Siblings with Benefits Ch. 10bylovecraft68©
Note from the Author;
As I said at the end of chapter nine, this chapter begins Part 2 of Siblings with Benefits. Because it is a lead in chapter there is a bit of detail before the fun begins please be patient and read through. Thank you as always for your continued support, Lovecraft68
I left Mark's house with a heavy heart. For the first time that I could remember I was walking away from my brother with a sense that things were not right between us. Well first time since I had been sober, as of course we'd had our share of disagreements in the past but they had generally revolved around my addiction and the actions it caused. Especially that terrible night that triggered the worst.... I instantly pushed that thought away I would not relive that night ever, and neither would Mark although he had come close not more than a half hour ago before I had left.
I felt terrible leaving Mark that way. My brother was heartbroken and probably humiliated as well. There was no doubt that he wouldn't sleep worth a damn for the next couple of nights, hell that would probably hold true for myself as well, but time apart would be the best thing for both of us right now. Besides if I wasn't there I couldn't hurt him again. The only good thing was that he didn't seem angry anymore. I had been able to help with that anyways; at my own cost however, as I realized my pussy was still sore. Goddamn he had fucked me hard! Even though I know I had made things worse by fucking him, it was better to have Mark feeling a little down compared to ready to start breaking things. Well that was me; always ready to take one for the team.
I turned up the radio in Mark's Lexus; the $40,000 Luxury car his firm paid for that he hardly ever drove and pushed all thoughts of last night and this morning's drama from my mind. Not that I didn't know that my brother's offering of his heart hadn't instantly become the most important thing in my life right now, but I needed time to clear my head. I drove through the still familiar streets of Providence doing a very good job of staring straight ahead, and not playing the "And that's where this horrible event happened" game.
When I arrived at my old home sweet home mom was waiting for me on the porch like an excited little kid. I have to say for a woman pushing seventy mom moved pretty damn good, as I had barely gotten out of the car when she had reached it to throw her arms up around my neck and give me an enormous hug hello. I felt another of those waves of emotion that I had been prone to lately come over me. This one however was a pleasant one as I realized just how much I had missed my mother.
Mom squeezed me surprisingly hard for a woman who stood five foot even and may have weighed all of 110 pounds. I lowered my head to hers, and gave her a kiss. Mom finally let me go and stood back beaming at me and telling me how wonderful I looked. I smiled and thanked her knowing full well I could look like shit but compared to some of the states mom had seen me in years ago she would take anything as long as I was healthy.
Lunch was wonderful. We talked about everything and nothing as we had appetizers right down to desert and coffee sitting in the restaurant for over two hours. Mom expressed her disappointment about Laura. They had met when I flew mom down for her birthday six months ago and had hit it off well. Then again my mother was one of those people that if you didn't get along with her there was something wrong with you.
That was the great thing about mom; she didn't get into things more than she had to. I know she didn't quite understand why I would be with a woman especially when my last relationship had been with a man and my next could be either. As far as mom was concerned the only thing that mattered was if they could make me happy. Unfortunately the person who could do that or at least do it for more than a few months at a time had not been discovered yet; although the one who could very well be that person had just declared his intentions but there was more involved there than just making me happy. The woman in front of me for instance, what would we tell...
Speaking of mom, she cut into my fog, and asked me what was wrong and don't bother lying because she could see there was something on my mind. I brushed it off telling her I was still a little down over Laura and was just tired in general having been working nonstop for the last couple of months. Mom warned me to take care of myself, and not get to worn down. I told her not to worry adding to myself that especially over the last few hours my needs had pretty much been the only ones I had seemed concerned with.
As we sat and finished our coffee I found myself filled with a sense of gratitude, that I could still have this with mom. That all those years that I had put her through so much and treated her like a stranger, and that seeing me in such terrible states had never affected her love for me. Laura had been right; remember the good stuff. Mom did. Truth be told, I wish I could talk to her about what was on my mind at the moment, but the subject of my little brother being in love with me and wondering how I felt about it might not go over to well. I was also holding back my news about Walsh wanting to wait until dad was there as well.
