4 comments/  34698 views/  9 favorites

Fostered Care Ch. 01

By: aussie_101



NOTE: The protagonists of this story are foster siblings, not biological siblings. For me that is a neat way to side-step the more distasteful, biological aspects of incest stories; yet it still has a bit of that forbidden, titillating, taboo-appeal in terms of the emotional side of a brother-sister relationship – which I've tried to expound upon in this first chapter. Technically this story doesn't have to go in the 'incest/taboo' section, but it might cause offence if I post it elsewhere, so this is where it goes. For those who think going the 'foster siblings' route is a bit weak – a 'cop-out' is what it might be called in Australia – then feel free to go read one of the other millions of brother-on-sister stories here. Otherwise, read on and enjoy, with my thanks; I'm keen for any and all comments and messages, tell me what you think and if you're enjoying the story. I tend to need encouragement to keep these things going... thanks.

CHAPTER ONE – Adoptive brother and sister, resisting forbidden urges.

Shaun was adopted into Christine's family when he was only six months old, and 'Chris' barely three months older. Their parents had been close friends for a long time, so when Shaun's parents were killed in a car crash, his parents' will named Bill and Therese Cleary – Chris's parents – as their preferred guardians for Shaun. With no surviving grandparents and only a few aunties and uncles living overseas and never seen, Chris's family was the only family Shaun knew as he grew up, and so he was embraced as one of their own, and they were they only family he ever knew.

Bill and Therese sat the kids down after Shaun's tenth birthday, and explained that they were now old enough to know the truth. It hit Shaun fairly hard, as could be expected, but 'mum' and 'dad' were really good about it. They shared old pictures and stories of Shaun's biological parents, and told him what wonderful people they were and how much they loved him, and how sad everyone was when they died. They also told Shaun how it was an honour for them to be chosen to look after him, and – most importantly – how Bill and Therese loved Shaun very much and thought of him as a son of their own; this made accepting the news much easier for Shaun. Though Bill, Therese and Chris weren't his true father, mother and sister, to him they always had been, and he decided that they always would be.

Shaun and Chris had always got on like a normal brother and sister did: squabbling occasionally, but loving and supportive of each other, always standing up for and standing by the other if there was trouble at school. Upon learning that they were only brother and sister in spirit, nothing changed, they thought of themselves as brother and sister just as always. As they grew into their teens and the hormones started to kick in, it was perhaps only natural that their relationship became a little more physical; nothing overt, of course, taking the form of playful wrestling matches around bedtime, interspersed by the occasional straddle, grope or even the odd kiss – instigated by the both of them, driven only by natural curiosity and primal urges, fired perhaps by the subconscious realisation that there was no biological reason why they shouldn't fool around a little. 

It didn't take long for their parents to sense what was going on, and it was near their sixteenth birthdays that they were sat down and given 'the talk': in a calm, rational and reasonable forum, it was explained that even though Chris and Shaun were not siblings in the biological context, their relationship was very much of brother-and-sister in the emotional sense; if they were ever to take things too far in a physical fashion, it would have a profound impact upon their relationship and the entire family and they would regret it forever. Shaun and Chris realised the gravity of the situation, and they swore and promised to their parents that they could see what they meant, and that they would never ever take their love into the physical, sexual realm – no matter how tempting it might become.

Having been tempered thusly, Shaun and Chris looked further afield for their sexual exploration and development. Shaun rapidly matured into a handsome young man and he became very popular with the ladies at school, trying his hand with increasing success amongst the beauties in more senior years and even rousing some interest amongst the younger ladies of the teaching staff. And Christine – widely regarded as one of the more beautiful girls in school – was more conservative and traditional in her quest for love than Shaun, going steady with a nice young lad of her own age by the name of Peter; she and Peter did not consummate their relationship though, settling instead for some very heavy petting behind closed doors. Their eighteenth birthdays came and went, and Chris and Shaun found themselves in the final weeks of their senior year at school, which is where our story begins proper.

*

Shaun wandered into the bathroom after breakfast, to find Chris in the shower. "Morning sis," he yawned.

"Hey bro," she replied, not pausing with the soap. It was often the way of their mornings; he ate a lot more than she did at breakfast, so she was usually first into the shower, but she didn't mind when he came in to brush his teeth while she bathed. They had always been very open about nudity while growing up, watching each other grow and develop in a fascinated, scientific kind of sense; they had even had a 'pubic race' at an earlier age, counting as their pubic hairs came in by their twos and threes and keeping a day-by-day tally. "Big day today?"

"Yeah, got an assessment in Physics after lunch," Shaun muttered. "Not looking forward to it. You?"

"Got a half-day today – gym class is off after Mr Roberts got zapped by the power point the other day, so I'm going home early."

"Uh huh," said Shaun, grinning around his toothbrush. "Ten bucks says you're bringing Peter home with you too." Chris rolled her eyes at him, which he took as a confirmation. "When the folks are away, Chris and Peter shall play..."

"Shut up," she suggested. "Not like you can talk, you man-whore. Which one of your mistresses are you planning on boinking today? Erin? Rohana? Or will it be the Lauren-and-Jenny tag-team again?"

"Hey: don't begrudge me my promiscuousness," said Shaun, breaking out the big words because he knew it annoyed her. "Don't hate me just because I'm not a moral prude and I'm not afraid to explore my sexual being – unlike some people we could mention."

"Are you making assumptions about your big sister, boy?" Chris asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Not at all – I've heard that Peter's been talking," Shaun told her, pausing to spit and rinse. "He keeps whinging because he's 'not getting any'. Makes me want to punch him," he added, as he started slipping out of his bed clothes.

"Peter wouldn't talk like that," Chris told him, as she finished off in the shower and reached for her towel.

"You reckon?" said Shaun, now as naked as his sister. "I don't like him, Chris – you could do so much better."

"Yeah, well I don't like your little harem of hussies either," she replied, stepping out of the shower. "So that makes us even." She gave him a playful little slap on the arse as they passed each other by. "Nice bum," she appraised.

"Must run in the family," he winked, casting an eye over her own bare derriere as he stepped into the water; she waggled it cheekily at him as she left to get dressed.

*

"Dude: your sister is so hot," enthused Jarrod, as Shaun sat perched with his friends on a window sill upstairs in the maths building, overlooking the playground during recess; Jarrod boggled a little as Christine reclined in the sun, not knowing she was being watched.

"You are such a lucky prick, man," Brad added, his eyes also fixed on Shaun's sister.

Shaun sighed. "Don't you guys have anything else to talk about?" he asked. "Every time you see her, it's 'Chris is so hot! Pristine Christine! Blah blah blah, wank wank wank!'"

"But she is hot," said Jarrod, as a simple matter of fact. "And you get to see her in the shower, man! Every day!"

"I know this," Shaun shrugged. "You don't have to tell me – I already know it."

"But that's just so cool!" Jarrod went on. "Did you see her this morning?"

Shaun pulled a face. "Yes," he droned.

Jarrod and Brad let loose with various noises of vicarious thrill. "Damn," reckoned Brad. "Seeing the hottest girl in the school, buck naked, every morning – no wonder you've got such a great outlook on life."

"And she's your FOSTER sister, too," Jarrod added, with a wink. "You know what that means: technically, you could –"

"Okay, this conversation ends NOW," Shaun told them, with finality. "I'm not interested in fucking my sister."

Jarrod frowned. "Why not?" he asked.

Shaun frowned right back at him. "Because she's my sister. My SISTER. Get it? Foster sister or not, she's my sister, I love her like my sister and she loves me like her brother – so fucking each other would be as wrong as you fucking your own sister."

"I don't have a sister," Jarrod told him.

"Fine: it's as wrong as fucking your mother, then."

"That is wrong," Brad chuckled. "That's very wrong."

"Shut up, man," Jarrod told Brad – he could foresee what was coming next.

"And I fucked his mum last night, and that was pretty wrong too!" Brad added.

"Man: I done told you to shut up," Jarrod snapped; he would have unleashed terrible physical retribution upon Brad to avenge his mother's honour, except Brad was one foot taller and two feet wider than Jarrod, so Brad tended to get away with jokes like that. "Don't you go talking about my mum like that. Especially given the way YOUR mum gets around, all over town," he added, piously.

Brad laughed; he liked to laugh, and despite his dangerous size he always shrugged off the mum-jokes with good humour. "Yeah yeah," he said. "Still: I can't stand that guy Peter," he added, glaring darkly as Peter joined Chris and they snuggled up down below. "You hear him talking about Chris, Shaunie?"

"I haven't heard him, but people have told me he's been talking shit," Shaun nodded, shooting glares of his own at the unknowing Peter. "If he keeps it up I might have to slap him around for a bit."

"Let us know if it's gunna go down," Jarrod told him. "We'll be right behind you."

"That's right," Brad nodded.

"Cheers, guys," Shaun said, appreciatively. "It's good to have friends who like to slap people up."

"Amen," Brad rumbled. They all stopped and watched a group of girls walk past them in the hallway. Among them was Erin, a leggy minx with a penchant for short shorts and knotting her shirt above her midriff, who batted her lashes coyly in Shaun's direction. Jarrod and Brad saw it, and they grinned; waiting until the girls were out of earshot, they let Shaun have it. "Maaaaate..." they chorused, suggestively.

"Alright, alright," said Shaun, throwing up his hands. "We all saw it – let's just let it be."

"No chance, Shaunie!" Brad told him, enveloping him in a headlock and knuckling his skull approvingly.

"It's on, mate," Jarrod reckoned. "She's up for it, for sure!"

"She's always up for it, that Erin," Brad reckoned. "At least, she's always up for it with our Shaunie..."

"Okay, okay!" Shaun cried, battling to wrest his head from Brad's armpit.

"So: are you going to hit that?" Jarrod enquired, of Shaun regarding Erin, employing the language of the day.

"Perhaps, mate, perhaps," Shaun allowed, as Brad finally freed him. "I mean, on the one hand, she's always good for it – and she's a bunch of slutty fun, too. But on the other hand, it's always so easy – just a wink and a nod in her direction and it's on. There's no chase, no thrill of the pursuit; it's almost boring."

Jarrod nodded along, taking in the pros and cons thoughtfully. "You're still gunna hit it, though, aren't you?" he pointed out.

"Oh yeah," Shaun nodded, simply. "It's better than wanking."

That split Jarrod and Brad right up, and the hall echoed with their laughter. "'Better than wanking'," Jarrod repeated, tears in his eyes. "We should print that on a t-shirt and give it to Erin! That's great!"

Shaun raised his hands. "What can I say?" he asked. "I speak nought but the truth."

*

Later at lunchtime, Bill and Therese were away at work as always, leaving Chris and Peter safe at home alone. They made a beeline for Chris's bed, where they promptly stripped down: Peter unleashed his rapidly growing cock, and Chris removed all bar her knickers. After a quick roll-around they soon found themselves in their customary position: Peter on his back on the bed, Chris astraddle Peter licking and sucking tenderly at his piece, her feet about his head and his hands caressing her thighs and buttocks.

"Mmm, baby," Peter moaned, as Chris expertly sucked at his cock. "Hey: here's an idea..."

"Hmm?" asked Chris, her mouth full.

"How about you slip off your briefs, and I get a little 'third base' action?"

"Sorry, hun," Chris asked, getting off his throbbing member for a moment. "I'm still not ready."

Peter rolled his eyes, managing to stave off an almighty groan of frustration. "But babe: I really want to!" he pleaded. "Can I at least touch you once, just for a bit?" he added, his fingers exploring up Chris's inner thighs towards that which he yearned, he craved, for so long with no reprieve.

"Nuh-uh," came Chris's negatory, her mouth full again. Peter's hands retreated momentarily, then they started to rise again; Chris made a warning noise, indicating that trouble lay that way. Peter let his hands fall again, but he wanted it so bad, the desire was so strong... his hands shot up almost of their own accord, and for the most fleeting of moments his fingertips were tucked inside her panties, and he could feel the moisture, the heat, he could feel those soft little lips – 

"AAAAAAARGH!" he screamed, as he felt teeth. Biting. Hard.

She jumped off him, and stared him down with fury. "What did I say?" she demanded of him, her breasts swaying gently and distractingly. "I told you NO!"

