"Come on! Three games!" exclaimed Vance. "That's not fair!"
"That's not up to you to decide, Mr. Myers," Coach Donnegan coolly replied. "You're lucky I'm just suspending you for three games, instead of calling your parents. And further, you should be thanking me for not reporting this to Father O' Leary. I'm sure he'd be a lot less forgiving than I, if he found you smoking a marijuana cigarette under the bleachers."
"It was one stupid puff and it wasn't even mine! I got roped into taking a hit by Ricky and his dumb-ass friends. They kept taunting me, so I just did it to shut them up. And then they ran. I can't miss the match against Western Prep," he lamented.
"Listen Vance, I know you are a good kid, and that's why I'm giving you a break on this. But I can't just overlook it either. Sister Therese has informed me that your grades have been slipping the last couple months as well. Now you were her best student. I think you need to seriously consider your future here, son. You could be heading down a path where it isn't so easy to return to the straight and narrow. Has something happened recently, at home maybe?" his coach inquired, in an almost fatherly manner.
"No, no. Everything at home is fine. Just forget it, okay? I'll just take the three game suspension," his face reddening.
"Alright, good lad. Take your punishment like a man. The soccer team will be right here waiting for you next week."
With that Vance threw his duffel bag over his shoulder and huffed out of the coach's office. The truth was things were far from fine. Everything about Vance's life was in flux. It was his senior year at St. Francis Preparatory Academy for Boys, and soccer was his ticket out of the affluent, but lame suburb of Indianapolis. His parents had divorced a few years back, his father moving back to Michigan, and his mother, Jeannie had just remarried. His step-dad Richard was kind of an asshole, one that Vance now had to deal with every day. Richard had twins from a previous marriage, that had also moved in. Mitchell and Maryanne were fraternal twins, the same age as Vance, but they both attended the local public high school. The only time Vance really interacted with them was at home, every other week, when they weren't at their mother's house.
Mitchell and Maryanne couldn't have been more different. The only thing they shared was the same tall frame and sandy blonde hair. While Mitchell was a rather bookish introvert, contented to study alone in his half of the room Vance and he now shared, his sister Maryanne, lean and athletic, was the star of the school's basketball team. She was very popular and could have her pick of boyfriends.
Her long hair, the color of golden wheat, had this way of bouncing when she walked, as if to punctuate her every step. Her oceanic blue eyes could crystallize even the most jaded of teenage hearts. She smelled of strawberries and freesia. Her slim, tan legs seemed limitless under her blue satin, basketball shorts. Her soft and flaxen bush he could just glimpse the outline of against the thin, indulgent fabric. If he could just feel that pure, wet plunder, maybe just taste her intoxication...
"Fuck!" Vance blew his sticky load all over his stomach. He reclined back on his bed, as he had tensed and arched while sputtering to the thought of his new step-sister. He let the cum dry a bit on his freshly grown hair, before he cleaned himself off with a t-shirt Mitchell had left on the floor near his bed. He thought briefly about his only and ex-girlfriend Vanessa, who decided to dump Vance after he told her he loved her, after she took his virginity. He tried to drown out the thought of telling her he loved her after he came, that afternoon in her room, while her parents were at work, and her little brother running around downstairs banging on some pot he pulled out of a kitchen drawer. "What an idiot," he thought. "I'm such a fucking idiot." Vanessa had left him for Ricky, his rival on the soccer team, without a second thought. Each day seemed more depressing than the last.
*****
The next day, school was trudging by like sludge, as the clock itched torturously to 2:30. It was Friday, and since Vance was suspended from soccer until the next week, he had nothing to do but pray for the bell. Finally, it rung out like an act of mercy. He gathered his books and raced to his locker. He wanted to get out of there before he ran into Ricky. He threw his books in, and grabbed his letterman jacket with one fluid motion; slamming the metal into its tinny frame. As he descended the steps that led to the parking lot, there was Ricky and his Cro-mag friends leaning against the brick railing. And there was Vanessa hanging on Ricky's arm.
"Shit," muttered Vance.
"Hey Mama's boy! Heard you got suspended for that reefer! That's too bad! Hahaha!" Rickey taunted as he high-fived his buddies. "Guess you won't get to start in the big game after all!"
"Why don't you fuck off, Rick." Vance galled.
"Ooohhh, goody two-shoes grew some balls over night, huh?" Ricky cracked.
