The Family Road

The family road -- Chapter 1

Author's note: I'm trying something a little different here, going for more of a romantic and I suppose, realistic approach. I like to use Literotica for fun and to practice my writing, so any comments on whether I managed to make the story seem realistic/romantic, or areas where I could improve are deeply appreciated. I love criticism, the harsher the better. My mother used to call me "Stupid fuck" so often that until I was seven I thought it was my name, and now my greatest sexual fantasy is to have a group of people read a list of all my failures in life like I'm being tried at the Hague, before using my balls like a Dance Dance Revolution mat.

Although I know where I want to go with this series, I will continue with the Conquering desire series first after this chapter, I just had some inspiration and wanted to write it out, however both of the stories take place in the same town, so who knows? Maybe the stories will intertwine at some point.

Chapter 1 -- Speed bump

"Jesus Christ kid! Those people were drug fiends, rapists and murderers! What the hell were you doing?"

Ryan had heard it all before, so many well-meaning people that didn't seem to care enough to actually do anything. He'd been on the run from such people for the last six months, people who would shake your hand with their left and simultaneously hold out their right expectantly for a wad of cash. Give me the people that hold both their hands out, firmly flipping me off from the front, at least I know where I stand with them.

The hectic spiral had finally ended, caught when he least expected, it as Roughie had told him it would happen. The gang had stopped at a place a little south of Canada's border, they'd enjoyed some time screwing around with the hicks in the town, fighting a little here and there, drinking every day like crazy. Ryan had even had his first cigar, the smoke blew cooler than the lot lizard Roughie and the guys had visit Ryan in his room for his 18th birthday. Ryan recalled her black nipples shaking before his eyes, the way she squealed and giggled every time they were bit, how she rode like a piston and didn't mind going for a second round when Ryan still had time on his clock.

The open road still held fond memories, it called as the ocean does to a sailor, in the way that all other space between it is merely the distance keeping you from home.

"Kid are you listening? These people were bad news! What would your dad think of you riding around with a bunch of bikers?"

The chair shot back, scarping violently against the tiles in a grinding bloody screech, "Fuck you! What the hell are you bringing that up for?"

"Easy kid! I'm just trying to make you see sense!"

"I'm sat here in front of you aren't I? What the hell is this anyway? An interrogation or some shitty pep talk?" Ryan cut an intimidating figure, stood at his full height and bound in a tight studded leather jacket. At 6ft and an inch, Ryan towered over most people he met with ease, his bulky wide build gave him the impression of an unroused grizzly when calm and a terrible beast-like wrath when angry.

His hair had grown into a wild untamed mop of silky blonde hair that made him look more like a surfer than a biker, complemented by shining young steely blue eyes that looked like they belonged on a San Fransico beach rather than in a jail cell. Ryan would have fitted a pair of slacks and a thick scholarly jumper better than dirty ripped jeans and a biker jacket, if the man's racing angry mind could be convinced of such an impossibility.

"Calm down, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry, all right? We can't understand why you'd do something like this." Ryan remembered the casket lowering, it felt like half of the town had come out to see it, certainly half of the soldiers. The untimely and unpatriotic death of Colonel M. Gurtz had ended Ryan's world, all of the petty squabbles and small matters crashed through his reality with a sudden realisation of how little it all mattered.

Ryan could admit, leaving with a biker gang the next morning had been a wild decision, but what was left for him at home? Emptiness? Broken memories? Sure a roof and an inheritance, both more trouble than they were worth as far as Ryan was concerned. A heart attack, he would have hated going like that.

"You know your house is still there right?"

"I don't want to go back there."

"Good, because there's another problem with that." The moustachioed plain clothes officer, flipped open a file with a huff, "You've been legally adopted."

"How the hell- I'm eighteen for christ's sake, how the hell has that happened?"

"When you left you were seventeen, that's when these papers were signed. People must have thought you were being real reclusive or something, because this was done after you left. Idiots. Trust social services to screw something up."

"Well, who the hell adopted me?"

"Did your father ever talk about your mother?"

Ryan thought hard for a moment, snippets of conversations half-slurred from the bottom of a vodka bottle sounded out in his ears, "A little. Nothing much. She- wait, you're kidding right?"