"I know, I know," he placated, subtly feeling around his member for blood or anything that would scar. "But baby, you're so fucking sexy, I really just couldn't help myself –"

"Get out," she told him.

He stared at her. She couldn't be serious.

"OUT!"

She was serious. "Fine," he said, his expression hardening as he got up. "Suit yourself, you frigid bitch." That proved a mistake, as he shortly found himself fleeing a barrage of bedside toys and knick-knacks, some of them made of porcelain and very painful. Safe in the hallway, he had to stop and come back.

"Could I at least have my clothes back?"

They were flung at him. "OUT!!!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" He headed for the door, hopping into his clothes as he went, getting angrier and angrier with each hop. People were gunna hear about this, he decided. He would make sure that she'd be known for the frigid cock-tease that she was.

Back in her bedroom, Christine's white-hot fury slowly eased and changed into upset. It wasn't fair. He had seemed so nice, she had really liked him... But in the end he was only interested in one thing, just like all the other girls said about all the boys. Just like Shaun had tried to warn her, all this time.

It wasn't fair. Why couldn't she find a nice guy, with whom she could feel safe, with whom she would feel ready? She was finally able to admit to herself that she didn't want to do it with Peter because she knew, deep down, he wasn't the one. She wasn't a prude, she wasn't frigid; she was a deeply sexual, sensual young woman. Part of her wanted nothing more than to just do it, to find a cock and jump on it and just come and come and come; she pleasured herself nearly every night, caressing herself as she imagined a lover's hands on her body, touching herself as she imagined a lover's cock deep inside her. But she didn't want to throw it away on just any random guy – and she was glad she never gave herself to Peter, tempted though she was.

She laid back on her bed as she heard Peter's car fire up and drive away, tyres squealing angrily. What a prick. They were all just like him at school, too. Why couldn't she find a good one?

Why weren't there more guys like Shaun?

*

Inside an abandoned storeroom at school, for which Shaun had inherited the key from a senior girl a couple of years ago (a reward for a job well done), Shaun had Erin pinned against a wall and he was fucking her like crazy.

They always went a bit wild together, him and Erin. She was 'wanton', that was the word for her; she was lithe and nimble and full of energy, she wanted it done to her and she wanted it done hard. She knew her way around a cock, too; she'd literally pull him into the storeroom and claw her way into his pants, and once she had his piece freed she'd be down on her hands and knees and sucking long, fast and hard, as though it was going out of style. She'd always get him real big and real hard, real fast, in less time than it took her to peel off her own clothes; then it would be a battle, it would be an honest wrestle to keep her from impaling herself on his cock, because he always liked to return the favour and go down on her – he loved going down on chicks, he really did, and it was usually the only chance he'd have to quietly slip on a condom in preparation for the coming fuck. 

But going down on Erin was never easy. She was always too keen to get straight into the fucking, so he would literally have to pin her down on a table and forcibly put his mouth on her cunt; she would fight and buck against his efforts, but they both knew it was just a game, because his ministrations would drive her wild and have her coming in next to no time at all. Shaun was always amazed at Erin's ability to come to orgasm almost instantaneously, and stay at orgasm for minutes on end; it must be great for her, but it took a bit of fun out of it for him. Where was the fun in making a girl come when you barely even had to touch her to make it happen?

Once he'd heard enough of Erin's carefully muted screams of pleasure (the storeroom was not far from a teacher's lounge) and he'd had his fill of her heady, sweet, gushing juices, he would get back to his feet and pick her up; she would wrap her legs about his hips, and she would lower herself slowly onto his engorged shaft, her eyes ever-widening as she descended upon him, her pussy stretching and straining around his girth. He would give her one quick thrust, to an instant strangled cry of ecstasy; they would both count silently to five, and then he'd thrust again, long and deep and hard and provoking another cry; then a count to four, thrust, cry; three, thrust, cry; two, thrust, cry; then thrust, thrust, thrust, cry, moan, scream.

The tempo would pick up as yet another orgasm took hold of her, and the fucking soon reached a fury as she descended into half-minded orgasmic madness and he tried to let it go. But it was getting boring. Yes, she was wildly, demonically slutty – which was great, in its own way – but there was no chase. There was no challenge. He liked to work to make them come, and he barely had to drop a hat to blow Erin's mind.

As he pumped away and his orgasm was nowhere to be found, he found his mind wandering – as it usually does. He found his mind drifting to other people, other fantasies; he found himself thinking of things forbidden, acts half-remembered, nightly imaginings that at once enthralled and appalled him.

He thought of Christine. 

He tried to think of nothing too lewd, nothing too explicitly sexual about his sister. He thought of her in the shower, her body wet and fantastic – her breasts just right, her hips, legs, arse and stomach curvaceous and finely sculpted, as though she had been chipped from marble by an Italian of the renaissance. He remembered the look in her eye as they exchanged their barbed banter that morning, and every morning. He remembered how she looked him up and down appraisingly as he stripped in front of her, he remembered her hand fleetingly on his arse; he fixed on that look on her face, the approving look, the look that suggested she liked seeing what she saw, and she wouldn't mind seeing more. 


Fostered Care Ch. 01



He remembered the way they used to romp around in the past, as they snuck into each others' bedrooms after bedtime: cuddles masquerading as wrestles, his hands 'accidentally' brushing her breasts or buttocks, her leg 'innocently' rubbing up against his crotch, again and again. He remembered how, once or twice, they would stop, and look into each other's eyes, and share a quick kiss; it would happen without aforethought, without a conscious decision, it was simply an expression of their love, their feelings, their desires... but nothing would come of it, they would merely settle down for a cuddle, or get back into the biff and barney, or perhaps she would rub her leg against his straining hard-on again, or even straddle her crotch hard against his thigh, and he could feel the heat of it, the warmth and wetness of Christine's pussy...

"Oh God," he said – he was coming. "Oh God. Oh God..." He instantly felt awful, like always. He hated himself for thinking of his sister like that; he loved her so much, he wanted to forget what they used to do behind closed doors, he didn't want to have those other feelings, those desires for her. If only they were 'really' brother and sister; if only they didn't know he was adopted, if only mum and dad hadn't told them that he and Christine weren't actual biological siblings. Then maybe he wouldn't think this way about her.

"Mmmmmm..." Erin moaned, as they wound down. "I love how you fuck me," she told him, with a gloriously dirty look in her eye.

Ah, good old Erin, thought Shaun as he smiled: always able to distract me. "I love how I fuck you, too," he replied, with a glint in his eye to match her own.

"We must do it again sometime," she declared, as they parted and started cleaning up.

"Oh Erin: there's just no saying 'no' to you, is there?" he said, with a pretend sigh.

"I was about to say the same about you," she grinned. They shared a few more looks of mutual naughtiness as they dressed, but Shaun couldn't help but dwell again upon the troubling thoughts he was having about Christine; thoughts he had been having for a long time, pretty well since mum and dad had sat them down for 'the talk'. He swore to himself, yet again, that he would never act upon these secret feelings and urges; he would never speak of them either, not to Chris or to anybody. They were wrong, they were disgusting, he hated himself for having them; the only thing that consoled him was his surety, his absolute assuredness, that Christine would never think of him in the same light.

*

At home, Chris was still aroused. Not because of Peter – more because she was nearly naked, the warm afternoon air and the blankets of her bed felt great upon her bare skin, and the rush of heavy petting was still upon her. She had been riled up and she required satisfaction.

There was only one thing to do.

She sprang up, still wearing only her knickers; without pause for thought, she went to Shaun's room. His bed was unmade and there were clothes strewn everywhere – it made her smile. He was such a slob, and she was always so neat and tidy; it was yet another point of difference that reminded her they weren't related by blood, only by spirit.

She went to his bed and lay down. She loved lying in Shaun's bed; it reminded her of the old days, back in simpler times, when they would rarely go to sleep without first sneaking into one or the other's room and snuggling up together, chatting into the early hours, or getting into a bit of innocent horseplay. It didn't happen anymore, not after 'the talk' – dad would kill them if they were caught together, alone, though they wouldn't be doing anything.

There was such a comforting feel about Shaun's bed – it was easy to imagine that he was there with her, snuggled up with her again. She imagined she could smell him; she turned her head on the pillow and breathed deeply, picking up the faintest traces of the styling wax he used in his hair, the deodorant he used, his more basic, natural muskiness.

She realised that her hand was already in her knickers, touching and probing at herself; she paused to pull them down and kick them away, and they fell off the end of his bed into the melee of sheets on the floor. She lay on her back, her feet up on the bed and her knees raised in the air; she revelled in the sensation, lying naked on Shaun's bed, her pussy exposed to the breeze as she touched herself gently, playfully.

It made her so wet. It must have been the naughtiness of it, the 'forbidden' side of it: playing with herself in her brother's room, on her brother's bed. She allowed herself to think on it more, remembering him naked in the bathroom that morning, the way he looked at her in the shower. He had such a great body: broad shoulders, strong legs, and a great bum – she remembered the thrill as she gave it a slap, holding her breath and bracing for possible retaliation, hoping that he would turn and try to grope her, that they might slip or bump into each other, nude on nude, skin on skin... "oh man, that feels good," she whispered as she delved deeper into herself, massaging her rock-hard clitoris and feeling the increasing wetness of her exposed cunt. 

She dwelled upon the remembered image of his cock: large, even when flaccid. He was such a big boy, always had been; even as young teens, she remembered how he would grow hard as they wrestled in bed, how she liked to straddle his leg and rub her thigh against his erection to make it grow, how he would move it away half-heartedly and how she would go after it again, without a word of it between them. A low, quivering moan escaped from her lips as she worked harder at herself, thinking of Shaun's cock, picturing how it would look when it was hard, imagining how it would feel... inside her...

She came. Hard. She came, and came, and came some more, her fingers not stopping as her moans grew into cries, into shouts and screams. She came harder and harder, not letting up, pounding at her clit without mercy and slipping two fingers into herself with her other hand, two fingers wide just like Shaun's cock, no, three fingers...

She worked away until her voice grew hoarse, and stopped only so the neighbours wouldn't call the police – which they actually had done once before, the first time Chris had treated herself, home alone, on Shaun's bed. Answering the door that day had proven a touch embarrassing. And now, as she started to slow down and her pleasure ran its course, she didn't feel any guilt or shame like Shaun had only moments before; she had long before come to terms with her feelings for her brother.

She was attracted to him. She knew it, she couldn't deny it, and she didn't always try to hide it. It was only natural, she had decided – he was a good-looking boy, very good-looking, they got on well and they loved each other, so it was only natural that she should have physical desires for him. It was primal, it was basic. There was a chemistry between her and Shaun, pure and simple; it was sometimes so thick in the air between them, she was surprised other people couldn't smell it. She was always sneaking into Shaun's bedroom and making herself come, as hard as possible, whenever she was home alone and the opportunity was there – it was a necessary release, she reasoned. Without letting it go, it would build up inside her, and maybe force her to do something inappropriate.

At the same time, she knew that 'the talk' had been necessary, and that mum and dad were absolutely right. In another time and place, in another life, Christine and Shaun would have been perfect for each other; they had a love and a chemistry that was undeniable, they would have fallen in love and had tonnes of sex and later they would have married and had lots of children and lived together happily ever after, she was sure of it. But with Shaun's parents gone and Shaun left in her parent's care, that life was out the window – now they were brother and sister, they had been raised thusly and they felt thusly, that was how it had always been and that was how it always would be. 

Their relationship as brother and sister was what counted. It was too important to risk, and if she was to allow herself to act on her desires, if she tried to – or succeeded in – seducing Shaun, the resulting awkwardness, the guilt and shame would destroy their relationship and tear their family apart. She loved and respected her parents, and she could think of nothing worse than to betray their trust and disappoint them; so she did as they asked, she did what she knew was right, she buried her desires and only let them surface during moments like this, when she was all alone and it was safe to do so. Denying her urges, trying to pretend that she didn't have them wouldn't work, didn't work. She had to recognise her urges, and deal with them as safely and harmlessly and as often as possible.

