Eric and Aly Ch. 03 – Melancholy

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I woke up. Sweaty. It was dark as ever in my room. Outside my window were clouds in cool tones of grey and blue, the sun was high and bright-on the other side of the earth. My clock told me it was four am. I’d slept nearly three hours. I rolled out of bed, my shirt sticking to the mattress, and onto my hands and toes. I did eighty pushups before allowing myself to walk silently across the hall. The bathroom light was painfully bright, so I opted to brush my teeth in the dark.

I drank water from the tap like I’d spent the last two hours hiking. In a desert. The water wasn’t working.

In the kitchen, I grabbed the milk jug and unscrewed the red cap, chugging from the gallon directly. That helped. It was so cold I almost got brain freeze, but I didn’t. The only light was coming from the open refrigerator door. On top of the fridge, I grabbed a Twix from a box of candy. Replacing the cap on the milk, I stuffed it back onto the second shelf. I should not have been eating and drinking sugar. I should have been trying to sleep, made my way back into my bed and tried to watch something boring like Stranger Things to get my heart rate down.

I’d been like this for a while. A sweaty mess of insomnia and sugar addiction. I sought out pain and took sadistic pleasure in causing it. Any control. Any.

Ever since dad left last year. Sure, before that I’d contemplated eating candy bars at four in the morning. Who hasn’t. But I wouldn’t have done it tonight. I wouldn’t have woken up from a nightmare and thrown myself into exercise to feel some amount of reminder that I was fucking here. I was here. That’s what I said over and over, to get my heart rate down. I almost cried. I’m not sure why.

A few minutes later, I walked to the front door, unlocking it and going for a walk in my socks and pajamas. The pavement was delightfully cold even outside of my socks and the chill made me keep walking. I walked out my front door and across my dewy grass and down the street and past everyone whose house I knew, whose I didn’t. The air was still, no breeze. My god.

When I got home I locked the door and made my way to my sister Lucy’s room. I heard the shower going, since it was now 5:45 and my mother would be getting ready for work. She left every morning without saying goodbye. She’d been doing this for years, even before dad left. Now she didn’t seem to know how to say anything to us. She barely spoke at all. You said things, she heard you, she did what you asked without acknowledgement. You needed gas money, you told her. Later that day money would be in your bank account.

That was the one thing we had ample of. Not love or a bond or conversation, but money. Made me wonder if it was worth it. Sometimes.

I pushed Lucy’s door open quietly after stopping in my room, grabbing my kindle. She was on her bed, still under the blankets. I climbed in beside her, underneath the cotton prison she’d put herself in. She didn’t seem to notice I was there. I put a hand on hers for a moment, then kept them to myself. For the next hour, I reread The Martian, by Andy Weir. I found the book comforting, in a way. Things kept escalating in the book in a way true to my life. When one thing goes wrong, it all goes wrong.

Eventually, Lucy rolled over in her sleep and found my mass blocking her from sprawling out on the bed. Her hands explored my chest, feeling the cotton undershirt and the muscle underneath. I won’t say my self punishing exercise regiment didn’t have any benefits. Her hands eventually met each other on the other side of my torso, and she pulled herself against me, head finding my shoulder. I looked down at her. God, she was beautiful.

Lucy was my older sister by about two years. She was living here while she tried to decide what she wanted to study at college. She was back and forth on it. Truthfully, I just don’t think she wants to leave me here alone. It’s not like my mom is crazy or strict, she’s just never here. I think that scares Lucy, who has always looked out for me as the dutiful sister she is.

And hey, I’ve looked out for her too. She and I have had our fair share of rejection and angst. Yeah, we’re privileged. Most of our problems are first world. But they’re still problems, they still feel real. Sometimes our family situation didn’t feel so real. It almost felt good to have those heartbreaks, those douchebags she dated gave us something other than the profound fucked yo reality to converse about. I’d never regret the girls who rejected me, because they gave me something to think about, something to change inside myself.

I really didn’t feel like going to school today. I wasn’t up for the noise and the pretending to learn and the conversations I’d have to have. Today would be my first non attendance of the semester. It was almost summer vacation anyway. I texted my mom.

Vomited. Feel sick. Could be norovirus.