"Victoria Campbell, signed here on the dotted line two days after you went missing. Willing to house and feed you as a legal guardian until such time as you turn eighteen. We contacted her after finding you, even after all you've been through she's still willing to take you in."

"Another set of open arms waiting for a wallet." Ryan folded his arms and sat back, his mind searching the map of the town roads as he spoke.

The cop chuckled, "A little cynical aren't we? And dead wrong, Ms Campbell has way more than you or your father ever did. A marine's salary can't beat a socialites."

Ryan sat stunned for a moment, his father having never named nor hinted at anything around his mother's life, only ever talking about distant memories of beach picnics and emerald eyes that shone brighter than any star. One time his father related that those very same eyes terrified him far more than any battlefield and that the most nerve-wracking day of his life had been asking her to dinner. The only time he ever seemed human was talking about her. Kindness, that's what he always said about her. Guess it must be true to take me in.

"So what? I'm supposed to drop everything here and go? The state can't force me, I'm eighteen now!"

"The state can't force you, but that's not what this is about. This is about a choice, as all things are. You can choose to go and live with her, pack up all that you own in this world on a credit card and that duffle bag of yours and see what life could be like with her. You don't like it? Hop back on that machine and ride till your tank goes dry. You could choose to head back out on the road, but with those kinds of people you'll be in a jail cell again before too long. The important thing is, these are all choices you have to make and I'm not going to push you to any one of them."

The cop rose, clutching caringly at his and Ryan's coffee cup, "Want some more?" Ryan nodded and cautiously stared at the small brown file as the man left. Tentatively he picked it up and thumbed through it. A chance at a regular life again? And if I don't like it, hop back on that machine and ride till my tank goes dry. Pages flipped by as Ryan studied them intensely, a well off family looking to give him time to finish his education and reconnect.

And if I don't like it, hop back on that machine and ride till my tank goes dry. Ryan signed the papers the next morning, collected his belongings and climbed back into the saddle. The rest of the pack was probably halfway into Canada now, if he ever saw them again, it wouldn't be for a while. Ryan had his head shaved to a buzzcut, kicked his machine to life and set off towards new roads.

***

Sandwiches. What was her mother's incessant need to make sandwiches whenever someone came over? Emma was adding the finishing touches to her make-up, dashing the snowy white skin with a soft pink lipstick and touches of blush, aiming to complement the raven black hair that stretched far past her shoulders in a stark contrast of colours like her mother had shown her.

She had changed into a thick cream woolly jumper, tight blue jeans and her new brown boots after her mother had agreed that she looked somewhat like a doll in her old dress, her small nose matched a little too well with her symmetrical face and sharp chin, framed with her perfectly trimmed bangs covering her forehead and sweet yet cold demeanour. Her glossy eyes sparkled in the hue of a conifer tree after rainfall, excitement bubbling through them and resting instead on her smile.

"He'll be here any minute! Have you moved your car?"

It was with an exasperated teen-style grunt Emma lay down the mascara brush, "Mom! I moved it this morning!"

"Oh sorry dear, I'm trying to make sure everything's perfect. The moving truck will probably need a fair bit of room to park."

"Stop worrying! This place is immaculate, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a pool you could hide a whale in, mom, he's going to love this place. Didn't you say he'd been found with a biker gang or something? The house is practically a mega-mansion compared to whatever motel he's been sleeping in!"

"Well yes dear, but you know how the police exaggerate things, a biker gang for six months? Hardly likely. Oh! That's my phone!" Her mother bobbed away, giddy with excitement as she scooped up the phone and began directing him.

The pair of them then raced outside as the unmistakable hum grew louder, like one giant bee closing the distance to a target. "Mom, that's a motorbike, do you think that's him?"

Her mother looked nervous, unable to speak for a moment as she weighed the notion in her mind. "That won't be him. The police said they took him away from the gang." The uncertain expression revealed her mother's true beliefs. Appearing as a black dot the image of a buzzcut young man riding a deep crimson motorcycle continued to grow until he stopped directly in front of the house. It was incredible how loud the noise was from the thin and sleek machine. Emma instantly knew the neighbours would be watching by this point.