Was there a future in it, though? She was constantly asking herself that very question. How long could she keep doing this, recognising her physical attraction to Shaun but not acting on it? As long as she had to, she decided; there was sure to be another man out there for her, another man whom she could love, to whom she would be attracted to as much as she was to Shaun. She was pretty sure Brad Pitt was just such a man – pity he's already taken. And she was pretty sure Shaun would find a way to satisfy himself; he was already well-taken-care-of sexually, the little man-hussy, and it was only a matter of time before he found true love with someone else too. So that was all well and good; they were both sure to find someone else and live just as happily in the arms of others. And in the meantime, she would touch herself and think lovingly and lustfully of Shaun, and she saw no harm in it.

Christine got to her feet, and wandered off in the buff to take another shower. There was one thing she had forgotten, though: her underwear, moist at the crotch with her heady juices, hidden dangerously amongst the tangled mass of Shaun's sheets and blankets at the foot of his bed.



Fostered Care Ch. 02



Shaun arrived home that afternoon to find Christine reclining on the sofa and watching a movie, dressed in basic house clothes -- loose short shorts, cut-off tank top, no bra and probably no panties; her hair was wet, she must have had another shower, probably after a big exercise session or something. "Hey sis," he greeted.

"Hey bro," Chris greeted in kind. She had already forgotten her kinky indulgences in his bedroom barely an hour prior; she had long ago learned to quickly put such things behind her, all the better to maintain a nonchalant façade for Shaun. "So who was the lucky gal today? Was it Erin?"

Shaun stopped. "How do you know these things?" he asked.

She grinned at him. "I know you too well, my dear," she told him. "So did you get your rocks off, good and proper?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted, simply. "But what was I supposed to do? She gave me the eye -- who am I to refuse a lady?"

"Erin is no 'lady'," Christine muttered.

"Oh Chris," Shaun scolded her, moving to the kitchen to fetch a drink. "Do tell me you're not jealous of my attentions to Erin."

"Oh but I am," said Chris, making it sound like a joke. "If only it could be me..."

Shaun shook his head at her, grinning at her joking tones, and he tossed her a can of drink too. "You do like to pry though, don't you? You don't hear me asking about you and Peter, do you?" Christine's smile disappeared; Shaun picked up on it right away. "What's wrong? What did he do?"

"He tried it on," Chris said, quietly.

"WHAT? I'll fucking kill him!"

"No, it wasn't like that," Chris quickly placated him. "He had a go, but I told him no and sent him packing, he didn't get anywhere. He didn't hurt me, Shaun -- I'm fine."

"Well, still," Shaun simmered; he realised he was crushing the can in his hand, so he took a quick sip from it before it spilled over. "Nobody does that to my sis. I'll smash him one for you."

"I appreciate it, Shaun," she told him, with a smile, "but please don't. I don't want you to get into any trouble."

"Trouble? I'll snap him in two! He won't be any trouble for me," Shaun said, as a simple matter of fact.

"I know that," Chris said, rolling her eyes. "I'm more worried about when Peter comes out of his coma and sends the cops after you."

"Better make sure he doesn't wake up then," Shaun replied, with a wink; she realised he was joking around, so she gave him a smile. He sat down next to her, and she snuggled up under his arm for a hug.

"I appreciate it, you know," she told him, softly.

"Hmm?"

"I appreciate you sticking up for me. You always have, you've always been there for me, and I've always appreciated it. I'm not sure if I ever told you before."

"Oh, don't worry about it," he dismissed, squeezing her a bit tighter. "That's what a good brother does: he sticks up for his little sister."

"Hey: I am older than you, you know."

"Yeah, but you're shorter than me too, so you're my li'l sis, says I. And I'll always stand by you, because that's what a good brother should do." 'And what he shouldn't do,' he thought with a pang of guilt, 'is think about his little sister while he's fucking some other girl he doesn't really like. God, I'm a terrible person.'

Chris didn't hear his thoughts, but she found his spoken sentiments really lovely and touching. She was about to tell him that she loved him -- something she told him often, every chance she got -- but a car door slammed outside and he leapt guiltily to his feet. "It's just mum, home from work," she said.

"Yeah, but... well, you know." Shaun had really taken their mum and dad's 'talk' with them very seriously, and he seemed to live with the perpetual fear of raising their suspicions or meeting their disapproval -- whenever he and Chris were home alone, Shaun made a point of being at the other end of the house before their parents got home, and so he moved quickly to his bedroom. 

Chris sighed; that brother of hers sure did get uptight sometimes. * * * Safely shut away in his bedroom, Shaun sighed in relief. It felt nice to sit with Christine on the couch and have a little snuggle, just like old times, but he could only imagine how that would look if Therese walked in on them alone like that. He couldn't bear to imagine the look on his mum's face if she saw that.

Alone in his bedroom, he decided he ought to be doing something, anything; if his mum was to walk in on him, he didn't want it to look like he was hiding from her. What to do, what to do... 'well, maybe it's time I did some tidying-up,' he thought. 'She's always bugging me to clean my room, I'm sure she'd like that.'

So he got into it, and he began sorting his 'dirty' clothes from his 'not quite dirty yet' clothes and his 'I think mum just washed these and she'd probably want them in the wardrobe' clothes. After twenty minutes of that task and nowhere near finished, he took a break and started making his bed for a bit of variety; fluffing out the sheets, he was surprised to see a white pair of underwear float free.

'I didn't know I had white grundies,' he thought, with a curious frown for the mysterious pair. He bent down to pick them up, and dropped them nearly straight away -- they were wet! What's going on? Hang on... are those...?

He couldn't believe what he saw. It was a pair of Christine's knickers. There was no denying it -- they were girl's briefs, and they were white like most of Chris's underwear; when he had picked them up he had grabbed them near the crotch without thinking, and now he was dealing with the realisation that there was a pair of his sister's underwear, freshly moistened, recently nestled amongst his bedsheets.

'Well...' he thought. 'I guess... I guess I'd better give them back.' But how did they get here? When did they get here? They weren't in his bed this morning or last night -- he would have found them if they were. Chris had been home alone after she had sent Peter packing; what had she been up to? Had she been in his room? If she had -- why did she leave her knickers in here?

He had to discuss this with her. Didn't he? What if he did -- what would she say, how would she react -- would she deny it, would she think he had been stealing her undies? What if he didn't talk about it with her -- he would be stuck forever wondering why her undies were in his bedroom, in his bed, moist at the crotch... His mind barely flitted over the possible explanations, prompting a sudden swelling in his pants. Ah crap.

First thing's first: he had to stop thinking like that. Then he had to hide the offending garment. Then he had to find an opportunity to discuss this with his sister. In private.

'Oh man,' he thought again, gingerly picking up the knickers and slipping them into a pocket, valiantly defeating the urge to sniff the smell of Christine's moistened crotch; he imagined he could smell them even at arm's length, a sweet smell, an awfully enticing smell... 'Oh man,' he thought again. 'What the fuck is going on?' * * * Along came dinnertime, and with Chris's underwear secreted in his pocket, Shaun tried to act natural. Bill got home from work just in time for the meal, and he asked everyone about their day, remembering all the details they had told him the night before: he asked Shaun about his Physics assessment, which Shaun reported as going better than he'd expected; Bill asked Chris what she got up to this afternoon with gym class off -- she said she came home and studied, an outright lie that made Shaun grin derisively, even despite his troubling thoughts. She glared at him in reply, but their dad was busy hoeing into mum's famous meatloaf so he was blind to their silent exchange.

Dinner was proclaimed a resounding success by all, to Therese's quiet pride, and Shaun and Chris were deemed the dish-scrubbers for the evening. Therese and Bill brought them all the plates off the table and then they went to watch TV, giving Shaun his chance to speak privately with his sister as they scrubbed at the pots, pans and plates.

"Listen, Chris," he began. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said.

He reached into his pocket, and she boggled to see him holding a pair of her knickers. "I found these today."

"Where?" she asked, taking them from him; as she asked she foresaw the answer, and a knot of nerves formed in her stomach.

"They were in my bed," he whispered, looking over his shoulder to assure himself they were safely alone.

"Really?" she asked, not knowing what else to say, trying to stall for time while she thought ahead, tried to think up an explanation.

"Yeah," he nodded, seriously. "And Chris, they were... they were..."

She looked at him. "They were what?" she asked, in a small voice.

He couldn't say it. He simply couldn't bring himself to say, "Chris, your panties were in my bed, and they were wet" -- he loved her too much to do that to her, to put her in that position, and quite frankly he was afraid to learn the reason for their wetness. He shook his head instead. "How could they have gotten there?" he asked. "Can you imagine what mum would have said if she'd found them there? Your undies, in my bed?"

"She would have flipped right out," Christine agreed. "And she would have told dad, and we would have copped another 'talk'."

"And that's if they didn't run my arse right out of the house -- they'd think I'd stolen them from you, or... or..." Or they'd think something else, that he couldn't even bring himself to say.

"Shaun, they would never think that, they would never kick you out," Chris assured him, seeing what he left unsaid, her heart thrilling at the forbidden concept. "They love you too much, Shaun -- we all do."

"Well, maybe," Shaun replied, unconvinced that dad wouldn't throw his sorry arse to the kerbside. "But your knickers, Chris: how could they have gotten there, in my bed?"

Christine thought, for barely a second, before an answer presented itself. It was a lie, and she didn't want to lie to him; she loved him, and part of her wanted to tell him the truth, part of her wanted to explain how she sometimes masturbated in his bed and thought about him because she loved him and she wanted him and she couldn't help it but it was okay, it was only natural because we're not really brother and sister because you're adopted, but that doesn't matter because we'll never do anything together because we know we shouldn't and we're strong enough to fight it, we can fight the urge -- can't we? But she couldn't say that, she didn't have the courage to say it -- what if his answer was 'my God, you're disgusting, get away from me...' Or what if he said 'no, I can't fight it... I don't want to fight it... I want to be with you...' What then? Could she have stayed strong, could she tell him no? She didn't know if she could; she couldn't risk it, so instead she said, "Peter must have done it."

Shaun blinked. "Peter..." he said, as her answer sunk in; he reeled as it hit home, as though he had been dealt a bodily blow. "Peter?" was all he could say.

She nodded, sadly, feeling the formation of tears. "He... he must have got them... he must have thrown them in there just after I sent him packing. He must have tried to get you in trouble."

"But..." 'But they were wet,' Shaun thought. 'Peter got you wet? And then he got your undies off you? And only then did you send him home? Did you really send him home -- or did you...' He had to look away for a second, so he could blink away tears of his own: tears of jealousy, outrage, hurt.

"Shaun..." she said; his back turned to her nearly broke her heart, and she tried to get him to turn back. "Shaun... I sent him home. We didn't do anything. We didn't! I swear! Shaun, look at me -- I swear it!"

Shaun looked at her, and saw the truth in her eyes, the desperate honesty -- she'd done nothing with Peter, he knew it now, and he took relief in it, and she was relieved like never before as she saw him accept her word. "I'm sorry, Shaun," she told him, as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She was sorry to have disappointed him, but she was sorrier to have lied to him -- she wanted him to know how she really felt, she was desperate for him to know, but she was afraid to tell him and she hated herself for it. "I'm so sorry..." 

Shaun said nothing; he merely grabbed her and held her in a hug, soothing and comforting as Christine cried hard. As they held each other, Bill walked in on them. "What's going on?" he frowned. 

Shaun jumped, but Christine held him tight; she would not let him go, she would not let him step away and look guilty. It was okay. They were doing nothing wrong, dammit. "Oh Dad," she sniffed. "I broke up with Peter today."

Bill's face fell. "Oh honey..." he said, and Shaun caught on to Chris's ploy -- so far as their dad knew, they were hugging because Chris was upset over the break-up, and Shaun was merely comforting her like a good brother would. Bill came over and joined in the hug for a little while; "Oh Chris..." he said again, "I know it hurts now, but the hurt will pass with time. I promise it will." 

They broke it up, and having reassured his daughter, Bill turned and fixed Shaun with a look of pride. "You're a good man, Shaunie boy," he told him. "You're a good man, and a great brother -- it's great to know that you'll always be there for your sister. You do yourself proud, mate."