"Rick, come on, just leave him alone, you know. He's just like, sensitive, you know?" pleaded Vanessa.
Vance could feel the hot tears and humiliation cocktail welling up inside of him. As if he needed Vanessa, of all people to come to his defense. Jesus.
"Liddle Vancey needs his girlfwiend to fight his battles for him, huh? Look, I think he's going to cry! Holy shit." Ricky laughed and pointed.
Vance snapped. As simple and quick as that. All of a sudden he didn't feel like crying anymore. He really didn't feel like anything. He just felt like acting. Before he could second-guess himself, Vance swung on Ricky with all the power his broad frame could muster. He connected with the sunken left-eye of his arch enemy, sending him toppling over the the brick ledge onto the grass three feet below.
As Ricky's friends stood stunned, peering over at him writhing around on the grass, Vanessa shouted, "Vance, what the hell is wrong with you? You didn't have to punch him like that. He was only kidding," as tears now welled up in her eyes.
"Why don't you shut up for once, you stupid twat!" Vance snapped back, as he pushed through the gathering crowd and strode to his car; the Mustang his mother had bought him two years prior for his sixteenth birthday, and tore the fuck out of the parking lot of the St. Francis Preparatory Academy for Boys.
*****
As Vance sped toward his house, the adrenaline began to drain away and regret crept in over what he had just done. "What the fuck was I thinking? What the fuck, fuck, fuck?!?!" he yelled as he pounded his hands on the steering wheel. "Jesus, what did I get myself into? Now it's going to be ten times worse with that Neanderthal Rick," Vance bemoaned.
He pulled his would-be pussy wagon into the driveway, and killed the engine. He hastily pulled the keys from the ignition and got out. He wearily opened the front door with his house key and closed and locked it behind him. He needed to think. He was almost never home right after school. He usually came late in the evening after practice or a match, to a bustling household, filled at the very least with Jeannie and Richard cooing like newlyweds. But it was eerily still in the house this afternoon. His mother and step-father still at work, and the twins still at their mom's. Vance sunk back against the front door and breathed in deeply. "God, what the fuck was that about?" he sighed, almost exultant again. A wry smile curling across his full lips, as he relived clocking Rick in his arrogant face.
Then, as if a breeze of awareness had rolled through the door, he realized that he was drenched in sweat; the ripe, pheromonal sweat of a man at war. But at war with whom? he wondered. Ricky and his asshole friends? Vanessa? His parents? His Catholic school? Or maybe with a God he didn't know if he believed in anymore.
"Shit, I gotta take a shower. This is pungent," he laughed to himself. As he made his way up the adjacent stairs, he thought he heard a faint sound. As he approached the bathroom he shared with his new step-siblings, he saw the door was slightly ajar. It was the water running that he heard coming up the stairs. Who was home, he wondered. As the twins car wasn't in the driveway.
He peeked in the bathroom, instinctively, but the shower curtain was pulled closed. But he spotted a pair of Virginal white, cotton panties on the bathroom rug. It was Maryanne. He knew those panties. Those delicate, cotton bikini panties, in an almost unbelievably white hue. He had seen them in the laundry before, where he was so tempted to grab a pair for himself to sniff, to rub against his face, to jerk off into, but he didn't have the balls to go through with it. And now here he was, with Maryanne happily humming in the shower, he could grab the panties, freshly peeled from her nubile body, and cart them off to his bedroom.
He could feel the adrenaline surging through his body once more. "Fuck it," he thought, and ripped the panties from off the floor before could change his mind. He hauled ass to his room, closed the door, and leaned against it. He couldn't wait, he had to sniff his step-sister's panties. He held up the clean, cool cotton to his face and inhaled intensely, as he ran his nose along the gusset. "Jesus, even her pussy smells like ripe peaches," he whispered to himself. It was the most intoxicating scent, better than he had even dreamed.
He immediately got hard, and his fat cock began to rub against his stiff, black uniform pants. He unbuckled his belt, undid the button and tore the zipper down to slide the pants off his powerful thighs and onto the floor. He yanked his boxers down to expose his fully erect member. He wrapped the stone-fruit scented panties around his meaty shaft and began to stroke as he began to moan low. He made his way over to his bed, disrobing more articles along the way, and laid atop the comforter, never ceasing to jerk his dick with Maryanne's perfect panties. He was totally enthralled by this point, and was moaning louder, tilting his head back, while he closed his eyes and fantasized about his step-sister riding his engorged cock; the adrenaline coursing through his virile, newly minted body.