Dusty black boots hit the ground as the figure approached, a single green duffle bag lazily thrown over one shoulder. If Emma had been casting a role in a film for a fresh cut marine or country boy heading to war, she would have found her perfect actor. "72 Poulsom drive?" The figure spoke a young but deep voice emerged, one that seemed capable of producing an echo in any space.

"That's us! You must be Ryan!"

"Yeah, so, that makes you my..." Ryan seemed unsure and wary, a swagger followed him, one born from aggression and toughness that seemed to direct his character, even here he seemed as though he would be just as happy to meet his mother as he would be to hop back on his bike and turn back to the highway, yet the idea of addressing his family members seemed to unnerve him.

"You can say it, it's ok!" Her mother cheerily encouraged.

"M-m- it's still too weird. Miss Campbell."

Her mother seemed disappointed, but hid it well. "That's ok, I can understand this being unusual. It's unusual for us as well. Not to say we aren't glad to have you, we are it's jus-" Her mother realised she was babbling and stopped, with a small grin at Emma for realising.

"Hi I'm Emma." Emma shook his rough hand and earned a warm smile for the move, something in the roguish grin made her heartbeat speed up, but she shook it off as a quirk from meeting her long lost brother.

"Cool to meet you. So this is yours?" Ryan gestured to her mother and the house, but she was certain she noticed his eyes scan over her. Is he checking me out? He is pretty handsome. Don't think like that! That's your brother! Blood-related too. He's just being friendly you weirdo! His posture had already relaxed to being friendly, as though he owned the place himself or was trying to sell it to an old friend.

"Every brick. Or plank, or whatever it's made of. Come on in, you uh, must be tired and you'll probably want to see your room."

"My room? Cool."

"You weren't expecting that?"

"I didn't think much about it. I more, wanted to meet you guys. See what you were like. I've been, living a little rough recently, so anything would have done fine."

"Well, it's a pleasant surprise then! Is that all you brought?"

"Yeah, I like to travel light."

They entered the house and Emma couldn't help but snigger at the dazed look on Ryan's face. He gladly ate three turkey and ham sandwiches, at a rate of a minute apiece, as her mother chatted away at him, regaling him with boring stories or facts about his father. "I'll go make sure your room is ready and put your bag up there."

Finally, her mother stopped and left them both alone, to talk over tea that Ryan seemed to relish in the quality of.

"So, you've been on the road for six months?"

"Uh-huh, seeing America."

"Must have been exciting."

"Something like that."

"You've probably scared half the neighbours to death."

Ryan looked down at himself and laughed, "I bet. I should probably change into something more... fitting." Now, remember what Stevie taught us, watch her face, if she seems interested, ask her to show you your room and start taking your clothes of in front of her. Ryan could perfectly recall Stevie's scarred jackal like face and the jazz hands he did whenever he explained how to do something he thought simple, 'Like magic!' He would always call out. If I can cinch it with this girl now, I'll have it made whenever she comes over to clean.

"I know a few places in town, I'll take you if you want. We'll have to go soon, some of them shut early on a Wednesday."

"Damn, very kind of you."

"Well, it's... what families do right? Brother?"

The table was coated in a fine spray of chrysanthemum tea, Ryan doubled over and pounded his chest. "God damn, swallowed way too fast. What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, it must be weird, I just thought I'd try it."

"You called me brother?" The surprise that shook him was now veiled in a mystified expression.

"Yeah? We are related after all?"

"We are?"

"Who did you think I was?"

"The cleaner? The maid?"

"Wha-"

"I have a sister?"

"How could you not know that?"

"It never said anything in the file!"

"Didn't dad ever say anything?"

The use of the term dad by another to refer to his own father freaked Ryan out much more than the realisation he had been mentally undressing and chaining his sister to a bedpost for the past fifteen minutes, it seemed to hammer in the reality of their relation in how easily she said the word.

"No! I mean, what? No, he didn't. Holy fuck."

Her mother reappeared, "Room's all ready! Everything alright? Does it still feel strange?"

