Zinnia Blossoms Ch. 03

Part 3: Escape Route

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Author's Note: despite what the characters in this story might think on the matter, this is a work of fiction. None of the names have been changed because none of these people really exist - except in as much as thoughts exist. Perhaps they'll exist in your heads for a while.

This story also contains more sex than the previous two; this is intentional and is the case primarily because this story covers a much longer period of time than the others.

I hope the experience is satisfying.

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Hello. My name's Dane and this is a story about how I almost escaped.

First things first - my name's not really Dane, names have been changed, that sort of thing. I won't bore you, you know how this works. Yes, this is real. No, I'm not going to bother proving it to you. No, I have no idea who you are - I just know my sisters are going to find this and show it to someone because that's. What. They. Do.

I have two sisters, a mother and technically a father, though if he turned up I'd...

Who am I kidding? I'd let him in and give him a coffee and then talk at him a lot. I'm not a fighter, even though I hate the guy for running out on us. He IS my dad, though. Can't help but love him. Sandy - that's one of my sisters, they're younger than me and twins - says it's probably just biochemical. Maybe she's right, I don't know. I'm the big dumb one of the family and until really recently I thought I was pretty much the normal one.

So much for that.

Um. Basic information. I'm twenty-three at the time of writing this but a lot of this started before my birthday. I'm a bit over six feet tall - six-two, I think, it doesn't bother me so much. I work as a courier and go to the gym... Well, not actually a lot, but often. Being a courier doesn't do too much to keep me in shape but actually being in shape helps haul boxes and stuff, you see, so I've got a bit of muscle to me. I have brown hair but I dye it sometimes - okay, that's not true. My sisters badger me into letting them dye it. There's a running joke at work that people have bets as to what colour my hair's going to be after the weekend's gone by.

I... guess I'm pretty good-looking. I've had compliments and they tend to make me feel really weird. I guess I'm kind of straight, too - I've met a couple of guys I think are pretty cute but never had any serious urge to... you know. Do anything about it.

I'm not a writer, by the way, not by nature or by training. I carry boxes, stick them in a truck and then drive the truck to wherever the boxes have to go.

What else? Oh, I've had a few girlfriends and almost every one of them has complained I think they're ugly - which is completely not true, right, let's make that clear. But I have twin sisters and a mother and... Well, they're pretty hot. Mum's hot in that 'I used to be sexy and I miss it but fail to realise I'm still damn sexy' way - I don't know if that makes any sense, like I said, I'm not a writer. My sisters are still in that 'bloom of youth' stage. Oh, and they're all redheads.

So... people find them a bit intimidating. Hell, I've even had friends say that I don't get it when they talk about this cute girl or that hot woman because I'm 'surrounded by hotness all the time' or some bullshit.

*****

Anyway, I should get into this.

It's been a few months now since I had sex with my mother.

I wrote and erased and rewrote that about twelve times, I think. At first it was just hard to type the words out. Then I was trying to type something more lewd but that feels so damn wrong. Does that seem weird? 'Made love to' is more satisfying to type but it's not quite true. I love her because she's my mother, it's not like I want to marry her or anything. But saying I... you know. My mother isn't someone I like attaching the word 'fuck' to.

Fucked my sisters, though. I can type that no problems - mainly because at first I couldn't and they actually sat me down and forced me to verbalise it. They've got this thing about me being the most innocent and pure one in the family - they're probably right, too - and they like embarrassing me. They call it 'tough love.' I call it sadism.

So yeah. I have hot sisters and a sexy mother. All of whom I've been to bed with.

Here's a thing, though. Most people don't really realise that, right? I mean the sexy part. Hard not to realise you're in bed with a blood relative when it happens, believe me. Plenty of people have hot siblings or parents but even if they know it in their heads it doesn't trigger anything off. My sisters are studying to be shrinks or something. Sandy said it's - I forget the term. But it's this syndrome thing that means that something in your head turns off the 'must fuck that' reaction if you grow up with a person. Doesn't matter if you're a girl or a guy, it turns off and that's why when you hear about cases of incest in the media - the ones that aren't outright child abuse - it's almost always step-relatives or people who grew up apart from one another. In those cases the syndrome thing doesn't kick in, so the juices get flowing.

