tagIncest/TabooWhat I Did On My Christmas Vacation

What I Did On My Christmas Vacation

byTx Tall Tales©

What I Did On My Christmas Vacation

by Tx Tall Tales ©

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Teaching Mom and Sis the Big O

This naughty little tale is an entry in the Winter Holidays Story Contest 2014. It's nothing like my previous Winter Holiday Contest entries, but I hope you like it. It's a rather long, involved tale, and would normally be broken up into two or three chapters, but the contest requirements mandate it be one single story.

I owe PatientLee thanks for providing editorial help on a difficult story. As usual, I kept going even after I got her feedback, so the remaining issues are all mine.

I have also managed to work my way through most of the issues that have interfered with me being able to get much writing done for far too long now. I am writing again, and looking forward to posting more and reading your feedback. Thank you for your patience.


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Eng. 302 - Dr. Hamilton

Your Holiday assignment is to rewrite the classic: What I Did On My Summer Vacation but based on your holiday break. Your story has to be true, engaging, at least 3000 words long, and utilize at least ten of your twenty assigned vocabulary words.

Vocabulary:

- ambivalent, convoluted, cognizant, commiserate, deft

- diaphanous, enigma, inclination, irascible, ire

- lament, lassitude, miscreant, nefarious, pristine

- raiment, subterfuge, torrid, torpid, veracity

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My Christmas Vacation - by Travis Porter

First, let me say that the names of the women involved have been changed to protect their identity. Should this story get out, it's not right that their reputations should be ruined, over a required class project.

Second, my story may be more torrid and salacious than would be normally acceptable. In some parts it is quite explicit about activities of a sexual nature. I'm not trying to cause trouble, but you were the one that insisted the story be true and engaging. Truth be told, this is what I was engaged with over the holidays. So I will tell the story honestly and to the best of my ability, and let the chips fall where they lay.

Third and finally, I want to say for the record this isn't a fair assignment. Nobody who reads this is going to believe it, even though I swear to its 100% veracity. Even if they were to believe it, I'll probably get a zero because of the subject matter. Like that's my fault? It's what happened! If I somehow were to get a pass on the subject matter, and word got out, I'd be ruined. Everyone would think I was a sneaky, immoral, sick, and opportunistic bastard.

I'm not sneaky.

I hadn't meant to eavesdrop on Mom and Teri. I would even argue it wasn't my fault. I had every right to be where I was, when I was, doing what I was.

'Where I was' was lying on the couch in the family room. 'When I was' was the middle of the afternoon, December 11th, one day before school was supposed to be finished. I had no exams the last two days, and took off for home a day early. 'What I was doing' was napping, due to my lassitude from packing up and driving five hours home from college, to start my Christmas break.

Such decisions are what lives are made of.

If this was one of those stories, I'd probably have walked in on Mom with her black boss, our slimy neighbor and her secret lesbian lover, in a ménage à quatre. I would have had to use my national champion karate skills I learned as a Navy Seal to kick some butts, my underworld minions would ship her off to a Mexican brothel, and I'd utilize my recent lottery winnings to do various and sundry nefarious things to those who had led my mother astray.

Oh. Never mind. That's what Dad would have had to do, but Dad's gone, five years now. I forget sometimes that not all of a father's duties trickle down to old first born, only son. Although a few more of them have lately, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

This is not one of those stories, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped trying to get me off track. Like I said, it was not my fault. I was minding my own business.

It was the sobbing that first pierced the veil of torpidity that enveloped me. I was about to speak up, but I held back. My sister is one of the least emotional girls I've ever met. My football coach (Second string, outside line-backer. No superstar here, sorry, this is non-fiction) used to say 'suck it up.' Baby sis had lived with enough pain and heartache to last a lifetime. She endured it all, never letting it show. When it came to 'sucking it up,' she could give a Dyson a run for its money.