They both rose to go upstairs when Ryan turned to her and gave her a huge hug. "It's getting better, but we have a lot to talk about. I'm sorry I didn't greet you properly before, Emma. You look far too nicely dressed to be help, I just... this is all new to me, especially, having a sister." He smelt of old leather and motor oil mixed with a sporty natural smell she couldn't rightly describe. His arms and chest gave her a warmth and protection like being wrapped in a bed as a child, a comforting honest hug Emma could have fell asleep in forever.

When it broke she beamed with a smile, completely forgetting the strange exchange from moments ago.

"One for me to?" Her mother squealed and jumped as she held him.

Stop looking at his butt! That's your brother! The image of him naked and thrusting atop her persistently burst into Emma's mind, the taut muscles of his behind straining with all of their might as he pounded into her again and again with a wet smack and a gasp each time. Stop it, stop it, stop it, st-

"Emma?"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Are you up for taking Ryan to town?"

"Sure, your car or mine?" Fuck, his smile might melt me.

***

The motorbike shop had smelt of oil and metal, the dirty checkered tiles cracked in some places and covered with soil in others. Nevertheless, she had gotten on her knees as soon as he had commanded it, the tiny skirt sliding up her thighs, revealing the cotton white panties as they ascended, earning a devilish smile of approval from Ryan.

He had called her a "slut" quite brutishly but with a joking undertone, the details were so vivid it made the impromptu morning masturbation session compulsory rather than optional, as it usually was upon waking. Without it, Emma worried for her sanity and for the integrity of her pyjamas. The birds chirped an ill-fitting accompaniment to the act, though all Emma could hear was the sound of motorbikes being worked on at the back of the garage and swearing voices calling out for various parts as they laboured.

She pressed her mouth into the pillow and moaned deeply, adept fingers worked feverishly between her legs, coursing up and down the length of her slick wet lips, making moist squishing noises as she rubbed her pussy with her palm and fingers, dreaming they were as rough as his.

The taste of him was good in a natural way, salty yet sweet, in a manner she couldn't exactly compare to anything properly but had to believe was unique to Ryan. She greedily sucked her fingers, desperate for the taste of sex in the most minuscule hope it would be like him.

Somehow, she had relaxed her throat and in one large gulp took him to the base of his cock, it felt like she was choking but a small diehard voice in the back of her mind called to stay there as long as she could. His moans sent lightning bolts through her veins, his pleasure became her breath. Listen to him moan! God, I want to suck his dick till his soul comes through it!

Her ass raised from the bedsheets, exposing her lower half to the oddly bright winter sun as she drew closer and closer to an orgasm, the muscles of her ass and pussy twitching tightly as she imagined they would during sex.

"But Ryan! I'm a virgin!" She had cried. His face morphed into a sneering bully, intent on pleasing himself with her body. The swollen tip of his penis prodded her entrance delicately, which one Ryan had been trying for she couldn't recall, but it didn't matter, she was a virgin for both and wanted him to pick.

Somehow in the dream her breasts had become bare and with a horizontal slap he had rocketed her with pleasure as he stuck her, "Guess you're going to lose it then huh? To your big brother? I'll tell you what slut, you give good head, so I'll go gentle for the first minute, after that, I'm going to pound you until you can't walk."

He stuck his thumb in her mouth and dragged her lower lip down, before reaching around the back of her head and grabbing a tight hold of her hair. He pulled her head back and let a long line of spit fall into her mouth with an evil cackle. She couldn't have been any wetter. It's now or never, now or-

"Breakfast's ready!" The shrill high shout of her mother burst the fantasy instantly like a bastard sword being used to cut a bubble. Fuck, fuck! No, come back, I need to finish or I'll-

The sound of thudding footsteps reaching up the stairs set her to high alert and she rolled back beneath the cover, "Emma come on! You're going to be late!" Just as quickly as the door had exploded open it slammed closed, an unfair treatment compared to the gentle knock and cooing voice Ryan got.

Emma had managed to stave off these thoughts for little more than three days, managing to repress them on Thursday through to Saturday, douse them a little on Sunday, before the unfortunate break happened today. It was simply too much, too unusual and too perfect for her not to think of him like this, a boy living in her house who liked all the same things she did? Acted like she did? Walked around the house with nothing but a towel on like he owned the place like she did? Had shoulders broader than a barn door like- Well, not quite like me.