That's not the case here. Not only did we grow up together, we grew up REALLY tight-knit, partially because of my fuck-headed Dad leaving us, but otherwise just... because. My sisters have always been really hands-on and my mother never missed good-night hugs until we kids felt we'd outgrown them. You know how that happens.

Funny thing, when Dad left we decided pretty much without saying anything that we hadn't actually outgrown them at all.

Westermarck Effect, that's it. Reverse sexual imprinting. Sandy and Sally have been really interested in it recently, for obvious reasons.

Now, see, when I found out about that effect thing I asked my Mum about it. Did she just not have that reaction? Turns out she did. How about my sisters? Yeah, they struggled with it too. This wasn't an easy thing for any of us. The shock of wanting it gets complicated (but not replaced) by guilt, and the guilt of wanting it doesn't go away afterward. It just piles up with the guilt of having had it.

And I almost escaped wanting it. Almost.

This is about that.

*****

First, though, I need to give you a bit more, um, background.

This is going to get a bit hot and heavy from place to place so sorry about that. Unless you like that, in which case... Good for you. I guess. See, I can't really talk about almost escaping a thing until I talk about the thing in question so we're going to go back a bit.

I'm just going to say this outright: my sisters and my mother are actively dangerous people to underestimate. A lot of people do it - Sandy and Sally can run rings around people intellectually and they sometimes find it fun to act like they don't get what's going on. I've seen them lure people they don't like into social traps and then finish them off like wolves dragging down caribou. I've lost more than one friend that way. Though admittedly those 'friends' have always turned out to be complete bastards so I guess I owe them.

My mother, she's lost a lot of her confidence over the years, but recent events have revived a bit of her spunk. Just yesterday I went shopping with her (okay, she went shopping and took me along to carry stuff, amongst... other things) and I watched her flirt her way to discounts in every single shop that had anything even approaching a male shop attendant (as well as more than one female salesperson). My sisters are good but I couldn't help but think - if that's the sort of thing my Mum can do when she's down, it actually scares me what she could do when she's firing on all confidence cylinders.

I hope I get to watch it at some point. And I hope I'm not the focus of it.

So, yeah. Dangerous ladies.

Bear that in mind as we start.

*****

As I walked Amanda out to my car I knew I'd lost another girlfriend. I was right. See, I'd made the mistake of bringing her home for dinner. The ladies of my family are very quick to judge whether they like a person or not and while they usually had good instincts (which is one of the reasons I continue to bring girls home to meet them) I felt they'd been unfair with Amanda.

This was all a while ago, back when life wasn't so fucking weird.

She was furious. Mum had been bad enough but when Sandy stepped in things got outright nasty.

No, that's not true. Things didn't get outright nasty; if they had then perhaps people would have gotten over themselves. It was like some crazy Cold War of female hostility. Things were said and while I could hear the underlying viciousness I (thankfully) couldn't comprehend exactly how - I'm just gonna say it - how bitchy they were all getting.

We drove to her place in silence. I tried to talk a couple of times but she just seethed at me - for putting her in that position or for not backing her up more, I don't know. People underestimate how tight-knit my family is so when I don't immediately leap to someone's defence when my Mum or sisters have made a decent point, well, they get hurt.

What happened when I pulled up surprised me. That's putting it mildly.

Amanda is this gorgeous rounded Spanish-blooded girl with honey-caramel skin, generous lips, black curly hair that falls almost to her waist. Her bust is big and soft, just like her hips and her eyes. She'd made a lot of effort that night and, while she'd chewed a lot of the lipstick off her lower lip as she worried at it with her teeth over dinner, she'd applied fresh crimson redness to her mouth that was a beautiful contrast to her skin.

She knows I really like red lipstick. Um. Perhaps 'really like' is an understatement.

As soon as I pulled on the handbrake she had her seatbelt off and her hands on my pants. I didn't even really have time to ask what she was doing when she had my fly open. I wasn't hard when she pulled the length of my cock into her mouth but you can bet your bottom dollar I sure was after a few seconds.

