*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Disclaimers: Yes, I need an editor and no, I do not want an editor. Yes, it jumps around too much, yes there's too many people to keep track of, yes it's too long, yes it's too short, yes it's in the wrong category, yes this is stupid shit, and yes I suck.
But if you're that upset by it all? Just email me your bank account number and routing information and I'll refund every penny you paid me to read this story.
For those of you that have not hit the backspace key, I hope you enjoy this tale.
*.*.*
Sitting in the Oakleaf, Texas jail, Albert Rosenberg wondered what time it was.
He'd snuck out of work a few hours early, left at four instead of six thirty like he normally would.
A sudden fear gripped him. Work. He wondered if he would still have a job after they found out about his third arrest for DUI.
He'd left work and headed to Tijuana Jack's for their ice cold beers and their red hot strippers.
It had been just after eight o'clock when he'd been pulled over by the very courteous police officer and a few minutes after nine o'clock when he'd been brought into the cell with the very talkative Brandon Wright.
The handsome young man, with his thick brown hair and bright green eyes had been talking and talking and talking, and showed no signs of slowing down.
"Yeah, my sister's birthday's on June twenty first, Summer Solstice," Brandon smiled at the thought of his sister. "Turned eighteen."
5.5.5
At first Linda acted like hell would freeze over and Jesus would come again before she'd ever go to my sister's birthday with me. She demanded to know why I was asking her, why I even thought she'd want to go anywhere near me.
"Because I'd like you to," was my brilliant answer.
"I'll think about it," she snapped, beautiful face twisted in a sneer.
Then she slammed the door in my face.
"Well, that went well," Derek teased me.
"Fuck you, ass hole," I said and decided I'd had enough of this shit and I went home.
Donna was thrilled that Derek was coming, but tried to act like it was no big deal. She was surprised and a little giddy that I'd invited Linda, Derek's sister as well.
"Linda? She's so cool," Donna said.
Dad wouldn't agree with that statement. But neither Donna nor I cared one bit what the Reverend Always Right thought.
The party was scheduled for the next Saturday, around eleven thirty. Dad planned on barbequing, burning a few hamburgers, planned on charcoaling some hot dogs, ashes to ashes. Mom would make beans and potato salad, and it would be my job to crank the ice cream maker.
We had pointed out to our dad that they'd invented electric ice cream makers, but he was dead set against technology invading our family tradition of turning any celebration into an endurance contest.
Many of Donna's friends were all right and some of them are actually kind of cute. But they all were members of our church and didn't want to talk about sucking cock, or getting fucked, or getting fucked up. I was overjoyed when Derek and Linda showed up. Linda walked straight over to me and kissed me, directly on the lips.
"Hi there! I'm Alan, Brandon's older brother," Dad said to Linda, flirting clumsily.
"Hi, I'm Linda," she said politely. "Oh, hey! There's the birthday girl!"
"She has on way too much make up," Dad hissed at me.
"But didn't stop you from looking like a fool," I wanted to his back, but didn't.
"Hey!" Donna happily greeted Linda, then shyly greeted Derek.
Derek's gift was a one thousand piece jigsaw puzzle, an Oreo cookie on a black lacquered table.
"Supposed be super hard, but I remembered how smart you were," Derek explained.
He earned himself some extra credit with my father; Dad liked hearing how smart his little angel was.
Linda's gift was a globe of the Earth that doubled as a piggy bank.
"And I stuffed a five in it," Linda admitted.
My gift to Donna was a book on the birds that are native to Texas; my sister loves birds. She could sit for hours with a pair of binoculars watching birds fucking, shitting, popping out eggs.
And finally, hot and sweaty from being forced to stay outside to celebrate my sister turning eighteen, eating half burned, half raw food, Derek and Linda and I were free to go.
"Mom's got a date," Linda informed me.
"Oh, okay," I shrugged.
"So, you uh, you want to..." Linda cooed suggestively, linking arms with me.
"Oh boy, do I want to," I admitted and Linda giggled happily.
We returned to the trailer and Linda dragged me into her room. She put on some music; she wanted me to hear this one song. She sped up the cassette tape, then saw she'd gone too far, then rewound it, then finally got it close enough and hit 'play' on her stereo.
The music was the usual overproduced synthesizer crap and the guy started off singing in a whining, whimpering voice. At first I couldn't tell if it was a guy or a girl; whining is whining, no matter what gender the singer.
Linda pushed me onto her unmade bed, on top of the piles of clothing, and straddled me.
"Isn't this beautiful?" she enthused, then kissed me deeply before I could answer.
Linda and Vickie looked exactly alike, except that, without a bra, Linda's tits sat a little higher on her chest. But, thankfully, Linda's breath, Linda's tongue tasted a lot nicer.
"Yeah, it's really something," I agreed when the man's voice, yes it was a man, when his voice had dropped to a reasonable croon.
The same words, the same empty promises as all the other songs Linda loved so much. Love, true love, everlasting love, a love that was destined to be, a love that would never fade.
Ever notice how the guys that sing all this shit have like fifteen or sixteen kids from eight or nine different mommas? I guess 'forever' really means 'until someone better looking than your fine ass comes along.'
Linda shimmied out of her top and bra and sighed appreciatively when I slung my shirt on her bedroom floor. We lay, her straddling me, pressing her nice tits into my chest, kissing.
"You feel it?" she asked, looking away as another syrupy song started to whine and warble.
I could feel her hard nipples pushing into me, could feel her weight on me, could feel the heat of her crotch as she ground against my hard cock. I could feel the moistness of her lips when we kissed, could feel her silky hair as it fanned out around my face.
"Yeah," I agreed.
That must have been the right thing to say because she sighed and kissed me again.
"Let's do it," she whispered. "Here, I'll play our song again."