Everyone having sex is at least 18. This is fiction, I made it all up. Warning: this is a self-edited story. I do use Grammarly to help reduce my ability to murder the English language. Special thanks to goducks1 for his help.
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Chapter 1 – My Childhood
It's important to know about my childhood, it defined me and my attitudes. My dad is a drunk, drug dealer, conman, and biker who specializes in getting drunk and into fights. He is a womanizer, often bringing home women for threesomes whether mom wanted to or not. Mom is a young, sexy lawyer. Unfortunately, dad's behavior cost her several jobs, or we would have been much better off.
I have 2 sisters. They are gorgeous now. They are tall with long blond hair, blue eyes, narrow jaw, and have natural huge tits. They are one year apart but look more like twins, looking far more similar than different. Unfortunately, they have mouths and they talk. Lizzy and Stacy are three and four years older than me. They are the princesses that can do no wrong. Anything happens or breaks, automatically it's my fault. I am not a brother, I am a servant to them. They both had the best clothes, I was lucky to get Goodwill. My name is Mark.
I had no music, sports, computers, books, and hardly any toys growing up. I get depressed, others treated me bad, and I began to feel like I deserved it. Life isn't so wonderful. My one release in life is doodling. I can draw anything. Napkins, spare paper, boxes, anything is my canvas. I like the color of paints but paints cost money, and I am not worthy of that level of expense to my family.
I do a lot of work around the house and I have my dad's size, 6' 5" tall, 200lbs. body. I look thin because muscle covers a lot of my body. It isn't until midway through my freshman year in high school that my life changes. Mrs. Smith, the school's oldest teacher and my art teacher is waiting with the principal in his office for me.
Mrs. Smith thinks I am amazingly talented but am very angry and have a negative view of life. They are worried I might be a risk to the school. They think I may kill people, one of those school shooting things. I explain about the inequalities at home and how I truly hate my family. However, as much as I hate my family, I am an artist and that is my release. They are relieved and very understanding. Together, they agree to help me get a scholarship at an art school. In class it's all brush painting now, I like watercolors the best, I find myself proficient at everything art.
The subject or more often, my mood, dictate what type of art I use: pencil, watercolors, oil paints on canvas, etc. I can't use a computer. Since I never had one they seem foreign to me and I don't have enough control to do what I want. Most colors are available, but I find that I need to make the color. I don't know what color I want until I see it on the pallet.
The final piece of my childhood is dating. I had trust and anger issues with women due to mom and my sisters which extended to people in general. It was Mrs. Smith that set me up with another art student, Ginger. It was my senior year, I am 18, Ginger is beautiful, and I am in love for the first time in my life. It's four months before I bring her home to study. She is curious about my parents and sisters. Mom and dad instantly fall in love with her and they ease up on me while she is around. Ginger likes the attention she gets from them and the contrast of biker boy and lawyer mom.
A few weeks before graduation I arrive home from completing a lengthy list of errands to find Ginger's car in the driveway. I walk into the house and find my naked mom on the floor, my naked girlfriend is licking her cunt, and Ginger is being fucked by my naked father. She looks at me and tells me her ass is free and come fill it. I turn around and walk out. Two blocks away she almost hits me with her car. She barely has clothes on, cum is on her cheek, and she is crying hysterically.
I check, no panties, I point out the cum on her cheek, I describe the smell of sex on her. I can't describe the disappointment I feel, only the words "my parents?" leaves my mouth. I try to express that if she tried, there is nothing worse she could have done to me. I think I told her, "You are dead to me" and "Leave me alone!" while I continue walking. She tries to apologize for two weeks, I have only one thing to say to her, "Leave me alone!" Each time I see her, it's like ripping a scab off a terrible cut and the pain coming back.