She saw it but didn’t respond, and I knew she wouldn’t anyway. She just needed to know so if the school called beşiktaş escort her she could say I was sick. That was fine with me. My fingers flipped page after page after page, my eyes growing numb to the brilliant white pages on my screen. Eventually I realized I’d read the same paragraph over and over again. With a thump, dropped my tablet onto the floor, curled up next to my sister, and slept.

Hours later, I felt her getting out of the bed and squeezed instinctively. “Let go, bro. I gotta pee!” She said. My hands reluctantly left her hips and I heard her trot off to the bathroom. Then I was left with the silence of an empty bed. I didn’t like it. After a minute, she came back, drying her hands on the t-shirt she was wearing over a pair of black boy shorts. She had short blonde hair like I did, although hers was a messy bob drawing down to her chin. Her eyes were like deep oceans.

She got back into bed, my arms pulled her into me again. I felt her developed bottom press against my cock. But for once, there wasn’t sex in it. My hands didn’t even find her breasts, which were cute if not medium sized. My fingers just found hers, wrapped protectively over her tummy. “You need to get up, baby. School starts soon.” She warned, holding my hands in her own, caressing them.

“Playing hookie.” I mumbled into her back, my face buried in her neck.

“About time. You deserve a break, especially with all of those girls practically tripping over themselves for a taste of you.” She teased, looking over her shoulder, admiring either me or her own ass.

“You know you’re my favorite.” I told her quietly, lips finding her delicate ivory cheek. She exhaled. Nothing more.

“I better be. That little Silver Sable lookalike is cute.” She told me, turning over a little so she was on her back.

“Her name is Alison.” I told her, feeling her arms reach for a phone, tapping in the Instagram handle I’d given her. She scrolled through some pictures on her timeline. For a moment, appraising.

“Such a shame to see a nice, Christian girl like that with boobs like that. I mean, Jesus, is that a push-up bra?” She asked, assuming, correctly, that I knew.

“No.” I said shortly, my nose buried in her hair. She smelled so fucking good. Some unidentifiable flowery conditioner.

“Pray tell, how do you know?” She asked, smiling. She looked proud. “Tell me everything, now.” She demanded, flipping me on my back and straddling my lap. She had a playful curiosity.

“On our date the other night. I took her home, gave her what she wanted.” I said, my eyes brazenly tracing her breasts, pushing out against her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Was she good?” She asked me, grinding down on me, smiling wide.

“Don’t know. Used her dildo on her.” I explained, my hands finding their usual home on her waist.

“Holy shit. You really do have restraint. I wouldn’t have turned her down. She probably would’ve sucked your dick, if you’d let her.” She told me. I decided not to tell her she had at school yesterday, but smiled knowingly.

“So then what? She didn’t reciprocate?” She asked me, looking concerned. My shoulders shrugged, my eyes were still on her nipples.

“No. We didn’t get naked. We didn’t have sex. I pounded her with a dildo she had in her dresser and let her sleep.” I recounted, my hands eagerly pulling her shirt up, over her breasts. Lucy didn’t seem to care. She now looked positively sad.

“Eric, are you sure this girl really likes you? It sounds like she’s using you. You deserve so much better than to be used.” She told me, her face not reacting as my fingers molested the small buds set on the subtle hills of her body.

“I think so, I don’t know. It’s not like we haven’t been intimate. Her whole thing is she can’t come more than once. She wants somebody to teach her how. That night was the start. Next time, she is going to come twice. No way around it, I’m making her.” I explained, grinding my rock hard erection against her butt.

“You just make sure she takes care of you. Like I do.” She said, smiling seductively and finally lowering her breasts to my mouth. I sucked both nipples, back and forth, biting them lightly as my hands palmed her buttocks. It wasn’t frenzied, but it wasn’t slow, sweet lovemaking. Somewhere in the middle. Melancholy. I liked it.

Eventually my hands worked her shorts off of her ass and she pulled the shirt over my head, her hands taking over my head, pointing it towards her so she could kiss me. Her lips were so warm. Her lips were so fucking soft. I fished my cock out of my pants and kicked them off my legs. Her body was now completely on me, and her weight on my naked body felt good and pure. As pure as us, together.

I let her decide how she would mount me, and eventually she leaned forward and let my cockhead nuzzle into her pink pussy, wedging her lips open around it. I fucked forward slowly, making sure to go slow, which beşyol escort she’d told me my first time was very necessary. Partly so it felt good for her, partly so I didn’t tear her in half.

