Big Brother Blues: Playing House
For Gia and John, life's complicated. They are deeply in love, but they also grew up together. They are foster siblings, and to the world, Gia and John must pretend to be brother and sister. When they go home for Thanksgiving, they grow tired of not being able to touch each other. One day, John's parents go golfing. They have only a fixed amount of time to work the carnal lust out of their system. More
This is a short story that features explicit and hardcore descriptions of graphic sex. It is intended only for mature and adult readers.
"OMG will they ever leave?!?"
I stared at the text message and tried not to agree with it. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I also wanted my parents out of the house, but I shook my head and deleted the text. For about an hour and a half, I had to have my phone on mute. Gia was sitting cross-legged on the sofa with her Smartphone, furiously pecking out texts with her thumbs. She was barefoot and wore a simple gray sweat suit, and a look of consternation creased her brows. My phone was going off nearly every 30 seconds, and I didn’t want to alarm my parents. So, I quieted the ding! of incoming messages. In the moment of two blinks, another text had already appeared on my phone.
"Let’s get this show on the road!"
A few seconds went by.
"Pronto! Chop, chop!"
"I would like your 8===> now, please!"
"Shoo them out, and you get touch this!"
The last was paired with an image file. While nobody was looking, Gia lifted her shirt and snapped a pic of her breast. The sight of it made my blood flush right into my face. It was such a lovely boob with a very pert nipple. If I wasn’t careful, I would start salivating at the mere sight of it. It had been roughly about three days, nine hours, and six minutes since I had last made love to Gia or seen her naked. Not that I was keeping an accurate record, or being obsessive enough to literally count the seconds. This visit was literally killing me. Normally, the Thanksgiving holidays away from campus bored me to tears, but this year was rougher than most. Gia and I still had to keep up the brother-and-sister act in front of my parents. I was in constant mortal fear they’d find out that I had become romantically entangled with my foster sister. That meant no casual touching or unguarded looks or glances. It also meant that Gia and I had to brainstorm a lot of inane shit to pointlessly bicker about—just to keep up the act. I think, though, I had been staring at the picture of her breast a little too long.
“What’cha got there?” My dad clapped me on the shoulder.
“Oh, nothing!” I blurted. I shoved the phone into my pants. . .