After lunch we went shopping where I noticed that Mom seemed to be really watching what she was buying. After a couple of hints I finally came out and asked if they were okay and mom admitted they had been having some trouble making ends meet on dads pension and their social security. Ignoring her protests I loaded up the carriage and paid for everything. I also wrote her a check for $500 and told her I wouldn't take no for an answer. They had taken care of me for years, adopted me and loved me as their own. I was proud to be in a position to help them. Dad was too proud to ask for or accept help, but mom was to smart not to. I knew for a fact Mark had helped her in the past as well.
Speaking of Mark, that was the next topic of conversation. Granted since he had moved out and especially since the Megan caused arguments between Mark and dad had begun it's not like Mark was what you would call a dutiful son, but he would keep in touch. A call once a week, and an occasional visit for a cup of coffee. Not a lot but enough to keep mom happy. Now however weeks would go by and mom had to be the one to keep calling.
Mom was very proud of my brother and bragged to her friends constantly about her good looking son the lawyer. A year ago Mark had made New England magazine's list of eligible bachelors and mom had carried around a copy of the magazine in her purse for weeks. According to her she had no idea what dad and Mark had fought about, just that dad wouldn't say what it was telling her she was better of never knowing what her "son" and mom said he had stressed "her" son was capable of. For all dads bluster and bullshit my mother was everything to him and for him not to share something with her was big. What the hell had Mark done? I told her I would try to get an answer before I left whether I really could with the other more important situation looming I wasn't sure, but I owed it to her to make an attempt.
After shopping we returned to mom's house where we sat on the porch for awhile and reminisced about how things were when Mark and I were teen agers and some of the things we had done. It was hard sometimes to keep a straight face, when mom would keep saying how she had always loved how close Mark and I were. Tell me what a good big sister I was to him when he came to live with us, how I took good care of him. I had to agree that many were the nights that I had taken very good care of my little brother.
Despite the Mark situation I had to say I was having a pretty good day. That changed for a bit when dad finally came home. By then mom and I had gone in and were having a cup of tea in the parlor. I saw dad pull up into the driveway alongside Mark's Lexus and got up to go to the door to surprise him when I noticed he was still sitting in the car staring at the house. Dad took out his cell phone and a moment later mom's phone started to ring where it sat on the coffee table.
I had reached down and grabbed it still wanting to catch dad by surprise so I answered. The surprise was on me and it was not a pleasant one, when as I started to answer dad snapped into the phone;
"Denise, what is that fucking animal doing in my house?"
I was speechless. Not just at the words themselves but the sheer animosity in them. I had never heard my father sound like that before. It hadn't occurred to me that Dad would obviously assume it was Mark in Mark's car.
"Sorry Dad," I replied. "I'll get going, just stopped in to say hi."
There was silence on the other end for a minute and finally dad said;
"Megan? Oh my god honey I'm sorry. I'll be right in."
I met dad at the door and we hugged a bit awkwardly. He apologized again saying he would never talk to his "little girl" like that. In spite of the ugliness I had just heard from him, hearing dad call me his little girl always made me happy. I had given him another hug at that point, a real one, and whispered in his ear, that I loved him, and we could talk about what had just happened later. Dad pulled me to him tighter and said fine but for now he just wanted to see his beautiful daughter. The polar opposite of mom, dad was tall just over six feet and still pretty solid going to the gym a couple of times a week and golfing whenever he could afford it. I let myself fold into him for a couple of minutes enjoying being close to him.
Unfortunately my actions had strained my father and I's relationship more so than it had with mom. A huge part of that was that Dad was aware of much more that had went on. My father had bailed me out of many situations and always gave me the "don't tell your mother". It was a chain reaction, mom knew some, dad knew more, and Mark? Well he had seen more than even my father could imagine. As I stayed in my father's embrace I couldn't imagine the pain I had put him through. I remember standing there next to dad in court, my head down in shame as the judge not only read off the charge of prostitution, but mentioned that it had not been the first time. Hallmark doesn't make father's day cards that celebrate occasions like that.