"Thanks, dad," Shaun mumbled -- he didn't agree with Bill's assessment, but he wasn't about to speak up.

"I reckon," their dad told them, "that a time like this calls for ice cream. Whaddaya say?"

Christine smiled, and laughed a little through her tears. "Sounds good, dad," she said.

"Okay then: I'll finish these dishes, and you kids can serve it up. I want to see big scoops in big bowls -- and don't forget your mother!"

Shaun and Chris voiced an affirmative, and as Bill got into the dishes they shared a look. Christine reached for Shaun's hand, her face asking if he was alright, if they were okay; Shaun grasped her hand and held it shortly, giving her a nod. They were fine.

Christine sighed happily, and went to grab some bowls from the cupboard. As she did, she shuddered with reaction and relief. How close was that? How lucky was she? If she hadn't thought any quicker, if the truth had come out... oh, if only he could know! She wished he could know how much she loved him, how she yearned for him, how she only wanted to hold him and be with him... But he couldn't know. He could never know. It was too dangerous. If the truth had come out, it could have blown up in her face, and destroyed their friendship, their siblinghood, their family, forever. And she would do anything, say anything, tell any lie to avoid that risk.

She sighed again, silently railing at the unfairness of the universe. If only things were different... * * * Another day came. Chris got to the shower first, yet again; she waited, and waited, and waited extra-long, but Shaun didn't join her in the bathroom that day. She was silently disappointed; she loved starting out her day with a bit of low-key flirting and mutual perving. It was always a bad day when she missed out. But Shaun seemed to need some space, so she glumly accepted it and got out of the shower.

Shaun loved starting his day with the sight of Christine in the shower too, but he held back, doing everything else in his morning routine until she left the bathroom before going in for his shower. It wasn't that he needed space; rather, he felt he should leave Chris some space. He felt he had been thinking unseemly thoughts about her too often of late, so he decided to back off. It was bad enough he was thinking about her while fucking someone else, but with the discovery of the misplaced panties, he had found himself putting unseemly intentions upon Chris; he was appalled to find himself thinking that Chris may have been in his room, may have been in his bed, lying naked, touching his things, touching herself, getting herself wet, deliberately leaving her undies behind as a hint, to tease him, to work him up, to let him know what she was doing and how she wanted him... No! She was his sister, for fuck's sake! Sisters don't do that! Especially not Christine. 'Get a grip, man!' he berated himself.

He left the house a bit later than Chris, and caught a different bus in to school, getting there a tiny bit late for his French class. Now here was a welcome distraction: French was a favourite for Shaun, mostly because his teacher -- Ms Tiann -- was a feisty young thing, sexy and exotic, of a Vietnamese background. She had a great figure, slim and lithe; her legs long, her breasts large for her frame; her skin possessed of that lovely honey-coloured sheen that her race were blessed with. She was forever giving Shaun sultry looks on the sly, flirting with him so subtly that, most of the time, he thought he was imagining it; not, however, when she leaned right over his shoulder to check his work, her head nestled right up next to his, and he could smell her, feel her heat, sense the electricity between them. He sometimes fancied that she was only waiting for him to turn eighteen, so she could legally have her wicked way with him; but he knew it was more complicated than that, she was his teacher and he was her student, and that sort of dalliance was greatly frowned upon by all.

"Monsieur Shaun!" Ms Tiann scolded, as he strolled into class ten minutes late. "You are late, garcon!"

Shaun blinked. "Jes suis... desolet?" he tried.

"Don't you go and think you can Frenchify your way out of this," she returned fire. "I'll see you for detention at lunchtime, Monsieur Shaun!"

"Damn," whispered Brad, as Shaun took his customary seat next to his mate and Ms Tiann got back to her lesson. "What's up her bum?"

"I dunno," Shaun replied, sotto voce. "But if she's taking suggestions..."

They tried not to snigger, but they failed, again raising Ms Tiann's ire. "Monsieur Shaun!!"

"Desolet, jes suis desolet," Shaun decried, hands raised. * * * Lunchtime rolled around, and for Shaun it brought detention; he walked into Ms Tiann's classroom to find her alone. "I'm the only naughty boy today?" he observed.

"That's right," she confirmed. "Take a seat, thanks." He did so, and couldn't help but notice as Ms Tiann went to the door, shut it, and locked it.

"So, Monsieur Shaun," she said, sauntering over to his desk like a cat on the prowl: Shaun could almost imagine a fluffy feline tail trailing behind her, twitching playfully. "You think you're pretty cute, don't you?"

Shaun blinked. "I'm sorry?" he said.

"I said: you think you're pretty cute," Ms Tiann repeated herself, and as she walked towards him Shaun tried his best not to notice how long, how smooth and silken her legs were, or how short her skirt suddenly seemed to be, or how many buttons appeared to be undone at the top of her shirt -- noticing those things on a teacher wasn't necessarily a wise move. "Don't you?"

"Aww, gee," he replied, as she took a seat upon his desk. "Well," he added, unable to wrest his eyes from the long, smooth legs that were almost in his lap, "I guess I'd say I'm about half-decent, I suppose --"

"Don't lie," she said, simply; her hands were behind her on the desk as she leaned back a little bit, fixing him in the eye, seemingly daring him to look at her perky breasts as they strained against her button-down top. "You back yourself, don't you? You're pretty self-confident; pretty popular with the ladies..."

She seemed keen for an affirmative answer and not interested in modesty, so Shaun modified his approach. "I've had a few wins in my time," he allowed.

"So I hear," nodded Ms Tiann, with a growing grin. "Your reputation precedes you among the faculty, Monsieur Shaun. We all know about your little dalliances, your extra-curricular activities..."

Shaun blinked -- they did? "Oh," was all he had to say to that.




Fostered Care Ch. 02



"And I have to admit: some of us younger ladies in the teaching staff have been following your antics with quite some interest, too," Ms Tiann went on. "And during Friday arvo drinks, we sometimes get together and talk about That Great Day, when Monsieur Shaun shall turn eighteen and it will be perfectly legal for us to have our wicked way with him... We've even put a case of beer on it, a cheeky little bet to see who manages to have him first."

Shaun was stunned. Friday arvo drinks? Teachers... getting drunk? Talking about sex? And talking about him? He had no idea. It never even occurred to him that teachers did the same stuff as regular humans, like drinking, or betting, or fucking...

"And I hear tell," Ms Tiann continued, "that you recently had quite a bash for your eighteenth birthday." She paused, pointedly. "Is that right?"

Shaun could not tell a lie: "As a matter of fact," he said, "my eighteenth birthday party was quite the bash indeed. I'm sorry I didn't think to invite you..." he added, risking a cheeky grin.

The cheeky approach appeared to go down extremely well with Ms Tiann: her nostrils flared, and her gaze sharpened to a heated point. "You..." she breathed, moving in on him. "You, Monsieur Shaun, are totally..." she added, laying two very hot palms on his chest, "...utterly..." a leg swung over his head and they were suddenly about him, giving him the briefest impression that she wore little in the way of underwear beneath that short skirt, slipping off the desk and into his lap "...wicked."

Their lips met, followed shortly by a meeting of the rest of them: she grasped at his hair with both hands, he enveloped her slender frame with his powerful arms, and they kissed and caressed each other with a fiery passion. She tore at his shirt, sending more than a few buttons flying, and she reached in to run her fingers over his chest; he traced a trail of kisses down the exposed, honey-coloured skin of her neck and shoulders, his hands reaching about to the backs of her legs before moving up to cup her bare buttocks.

His touch sent her crazy, and young Ms Tiann snarled like a wild thing, pushing him roughly to the floor. He rubbed gingerly at where he had banged the back of his head; he looked up, and revelled in her splendour as she stripped for him, slowly, seductively, ever so sexily -- the shirt, unbuttoned, gone; the bra, unhooked, gone; the skirt, unzipped, gone; there was actually a g-string under there after all, but it was gone in good time too. As she stripped, he stripped for her as well, shrugging out of the tattered remnants of his shirt, whipping off his belt and his pants and his jocks as well. Her eyes widened at the sight of his growing member, and her lips curled into an awfully cat-like grin. "I like..." she simply said; then she did an about-face, and before he could blink she was sitting on his face, his cock half-way down her throat.

'Oh,' he thought. 'I'm having a sixty-nine with my French teacher.' He considered it for another second, before deciding: 'Tres bon!' 

And he lapped greedily at her sweet, tight little hole, sending little tremors up and down her body as he ran his hands up and down her bare back and along her long, luscious legs. She took his cock right in to her mouth, deep-throating his full length -- it was an incredible sensation, new to him too, as he had never before met a girl who could take in his full length: the muscles of her throat clasping and massaging the head of his cock, her lips and tongue lapping and teasing at his shaft, up and down, from the head right to the base. He never knew such a thing was possible, and he found it difficult to concentrate upon his task as she slowly drove him to distraction; but as he gently lashed at her hot sweetness, licking and lapping and drinking up the prodigious flow of her juices, he soon he felt her falter. She had to withdraw his length from her throat as her cries grew louder and more frantic, and she tipped her head back and lost control, sinking her claw-like nails into his thighs and crying out as he lashed her without pause and made her come and kept her coming, not letting up, refusing to give her reprieve; to her credit she stayed there, she stayed firmly planted upon his face and took all he dished out for her, coming harder and harder as he did furious little figures-of-eight around her clit and probed at her cunt with his tongue. Finally she could stand it no more, and she clambered off his face, rounding on him with ferocious speed.

"I have to have you," she growled: it was a guttural, uncontrolled noise. "I have to have you now!"

"Yes ma'am!" he said -- he'd had the condom ready, and it was unfurled upon his member even as he said it.

She kept him pinned to the floor, lined him up expertly, and impaled herself upon him with one smooth motion that made both of their eyes flash wide. "Oh my..." she said, her eyes rolling back for a moment, before regaining some control and fixing him with a piercing gaze. "Why is it..." she said, as she went up and down upon him, hard and fast, just once "...that it's always the horny teenagers..." she went up and down, along his full length, hard and fast again "...who have the biggest cocks?"

He looked at her, mulling over the question. "So I'm not your first naughty student, then?" he observed.

She realised she had said too much, and she went a bit coy. "Maybe..." she hazarded. "Or maybe not."

"Fair enough," he nodded. He didn't mind discovering that he wasn't the first student she had seduced. In fact, it spurred him on, and he resolved to be the best pupil she'd ever had -- without warning, he flipped her and pinned her to the floor. She whooped with surprise, but she laughed, and then she bit into his shoulder blade as he pulled back and pumped back into her.

"Oh my," she said again, as he did it again. "Oh my," she repeated, as he did it yet again. "You're a big, big boy, Monsieur Shaun..."

"Why thank you," he replied, with a wink. "And you, Ms Tiann..." he added, as he worked at her again "...are very hot..." he pumped her again, earning a wonderful gasp of pleasure "...and awfully wet..." another pump, another gasp, another bite on the shoulder and a rake of her claws down his back "...and so very, very tight..."

Another pump pushed her over the edge, and with a long, drawn out cry of "ohhhhhh..." she came again, and kept coming as he pumped, and pumped, and pumped -- and she came, and came, and came. Classroom chairs and tables toppled and were pushed out of the way as limbs flailed and they rolled about, each trying to better the other and score the treasured position on top; but Ms Tiann was a very light, slight creature, so Shaun had no trouble grabbing her, standing up, carrying her to the front of the room -- even as she rode up and down upon him, still coming like the thunder -- and he laid her over the teacher's desk, and slammed her ever harder, deeper, faster, her orgasm climbing ever higher and his own pleasure building and mounting, until she screamed like never before and he came with a massive jolt and a heavy groaning sigh, and he came, and he came some more, until they were both finally spent.

"Oh man," he gasped. "Oh wow," he added. "Fuck me -- that was AWESOME," he enthused.

She ran her fingers lightly across his back, checking to see if she had gouged him too deeply with her clawing pleasure. "Monsieur Shaun," she breathed, fixing him in the eye, "you are a revelation! I mean, I'd heard you were good, but -- oh my," she said again, laying back and giving in as he showered a rain of kisses down her neck and -- as he withdrew -- down her shoulders, chest and stomach.