She was in the car when Dad had the accident. She was trapped in her seat, both legs badly broken. She had to lay there in agony while she saw the light fade from his eyes. The last words Dad uttered was to tell her he was sorry, and to tell Mom he loved her. Teri was 13 years old, and missed an entire semester of school, spending the time with doctors, in hospitals, in surgery, and undergoing extremely painful physical therapy. The next semester she was almost kicked out of school for refusing to wear shorts for P.E. until the school principal saw the scars. She received a waiver. Her sophomore year she was bullied horribly. She kept it a secret, and endured the pain privately, until I found out.

When moms and dads find out something like that, they go to the teachers, the principals, the school board, and the parents. I went to the school bathrooms, male and female, and dealt with things personally, out of public view. Second string linebacker, remember? I might not have been a great athlete, but I was big and strong, and very angry. Hurting my sister after what she'd been through wasn't right. Eventually all the miscreants involved agreed. They lamented their actions. I did get suspended, but it was only for three days and worth it.

My sister endured. She was tough, and kept her emotions bottled up. She had stopped crying after Dad's funeral. I had never seen her cry since. Hearing her sobbing like that made me keep quiet. I didn't want to embarrass her. Not my baby-sister.

You'd think she'd be happy. She was nearly done with high school, she'd been accepted into the college of her choice, and she had her first steady boyfriend, a popular student-athlete. Life was looking up for her.

Or so I thought. From the sound of things, nothing could be further from the truth. I heard the crying and Mom's consoling words. I'm sure they figured they were alone in the house, there's just the three of us, and I wasn't due home for another day. I stayed quiet, and I listened. If somebody had hurt Teri, I'd have to do something about it. She might be a pain in the ass, but she was my pain in the ass.

Several times I came within a gnat's ass of interrupting, and making them aware of my presence. There have been moments when I wish I had. Those moments are few and far-in-between. Most of the time, as warped as it may seem to you, the reader, I thank my lucky stars that I stayed hidden and kept my trap shut. I give thanks to the gods of chance, that had me come home a day early, made me park my car in the garage, and who encouraged me to nap on the couch. Otherwise this would be a very short essay, and my life would be infinitely more boring.

As I best recall, the portion of their conversation I inadvertently overheard went something like this:

"What's wrong with me!" my sister's anguished words echoed in my ears, breaking my heart.

"Nothing baby. Trust me, what you're telling me is perfectly normal. Don't believe all you read and see on TV, love isn't like that. It's certainly nothing like some of that trash you'll find on the Internet."

"Kyle says it's me. That I'm a cold fish."

Kyle. That would be the aforementioned student-athlete first boyfriend. I was going to have to kill that asshole, for making my sister cry.

"I did everything he wanted, Mom. Everything! I tried to be a good girlfriend. I used my mouth on him. He was my first. Everyone said the first time was bad but it would get better. It's not getting better! I hate it. It hurts. What's the big deal with sex?"

Everything he wanted? That dick-head was having sex with my sister? Fuck! He was toast. It wouldn't just be swirlies for him, either!

"Honey, don't buy into the whole lie about sex. It's great for the guys, but it's our job to put up with it, and pretend. You know that movie, When Harry met Sally? That's what we do. We let them do what they want, and we make them think it's amazing."

"But Mom, my friends say it is amazing."

"We all lie about it, baby. It's society. We're told on TV and at the movies, in the books we read, that sex is this mind-blowing incredible experience. The incredible part is making a baby, and creating two wonderful children like you and your brother. The rest is all make-believe. Trust me on this. What you're saying is perfectly natural."

Teri seemed to be calming. The sobbing had diminished to almost nothing, and she was no longer hiccupping through her half of the conversation. "It hurts, Mom. It hurts a lot. Especially when he put it in my bottom."

Son-of-a-bitch! That scum-sucking low-life had ass-raped my sister. When I was done with him, we'd see how he liked that.

"You made him use a condom, didn't you?" Mom asked.

I didn't hear Teri's response, but from Mom's reaction, it sounded like that was a 'yes'. Good for her.

"You should have come to me sooner, baby. I can help you. First of all, we've got to get you some good lube. It hurts when they stick it in. Using a condom can make it worse for us unless it's pre-lubricated. Before your dates, if you think you're going to have sex, we get ourselves ready. Every night before I went to bed, I did. Your father loved doing it, and it almost never hurt if I was prepared. As long as you're not in pain, it's easy to make them believe they're God's gift to us."