We sat around the parlor for awhile and I kind of repeated some of the same things I had already said to mom including Laura which dad was more than okay with. My father isn't quite a bible thumper but is pretty devout and considers homosexuality a sin. As a matter of fact one of the first-there were a few- times he had thrown me out of the house was when he had found out I had been seeing Betty as more than a friend. Of course the fact he had found out by walking in on us may have added to the emotion of the moment. After a half hearted "that's too bad" about Laura, the conversation moved on to Chicago in general.
By then it was after six and mom offered to cook. After dad made a crack about he thought the point was to get me to stay, I offered to take them out to his favorite place Twin Oaks. Over dinner I told them about Walsh and they were both beside themselves. I did notice however that when mom made the comment that it was wonderful that both their kids were so successful that dad gave her a look. I always thought it was sweet mom called Mark her son. He hadn't come to live there until he was almost sixteen and was out just shy of twenty, but that didn't matter to mom. If I was her daughter and Mark my brother, then of course he was her son.
Dad on the other hand had never really bonded with Mark. Don't get me wrong dad tried to be good to him and genuinely felt terrible about what Mark had been through, however there was something about Mark that dad never really trusted. Eventually dad told me that he had just felt that they had gotten Mark too late. That unlike myself who for all I had been through still came to live with them fairly young with a chance at a normal life, Mark was already damaged beyond repair. Dad used to say that when he would look into Mark's eyes he got the impression that there was something dark behind them, that he wasn't quite right. Four years later after the Max incident dad had looked like a prophet.
Once back at the house dad disappeared to watch the ten o'clock news as he had every night for god knew how long, and mom and I sat in the kitchen. When mom started nodding off at the table I told her to go to bed. She looked like a disappointed little kid saying she could stay up. I told her don't worry about it, I was there until Tuesday, so we would have plenty of time. Mom gave me a kiss and headed off to bed. I drifted into the den and told dad I was going upstairs to bed. Before I left he apologized again for earlier, I saw an opening but it was late and it had been a long enough day. I did tell him that I wanted to take him for lunch tomorrow, just the two of us. Dad said okay but with a look that told me he knew what I would be trying to discuss.
I was heading upstairs when mom caught me and handed me towels, telling me they didn't really use the shower upstairs anymore, I thanked her and had started up when mom called up to me and told me that they had found a box of some old papers and books a few months ago in the attic that were mine, and she had put them in the closet for whenever I might visit. She said they didn't look to important, but thought I might want to take a look through.
Standing in the doorway of my old bedroom I was struck by a wave of nostalgia. The fact that the room still looked almost identical to how it was when I first moved out at the age of 22 helped add to that feeling. I looked around slowly, my old bureau was still there along with the desk that dad had made for me when I was twelve. Looking up I smiled, at fifteen my parents had let me paint the entire ceiling into a forest mural complete with birds and small animals of every type. The forest had a bittersweet meaning for me. When I was a young girl, back when we were still with my biological mother I had created it as fantasy world where I actually had friends and places to go. Three years later when I was ten and being molested it became a safe haven in my mind where I would run to when my foster father was having his way with me.
By the end I had withdrawn so much I barely even felt his attacks just lied there and went away. The smile left my face and was replaced by a quick burst of bitterness. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths allowing the feeling to pass. I had been saved from that life and anything that had happened since I had brought down upon myself the past was the past. I walked into the room and putting my bag down sat on the edge of the bed.
I kicked off my sandals and lied back staring up at the forest remembering my first few nights here when I was eleven. Mom slept in the bed with me the entire first week and for a couple of weeks after that would stay with me until I fell asleep. She had bought me a stuffed Scooby Doo (my all time favorite) and I would hold Scooby and she would hold me. It was the first time in my life I had felt safe from the nightmares and memories. Years later they would resurface with a vengeance and it was my brother Mark who would hold me and make it okay.