Amanda has a pierced tongue. She's got this chunky barbell through it and my God does she know how to work it. She spared no expense - she dug down into my pants to pull out my balls as she licked up the length of my shaft, swirled that piercing around the sensitive head and sank her mouth down onto it. I'm white so the skin contrast alone is amazing but the combination of those wonderfully soft lips, vivid red and stretched around my rod...

Her eyes are a deep, captivating brown. They never once left my face as she worked and while I saw anger in them there was lust too. I brought my hand up to brush some hair from her face and she immediately grabbed it and shoved it in her hair. The nonverbal order to manhandle her head was a hell of a turn-on. I get why people might find submissive women hot but to me nothing is more arousing than a strong woman who loves to fuck and doesn't apologise for getting what she wants.

In case I hadn't made it clear, Amanda is a veteran cocksucker. She's said before that she prefers giving head to actual sex - I don't think that was true but it's probably not far off. She knew how to keep suction going up, making her cheeks hollow in as she drew her head up, bobbing up and down with the most sexy and wild slurping noises you can think of. Not too much, just enough to make it damn clear that she was getting into it.

Not once did she look away. As I got herder and closer my hand closed and when it was tight enough to pull at her scalp in a way I knew must have hurt she just got more into it. She put her hands on my thighs and focused on pure movement. First she nestled in, the length of my rod sliding right down her throat (she doesn't seem to have a gag reflex at all), then she switched to fast, shallow bobs punctuated by her swirling and clever tongue.

She rolled my balls around in one hand as she worked me, eyes still locked on mine. The feel and sight of her massive breasts pressing against my leg just drove me higher. Soon I was actively fucking her mouth and the more I did it the more she encouraged me with moans, slurps and furious head-bobs.

It was too much; I unloaded hard in her mouth. I tried to pull out but she didn't let me so down her gullet it went. I seemed to cum for a long time and just when I thought I'd given her every drop she pulled on my thick rod and sucked out more of my seed.

Then she sat up, licking her lips and eyeing me as she swallowed the sticky warm cum I'd just left in her mouth. Her pierced tongue rolled over her painted lips - she hadn't spilled a drop. She never did.

"That's what you gave up tonight," she snarled, and she was out the car door before I could say anything. I was still struggling to pull my pants closed when her front door slammed and the porch light went out.

I sat there for a couple of minutes.

Then I drove home. What else could I do?

Maybe they'd been right, my sisters and my mother, when they'd turned on Amanda. Someone who blows you and then immediately uses it as a weapon to make you feel as shitty as possible isn't a good person. But I couldn't help but wonder... Would she have done that kind of thing if they hadn't riled her up?

*****

"You know we do it because we love you."

I can't handle Sally sometimes. She said that to me the instant I got in the door. They'd waited up, of course, they all had. I didn't know if some trickle of guilt over ruining my love life yet again had pierced their iron-like armour of self-righteousness (Hey, what can I say, I'd just been dumped and I was angry) and I didn't care. I was tired, post-orgasmic, miserable, humiliated, awkward and I just wanted to go to bed.

Those words stung me, though, and I didn't really bother holding my tongue.

"No, you did it because you think you know what's best. Love has nothing to do with it," I snapped. I almost never swear at my family. I guess it's an old-fashioned thing, I don't know. What I wanted to say was 'No, you're a pack of judgemental interfering fucking bitches who like to shove your noses in where they aren't wanted,' but I couldn't get the words out. And I wouldn't have meant it, not really. Well, not entirely.

Sally huffed. Sandy bristled. You don't go after one without taking on the other. They've been ganging up on me since they were old enough to know how.

This is usually the point where Mum steps in and, like clockwork, she did. I don't mean that to sound disrespectful but when you've lived your whole life with someone and you've been through this conversation a million times before you have a pretty good idea what people are going to do.

"All of you," she stated, her voice flat and firm. She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to. But what she did do was put a hand on my shoulder. She had to reach up to do so; I'm a pretty big guy. "Dane, I'm sorry. Did she..?"

"Dump me?" I asked, my tone hurt but not actually nasty. My sisters wouldn't have held back if I'd done that. Instead I just turned for the stairs and began to stomp up them. "Yes. Yes she did. And no, I don't want to talk about it."