I heard Teri sniffing. "His stuff tastes terrible. Awful. It makes me want to vomit."

He made her swallow? That low-life motherfucker! Dead meat. He was dead meat.

"Shh. I know, honey. It tastes like bleach and bitter, salty phlegm. The texture is almost as bad as the taste. There's a trick to it. Once you learn to take him all the way into your throat, you won't taste it at all. Then you can pretend that it's raspberry sorbet, and beg for more."

Teri gave a little laugh, and I calmed. "Chocolate mousse?"

Mom chuckled along with her. "Whatever you want to imagine. That's what we do. Lay back, let them have their fun, and dream that we're somewhere else doing something nice. I think of that place on the beach, when we went down to visit my sister. I'm out sunning myself, under a gorgeous sky."

"So it's not just me? You swear?"

"No, it's not you. If you want, we can call your Aunt Brenda. She'll tell you the same as me. Most women don't like it. I'm sure there are some that do, but they're the weird ones, not us. There are people who enjoy pain, who like humiliation, there are all kinds of weirdoes in the world."

This all was a frightening revelation to me. I thought girls liked it. I really did! They sure seemed to!

I wasn't a virgin when I came to this college, and my first year was alright, but the last year and a half had been amazing. Simply incredible. I'd had two serious girlfriends. My first one caught me completely by surprise. She was old. A lot older than me. She was almost thirty, and had gone back to school to get a degree after getting divorced.

Rachel (not her real name) had taught me everything there was to know about sex. At least I had thought so. She was sexy, and loving, and very, very willing to share her knowledge with me. I spent entire days in bed with her, while she taught me all the ways to make her feel good. For nearly a year, all my free time was spent with her, a lot of that in her big bed.

She had certainly seemed like she liked it. The way she cried out and screamed for me, the way her body shook and trembled, the look in her eyes when we were connected, it had felt real.

Was I that easily fooled?

I thought I was in love with her, until I found out that I wasn't the only one she was teaching. She swore I was her favorite, that she was just getting things out of her system after seven years of misery and a failed marriage. Rachel told me I 'rocked her world', and that she'd soon be done with her phase. But she also told me she wasn't ready to settle down, and that she was too old for me.

I thought that was bullshit. She was using that as an excuse. I was good enough for the moment, but she was interviewing others to see who would be an upgrade and take my place. Three weeks before summer break after my sophomore year, Rachel and I stopped seeing each other.

Then there had been Courtney (also not her real name). Courtney was a quiet incoming freshman, who always had her nose in the books. She was in two of my classes, and we ended up both trying to get the same book for one of our papers. I had it first, but she seemed nice, and I knew she was smart. Real smart, to be in some of the classes she was in. So I told her we could share.

We did an all-nighter in the library, barely speaking except for the work. I snuck in a snack in my backpack, and we shared it. She had chocolate. We both got A's. When the next assigned paper came, we just looked at each other. We met in our same place in the lower stack of the library, combining our reference resources. She had brought a picnic. I had managed to get my hands on two wine-coolers.

I soon learned that underneath her disheveled raiment, sweatshirts and baggy pants, she had an amazing body. Two weeks later she was no longer a virgin.

Teri was right about one thing. Courtney didn't seem to enjoy sex the first time, but she swore she loved it, because it was me. I was starting to see that Mom was right. Court didn't know how to hide it yet. How to fake it.

Over the next few weeks, I realized somebody must have taught her. I did all the things that Rachel had taught me, and Courtney put on her show. I didn't know it was a show at the time. She acted like I was driving her crazy. She would get so excited, stripping me naked every chance she got. She'd throw me on the bed, and sit on my face, begging me to get her off. Damn, that girl had me fooled!

I'd use my fingers on her, my tongue, my mouth. I bought the same toys that Rachel had introduced me to, nothing like I'd imagined or heard about. A big heavy duty plug-in vibrator, a weird shaped narrow curvy one with a cupped end, flavored lotions and special lubes. They all had seemed to work on Courtney just like they had with Rachel.