I remembered lying on this bed sobbing into Scooby when I was sixteen had my first break up. There were of course numerous memories of Mark and myself. I remember the first night that his nightmares had gotten so bad I heard him scream from the other side of the adjoining bathroom and went into his bedroom. That was the first night we had slept together, fully dressed, just me holding him with his face nestled into my chest and me playing with his hair telling him that I understood, that it would be better now that his big sister was there to take care of him.
Of course things would change quickly and within a couple of years it would be Mark taking care of me for well right up to now. Thinking of Mark for the first time since I had left him this morning I felt that I had truly come full circle. Almost twenty years ago I had lied in this bed, sometimes with Mark next to me, sleeping soundly in his big sister's arms and thought of taking him, of the two of us crossing that line and giving each other what we needed. Now here I was thinking once again of my brother and the crossing of an altogether different line. The final one, when it was just sex it was a dirty little game that we could stop or start anytime we wanted to, a game we had been playing for years.
To have it become more however, to be about a life together was a different matter altogether. How could we pull it off? Granted in Chicago people didn't know I had a brother, and apparently Mark was willing to come down there, but what about my parents? For that matter, what if anyone ever found out? Mark had made enemies throughout his career, powerful ones, and the kind that could use something like that to destroy him. I was also just starting to really get my career going. Granted I painted and travelled in some strange circles, but even amongst the goth and occult circles incest wasn't exactly acceptable behavior.
I felt a pang of sadness at the thought of Mark. I could just picture him now lying in that amazing bed alone, unable to sleep, staring up at his reflection and probably thinking of me, and how I had rejected him. I could tell by the way we had said goodbye that Mark assumed that I didn't want him. That wasn't necessarily true I had just never considered it, and he obviously had been thinking of it for quite some time. I tried calling Mark to see if he was okay, and to tell him good night, when he didn't answer I sent a text;
"Goodnight my beautiful little brother."
A few minutes later the phone vibrated with his reply of;
"Sweet dreams my sister."
I felt hurt he hadn't answered the phone, but at least he had replied.
As I put the phone down I saw that it was only eleven o'clock. I got up and getting undressed put on a pink night shirt that Laura had bought me and that I would only wear for her when I felt like being cute. I hated sleeping in anything but the idea of sleeping naked in the folks house seemed odd somehow. But sleeping with your brother had been okay though? I asked myself shaking my head. I was and always will be a sick puppy.
Lying back down on the bed I began to prove that theory as closing my eyes I once again envisioned Mark lying on those blood red satin sheets. I sighed, it wasn't fair that I was in town and we were lying in separate bedrooms. I should be there with him, my long ivory legs wrapped around his tanned flesh. That massive cock buried deep inside of my needy little pussy. Of course that would be after our tongues had worked their magic over each other's bodies. I slid my hand down and pulling the night shirt up to my hips dipped my fingers down into my already wet slit.
"Oh that's it little brother," I whispered. "Lick your nasty sister's pussy, oh yeah just like that."
I slid my second hand down to begin to caress my clit thinking not back in the old bed for more than twenty minutes and already playing with myself. It really was just like the old days, well the days before Mark came along anyways when this nasty girls only real form of release was playing with myself. As I slowly teased my clit with just my fingernail, I thought back on yesterday; how Mark had spoiled me start to finish especially in the bedroom. Last night we had relived the first night that we had been together, the night I had come in and taken what I wanted.
Continuing on that train of thought it wasn't long after that first weekend that Mark started learning how to get what he wanted. I had told him that I would always call the shots, and for the most part I did, but my little brother had certainly had his moments. Stroking my clit a little more firmly I thought back to the first time that I had let Mark take me in my bed, I had really tried not to give in but my little brother had been very persuasive.