with me? Or is that something else you quit because of Frances? We can keep it down to two miles if you want, and I'll be easy on you."

Alan interrupted. "That sounds like a challenge," he said. "Since Frances isn't here, your mom and I are going car shopping. You can come along if you want."

Stephen took Summer's challenge instead. He pulled on the smelly clothes he wore to play tennis the day before, and he struggled to keep pace with his sister. Even if it was only a two-mile course—and a lot of that on a shaded path—he still trailed Summer back home and jogged the last block.

Summer doubled over in front of the house with her hands on her knees, and laughed at her brother as he plodded up the driveway. The heat wasn't a problem until they stopped, and then, without the air moving around them, they were suddenly drenched in sweat.

Stephen pulled his shirt over his head and watched Summer do the same. Her knit bra had crescents of sweat-soaked fabric under her breasts, and her nipples pushed out against the cloth.

"I need water," Summer said. She watched where her brother's eyes went and did nothing to discourage him.

"I want to get in the pool," Stephen said.

Summer sat down in a lounge near the water while Stephen pulled off his shoes and his socks and balanced on the edge of the pool. He extended his arms and fell back. The cool water closed over him and the sound of his impact roared in his ears, so he didn't hear Summer squealing about the water he splashed over her.

Stephen stroked back toward Summer and found her wiping her legs with her sweaty shirt. He crossed his arms on the edge of the pool and used them to support his chin. "Didn't that feel good?" he asked.

"Maybe if I'd been expecting it," Summer said. She tossed the shirt aside, and when she sat back in the lounge, Stephen found himself looking up between her thigh and into her loose-fitting running shorts.

Stephen looked away from the clear view of his sister's pantie-clad pussy and ducked under the water. When he came up again, Summer was climbing off the lounge. "I brought my swimsuit," she said. "I'll be right back."

Summer had her pony tail pinned up when she came back, and she wore the same little bikini she wore to sunbathe with Frances. "I brought you a towel," she said. She laid two towels and a bottle of suntan lotion by the lounge and walked to the steps that led down into the shallow part of the pool.

Stephen was floating in the water with one eye open just enough to follow his sister around the pool. Her bikini top barely contained her breasts. The bottom was a teasing interruption between her sleek legs and the taught muscles that rippled in her belly and her back.

"Why didn't you just dive in?" Stephen asked, as Summer slipped into the water.

She breast-stroked toward him with her hair above water and stood up beside him. "Because the bikini would probably come off if I dove in," she said.

"And then I'd go blind," Stephen said, and Summer splashed water over his face.

"Did Mom and Dad have anything planned for tonight?" Summer asked.

Stephen rubbed water out of his eyes and squinted at his sister. "I think they talked about dinner out and a movie." He let his feet sink to the bottom and stood before he finished. "But, with Frances gone, that'll probably change. I think they got tired of trying to entertain her."

"Summer Fest Downtown is tonight," Summer said. "Why don't we go? You and me, I mean, without Mom and Dad. It'll be fun: four stages, dancing, food trucks, street shows, and all the bars and taprooms will have specials."

Stephen's eyes traveled up from where they'd settled on his sister's cleavage, and he found her smiling back. He was caught. "Sounds like fun," he said, turned away, and started to climb out of the water.

Summer hooked her finger into the waistband of Stephen's shorts as he boosted himself over the edge of the pool, and his shorts and underwear stayed behind. "Dammit," he said. He dropped back into the water and thrashed around while he pulled them back up.

"You gotta be careful," Summer said. "Elastic relaxes when it gets wet." She watched Stephen for a clue that he knew that she'd pulled his shorts down, and didn't see one. "And now I know more than I wanted to know," she said. "Do you always trim your pubes?"

Stephen groaned at his sister, back-stroked to the steps, and held his shorts up while he climbed out of the water. He found the towel that Summer left by the lounge and was drying off when she pulled herself out of the water.

"So is that a yes, about the fest?" Summer asked, and started drying herself.

Stephen watched his sister settle back on the lounge and squeeze suntan lotion into her hand. "Why not?" he asked, but it was an answer, not really a question.

Summer spread the lotion over her shoulders and her chest, and then down over her soft tits, and under the edge of her bra. "I'll need to go home after this and change," she said, and studied her brother's blank expression. "Come over to my place, and we'll work out what's next."

Stephen stared until Summer broke his concentration. She pulled her bikini bra off her tits to bare her breasts. She showed him white skin and pink nipples. "Are you blind yet?" she asked.

"Stinky, what are you doing?" Stephen asked. Summer's breasts were beautiful—full, round, and firm—and as awkward as it felt, Stephen had to look. "Two days ago you were going to soak me for grinning at your tits," he said, "and now you're showing off."