Harem Sisters Pt 01

Author's note.

This is a fictional story that involves incest, but it is not an incest only story. It focuses on Harem Lit.

All characters involved in sexual activities of any kind are eighteen years or older.

None of these events are real, no matter how badly we may want them to be. (Sucks doesn't it)

Please rate and comment.

Enjoy.

*****

Part 1.

Chapter 1.

My sister Tori has been the bane of my existence ever since she was a child. I was five years old when she was born, and I was so excited to have a baby sister to look after. That stopped when she was able to speak. As soon as she was able to speak, she would run to mum and dad, telling them everything I was doing; she loved and craved attention from my parents, and the best way to do that was to tell on her dear older brother. As we grew into teenagers, she got worse: she was malicious, always looking for ways to get me in trouble. I probably could have stopped all of this by not doing shit to get myself in trouble, but I was a teen boy and I just wanted to have fun. After I graduated high school, I ended up moving to Melbourne for University--I could have studied in Sydney, but I really wanted to get out and experience life as my own man. I wasn't close with my parents; dad was always working, and mum would spend all her free time with Tori, shopping and having spa days. Their social media accounts were so filled with all the expensive, boring crap they did daily that sometimes I wondered if my little sister even went to school.

When I graduated, my parents flew down for the ceremony, but my sister thankfully stayed in Sydney. They made their appearance and said what was expected of them and they left, dad needing to be on a flight back home as soon as possible, grumbling about wasting enough time as it was. He really was a bit of a prick.

After Uni, I moved in with a couple of friends and started seeing a girl I'd met. She was nice; a pretty redhead with glasses. We stayed together for about a year, right up until I found out her and my housemate/best friend had been sleeping together. They were supposedly in love and I wouldn't understand. I was surprisingly cool about it all—sure it sucked finding out the two people I trusted the most had been lying to me and fucking behind my back, but truth be told, the relationship wasn't going anywhere. She was cool, and the sex was pretty good—I probably missed that the most—but I didn't really care that much about staying with her. So, when my workplace was offering up voluntary redundancies, I snatched one up and booked a flight home.

Now I stood waiting to board a flight back to Sydney. I'd have said back home but that would imply I had a home. See, with my sister now being eighteen and graduated high school they decided to sell the childhood home, buy a luxury apartment on the beach of Bondi and then piss off to Europe on some second honeymoon. While they'd said I was welcome to stay in the apartment, I wasn't too thrilled I was going to have to share it with my brat of a sister, who'd decided that University wasn't for her and dad's credit cards was all she needed. He of course gave her everything, daddy's little girl.

Thoughts of my sister always put me in a bad mood. I'd decided I'd stay with her only long enough to find a new job and my own apartment--the redundancy package from my old job was a nice buffer that would keep me afloat on my own while I looked. I'd hoped my little sister had matured in the years I'd been gone, but I wasn't hopeful. I saw her again one Christmas when I made the flight home, and it was a royal disaster, so I decided not to do that again. She'd been fifteen then and still a giant pain in my ass. But three years is a long time, and anyone can change.

As I boarded my plane, I decided I'd give her the benefit of the doubt. I'd greet my little sister with a smile and a hug and be the mature big brother. After all, mum and dad were overseas so she couldn't really rat me out to them if I decided to throw a party, not that I was the party type. I preferred staying in and gaming with my friends—most of them lived all-across Australia, and I hadn't met them before, but they were still my friends.

I took my seat and groaned inwardly as a man who must weigh at least a hundred and fifty kilos lumbered down the aisle, he stopped next to my seat, checked his ticket, checked the seat number, checked his ticket again, then sat with a heavy thud behind me. I let out a sigh of relief at not being seated next to him the entire trip home.

"Excuse me, sorry to be a pain. Could I squeeze by?" A voice addressed me. I looked up to see a cute blonde holding a small shoulder bag in one hand and her boarding pass in the other. She gave me a friendly smile. I smiled back but couldn't find my words for a minute.

"I've got the middle seat," She added, keeping up her friendly tone.