Then, after an unknown length of ecstasy, the door swung open and there was Maryanne, freshly showered and standing in a lavender-colored bath towel. It took a few seconds for Vance to realize he was being watched by the very object of his obsession. There was his step-sister, long blonde hair clung to her back and dripping wet, her azure eyes wide with shock.
"Shit," Vance sputtered as he came to.
"Vance, what are you doing with my panties?" questioned Maryanne, almost innocently.
And it was in this very moment, Vance was standing upon a precipice. He could do what he had always done, which was to wither, shrink, and make excuses like the sniveling nebbish his mother, the church, and his lot in life demanded of him, or, he could leap from the precipice; freefall, taking whatever breaks befall him, whilst enjoying that untethered exultation all the way down. That perhaps he could have everything he'd ever dreamt of, if only he renounced his every indoctrinated moral inclination. If only he finally gave up the Holy Ghost.
Maybe it was the preceding events of the past few days, maybe it was the way she purred his name, or maybe he had just turned a corner from skittish boy to full-grown man, but instead of ducking under the covers and silently wishing it all away, he embraced his situation as one of opportunity, instead of peril.
"I'm jerking off my big cock into them, sis," he said slyly. It was a gamble, but he just kept right on jacking off with Maryanne's Sunday panties.
This immediately disarmed the normally cool Maryanne. She didn't balk, or recoil, she just stood there, transfixed. It was in that moment that Vance knew he could have her. It was like every previous inclination he had ever had was absolute and utter bullshit, and the second he gave up the choir boy routine, the world unfurled before his feet. Sinners may not get to Heaven, but they sure have a lot of fun on the road to Hell. Fuck.
"If you want your panties back Maryanne, then you"ll have to come get them..." he rasped, never letting his dark eyes fall from hers.
Slowly, as if by command, she ambled toward him, clutching the lavender bath towel closed with one hand, nervously drumming her fingers on the hem of the fabric with the other. As soon as she reached the bed, his cock began to jump almost-imperceptibly with raw excitement. He grabbed her nervous hand; it trembled slightly, and guided it onto his granite member. She began to stroke his shaft with her long, delicate fingers. He allowed the panties to fall away, a flash of bright white against the navy comforter.
He felt beyond high; in a state of transformative ecstasy, but also this strange sensation of total control. Like two different parts of his brain finally working in tandem. He pulled her lithe waist toward him with a powerful hand. She let her towel drop as she fell into him, exposing her pert, firm breasts, her soft pink nipples fully engaged with longing. He arched up to meet her rose-hued lips, and kissed her deeply and passionately in the most perfect way, as he caressed her long golden tresses with his idle hand. She was kneeling beside him now, her teenage siren ass in the air. He slid his hand down her waist onto her tanned thigh, as he could barely wait to slip his fingers into her slick, utopian snatch. It was drenched with her desire. She was unbelievably wet for him.
She moaned quietly, at first, as Vance rubbed his thumb lightly on her clit, but sensing her pleasure, he continued unrelentingly, until she was beside herself in orgasm. He deftly lifted her atop his face as she began to tremble. He had to taste her as she rode the final waves of her first climax. Her pussy tasted pure, like soap and some inexplicable essence of innocent sexuality. He knew somewhere in the recesses of his reptilian brain that he would be a junkie for this exotic liqueur ad aeternum.
He slid two fingers into her vice-like, dripping wet cunt as he tongued her clit, working his agile hand dynamically in and out of her perfect hole, while she screamed, "Jesus, Vance! I'm coming again!" She bucked hard against his mouth as she squealed in rapture. She shook several times before opening her cerulean eyes. Vance was staring right up at her as she did, drunk with pleasure and power.
"God, Vance! You're incredible," Maryanne uttered, breathlessly, as she fell beside him on the bed.
"It's you my sexy step-sister. You turn me the fuck on. I think you should suck your brother's cock now, like a good little girl," Vance plied as he slid his hand up her back, onto her neck, and gently pushed her head toward his thick rod.