As he did so, he looked out the window, and froze. Ms Tiann's room was on an upper floor of the languages building, with an upper room of the English building opposite; they had assumed that the room opposite was empty for lunch, but as Ms Tiann looked too they saw three or four girls from a junior year staring at them, mouths opened, stunned.

Shaun blinked. "Whoops," was all he could say. 



Fostered Care Ch. 03



Shaun and Ms Tiann, under the shocked, unrelenting stares of the younger students who had watched the entirety of their heated exchange, quickly got dressed and went their separate ways. They refused to acknowledge the girls, hoping that perhaps they might go away and that would be the end of it. But news travels fast in high school, and by the time Shaun had tidied himself up and joined his mates on the window sill upstairs in the maths building, the story had reached Brad and Jarrod.

"Shaunie," Jarrod greeted Shaun's arrival, nonchalantly.

"Shaunie," Brad echoed, with a nod and a neutral expression.

Shaun looked warily at the both of them. "Lads," he greeted in return.

There was a short pause, as they looked at him and he looked at them. "So..." said Brad. "We hear you had fun in detention, mate." 

They carefully scrutinised Shaun's reaction; he saw them doing it, so he tried to arrange his face into a blank look of incomprehension. "I have no idea what you mean," he tried.

His pretence was more transparent than a polished glass window, and they saw right through it. "Maaaaate!" they cheered, approvingly, triumphantly.

"Nothing happened," he decried, trying to shush them; other people within earshot also had heard the story, and they were looking at him too. "Nothing happened," he added, for the rest of them. "I don't know who's been saying what, but NOTHING HAPPENED."

"Denying all charges, eh mate?" Jarrod winked.

"Bloody oath!" Shaun affirmed. "Nothing happened, I say! And that's final! Ms Tiann's a nice lady, guys -- she doesn't deserve the shit that sort of talk might get her into."

"Maybe so," said Brad. "But mate, everybody knows your track record -- no-one's going to believe you if you say you DIDN'T have sex with someone. Especially with so many of your buttons missing," he added, with a wink for the wise.

Shaun looked down, and he remembered Ms Tiann's frenzied efforts to undress him. "Fuck's sake," he muttered; he looked to Jarrod. "Loan us your jumper, will ya mate?"

"Sure thing, Shaunie boy," Jarrod grinned, taking it off and handing it over.

With the jumper on and the torn-up state of his shirt thusly hidden, Shaun closed his eyes and banged his head against the window with exasperation. "This isn't good," he said quietly. "I don't want to get Ms Tiann in trouble."

"Well, never mind that," Jarrod told him, with more serious tones. "We're hearing tell that Peter's talking more shit about your sister."

Shaun rounded on him. "He better not be," he said, warningly. "Not today, mate. Not right now. He really, REALLY doesn't want to be talking shit about Christine right now."

"Shaunie boy: we're your friends," Jarrod went on, by way of preparation for his next statement. "So we really have no choice but to tell you: we're hearing that he's using the words 'frigid' and 'cock-tease'. He's telling everyone that she led him on and dumped his arse unfairly."

Shaun's expression hardened, very quickly. "He's dead," was all he said -- and he was off, heading for the spot out in the field where he knew Peter and his mates liked to hang out. Without pause, Jarrod and Brad were in step behind him, all the way. * * * As Shaun approached Peter, unseen as yet, he could see the look on Peter's face as he talked with his mates. Shaun knew straight away: he was talking shit about Chris. He could see it a mile off.

He never liked Peter; never once in his life did Shaun see anything to like in Peter, even before Chris had hooked up with him. Peter forever had a smug, prattish look about him, as though he was always ready with something petty and childish on the tip of his tongue with which to put you down. 

Shaun never understood what Christine used to see in Peter. She had said he was different around her, he was sweeter and kinder and loving, she said his crude cynical exterior was just a defensive shell that she could get through, and it had endeared him to her. Shaun had tried once or twice to help her see reason, that beneath his crude cynical shell was nothing more than a crude cynical idiot; but it had always hurt her and she had resented him saying it, so he tried not to say it too often. But now Shaun had been proven right, Peter had revealed his true intentions and he had upset her immensely, making her feel a fool for trusting him; and there he was, bragging about it to his friends, digging a deeper hole for himself as he talked shit some more. One of Peter's many cronies made a gesture of warning, and Peter rounded to see Shaun closing in on him with Brad and Jarrod not far behind.

"Ah, Shaunie boy," Peter greeted, with a derisive smile -- Shaun hated when Peter called him 'Shaunie boy'. It was a title reserved only for the use of Shaun's friends and family, and Peter fell well outside both categories. "I hear tell you had a dig at Ms Tiann -- nice work, son."

"Nothing but shit, mate," Shaun told him of the rumours. "But I hear tell you've been mouthing off about my sister -- and I hope that's nothing but shit too," he added, dangerously.

"No no, Shaunie boy -- it's all true, every word," Peter replied, not backing down, looking brave with his rippling backup of a half-dozen thuggish contemporaries.

"So you have been talking shit about Chris," said Shaun.

"That's right," Peter confirmed; a crowd was gathering, so he wasn't going to back down anytime soon.

"So go on, then," Shaun invited. "What have you got to say? What is it about my sister with which you take issue?" 'Go on,' he told Peter, using only his eyes. 'I dare you. I dare you to say it to my face. I fucking DARE you.'

Shaun's unspoken message was not lost on Peter. He paused, only momentarily; Shaun had always had a dangerous air about him, and though Peter's posse outnumbered Shaun's, he knew Jarrod to be a devious little fighter and Brad's sheer size and strength was utterly unmistakable. But the crowd grew larger, and he wasn't willing to back down, so he stepped up. "Well," he began, simply, in an offhand manner. "All I've been saying is: Christine can be a lot of fun, and she'll happily lead you along and get your hopes right up... but when it comes to the crunch, she shuts up shop and shoots you down."

Shaun scanned Peter's statement, checking for anything that provided cause to give him a good solid thumping -- but it was relatively clean. "So you say," he replied. "But maybe you think a little too much of yourself, mate. Maybe you've been seeing things that aren't there. Reading into 'signs' that she wasn't really giving you."

"Aww, I dunno," said Peter, looking to his mates with a grin. "I mean, you'd think her mouth on my cock would be a pretty clear 'sign'..."

'There it is,' thought Shaun, and he reared back.

"...but then she'd --" Peter continued as he turned back to Shaun, and found himself looking right into Shaun's balled fist. Peter reeled against the blow, and suddenly it was on: Peter's mates charged in, Jarrod and Brad charged in, and the air was thick with flying punches and wild-eyed glares.

Shaun was no stranger to a fight; he'd always had little patience for people talking shit about himself, his friends or family, and he'd settled more than one argument in his time with a good solid stomping. It hadn't taken him long to learn the basic rules of fighting: knock them down nice and quick, without ceremony or circumstance or any cares for 'fighting clean'. If you didn't take them down and take them down properly, they only got angrier and hit back harder. So he learned to hit them so hard the first time, there would be no reply.

Two of Peter's burly friends came at him -- one was dealt with through a crunching blow to the larynx, the other copped a knee to the groin, and they both fell away. Brad cleaned up another two of them, leaving one thug each for Brad and Jarrod to keep occupied. Shaun was free to concentrate on Peter, who was recovering from the surprise attack and had murder in his eye.

"Anything else to say, fuckwit?" Shaun invited.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Peter announced, most imaginatively. He rushed in at Shaun -- never a wise move; Shaun liked it when they came at him, and he tried to land an open-handed punch square into Peter's guts. But Peter managed to crumple away from the body-blow, keeping a hold of most of his wind, and he retaliated with a crunching punch aimed up Shaun's nostrils.

"Ugh!" Shaun grunted, tasting blood as it coursed down his upper lip. "You'll regret that, shithead," he forecasted.

"You're a dirty little fucker, aren't you, Shaunie boy?" Peter returned, as they circled each other, ignoring the cheers and encouragement of the gathered crowd. "You always were jealous of Christine and me, right from the start."

Shaun's eyes narrowed, and against his better judgement he lunged; Peter sidestepped, and sank an elbow into the back of Shaun's skull. "See?" Peter crowed, as Shaun staggered, turned and recovered. "You never could stand the sight of us together -- it's clear to see, plain as day!"

"You couldn't see a lump of shit at the end of your nose, moron," Shaun growled.

"I see plenty, Shaunie boy," Peter disagreed, dancing around Shaun like a wannabe-boxer. "I know you, mate. I know you like to fuck around, and you were always scoring with all the senior girls, and these days you're hitting up all the sluts in our class and now it's the horny teachers -- but I know that's not what you want, it was never what you really wanted. I know you, mate -- I know that, all this time, you secretly wanted what I had. You sick fuck -- you wanted to fuck your sister!"

Shaun's sizzling, seething haze of anger and hatred suddenly came to a sharply-focussed point -- forged into shape by the hammersmith's blow of Peter's ugly, sullen, hateful declaration. Shaun moved with speed, quicker than Peter was prepared for, his hand shooting outwards like a brick on a coiled spring; it collected Peter upside his jaw, snapping his entire head backwards with the sudden fury of the impact. The lights went out and Peter dropped, crumpling to the ground like a sack full of tripe. But Shaun's rage was not spent: he stepped over Peter and started stomping, stomping, stomping, grunting "fucker. Fucker! Fucker!!"

"Shaunie! Shaunie!!" came a cry, and Brad and Jarrod were upon him, pulling him backwards before he did any more damage. "He's done now, Shaun," Brad told him. "He's not saying anything more, mate: trust me."

Shaun breathed hard, gasping and heaving, surprised and alarmed and a little scared at the enormity of his reaction to what Peter had said about him and his sister. He looked about at the crowd, the fury still in his eye; they took a half-step back, wide-eyed and fearful at the instinctive, animalistic response they had witnessed.

Shaun took a deep, steadying breath. He looked out upon the crowd again, calmer now, but with a slow-burning simmering rage still upon his brow. "Is there anyone else?" he bellowed. "Is there anyone else, who has shit to say, about me or my sister?"

The crowd's response was a deafening silence.

"Let it be known," Shaun announced, "that I will not hear another word spoken against the good name of my sister. And let it also be known: if there are ANY more sick fucks among you... if ANY of you are deranged and twisted enough to talk the way this sick fuck talked..." he glowered upon them all "...then I'll put you down like I put this one down." He cast one final glare of righteous indignation across the crowd, and he turned and left, the encircling ensemble breaking quickly to allow his passage. * * * If further proof was required of news travelling fast in high school, it came as Shaun found himself sitting opposite Mrs Whitmire -- the principal -- in her office, less than ten minutes later. She passed him a box of tissues. "Clean yourself up," she instructed. "I don't want blood dripping on my ledgers."

Shaun said nothing, as he followed her instruction.

"Shaun Angus Cleary," sighed Mrs Whitmire -- and he knew he was in for it, right then. With Mrs Whitmire, first name plus last name meant mild trouble; first name plus middle name plus last name meant trouble most dire. She must spend her evenings memorizing the middle names of the entire school population, in preparation for such encounters. "I appreciate that you had a bone of contention with Peter," she said, calmly. "And I appreciate that he goaded you into the fight. I also appreciate that he was saying unkind things about your sister -- but honestly, Shaun: did you really have to put him in hospital?"

"Putting him in hospital," Shaun rumbled, "was not my intention." 'Putting him deep in the ground was my intention,' was his afterthought.

Mrs Whitmire fixed The Look on him -- The Look was famous and feared throughout the school, it was all angry blue eyes and blazing red eyebrows, and more often than not it put a quick end to cheeky comebacks from snivelling teenagers. But Shaun had a decent pair of blazing eyebrows of his own, and as they returned fire they reminded Mrs Whitmire of Shaun's strength of character, his conviction and steadfastness in the face of a challenge; this one could not be stared down. "You listen to me," she said instead. "Your behaviour today was totally unacceptable. It is a criminal act! It's called 'assault', boy! You could well be charged for this."

Shaun said nothing.

"And as if that wasn't bad enough," Mrs Whitmire continued, "now I'm hearing rumours of inappropriate behaviour between you and Ms Tiann from the languages department!"