"Oh shit! Sorry." I quickly stood up and moved into the aisle to let her pass. It was cramped, and she ended up pressing against me as she took her seat. She smelled of lavender and her hair shone like spun gold. She was dressed quite casually in blue jeans and a black long sleeve top. She showed not a hint of skin, but I was immediately infatuated with her and thanked the non-existent gods for placing me next to this cute blonde for the trip home.

I took my seat and looked over to the blonde girl.

"I'm Jason," I said, offering my hand as a greeting.

"Abi," she replied with a smile and shook my hand.

"Pleasure to meet you Abi," I added.

"You too Jason," She gave me another smile. We were interrupted by someone clearing their throat rather loudly. I again had to do the seat shuffle with a very self-important middle aged woman who looked less than impressed at sharing her seat with two young troublemakers—not that she said so but I just assumed she expected anyone who didn't have grey hair to be troublemakers. She had one of those haircuts that screamed

"I want to speak to your manager!"

and I was glad I wasn't seated next to her as she took the window seat.

Once everyone was seated and buckled in, the plane began to taxi onto the runway. This was always my favourite part of flying, the rush of speed as the plane hurtled forward and lifted a bunch of humans into the air to travel great distances in little time--it really was a remarkable thing. It looked like Abi didn't share my enthusiasm for take-off; I noticed her hands gripped her arm rests so tight it looked like it must hurt, and her gaze was fixated on the back of the chair in-front of her.

"Not a fan of flying?" I asked, offering a smile to the pretty blonde.

"What gave it away?" She asked, forcing a chuckle.

"Just a hunch," I added.

"I've never flown alone," she said, eyes still fixed on the seat in-front of her.

"Well, you aren't alone," I said, far more smoothly than I thought I was capable of. Abi took her eyes off the seat in-front of her and gave me a smile.

"Thank you." She looked thoughtful for a moment then added. "This is going to sound crazy, but would you mind if I held your hand?" She looked down, her cheeks reddening slightly. " I know I must sound like a baby, but it's always helped when I held my dad's hand during take-off."

I once more sent a praise to the heavens for such a moment.

"Not a problem," I said and rested my hand over hers. She quickly laced her fingers through mine and gave my hand a firm squeeze.

"Just tell me if I squeeze to tight. I don't mean to," Abi said.

"It's fine, I can handle it," I replied.

Handle it I did, although for a girl of about fifty kilos she had one hell of a grip. During the worst of the take-off I thought she was going to break every bone in my hand. But I handled it like a boss, not once complaining or even shaking my throbbing hand once she released her vice-like hold. She apologised constantly for the first few minutes, but I kept reassuring her that I was fine. I was just happy to have this cute blonde sitting next to me, talking to me.

The stewardess came by, passing out drinks and snacks, I ordered a coke—the flight only being a couple hours, I didn't bother ordering any food.

"So where are you off to?" Abi asked me.

"Just back home. You?" I replied.

"Same. My semester is finished so I'm going to stay with my parents until I go back next year," she added.

"What are you studying?" I said after taking a swig of my coke.

"Nursing," She said with a smile. "I like helping people."

I pictured her wearing one of those slutty nurse outfits. I banished that thought quickly as to not embarrass myself with a boner in the middle of the flight home.

"That's cool, we can always do with more nurses," I said.

"Were you just visiting Melbourne?" Abi asked.

"No, I was living there but I decided it was time to head back home," I replied. Not wanting to bring up the fact I'd pretty much been dumped by both my girlfriend and my best friend. "I'll be staying at my parents' place with my little sister until I find an apartment," I added.

"Well at least you have some family to stay with," she said, and smiled again. She really was a friendly girl. Pretty too.

"Yeah it should be great," I said without a hint of sarcasm I wanted to use. It was always difficult for some people to understand just how troublesome it was to be around my family.

We passed the rest of the flight with idle chat. I found out she enjoyed video games like I did and even did some twitch streaming, and although neither of us had that much of a love for music, we had a few similar tastes. By the time the flight touched down I wished it was another few hours so I could continue talking to the blonde beauty. But in no time, we were rising from our seats and exiting the cabin. We walked to collect our luggage exited the airport together.