Yes, Lucy was my first. We’d always been physical, I had no problem holding hands with her or hugging her in public before all of this. But after dad left we started sleeping together, just holding each other at first while we could hear our mom crying. Eventually, she needed more comfort then just my arms. So I gave her my lips. And then my hands. And my body.

After her taking care of me for so long, it was time I took care of her, the only way a little brother could.

We had started kissing pretty regularly, and we were feeling each other, slowly. One morning she woke up to my morning wood practically impaling her belly button and she went down on me. It felt right. I mean, obviously it felt good, but even for her, it felt right, she confessed later. So we started performing oral sex on each other, which was really helpful for me, as she taught me a lot about how to please a woman with my tongue.

That’s what I loved most about her. Maybe it came from being a teachers pet my entire life, always studying studying studying, but I loved people I could learn something from. And she taught me so much. Not just about sex but about trust and love and the way she explained it made it all so simple. I’d always assumed I would be alone when I got older, too absorbed in my work and too ignorant about women to ever find someone who would love me.

But then she gave me not just a fighting chance, but a definite. If I didn’t find the love of my life, my sister would always be there for me. I no longer wrote off my loneliness, but actively sought to fight it. And boy, was it easy now. With a little confidence and a bit of an acted bravado it was so easy to make new friends, kiss new girls, fool around all the while. But I never felt out of control. I had a foot firmly in both worlds, ready to leave my house and be a macho bad boy who drove a 550 horsepower car, then come home and just be Eric.

And she made me believe I could be both. Plenty of people told me I was special. No one else ever had taken the time to tell me how ordinary I could be. And that’s all I wanted. In that moment, as I slid fully into her and felt her stiffen on top of me, all I wanted was to kiss her. I did.

She smiled against my lips, rocking backwards into my dick and making me gasp. She wasn’t tight, she was definitely ready for me, but she had a certain way about it. A little twist of her hips or a squeeze of her internals that made me crazy. She giggled, knowing how I must feel. I laughed too. And we kept doing that for a while, laughing so hard I nearly slipped out of her, which made us laugh harder. And when I came, it was with a sigh and a kiss, prompting a full tsunami to burst out of me, right into her eager gash.

She rolled over and we lay panting, like in a movie. “Thank Rao for birth control.” I said after a moment. She looked at me, confused.

“Which god is he, again?”

“The Kryptonian one.” I explained, kissing her.

“Nerd.” She laughed, grabbing her pillow and beating me off the bed with it. I fell with an “oof.”

We got up to make breakfast. I watched her pull on the clothes she’d been wearing before, as did I, and we stormed our cupboards, pulling out ingredients and piling the small island in the kitchen with resources from which we fried, stirred, and baked a meal out of. Eggs, toast, oatmeal, and home fries with a ketchup of my own recipe. The secret was to add a little red curry, just to give it a kick without much flavor.

I turned on Arrested Development on our bigass TV in the living room and we lounged on the sofa, stuffing our bellies. Lucy popped open a beer, offered me some. It was a nice morning.

By nine, I was ready to kill someone, preferably a stupid someone. I was bored out of my mind!

“Congratulations, Eric, you now understand what the unemployed feel like.” She gestured grandly towards herself, after I told her how I was feeling. I stopped her.

“Don’t say that about yourself. You’re going to college soon, you’re not unemployed.” I was still pretty sure she wasn’t going to college this fall, but she had until mid-June to sign up for classes. She shrugged.

“Say it Eric, I’m unemployed and indecisive. You’ve had your career picked out since you were nine, I can’t decide what classes to take.” She said, a hint of self loathing in her voice. I shook my head, brushed some hair away from her face.

“No, you’re considering your options. You can do so much more than I can. Sure, I could work at NASA or Grumman, but you can teach, you can act, you can write. You are so talented, sis.” I said, firmer. She shrugged. I pulled her into a hug.

“I’m really proud of you.” I told her, which was totally true. I was so proud of who she was, even if I beykent escort was the younger sibling. She smiled, rubbed her nose against mine. I pecked her on the cheek.