*****

This story is written from my perspective. I don't know what was said downstairs so I can't tell you. I've never asked. I don't really want to know. But I'm sure it involved the three of them being awkward and then telling themselves off for hurting me and then proceeding to bitch about Amanda. It's kind of hard to accept an apology when the person who gave it is busy justifying their actions, even if they aren't doing it to you.

I'm the kind of person who tries not to say anything bad about another person. My mother's a bit the same, though I guess that's something she learnt later than I did. My sisters... Well, they're not that kind of person.

*****

I had a dry period after Amanda.

Okay, it wasn't that dry. It was a bit dry but then I had a few girlfriends. I didn't bring a single one of them home - they weren't that serious, really, but I wouldn't have anyway because I know damn well what would have happened. I don't want you to think my family aren't nice people, they are, but they're protective and we can all be a bit clannish. We've always been close but my Dad leaving just made that so much more prevalent. Clannish protection can be a really comforting thing but it can be stifling too.

Because I didn't bring any girls home and because I wasn't talking about any I have the feeling my family thought I'd just given up on dating for a while. In truth I was tempted but no, I didn't.

In fact I had just made arrangements with a friend, Ross, to double-date with his girlfriend's friend.

The conversation went a bit like this.

Ross: "So hey, I'm going out with Mel in a couple days."

Me: "Um, great."

Ross: "Yeah, we're going out to dinner and a movie, then probably dancing or some shit."

Me: "Sounds great, bet you'll have a nice time."

Ross: "Well, that depends. Tara's coming with us."

Me: "Um..."

Ross: "Tara. Come on, Tara, you know. Blonde, blue eyes, tight body."

Me: *blank stare*

Ross: "At John's party last week, she was the one near the pot plant -"

Me: "Oh, THAT Tara, right. Yeah? Third wheel, kind of?"

Ross: "Maybe. Mel wants to find her a date."

Me: "Huh. I dunno, man. Have you tried Steve?"

Ross: "Fuck a donkey, you're thick. I meant you, man."

Me: *non-committal, slightly skeptical noise*

Ross: "Come on, it'll be great!"

I won't belabour the point any more than I have but basically Ross talked me into it. He's pretty slick, that one. So we made plans to catch up in a couple of days, then the next night we'd all go out as a fearsome foursome. This would, from what I gathered, basically mean Tara and me hanging around making small talk while Ross and Mel sucked face and felt each other up (it wasn't the first time Ross and Mel had asked me to double-date). He didn't say as much but I guessed that Mel had told Tara about it, Tara had been enthusiastic and Mel had invited her along on a whim before realising the presence of her friend would keep hanky-panky to a bare nothing.

Not the first time Mel has done exactly that.

*****

I hadn't dated anyone for a couple of weeks and frankly I wasn't in much of a hurry to. Tara is an attractive woman and although I didn't realise it then she's also a very intelligent woman - way smarter than me - but I'd already had my heart and my balls kicked about enough in the previous few months so I wasn't looking forward to the social event of the century.

That all changed very quickly. Here's how.

*****

I got back late that night. After convincing me that a double-date was the right idea we went out for drinks - not many, and I certainly didn't drink enough to get drunk, but I got home feeling a bit frazzled. Talking about Tara had outlined painfully how little sex I was getting and how little I enjoyed it even when I did. I'm not sex-mad or anything but I spend a lot of time wondering if I'm ever going to get married, have kids, that kind of thing. That's another trait of my fuck-head father, you see. He instilled in me from an early age that a man does Certain Things. When he'd fucked off I was left to try to fill the shoes of the 'man of the house' - I know that's an archaic stereotype and all that shit because Sandy and Sally have told me often enough but it's real easy to say 'This isn't your responsibility' and another thing entirely to convince your heart of it.

I'm sentimental, you see. I'm a romantic at heart. That's not always a good thing.

So I got back, pulled off my clothes, got in the shower, got out, fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning feeling like shit - late nights do that to me. My sisters are night owls but I'm a... day owl? You know what I mean. I had a long day ahead of me and it wasn't going to be fun so I guess I was kind of putting off leaving the house.

It was the whimpering that led me to my other's room - or, more accurately, made me stop outside the door.