"Well that's my dad waiting," She said. Pointing to a middle-aged man wearing sunglasses, standing beside a bright red sports car. He was wearing a tan leather jacket and looked to be in the middle of a mid-life crisis.

"Maybe I'll see you round?" Abi added. Giving me a small wave.

"Yeah, sure thing. Nice to meet you Abi," I replied. As she walked to her father, giving the man a big hug. I started kicking myself that I hadn't asked for her phone number. The chances of me running into her again were slim to none in the city the size of Sydney. I sighed and looked about. I didn't expect to see my parents, but I was kind of hoping my little sister had come to pick me up—rather than expecting me to get a taxi—but no luck.

I jumped into the first taxi I came across and gave him my home address.

Before long we were in the middle of the hustle and bustle of Sydney traffic. I mostly tuned out the taxi drivers attempts at conversation and the beeps and honks of the Sydney motorists commuting home from work or on their way somewhere. I always found it incredible overwhelming how so many people could be needing to go to so many different places all at the same time—it's as if the government paid them to just drive around all day and block up the roads. The vehicles stopped being people and more like a piece of the city's scenery.

I'd never really visited Bondi before and wasn't too familiar with where the taxi driver was taking me, but it seemed like the longest route possible.

We pulled up to a large apartment complex that read

Vanity House.

I thought it was appropriately named knowing my mother and father. I checked and rechecked the address quickly before paying the ludicrous fare and leaving the taxi. I approached the buildings main entrance and re-read the email from my mother. I was meant to buzz apartment one and speak to Mike the building manager. Who would give me an access pass and a key, I slung my bag over my shoulder and pressed the buzzer for apartment one, waited a few moments, then pressed it again.

"What?" Said a very irritated sounding man.

"Hi, uh... My name's Jason, Jason Parks. I'm meant to get a key to my folks place from you," I replied. Keeping my tone as polite as I could.

"Oh shit! That's today?" The man replied. "I'll be right out, just a minute," he added.

I sat against a low brick wall that lined the walkway to the apartment's entrance as I waited and flicked through photos of my ex on my phone. I was once again struggling with deleting the photos of my ex and I—some of just her in nothing but a smile. I probably should delete them, but I just hadn't been able to bring myself to get rid of them yet. Plus, they may come in handy for some spank bank material in the coming days. Although I'd rather just see Abi again.

Before I could get lost daydreaming about the pretty blonde girl I'd met on the plane, the door to the apartment complex burst open with a rush of giggling girls in skimpy bikinis. Behind them was a super tanned man in his thirties wearing nothing but his swim shorts and a pair of sunglasses.

"Alright you lot. I'll see you ladies down on the beach," he said to the girls, and they waved back to him before heading off. I stared after them for a minute; the over-abundance of female flesh was a surprise to me.

"Quite a lot ain't they?" The man said. I looked over to him. His sunglasses sitting on his head as his eyes stared at the retreating backsides of the girls. "Eighteen and sweet," he added. More to himself.

"Yeah, they were pretty hot," I replied. Not sure what else to say.

"So, you're little Jason?" He said. Turning his attention to me. "I'm Mike," he held his hand out to me. I stood and shook his hand. I'd been known as little Jason through high school since I was much shorter and skinnier than most of the guys in my year. Even though by the time I graduated I had sprouted to six-foot tall—I wasn't a giant, but it was better than my measly five foot six I'd been through most of high school—the name always stuck since I was still stick thin. That was something I'd also changed since moving away. I'd learned the importance of physical health and worked to keep myself in shape and had quite a healthy diet. I was still a pasty white fucker though; no point in giving myself skin cancer just to look like an older leather handbag, like Mike.

"Yeah, that's me," I replied.

"Well come on, I'll show you the place," Mike said.

I waited in the hall while he went into his apartment, which sat right next to the main entrance. When he came out, he handed me a key card and a set of keys.

"The card gets you into the building and activates the elevator. Each card is setup to allow tenants to the floor of their apartment only," Mike instructed.