Shaun saw that one coming, and he resolved to nip it in the bud. "I've heard the same rumours," he frowned. "And I'm telling you, right now: they are all complete, utter lies. Lies and vilifications. Vicious slurs against me, and unfairly involving Ms Tiann, who has done nothing wrong."

Mrs Whitmire watched him carefully, trying to make him sweat, trying to bully the truth out of him because she had no other way to confirm the allegations -- but Shaun could lie very well when he absolutely had to, especially when the consequences were so dire. "Very well then," she allowed. "But you do realise where this sort of talk is coming from, don't you? Talk of your many and varied 'conquests' is rife among this school, Shaun -- I hear it even from this office, and heaven above knows that I barely hear five per cent of what is said out there. It might all be fun and games for you now, but there's no future in it, Shaun. And I'm sure you realise that the satisfaction in it is fleeting, at best."

Shaun said nothing to that, too. What was this? He was copping a 'stop shagging around' lecture from the principal? What the fuck was the world coming to?

"My suggestion," she continued, "is to pull your head in. Start behaving like a responsible member of society -- for you're not long for this school, Shaun; your graduation is fast approaching, and it's high time you modified your behaviour in preparation for the real world. Start treating others -- and yourself -- with the respect you and they deserve. Settle down, get a hobby, focus on your studies; whatever it takes, whatever you need to do to break this cycle of behaviour. You've got five days suspension for your treatment of Peter -- that's an excellent opportunity for you to evaluate, take stock, and make a difference."

"Five days?" Shaun winced; mum and dad weren't going to be thrilled with that.

"Five days is the least you owe me, for the trouble I'll have in convincing Peter's parents not to press charges," Mrs Whitmire told him, sternly.

Shaun relented. "Well, I appreciate that, Mrs Whitmire," he told her. "I appreciate you stepping up to bat for me."

"That's what principals do," she shrugged. "Now go on, get out of here. Call your parents and go home. And try to control yourself!" she added, calling after him as he left.

Just outside the office, Shaun saw Ms Tiann, and realised that she must have been there for her share of the grilling. She looked aghast at herself, and scared for her future; she could hardly look at him. "It's okay," he whispered. "I told her nothing happened -- she believed me. Stick it out, you'll be fine."

Ms Tiann nodded bravely. "Thanks Shaun," she whispered, as he went on his way. * * * Bill picked him up to take him home, and Shaun tried to weather out the expected tirade during the ride; once he was dropped at home there was the phone call from mum, and a similar tirade backed up by a bit of crying and disappointment on her behalf, which was most effective in making him feel like a right proper heel. The situation was little improved when Christine came home after school with her two best friends, Sherrie and Taylor, in tow. They had all heard about his row with Peter, and upon seeing Shaun they wore expressions of concern at the bruised and bloodied state of his face.

"It's alright," he told them, grimly. "You should see the other guy."

"Can you guys give us a minute?" Chris asked her friends, who graciously headed upstairs and gave them some space. 

"Sherrie and Taylor here for a sleep-over?" said Shaun, an observation more than a question.

"They've come to cheer me up and keep me company, after the break-up," she confirmed. She looked at him. "I asked you not to fight him, you know," she reminded him.

"I know," he said. "But he was talking shit about you. And then he started talking shit about... well, about you and me..."

"So what?" she shrugged, frowning. "Who'd believe what he was saying about me -- who cares if I am or aren't a cock-tease? What difference would it make to anyone? And he only said what he said about you and me because you were in his face; if you'd left well-enough alone --"

"I don't believe this," Shaun interjected. "You've dumped his sorry arse, but you're still sticking up for him."

"I'm not sticking up for him," she retorted. "He's a dickhead, and he did me wrong -- don't you think I'm forgetting that. But quite frankly, Shaun: you acted like a dickhead too, marching off to thump the shit out of him. Two wrongs don't make a right," she reminded him, echoing one of their father's favourite maxims.

Shaun rolled his eyes. "Well, thumping him made me feel better," he mumbled.

"Did it?" she asked, unbelieving. "Did it really? And now they're talking about you and your French teacher --"

"I don't want to hear it," Shaun said, stopping her early. "If it's alright by you, I really don't feel like another third degree about Ms Tiann."

"Is it true?" Chris asked, simply, hands on hips.

He looked at her; he may have been a good liar to everyone else, but he could never lie properly to her, he could never get his face right. So he said nothing, and she saw his answer. "It is true," she saw, disappointedly.

"Oh come on, Chris," he implored of her. "You know Ms Tiann, you've seen her -- can you really blame me? Could you seriously expect any guy to turn down that sort of advance?"

Chris didn't speak to that; she merely shook her head. "It's just a lot for one day," she said. "Getting it on with your saucy French teacher, then stomping all over my ex-boyfriend?"

"It is a bit much to cram into one day," Shaun had to agree.

Chris looked at him; angry though she was at his behaviour, at how he ignored her and kicked the crap out of Peter anyway, her heart still went out to him. He seemed to live the perfect life for an eighteen-year-old boy: popular, sex aplenty, an iron rule in the playground, a happy home life and a bright future. But she could see he wasn't really happy; all this sex wasn't really his style, she knew it, she knew her brother too well not to see it. He yearned for stability, he yearned for the real thing. He needed to find someone too, someone real, someone to hold and love, just as much as she did. "Come here," she said, and they met for a quick hug. "God, I hate how much I love you sometimes," she growled.




Fostered Care Ch. 03



Shaun smiled. "Love you too, sis." They stepped back, and looked at each other shortly, each revelling in the warm fuzzy feeling that echoed after their hug. "Just be sure and keep those friends of yours away from me tonight," he warned. "Your slumber parties always get out of hand."

She gave him a cheeky look. "I have no idea what you mean," she told him.

"Yeah, I bet you don't." * * * "I brought us a little somethin-somethin, to make the evening interesting," announced Taylor. Dinner had come and gone -- a chilly affair, there were definitely unfinished recriminations left over for Shaun but Bill and Therese didn't want to cause a scene in front of Chris's visitors, for which Shaun was thankful; after dinner the girls had retired to Christine's room, and now Taylor was pulling a bottle of rum from her bag.

"Ooh, rum!" grinned Sherrie. "We can drink like pirates. Arr!"

They all laughed; Taylor popped the bottle, took a swig, shuddered whole-heartedly and passed it on. "It's about time we had a few drinkie-poohs during our sleep-overs," she reckoned. "I don't know why we haven't done it before."

Christine paused with the bottle only momentarily, before sharing their grins and taking a swig of her own. "Ugh!" she grunted, pulling a face. "It tastes foul!"

"It doesn't matter how it tastes," Sherrie grinned, grabbing the bottle for herself. "It's how fucked-up it gets you!"

"It's overproof rum, too," Taylor pointed out. "Extra-strong. Only the best for us."

The night carried on, as they drank uninterrupted in the privacy of Chris's room; her parents were well-used to the sounds of merriment that arose from Christine's slumber parties, and respected her privacy enough to leave them well alone. As it got late and the bottle drained low, they got to talking about the usual things: boys, toys, sexual accomplishments to date, and so forth. "So is it true what Peter's been saying?" Taylor asked of Chris. "That you used to go down on him?"

Christine pulled a face. "Yeah, it's true," she confessed.

"Why would you do that?" asked Sherrie. "I thought you didn't love him enough to do... you know... sexy things."

"Well, a blowjob isn't the same as sex -- at least, not in my book," Christine told them. "I was curious to see what it was like, and I turned out to be pretty good at it; I kind of got a liking for it, so I kept doing it."

"What's it like?" Sherrie asked. Taylor and Chris looked at her. "What?" she asked, defensively.

"You've never done it?" Taylor asked her, incredulously.

"No," Sherrie replied, shyly. "I mean, the opportunity never came up," she explained. "What am I supposed to do: walk up to a guy and say, 'I'd like to suck you off now, drop your pants please'?"

"That'd probably work," Christine grinned, as Taylor laughed.

"I can't believe you've never blown a guy!" Taylor added.

"Is it fun?" Sherrie asked, innocently.

"Heaps of fun," Chris confirmed, as Taylor nodded along too. "You get to see his dick right up-close, you get to touch it and feel it and see all the detail -- and if you do it right, it drives them absolutely mad."

"I don't know if I'd do it right," Sherrie lamented. "I'm not really good at this sort of stuff. I'd probably bite him, or something."

"We'll teach you how!" Taylor told her, brightly. "But we need something decent to practice on..." She looked at Chris, with a growing smile. "You reckon Shaunie might be up for it, Chris?"

"What?" Chris asked, taken aback.

"Your brother, Shaun," Taylor prodded. "He's always up for that sort of thing; you reckon, if we put the hard word on him, he might let me and Sherrie have a go?"

"You?" Chris echoed. "Why do you need a go at him? I've heard all about you, Taylor Jones -- you don't need any more practice," she goaded.

"Well..." Taylor grinned, denying nothing. "Someone's got to show Sherrie how to do it, don't they? Besides, why should she get to have all the fun? You know I've always had a soft spot for Shaunie," she added.

"Go on, Chris," said Sherrie, taking up the plea. "Can we go and surprise your brother? Give him a thrill?"

"I dunno..." Chris said, thinking about it.

"It'll be fun!" Taylor encouraged, after a fortifying swig from the nearly-empty bottle of rum. "And it'll be kind of kinky, too; imagine it, getting to watch us as we sucked on your brother's famous cock... wouldn't that be such a thrill?"

Chris wasn't about to admit it, but it most definitely would have been a thrill. There was a part of her that really, really would have liked to see Shaun get sucked off. There was also a tiny, secret part of her that fantasised about joining in -- but no, no way. That couldn't happen. She knew that none of it should happen, it wasn't safe, it was a big risk; she knew that they should just leave him be and have their own fun. But she'd had her fair share of the rum, which had her in a mood for doing what she knew she ought not to do; as if to help her make up her mind, she grabbed the bottle and finished it off.

"Let's go wake him up," she decided, sharing in their wicked grins. * * * It had never happened before, but Shaun woke up in the dead of night to find his cock in someone's mouth. His heart nearly stopped, but as he tried to leap up he saw a number of people in his moon-lit bedroom: Christine gently holding him back, holding him down on his bed, with her friend Sherrie right by her. "It's okay," she told him, softly, soothingly. "It's Taylor -- she's teaching Sherrie how to give head."

"Is that okay?" Sherrie asked, worriedly. "You don't mind? I've never done it before, see, so we all thought..."

Shaun boggled at them, and he sniffed the air. "Have you been drinking?" he whispered.

"Do you think we'd be doing this if we were sober?" came Taylor's voice, from below.

Shaun looked at them. He didn't know what to think or to say; there was his sister, Christine was right there, sitting right next to him with a calming hand on his chest even as her best friend sucked his cock. "It's okay," Chris smiled. "It's nice. Don't you think?"

Shaun thought about it, and he had to agree: it was nice. Taylor was doing quite a good job, and it was kind of a turn-on to see Sherrie watching intently, watching as Taylor's mouth drove up and down on his shaft. He rolled his eyes for show. "Well, if you really have to..." he said.

"Thank you, Shaun!" Sherrie whispered, with glee. "Thank you! I'll do a really good job, I promise!"

Shaun looked at her. "Are you going to suck me too?" he asked her.

Sherrie blinked. "If that's okay..." she said, shyly.

Shaun couldn't help but smile. "That's fine," he assured her. "Really: that'd be tops."

"Thank you, Shaun," Chris said, smiling with gratitude. "It's really good of you, helping out with my friends." She turned to watch Taylor's instructional sucking of her brother's cock; shortly she realised that Shaun was still looking at her, mouth open in amazement. "What?" she asked him; a possibility occurred. "Do you mind if I watch?" she asked.

"Oh," he said. "No, no I don't mind," he assured her. "No, that's fine." He didn't mind, but he was amazed that she would want to see it; that proved even more of a turn-on, seeing Chris watching as he was blown, seeing his cock large and stiff, sitting right by him with a reassuring hand stroking gently across his chest.

"See, he's getting bigger," Taylor told Sherrie, like a master practitioner instructing a student, pausing in her ministrations. "So you can tell he likes it, I'm doing the right thing. Right, Shaunie boy?"