Chapter 2 – College
The day after I graduate I go to see Mrs. Smith. She had told me it was important. I walk over to her house and there is a party at her house. Specifically, it's a graduation party for me. A few of my friends are there, Ginger, several faculty and staff, and some people from church. I have three full-ride scholarships at nice colleges in Chicago, New York, and Miami. Since New York is farthest from Oakland, that is my school. They bring me to tears when they show me the balance of my new checking account. They will rent a studio for me and promise to send painting supplies to keep me working.
I am unworthy of their generosity. Ginger's family is filthy rich, she put in $100,000. For that, she wants a portrait. That seemed fair enough. She takes off her sweater and pants to reveal yoga pants and a tight-fitting top. Mildly sleazy. I still have anger issues towards Ginger. Even though she is stunningly beautiful, the anger overrides her beauty. I couldn't keep it out of my drawing. The result is a very interesting portrait that accentuated her body in a favorable way, yet an aura of evil made the drawing unsettling.
Everyone watched me draw the picture and are amazed at the result. They are all convinced I will make it big someday. The group is excited and in a frenzy at what they witnessed. All I did was release my anger and I have plenty of that due to Ginger and my family. Ginger thanked me for the drawing. I hug her but never say anything to her. My broken heart still hurts, I can't speak to someone that hurt me so much.
The day I leave, I pack a single backpack of clothes. I don't own a suitcase, never had a need for one as I never went on the family vacations. My plan is to wake up early, pack, leave a note, and then take off before anyone gets up. I failed. I walk downstairs with my backpack and Stacy is in the kitchen making breakfast. I ignore her and grab pen and paper. Stacy made bacon and three eggs with toast, just enough for her. I would expect no less.
She sits down next to me and pushes the plate in front of me. I am confused, I don't understand.
Stacy looks sad and says, "I heard what Ginger did to you. I know about the party. I know you are leaving, and I understand why. You have a wonderful opportunity, I won't tell them everything. They will know enough to not send the police after you. You have a long bus ride, I made you breakfast, and I am giving you my savings. I know I will never get to be a nurse, so I have no need of this. I want you to have this money and use it to make something of your life. I hope you finally find happiness. You sure as hell didn't get it here."
She stands up, hugs me hard with tears falling down her face, says "Goodbye," and then walks back up to her room. I would have been less surprised to see a dinosaur reduce our house to kindling and then get hit by lightning as I hear I won the lottery. I ate breakfast in shock and then leave without writing the note. It's a long bus ride to New York.
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My new apartment is one of four on the top floor of a six-story building. It's close to school which is nice since I walk. The apartment is perfect for one person. A small washroom with a nice shower contains the only walls in my place. The bed, living room, and kitchen all share one space. A bed with sheets, a couch, and a small round table with four chairs is all the place has. No artwork, bookcases, or storage.
My sister's money will go a long way to getting towels and kitchen stuff. The doorman shows up with several boxes that Mrs. Smith and friends shipped to me. Most of it is art supplies but there are some towels, sheets, a blanket, and some basic kitchen stuff like plates, cups, and silverware. Guess I don't need to buy that stuff!
My first several days consist of four paintings and drawings from the perspective of each corner of my apartment. I did a pencil drawing, a watercolor, and two oil paintings in two styles. I notice there is no anger in my drawings, these are just objects. It was fun using four styles to capture most of the same items. I send these back to Mr. Smith to share with the others. I don't have a camera, I pass on what I can and what I do best.
They had encouraged me to get a cell phone, but I don't want to waste their money on something I don't need. Who would I call? I have no TV, no internet, no computer, no phone. Painting and improving my craft consume me. It's the one thing in this world that makes me happy.
For two years I can see nobody matches my skills, however, I am still a nobody. It isn't until we get human subjects and I match up with a gorgeous blond cheerleader with curves in all the right places that I get to show off. One models while the other paints and then you switch. We get extra credit for doing nudes. I am an A+ student, I don't need the extra credit. She needs lots of help, so I agree to help her out. I am still a male and I know pretty when I see it. She has it in spades.
