Anita's World, Season 1, Episode 2: Family Issues
Frank and Max meet everyone
By Phiro Epsilon
Hi,
This is the second episode of a saga about the every-day and erotic adventures of two families and the people associated with them.
In the first episode, we met Vanessa and Bernd and learned how they got over their problems talking to each other with a little nudge from new friends. There was already a hint about the twin sons of this couple. So, meet Maximilian and Frank here, and also Tom's daughter Jessica.
Warning: There is no quick fuck in my stories. There WILL be sex, but rather late in the story. This story also contains traces of gay sex, anal sex, and incest, so if you are offended by that, don't read it. As always, the main topic is having fun with each other, not regarding gender, relationship or marital status.
A note about Germany, if you aren't interested, you can skip to the story.
*
One difference between America and Germany, which plays a role in this story, is the fact that there are no vocational courses on German high schools or colleges. They teach science, arts, and languages only.
Crafts are taught by licensed masters with a shop of their own or within large companies. Aspiring craftsmen leave school at the age of 16 or later and start an apprenticeship. It mostly takes three years to "graduate" and become a journeyman. There are few crafts today (mostly carpenters), where journeymen can go "on the road" and get hired for a shorter or longer time by other masters of the craft. Usually, journeymen stay with the same master or company through three more years, before they can become masters for themselves.
There is some schooling parallel to the practical training, mostly on schools dedicated to the crafts, sometimes on technical or integrated high schools parallel to the regular courses.
*
All people busy with or present at sexual acts in my story are of legal age.
In the light of recent events: Copyright© 2019 Phiro Epsilon
Posting this story, in whole or in part, on another web platform or under another name is not permitted.
1
I was standing at the bottom end of the escalator in the airport of Fuerteventura waiting for my twin brother.
With very mixed emotions. Frank and I hadn't seen each other for nearly two years. Christmas in our parents' home had turned into a catastrophe. Mom and Dad were always fighting about all and nothing. Frank and I had left angrily after two hours, never to return again up to now.
Last year I sent text messages to everyone, told them that I had a busy year ahead and couldn't come home for Christmas. I barely could avoid adding some very sarcastic remarks.
The "busy year" had been no lie. I had to write my thesis and worked myself through five exams. Now I needed to wait for my marks, and then decide what to do afterward. Until then ...
Suddenly two letters appeared. You know, those physical things with envelopes. Sent by air mail. Written on expensive paper, stamped on the island of Fuerteventura. Mom and Dad and apologized for their behavior in my presence. Wow! They wrote that they were working through their issues—together—and would love to spend Christmas with my brother and me in our house on the island. They would, of course, reimburse us for the flights.
What a cruel trick! E-mails I would have deleted unread, but when someone goes the whole nine yards, my sense of justice—my education to be honest—doesn't allow me to ignore that.
And even though I thought, "What a bullshit," I couldn't get the offer out of my head. Christmas had always been the time, when Mom and Dad were at home, regardless of anything else, when we could sit together, sing along silly songs from the radio, and eat homemade cakes.
And talk to each other. Spill our guts about everything—apart from sex, of course, which never ever was on the plate at any time at home. Not a single time. Frank and I learned about the birds and the bees from our classmates in elementary school.
So what did Mom write? "Bernd and I never talked about our needs. We just started now..." Needs? Needs as in "sexual needs?" Had that been the reason behind all those arguments?
"During those few days," Dad had written, "I have learned more about Vanessa's wishes than in all the years we have been together." That was rather direct. Close to "too much information" about our parents.
Somehow that sounded as if the two had found an excellent therapist. If that guy was still there, he might be able to ...
Anyway, Frank was still less enthusiastic about this whole shebang than me. I texted him after reading the letters, and he just answered, "Don't know."
Then an e-mail appeared about a big contract he was about to land. Fourteen heritage-protected half-timber houses,
the
big breakthrough for his company, blah, blah, blah. It really sounded like one big pretext.
Frank never was very keen on books, graduated from middle school and directly entered into an apprenticeship with a carpenter. As a journeyman, he "took the road" as journeymen had done in centuries past. Walking from town to town, applying for short or longer jobs, staying for one year twice, and finally getting stuck in Erfurt. He must have impressed his master enormously because he inherited the carpentry—and a lot of property sporting old trees—two years later, when his master died from cancer. And now—fourteen major contracts at one blow. Wow! I didn't know, and I hadn't expected his company to be that successful.
I thought that was the last and was just preparing my letter of regret to our parents when another text came. He changed his mind, and if I was still in for it—sure, now he was passing the buck to me—but I quickly booked two flights and sent the tickets per e-mail before he could change his mind again.
*
Now I was standing in the airport awaiting my brother. He appeared at the top of the escalator, and I flinched. That guy looked good! He had always been a little more muscular than me, but now... My hands twitched to touch those muscles.
He obviously needed longer to recognize me. Last time we met I was wearing long hair and full beard as usual for students. But at one point that felt wrong, and I now had short hair and was clean-shaven.
Just like he was and had been for all his life.
A big smile appeared on his face. "Brother mine!" he shouted, jumping down the last steps and opening his arms wide.
I hesitated, but then I accepted the hug. "Good to see you," I said, "after those years."
He hugged me even more forcefully and what I had feared did happen. Heat rose in me, and I started shaking.
He immediately broke his hug and stared at me puzzled.
"Your suitcase should arrive on belt eleven," I said.
"I've got everything in my backpack," he answered, tapping at the monster he carried effortlessly on his back.
"Good," I said and turned away. "I've got everything stowed in the car already." I took the car key out. "You drive."
*
There were two good reasons to let Frank drive. On the one hand, he was the worst front-seat passenger in the world. And on the other ... I needed time to collect my guts.
Fifteen minutes later, in the thick traffic heading south, I was set. Without any introduction, I said, "I'm starting to question my sexuality."
"Yeah?"
O-kay, that was a bit disappointing.
The next moment he stepped on the brakes. The Jeep jerked to a stop in the middle of the street. Frank turned and looked at me. "Do you mean you are
gay
?"
Behind us, hundreds of cars started to honk. Frank started the engine and drove to the curb. "So?"
"I don't know. That's why I'm doubting."
"Earlier—" He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder "—when we hugged..."
I shrugged.
"Are you—um—horny for me?"
Heat shot through my body into my head. My face had to have turned red, because Frank shook his head, turned forward again and merged into the traffic.
"Just to understand," he said a couple of minutes later. "You've got—um—feelings for men?"
"I don't know."
"Yes or no?"
Pause. "More yes than no."
"Did you already ... You know what I mean."
"I never had sex with a man. Our recent hug was the most intimate thing I did until now."
"Yeah?" Pause. "How long?"
Pause. "Rather long."