There must have been some kind of training materials those women used. Like Mom was going to teach Teri.

Courtney begged for my cock. She said she loved to suck it, loved how I tasted. She would plead with me to put it in her, and to never take it out. At least not more than six inches or so, until I pushed it back in. Whenever it went down, she'd do anything to get it back up again.

I knew she was smart. Brilliant. Smarter than me. I should have realized she'd figure out the game, and play it like a pro. She was going to fool some very lucky guy. Maybe it would be me, but then again maybe not. We had broken up before the break. She swore she loved me, and that I had changed her life. But she had something she wanted to clear up over the holidays and she didn't want to hold me down. I had figured it was an ex-boyfriend or something. I was a little disappointed to be honest, but when school started again, I reckoned we'd be able to pick it up where we left off.

I get it now. Hold me down? I bet she was like Rachel. She'd be interviewing my replacements over the holidays, now that she had learned what she could from me. She was no longer a shy amateur. She'd become an expert in subterfuge. She'd be looking to upgrade.

The thoughts racing through my mind distracted me enough to miss the end of the conversation. Mom and Teri had disappeared, while I was lost in my reverie. Listening carefully, I heard their voices in the back of the house, coming from Mom's bedroom. I quickly got off the couch and snuck out to the garage. I stealthily lifted the garage door, put the car in neutral and rolled it backward. Once I hit the street, I started it up. I drove into the garage revving the engine a few times before using the automatic garage opener to noisily lower the door.

My girls were waiting for me when I walked in through the kitchen. You'd never have known that either of them had been crying. I got hugs from both of them, told them about my luck with no exams the last two days, and let them feed me and spoil me.

I couldn't help but look at them in a new light. They were women, a whole different species, and I didn't understand them. The level of trickery going on was mind-boggling. What else were they dishonest about? I never would have believed any of it if I hadn't heard it for myself.

I knew my life would never be the same. I didn't know how true that was, and for very different reasons than I had imagined.

That was the start of my Christmas vacation, but far from the end. Up to this point, I've written in excess of the required 3000 words (3212). I've also front loaded my vocabulary words. Dr. Hamilton, if you could find it in your heart to commiserate with my plight, please read no further, and grade me on what I've written so far.

* * *

I sincerely hope that you haven't continued reading. What follows is an embarrassment and paints me in an awfully perverse and immoral light. Once again, I implore you to grade me on what I've previously written. If you do continue, I beg you to understand, my moral slide was never intended. Like so many, the path I followed was paved with good intentions.

My Christmas break story continues:


For almost a week, I walked around in a confused daze. I studied Mom and Teri, looking for other signs of deception. They had to be there. They couldn't be that good at hiding things. But they were.

I couldn't help but think about Rachel and Courtney. I had a lot of time for thinking. Mom still had her job to go to everyday, and Teri had a week of classes to go. I was home alone, a lot.

After four days of confusion and agony pondering the enigma before me, I had to do something. I still had Rachel's cell phone and gave her a call. She didn't pick up, so I left a message. I was afraid she wouldn't call me, even though we'd ended up as friends. She was my source for liquor, including those wine-coolers. I asked her to please call me, I needed her help and advice.

It wasn't an hour later that I received her call.

We chatted, and she seemed to be happy. She was dating, and even had a potential boyfriend, but pouted that he wasn't me. She asked me about Courtney and I confessed that we'd broken up. After the niceties were through she got right to the point.

"Your message sounded like you were upset, Travis. What's wrong?"

I didn't know how to ask what I needed to know. So I just blurted it out. "Is it all a lie, Rachel? Do all women fake it? Is sex just good for the guys? Why put me through all that we did, if you don't even like it?" By the end, I'm sure I sounded more than a little irascible.

"What are you talking about? Is what a lie?" she asked calmly.

"Liking sex. The fake orgasms, the way you act, all that shaking. Does my cum really taste horrible? Does it hurt when I stick it in you? Do you have to—"

"Hold your horses, Travis, and settle down. Why the hell would you think that? Do you honestly believe I would lie to you about everything? You're really hurting my feelings right now."

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