"That's right, Taylor," he replied. "It feels awesome."

"Okay then: your turn, Sherrie," Taylor instructed. "Now Shaun, it's Sherrie's first time, so if you're going to come we'd like fair warning."

"It shouldn't be a problem," he told them. "I've... well, I've already come today, pretty big-time," he confessed; they all grinned at each other, thinking of Ms Tiann. "I don't know if you'll finish me off again tonight," Shaun added.

"Wow," said Christine, impressed. "You must have quite the stamina -- I've never heard of a boy who didn't come after a couple minutes of a good blow-job."

"Must be all the practice," Shaun assured her.

"Oh so modest," Chris retorted, just a little sarcastically.

Meanwhile, Sherrie started off on Shaun's cock slowly, hesitatingly, trying to replicate the up-and-down action she had seen Taylor use. "That's it," Taylor encouraged. "That's how you do it!"

"I can't fit it all in," Sherrie reported, around a mouthful of Shaun's cock.

"I don't know if anyone could fit all of that in," Taylor replied. "You're quite the big boy, Shaun -- seems the rumours were true," she added, with a sly grin.

"Aw shucks," said Shaun, affecting a blush; Christine laughed, and slapped him gently on the chest. She was really, really enjoying this; she found it oddly comforting, sitting next to her brother, as he reached up to hold her hand and she watched as her friends sucked his cock. She found it all immensely arousing; she was wearing her loose-fitting bed clothes with no underwear, and she could feel the moisture gathering in her shorts and her nipples poking through her top. If pressed, she could blame the erect nipples on the cool night air spilling through Shaun's opened window, but the wetness in her shorts would be harder to justify, so she kept her legs crossed and her moistened crotch out of the moonlight.

Shaun's reckoning that he wouldn't come seemed to prove true, as time went by and Sherrie and Taylor took turns sucking him off. Taylor grew bold, and declared that it wasn't fair that Shaun had all the fun, so she removed her panties -- to the shock and delight of all -- and began to teach Sherrie all about sixty-niners, sitting on Shaun's face as she leaned down his torso and sucked him from above. Shaun voiced no objection, and Christine watched with growing fascination and arousal as he lapped at Taylor's exposed pussy, licking at her hole and greedily drinking up her juices. He was obviously very good at it, as Taylor began to lose control: bumping and grinding her hips into Shaun's face, moaning and groaning, her own steady technique faltering under his onslaught; all of a sudden she had to get off his cock for fear of sinking her teeth into his enormous bulging member, and she grabbed two handfuls of his bedsheets and came with a strangled cry, coming and coming and coming, until she could bear no more and she leapt off him.

"Oh man," she gasped as she rolled onto her back on the bed, chest heaving, juices still dripping from her tight little cunt for all to see as she gently touched and teased herself, descending slowly from her peak. "Oh man," she said again. "Sherrie. Hop on. You've got to try him. Hop on -- before Chris beats you to it."

Sherrie needed no encouragement -- her pants were already gone, and she decided to fling away her top too as she climbed naked aboard his face and her mouth descended, more expertly now, upon Shaun's cock. Chris hadn't missed Taylor's little dig, though, and as Taylor crawled over to her she grabbed her and took her aside.

"What was that?" Chris demanded. "What did you mean by that?"

"Come on, Chris," Taylor grinned, half-naked and tingling, drunk with the rum and with the heady contentment that her encounter with Shaun had brought. "Don't deny it. I could see it on your face -- I could see how horny you're getting, watching Shaun getting sucked, watching me fuck his face. I could see you wishing that it could be you on top of him... you sucking him off... you getting eaten by him..." Chris opened her mouth to object, but Taylor shushed her, putting a moistened finger to Chris's lips on which Chris couldn't help but taste Taylor's juices. 

"Chris..." Taylor whispered. "It's okay. I don't blame you. Look at him! He's not your real brother, and he's gorgeous and sexy and funny and he's so good in bed... and you've got to live with him every day, not allowed to touch him, not allowed to do it with him! Chris: I understand! I can see it -- I've always seen it!"

Chris boggled at her, surprised and ashamed at her transparency; she was unable to deny the truth of her feelings, her lust for Shaun. She looked over to Shaun, but he couldn't hear them, his ears muffed by Sherrie's thighs. "Taylor," she said. "I..."

"It's okay," Taylor assured her again, grasping her hands encouragingly. "Besides," she added, as Sherrie started to lose control, yipping very quietly like a muted puppy as she came, "I've got an idea." They separated, and watched as Shaun finished Sherrie off; her eyes lolled with indescribable contentment, with the discovery of an entirely new realm of pleasure.

"Okay, Shaunie boy," Taylor announced. "We've thought up a new game."

"Aren't we having enough fun already?" Shaun joked, with a grin. He looked to his sister, catching her as she stared helplessly at his enormous, glistening cock; she met his eye, and couldn't help but shyly match his grin.

"We're going to blindfold you," Taylor told him, taking off her top and fashioning a blindfold out of it, "and you're going to do a blind taste-test -- you're going to tell us who you're licking, and also you're going to tell us who's sucking you. And remember: they might not necessarily be one and the same," she added, with a surreptitious glance at Christine after she applied the blindfold to Shaun.

"Sounds like a worthy challenge," Shaun grinned; there may possibly have been a touch of alcohol in the girls' cunt juices, because he felt a little intoxicated too with the heady, horny action in the bedroom.

Shaun may not have guessed at the ruse, but Christine spotted it right away. 'No way,' she mouthed, eyes wide, seeing Taylor's intentions. 'No way!'

Taylor simply smiled at her. "Okay, we're going to sort ourselves out..." she told Shaun; she gestured at Sherrie, and Sherrie gladly hopped back aboard Shaun's face, while Taylor moved over and went down on his cock. 

Shaun lapped happily away at the unidentified cunt, working away at his favourite pastime despite the growing ache in his tongue; he could tell the taste right away as Sherrie, she had a subtly different taste to that of Taylor which he couldn't quite describe but would never mistake. They all stayed in position for about a minute, until Sherrie's tender pussy could stand no more, and she had to get off his face for fear of collapsing again with orgasmic ecstasy.

"Can you tell who it was?" Taylor asked after she moved away from Shaun's cock.

"It was definitely Sherrie on my face," he declared. "And was it... Sherrie again, on my cock?"

"Half right: Sherrie on your face, me on your cock," Taylor told him. "Okay, we'll try it again." She then mounted Shaun's face this time, and took his cock into her own mouth, and Christine watched as she worked away at him.

She knew Taylor's plan: one of the girls would sit on his face, and then Chris could have her turn sucking on Shaun's cock without him knowing. The thing was: she wanted to. She really wanted to. She knew she shouldn't, she swore she wouldn't -- but she had said before, a blowjob isn't really sex, right? And if she was willing to blow Peter who she hadn't really cared for all that much, she drunkenly reasoned it was only fair that she blew Shaun whom she loved, very much... and he would never find out because he was blindfolded, and she could trust Sherrie and Taylor on their lives to never tell a soul...

As Taylor started coming again, Chris realised with a start that she was touching herself, gently, through the front of her pants, as she pondered the possibility of going down on Shaun. She also realised that Sherrie was watching her as she did it; Sherrie gave her a long, slow smile, and Chris realised that Sherrie could see it too: she knew, just like Taylor, how Chris felt for Shaun. How she loved him. How she wanted him, but couldn't have him, and how she hated not being able to suck him like they could suck him. 'Go on...' Sherrie mouthed, silently.

"Okay..." said Shaun as Taylor clambered noiselessly off him. "That was Taylor's pussy, and... Taylor's mouth?"

"Dead right!" Taylor gasped. "Ready to go one last time?" she asked, of all of them -- particularly Christine...



Fostered Care Ch. 04



"Ready to go, one last time?" Taylor asked, of all of them -- of Shaun, lying blindfolded on the bed, his face wet with their juices and his achingly hard cock exposed before them all; of Sherrie, naked, trying to catch her breath; and of Christine, as she stared at her brother's enormous hard-on, eyes wide and unblinking, a finger unconsciously touching herself through her shorts.

"I'm ready," Shaun reported. He was loving this. Pussies, mouths and tongues galore -- and all the while, Christine was watching, seeing him, loving it. He hadn't heard from her for a while; as he was blown by an unseen mouth, he toyed with the idea that maybe the mouth was Chris's, maybe she was sucking him off, sucking his cock. But no: he knew she wouldn't. He might harbour more than a few deviant, lusty feelings for her, but he knew she was better than to do that. She was a better sibling than him. Still: he couldn't help but fantasise...

Taylor looked to Chris; Chris made up her mind, and nodded. Taylor grinned, and as Chris approached the bed Taylor went and sat astride Shaun's face, ready to lower her pussy back on to his waiting lips. Chris moved quickly, before she changed her mind: she kneeled down alongside the bed, staring Shaun's massive cock in the eye, her heart thumping like a kettle drum, her hands and knees shaking with nerves and excitement.

Taylor looked at her, and nodded; she lowered her pussy back onto Shaun's face, and for a moment she and Sherrie held their breath as Christine paused; then Chris reached up, grabbed Shaun's cock gently by the shaft, and she went down on her brother.

Shaun's heart leapt, straight away. This mouth... this mouth felt different. He hadn't been blown by Sherrie for a while, Taylor had taken him twice in a row now, but this mouth... was it... could it have been... Christine?

Chris couldn't believe what she was doing. She was actually doing it. She had imagined it, dreamed of it for years, and now she was actually doing it -- she had her hand on one end of her adopted brother's cock, and her mouth on the other. The warm, meaty taste of it was just as she imagined; the thing was huge, so much bigger than Peter's, she could only go half-way down on it with her mouth and she had to strain to keep her mouth wide enough, her teeth off it. It was so warm, and so hard; she felt it grow in her hand, and she had to move with him as he gently shuffled his hips in an unintended, helpless thrusting motion.

'Is it her?' Shaun asked himself. 'Is it... is it Christine?' He tried not to let himself to think it, he tried not to think the thought, but he couldn't help it: this action was different. It was lighter, gentler than Taylor, but not as hesitant, not so inexperienced as Sherrie; there was almost a tenderness to the unknown mouth's action upon his cock, a tenderness bordering on love... 'I think...' he thought. 'I think it is... oh man... I think it's her! I think my sister is sucking my cock!'

As Chris kept sucking, without shame, with growing joy and abandonment even as Taylor and Sherrie looked on with amazed fascination and their own mounting arousal, she couldn't stop herself: her hand went into her pants and found the sopping wetness of her pussy, and the sensation felt like never before as she ran her fingers all over it, probing about and over her throbbing clit and around and into her hole which almost ached for attention. She touched herself, rubbed herself, pleasured herself even as she kept sucking, sucking away at Shaun, sucking at her brother.

Shaun's excitement was mounting, doubling up on itself. 'She's doing it...' was all he could think. 'She's doing it...!' He hadn't thought he had another orgasm in him so soon after fucking Ms Tiann, but he was wrong: an orgasm was there, and it was building, it was mounting very quickly. Shit: he'd better warn her... "Mmm mm-mng..." he said, muffled by the pussy upon his face -- could it have been Christine's? No, he knew the taste, it was Taylor again. Imagine if it had been Chris's, though... oh God... "Mmm mm-mng!" 

Maintaining the silence, Taylor and Sherrie shrugged at each other, trying to figure out what he was trying to say; it finally occurred to Taylor to get off him, but it was too late, and his head fell backwards as his hips heaved and he shot a heavy load all over the back of Chris's throat. But she didn't mind -- she was ready for it, she wanted it, and Sherrie and Taylor watched with stunned amazement as she drank her brother dry, bringing herself to a massive orgasm even as she did so, her hips bucking and pounding back against her own hand; the taste of his come, her frenzied fingering, the way he came for her and only her -- it tipped her over the edge, and they both bounced and writhed as she came, and he came, and they came together.

Eventually they were both spent; Shaun was emptied and ready to come up for air, and Chris gasped with shock and reaction at what she had done. Taylor gestured wildly as Shaun reached for his blindfold; they all leapt for cover, standing well clear and behind Sherrie, staring at him as he defeated the blindfold and looked to them.