“It’s good to hear that you believe in your big sis.” She said with a wry smile, pulling me by my hand to the couch again. “You want to know what I do all day?” She asked me, checking the street outside of the window for our mom’s car. It wasn’t there, evidently.

“What?” I asked, as she pushed me into the cushions, then sat next to me, not too far away. She pulled out her phone and put her screen on the TV, calling up a porno site in her browser.

“I grab my hitachi from under my bed and find something I like, then I explore the stuff I like all day.” She told me, pointing out a video she had liked. It was a BBC video with a little readheaded girl. I wasn’t surprised, but I hadn’t expected this. My sister seemed more like the type to watch a sitcom or read books than watch porn all day. But hey, whatever works, right?

“Since you’re new to the #couchlife I’ll let you pick the first video of the day.” She said, handing me her phone. I took it, thought for a second, and then looked up step-sibling sites. She laughed, but seemed interested. We agreed to watch a video where two step siblings have to share a bed in their hotel room. We each went to our rooms, grabbing a vibrator or a fleshlight, respectively, and meeting back on the couch.

It wasn’t hard to jerk off in front of my sister, since she was masturbating as well. The prime difference was that I dropped my pants to my ankles, she kept her panties in place and pressed her vibrator against her sex lazily. I watched the video, but glanced over once in a while to see her reaction to some of the dialogue. It occurred to me when she didn’t react that she had seen probably thousands of porn videos, whereas I was probably in the low hundreds.

The video continued with a long blowjob, before the good part finally came on screen. The brother, named Jake, had his sister (Anita) get on her hands and knees while he fucked her in the ass. I could tell she was actually enjoying it, not just faking it. Her ass clenched, looking like a ripe apple, every time his cock bottomed out inside of her. She was almost screaming. This is the part where I would’ve turned the volume down or put on my headphones to keep some privacy, but here we were in the living room, where no one would catch us.

To my right, I felt the catch shake and quiver and realized she must’ve been having an orgasm. I pounded my own cock with the fleshlight, watching Jake’s cock pound his sister into oblivion. Beside me, my own sister’s legs were shaking as she breathed, ragged.

The next scene had her on her knees in front of him, beating him off against her cheek, wanting him to explode on to her. This was my cue. I allowed myself to slip towards orgasm and finished hard, my cum rocketing out the other end of the silicon tube I was gripping hard. On screen, Anita took a relatively small load on her cheeks, in her eyebrow. I blasted rope after rope up and back down onto our leather couch.

It occurred to me I’d never masturbated in this room before. I Unclenched my stomach and arms, breathing out slowly and closing my eyes for a second to breathe. I could feel Lucy watching me. I looked over at her, she was smiling.

“This is fun, right?” She asked emphatically, taking her phone back from the couch cushion between us where I’d set it. I nodded.

“Yeah. I could do this all day.” I agreed, my cock indeed was still hard as hell. On the screen, Lucy had found a 4K video, one of those more MILF-y lassies surrounded by a cadre of black cocks. I wondered what the group term was for black dicks. A murder of crows, a school of fish, a parliament of owl’s, etc. I asked Lucy curiously, in one of the more downbeat section where the woman was removing her underwear.

“That’s probably not in our right to guess, since we’re pretty white, if you haven’t noticed.”

“We can look it up. We’ll place bets.”

“You’re on! If it’s anything other than a Forest, you win.”

“A Forest? Cool. I’ll take that bet.” I said, pulling out my phone and googling it, as the woman on the screen seemed to be taking one in every hole.

But try as I might, the internet failed me. Couldn’t find an answer, even on the second page of results! So I asked Reddit. More or less, “What’s the term for a group of black penisis?” While they cooked up a probably autistic suggestion Lucy and I watched this lady, who probably had a kid, somewhere, get doublestuffed like an Oreo or something. It was almost sad, but weirdly arousing. I can’t explain why.

After a bit, I checked the comments and was overjoyed to see not one Redditor had suggested a Forest as the collective term for a swarm of black dicks. Among the names suggested were a Train, the Black Caucus, and, literally, Heaven. I shared this with my sister and saw her groan, as she lost our bet. I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Don’t worry sis, I’m not gonna cash in right now.”

An author’s note:

Thank you for the kind reaction to the previous chapters. I do not have an update schedule worked out yet but I’m trying to get two chapters out per week. Below, is a comment from Anonymous. Tally ho!

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