I followed the super tanned Mike into the elevator, and he pointed to a small black pad beside the door. It was circular and raised off-of the smooth metal that was polished to a mirror finish.

"Just swipe your card over that and the elevator will take you to your floor," he added.

I held the card in front of the sensor and heard it beep, a small green light flashing as the doors closed and the elevator car started ascending.

"You're gonna love this place, it's a real pimp den," Mike said. A shit eating grin plastered across his face. I already didn't like the guy; the fact he had a bunch of barely legal teenagers in his apartment and that my sister was living here had me on edge around him already.

"I'm only staying till I find my own place," I replied.

We continued the rest of the short trip in silence, which suited me fine. The doors opened with a chime and we stepped out into a small hallway. There were two doors other than the elevator. The one to the right was a metal door with an exit sign above it and another on the door signalling the stairs to the building.

"Does that lock?" I asked. Pointing to the fire escape stairs.

"Yeah, the key with the red head opens that, but only people living on the floor get access to the keys for your floor," he replied.

"Do you have the keys to them?" I asked.

"Yeah, I have to for my job," he finished. His smile made me a little uneasy.

The other door was a set of double doors with no visible handle. I approached it and looked across the smooth wooden surface for a keyhole but saw nothing; not even a door handle. Then I noticed a keyhole to the right of the doors. I picked out the other key on the keyring, inserted it, and twisted. The doors clicked and swung inwards like something from a James Bond movie. I knew my parents had money, but I didn't know they would buy something so extravagant; was it to protect them from someone, or was it just a prestige thing? I shrugged and decided that I didn't really care; I would put up with the over the top security for a short while.

"Well, thanks for showing me the apartment," I said, turning to Mike. He displayed an annoyed expression; obviously he was expecting me to invite him in—probably for a beer—and to try and get chummy with me while my folks were away. Not going to happen pal, I thought to myself.

"I'll see you round," I said, and entered the apartment without waiting for a reply. Inside I saw a button beside the door frame and tapped it. The doors swung closed, a muffled click sounding as the locking mechanism slid into place.

"Okay, that's pretty fucking cool," I said to myself.

I turned to take in the apartment's main room. This one room alone was larger than my whole apartment back home. The entire eastern wall was glass. I saw no curtains and wondered how someone would get some privacy, but being on the top floor, you probably didn't need much. I looked about and wondered if the apartment took up the entire floor; I'd always known penthouse suites could take entire apartment floors on their own, but I never imagined I would be standing in one, let alone living in one for any period of time. The amount of money my father must have spent on this place would probably make me cry—considering he made me pay for half of my first car. I bet he bought Tori a brand-new convertible for her eighteenth.

Off to my left was a massive kitchen island counter with a gleaming marble top. The oven looked like you could climb inside it and take a nap with room to move, the drawers and cupboard doors were a rich mahogany. All the kitchen appliances were the same solid stainless-steel finish. To my right was a set of modern stylized stairs with no hand railing leading up to a second floor that seemed to just a catwalk of sorts overlooking the living area. Past the kitchen was the living room, which was lower than the rest of the apartment. Two steps that ran the length of the living area lowered whoever walked down them into a carefully laid out entertainment arrangement.

Mounted on the left-hand wall was a flat screen television that I almost took for the actual wall with how huge it was. Facing it was a set of neatly spaced recliners along with a long, curved leather couch that looked like a C. Against the right wall were two monstrous bookshelves lined with leather bound novels all meticulously placed in order of volume and edition—my father was many things but a stupid man he was not. I guess I got my love of reading and learning from him; it definitely wasn't my mother—who was more of a trophy wife than anything now that I thought about it.

In between the two bookshelves was a wooden bar where decanters, bottles, and glasses were stacked in an orderly fashion. The rich wood glowed and the sunlight streaming in through the open windows glinted off the glass, displaying the rich alcohol in each container. Some of those I bet were worth more than my car. A large, polished wood dining table took up the floor space before the bookcases. Six matching chairs lined each side, with two slightly more regal chairs sat at the head and foot of the table. The décor screamed of my mother's touch. She seemed to believe herself some sort of royalty.