For a moment, they said nothing. Then he asked, "...who was it?"

Chris's heart froze. He was looking at her. He was looking right at her. He knew. "Who was it?" he asked again. He asked of her.

"Well..." said Taylor. "It was me on your face..."

Christine stood silent, aghast, terrified, unable to read the look on his face as he stared at her, as he searched her face for the answer. "And it was me on your cock," Sherrie told him, stepping in, saving Chris.

Shaun frowned at Sherrie -- was it? Oh. Of course it was. "Of course it was," he echoed, and they all breathed a sigh of relief, the girls and Shaun. "I can't believe I didn't pick it," he added.

"Okay then..." Taylor said, shortly. "...goodnight!" As one, the girls picked up their various discarded garments and fled for the safety of Chris's bedroom, leaving Shaun to bask in a slightly confused afterglow.

'Sherrie...' he thought. 'Sherrie...' It had to be her. It had been different to her first attempts, but she could have improved -- couldn't she? Perhaps Chris had given her some pointers -- maybe that's why it felt different, different to Sherrie's first goes, entirely different to Taylor's rough-and-tumble, pound-away method. 'As if it would have been Christine,' he thought, chastising himself. 'You've got to stop thinking about your sister like that, man. You've got to stop.'

* * *

Safely back to Chris's room after a short nudie-run through the hall from Shaun's, Taylor and Sherrie giggled and babbled at what they had done, what they had seen, what Chris had done with her brother. But Chris's face was white with shock, and she sat heavily upon the bed. "Oh God..." she whispered. "What have I done?"

"Chris..." Taylor said, suddenly full of caring concern. "Honey... that was beautiful! That was the most tender, erotic, arousing thing I've ever seen!"

"I touched myself as I watched it," Sherrie confessed. "You two were so beautiful together, I came so hard, I've never come like that before... I hope you don't mind..."

"I never imagined I'd see anything so... so hot," Taylor breathed. "Chris, the way you went at him -- there was so much love in it, you could see so many pent-up desires released... oh Chris," she added, as tears formed in Christine's eyes. "It was beautiful! Chris, please don't cry..."

"But what if he found out?" Chris whispered. "He knew... he looked at me, it looked like he knew! I thought... I thought he hated me..." She broke down, sobbing quietly as the tears fell.

The girls moved in and held her, dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. "No, Chris..." Taylor told her. "No... he could never hate you..."

"He came," Sherrie pointed out; they looked at him. "He came, right in your mouth. He came for you."

"That's right," Taylor agreed, catching Sherrie's point. "You made him come, Chris. He came for you, even after he fucked Ms Tiann today -- we couldn't get it out of him, but he came for YOU. If he knew it was you, and he came for you... how could he come for you and hate you at the same time?"

Chris thought about it. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know. But guys, listen: we can't talk about this after tonight, ever again. We can't tell anyone. He can't find out. No one can find out," she insisted, urgently. "If anyone found out... if he found out... I don't know what I'd do."

"We know, we understand," Taylor assured her. "We promise, Chris: we won't tell a soul."

"I swear it," Sherrie nodded her agreement.

"Thank you," Chris nodded, wiping away the last of her tears. 

They sat in silence for a moment, before breaking into a uniform grin. "But wasn't that AWESOME?" Taylor enthused. They indicated their agreement, and they talked on it for hours on end, reminiscing and touching themselves wantonly, masturbating in front of each other with wild abandon as they replayed and relived the memory of Chris sucking her brother, and they didn't stop until well into the first rays of morning.

* * *

The next morning was a Saturday, and after a long sleep-in the girls went down to the kitchen for breakfast. Therese had gone out but Bill and Shaun were down there, Bill with a coffee and a crossword, Shaun eating his usual lumberjack's breakfast; he had also woken only a few minutes before.

"Morning Bill/dad," the girls chorused. "Morning Shaun," they added, shooting Shaun a bunch of naughty, knowing grins as they did.

"Morning, ladies," Bill replied distractedly, deep into his puzzle. Shaun saw their cheeky little grins, and he tried to smother his own lest his dad see it and grow suspicious.

"Gee dad, shouldn't you be working on the gardens by now?" Chris asked him.

Bill checked the clock, and nearly dropped his coffee: if he didn't have the gardens weeded and trimmed before Therese's return from the shops at twelve, there would be hell to pay. "Oh crap oh crap oh crap..." he muttered, rushing off to his duties and leaving Shaun alone with the ladies. They approached him, with Chris in the lead.

"We just wanted to thank you again for last night," Chris said on their behalf. "We all had so much fun..."

"No worries, ladies!" Shaun replied, cheekily. "I had fun too. You girls can come and sleep over anytime," he informed Sherrie and Taylor.

"We should definitely do it more often," Taylor agreed.

"And," Shaun added, to Sherrie, speaking softly against the imagined super-hearing of his dad, "I think you should be pretty proud of yourself, Sherrie. That last blow-job of yours that finished me off... I mean, wow!" he said, as the girls looked at each other and grinned. "I've never been blown like that before, never!"

"I aim to please," Sherrie said simply, though she said it on Christine's behalf.

"Well..." Taylor said, sensing that Chris wanted a moment alone with her brother. "Sherrie and I might go jump in the shower. I'll scrub your back if you scrub mine?" she asked Sherrie.

"Sounds good to me," Sherrie decreed, and Chris and Shaun watched their perky little bottoms run up the stairs.

Chris turned to Shaun, and stepped in closer. "Are we still okay?" she asked him, brushing her fingers up and down his forearm.

"Yeah," Shaun told her, frowning at her question. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Well," Chris said. "Last night, after you... you know, after you came..." she said, surprised at herself as she blushed a little, "you looked at me a bit funny."

"Oh," said Shaun -- she'd seen that. She'd seen him looking at her, wondering if it was her who blew him. Crap. "Uh," he said. "Um, well, that was because..." 'It was because I thought it was you who made me come,' was his answer; he thought it, but he couldn't say it. He couldn't say it to her. 

She saw it; she saw the answer in his eyes, and she mentally urged him to say it. 'Say it,' she thought. 'Say it -- I'll admit to it! Come on, now's the time -- say it! Let me tell you, I want to tell you -- it was me, I sucked you off! SAY IT!'

"It was because..." he said, stalling until he thought of something: "It was because I was a little embarrassed. You know. Because you're my sister... because you saw me come."

Christine was disappointed in his answer, but she tried not to let it show. "Oh Shaun..." she said. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. It was beautiful," she confessed. "It was really, really beautiful. I loved seeing it, I loved watching it." 'I loved tasting it, too,' she thought. 'I loved drinking it. I loved sucking you, and tasting you and drinking you... God, I want to do it again...' "It was beautiful," she finished, lamely.

Shaun took heart in what she said. "Wow," he said. "That... that's really nice to hear. Thank you, Chris..." They moved in for a hug; she noticed that he tried to keep his hips clear, and she knew it was because he had developed a hard-on from thinking that she liked to watch him come. She toyed with the idea of moving in, swinging in her hips and feeling his hardness against her, but she decided not to -- it might be a bit too much for him.

"You still love me?" she asked him.

"I still love you if you still love me," he whispered.

"I always will," she promised him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I might go join the girls in the shower."

"Ooh," said Shaun, liking the image her statement presented. "Can I join in too?"

"Now Shaun," Christine replied, in a pretend-scolding tone. "Where do you get off, thinking you can get away with saying things like that?" She turned in a pretend huff, and stormed up the stairs.

Shaun grinned as she left. What a top chick she was. She had surprised him with her confession; but he loved it, he loved to hear that she liked to see that. God, how he loved her. He shook his head with a smile, and got back to his breakfast.

* * *

Two weeks passed them by in a relatively uneventful fashion. School started again on Monday for Chris; but with Shaun on suspension, Bill declared that Shaun's week off would not be a holiday. He was forced to accompany Bill to his father's car dealership every day where Shaun whiled away the hours scrubbing cars, vacuuming cars, moving cars, parking cars and scrubbing cars again -- all for no pay. Kids on detention don't get paid, reckoned Bill, and with Therese's full agreement Shaun had no other avenue of protest.

Despite this, Chris and Shaun got back into their morning routine of chatting and flirting and surreptitiously perving on each other as they took turns to shower and preen themselves in the bathroom. Shaun was greatly relieved to hear that Ms Tiann had escaped punishment for their indiscretion: she must have repeated his claims of innocence, and Mrs Whitmire must have had to drop the matter, the claims of the junior student witnesses not enough cause for further reproach.

Shaun's week of slave labour at the car dealership finally came to an end, and he returned to school for their last week before graduation. Their teachers did their best to prepare them for the exams that came after graduation, and Shaun had to concentrate extra-hard during his last French classes to keep from dwelling upon his extra-curricular encounter with Ms Tiann the week before. On the Tuesday he had another encounter with Erin in the storeroom, but his heart wasn't really in it; he refused to let himself think about Christine this time, and when it became clear that he wasn't going to come Erin blew up and abused him mightily, going on to tell anybody and everybody that Shaun Cleary was crap in the sack and couldn't finish the job.

"I hear tell that Erin's talking shit about you," Christine noted, as she showered and he shaved the next morning. "You want me to go beat her up for you?" she added, pointedly.

"Would you?" Shaun replied, with a grin.

She rolled her eyes at him. "She's saying you couldn't finish the job," she went on.

"I wasn't really in the mood," he replied, by way of confirmation. "I should have told her no..."

"But you don't know how to say 'no' to a pretty girl, do you?" Chris teased.

"Have I ever said 'no' to you?" he retorted, with a wink.

She smiled, but then she thought about it. "Yes..." she realised; he often told her no. Not about sex, obviously, but about other stuff: 'no you can't have some of my ice cream', 'no you can't watch your TV show, I'm watching mine', 'no I didn't think it was you who blew me, yeah sure I thought it was Sherrie'. "You tell me 'no' all the time! You bastard!" she grinned, chucking the loofa at him.

"Hey, watch it!" he cried, as the loofa hit his carefully-coiffured hair. "Don't make me come in there..."

"Go on," Christine rejoined, with a cheeky grin. "I dare ya."

Shaun thought about it, but declined. "It's about time you got out, anyway," he told her.

"Is it just?" she retorted, with her hands on her shapely hips.

"Yep. Out you get," he ordered.

"Make me," she dared him.

Shaun had been invited twice, and he wasn't going to wait for a third invitation: he stormed the shower with a grin, stepping out of his pyjama pants as he went. Her heart was suddenly pounding as he approached, naked and dangerous, but she stood her ground as he stepped into the shower and stared her down.

"Go on..." she told him, invited him, stepping back further into the water as he came near. "What are you gunna do?"

He stopped; he hadn't thought that far ahead, and he wasn't sure what he would do, could do. "Out of the shower," he told her, stepping into the water.

"No," she grinned, taking another half-step backwards.

"Out of the shower!" he said, softly: mum and dad were still in the house, and though they got ready for work in their own bathroom, sharing the shower with Chris was still incredibly dangerous. They might be busted any minute; though the thought frightened him, it also excited him, emboldened him, it drove him onwards.

Chris said nothing; she merely met his eye, challenged him, dared him to do something. To reach out and grab her, to try to move her, defeat her -- to be rough, take her into his arms, pull her close, really close. 'Go on,' she thought. 'Do it. Grab me. Do it!'

Shaun hesitated, aware that she was staring him down, challenging him cheekily, daring him to try it on. He wanted to; he dearly missed their old rough-and-tumble days, he had always loved roughhousing with Christine. But they were naked, both of them, wet and soapy in the shower -- he was acutely aware of that fact, and he battled valiantly to keep from getting a hard-on with his sister in such close quarters, thinking desperately of ice, the cold, polar scenes and penguins. He wanted to do something, anything: she was right there, right in front of him, he wanted to reach out and grab her, touch her, hold her; but he still wasn't sure where he stood with her, what he could do, what he could get away with.

"What are you going to do?" Christine heard herself ask, in a small, plaintive voice that surprised the both of them.

'Aww man...' Shaun thought, as his loins ached in response to her query: so soft, so cute, so sexy... 'Penguins penguins penguins...'