She obediently obliged, kissing down his muscular physique, to kneel at the alter of his mesmorizing staff. She kissed his stomach, then inner thighs, and drew her tongue across his skin as she made her way teasingly to his concrete horse-cock. She started at the base, licking in between his balls, moving up his shaft with her outstretched tongue, until she finally reached the head. She swirled her tongue, lovingly around the tip of his dick, concentrating on the underside, until taking him fully into her mouth, as she softly sucked him deeper and deeper into her wanton, slut throat. She was all the way down to his balls as she choked herself greedily on his relentless monolith, letting his head hit the back of her throat several times before slowly releasing him. She gagged and spit the saliva onto his cock as she jacked him expertly.
'She sure seemed like she had done this before,' thought Vance. He knew he was going to blow his load if they didn't fuck soon. "Get on top of me, you perfect little slut." Vance commanded.
Maryanne obeyed. She feverishly climbed on top of Vance's impressive dick, and slipped it in with minimal resistance, as he had opened her up with the first wave of orgasms. He watched as she bounced on top of his cock, her perfect tits followed in precise rhythm. He pawed at her tits and squeezed both her nipples hard until she screamed, his fiendish fall from grace nearly complete.
"Stand up and bend over the bed, my sweet little pet. I want to fuck you from behind." Vance commanded.
Maryanne excitedly acquiesced. Vance swiftly moved behind her flawless ass, and rubbed his leaden cockhead along her soaking slit, before plunging it back into her tight hole. He grabbed onto either of her hips as he drilled into his step-sister, mercilessly, as she screamed, "Fuck me, Vance. Fuck me with that big cock, you mother fucker. I'm going to come again, you fucker..."
It's then, amid Maryanne's cries of ecstasy, when he thought he heard a noise come from downstairs, but then again, maybe it was nothing, he rationalized.
"Get on your back, you little whore. I want you to watch me empty my hot load in your tight cunt, you sexy little bitch."
Maryanne climbed up on the bed, laid on her back, and spread her long, tan legs for Vance. He lifted both her legs so they lay on each of his broad shoulders, her ass slightly off the bed. His charcoal eyes locked into hers, as he drove his indurate monolith into her once more. She looked up at him; moaning with pleasure as he fucked her brains out. He was so close to cumming.
He could feel his briny seed pulsating from his balls, when the door creaked, and slowly lurched open, to reveal a shocked, and very erect Mitchell. The outline of his hard dick, clearly visible beneath the thin, khaki fabric, of his tightening pants.
There was no way Vance was stopping now. He was fully enraptured in this temptress' garden of earthly delight. He had already come this far, but not quite far enough. There was only one thing to do, corrupt yet another.
"Don't just stand there with your dick in your pants, Mitchell. Take it out and jack off, like a man," Vance dictated to his step-brother.
Vance began drilling Maryanne even more vigorously, as Mitchell unzipped his pants to reveal a sizeable cock. Mitchell started jacking his cock as he watched the blasphemous scene unfolding before him. He slowly moved closer and closer, until he was near the side of the bed.
"Do you like seeing your sister take this big dick? Huh, Mitchell? Watch me blow this huge load in her nubile cunt." Vance taunted, as he thrust his engorged staff into Maryanne's rapidly contracting clam. It was then Vance began to spill his diabolic seed into the sinful Maryanne.
As Vance shot ribbons of cum into his step-sister's soaked pussy, Mitchell couldn't help but blow his own load, erupting a splatter of cum across his sister's tits and stomach. As Vance drained his balls into his new little pet, he leaned down and began to lick up the cum Mitchell had painted across his step-sister. He cleaned every drop from her pert tits, and lapped up the remaining taste on her stomach.
And then the front door opened, yet again. This time unmistakeably, as the bedroom door hung wide open.
"Hey, where is everybody? Hello? Where are you guys?" Vance heard his mother call up from the bottom of the stairs.
He would have normally been terrified for his mother to find him even holding a girl's hand, but Vance felt nothing but the thrill of a sexual high and the intoxication that comes with absolute power. He didn't even bother to move out of Maryanne's swollen womb, as he heard the footsteps fall lightly on the carpet. Nothing mattered any longer, save for the hedonistic beast that must be fed. His long fall from grace was complete. Another once-sweet boy, thrust into manhood; fully corrupted and Hell-bound. Somewhere, Satan was smiling, as Vance's transmogrification was consummated. Another humanist for the ages.
