If my mum and dad found out about my collection of porn in the shed, I knew they’d both
kick-off and I’d be sleeping under a bench in the Underground, buying papers to keep me
warm—instead of buying them like I was now, looking for a job. As it was, they were on at
me to find something, and fast. I didn’t get why I had to figure it all out, what I wanted
to do with the rest of my life. What was the rush?
My sister, Dawn, got to preen around the health club at her summer job. So why was I
supposed to find something “responsible?” Dawn had been living at home since she finished
school, aside from a couple of disastrous attempts at living with a roommate that my
parents had ended up paying more for in the long run, anyway.
My parents made all sorts of exceptions for her. I had hoped that her laziness, or as my
mother put it, her “lack of focus,” might pave the way for me to spend some time loafing
off after I finished school, too, but no—apparently, Dawn got the welcome mat, but I got
threatened with the boot. I didn’t get it.
I shut the back door and looked up at the sky. We didn’t get days like this in Surrey
very often—so bright and blue and clear. We spent most of our time walking around in the
usual London grey, looking at a hazy kind of film over the sun. Days like today made me
remember being a kid, endless summers with no responsibilities, no cares, no worries. So
much for that, I thought, flopping the paper down on the patio table and glaring at it.
I sat in one of the folding chairs and took a highlighter out of my pocket. The first
thing I circled was a construction company. Maybe I could find something working
outside—get a tan, build some muscle. That might lead to getting a girlfriend, I thought
hopefully. That got me to thinking about Julie Entwistle, the girl rumoured to wear
nothing under her skirts in sixth form. She sat right next to me in English, but I never
did see anything—not that I didn’t try. For a girl who was supposed to be a slag, she sure
kept her legs together a lot.
Thinking about Julie’s skirt, and more importantly, what might be found under her skirt,
made my jeans uncomfortably tight. I shifted in the chair, shoving at my crotch and
turning the page of the newspaper, re-focusing my efforts. The ad that caught my eye read:
Exotic dancers wanted to perform at private, solo, and bachelor parties… I snorted—so much
for trying to focus. Now my cock was officially hard. I glanced over at the shed, thinking
of the boards my dad stored in there that “might come in handy” some day. They came in
handy for hiding my porn collection.
I folded the paper up and tucked it under my arm, heading toward the shed. My dad’s
toolbox doubled as a step stool and was perfect for sitting on. I dug under the boards,
pulling out my meagre collection. Two Playboys and a Penthouse, although the latter was a
“Letters” edition, and the stories were pretty hot. The last one was my favourite, a
magazine called Naughty Bits, which was way more hardcore than the others. I’d never seen
another one before or since, although believe me, I’d looked.
I opened it up to my favourite page, and there she was. Blonde, although clearly dyed
because her pubes were dark, a full-breasted and full-bodied girl—really unusual for most
spreads nowadays where the models were like stick figures. This woman was, well… a woman.
The next best part was the layout itself—a girl all alone on her bed looking at porn. Did
girls do that? I loved how she rolled over and spread her legs, revealing that there was
nothing under her skirt. She started masturbating, and would you look at that, next page,
here comes her brother. Probably it was her boyfriend, but I had this fantasy in my head
that it was her brother. And the next thing you know, she’s sucking him off. God, how I
wished it was that easy. Hi there, whoops, didn’t mean to interrupt, but since I’m here,
zzziiiip, flop, here’s this hard cock you can suck…
I unzipped my jeans and tugged them down a little, slipping my hand into my boxers.
Nowhere near as big as the guy positioning his cock at her pink little hole (I loved that
picture, her fingers spreading herself open for him like that. Gah! Did girls do that?)
but respectable enough—nice and thick, and most definitely stiff. She did it for me, every
time. I started masturbating, my eyes skipping from the wet pink of her cunt to her thick,
dark pink nipples. I spent some time there, wanking away and staring at the slit between
her legs. She spread it open with both hands, and there was a little hole there, right
where I wanted to slide my cock, a small dark hollow leading to heaven.
I got myself good and worked up before starting to turn the next page, because it was my
favourite, and it was the image I always came to—her ass up in the air, his cum sliding
down her asshole and cunt. I was looking forward to that image, still staring between her
legs. I only stopped for a moment, breathless, to turn the page, and I saw something that
made my cock jump and my heart race. There was writing in the margin, near the page
number. An arrow toward the girl (god, look how that thick cum slid down that pink slit!)
and the words, “She looks like me.”
That was Dawn’s handwriting—the fat, curly letters, the heart over the “i.” My sister had
been looking at my porn? Why, I wondered? If she wanted to get me in trouble, she could
have taken it to my mum. Instead, she just wrote in the margins. And what she’d written! I
flushed. I knew the girl looked remarkably like my sister—the dyed blonde hair, the full
body, the mischievous eyes, the slanted smile—that was Dawn. Was she just making an
observation? Was she implying that I lusted after her?
I didn’t have any more time to think about it. Someone was knocking on the shed door! I
stood, tucking my cock back in and zipping up, shoving the magazines back under the pile
of boards.
“David!” It was Dawn. Of course, who else? My parents wouldn’t be home for hours—it was
only ten in the morning.
“What?” I called, trying to sound impatient. I tucked my paper back under my arm, grabbed
a can of insect spray off the shelf and opened the door.
She was standing there in a white bikini, the flesh of her breasts spilling over the top.
My cock, with barely enough chance to wane as it was, jumped to life again at the sight.
“Jesus, Dawn!” I made a face. “Put some clothes on.”
“It’s gonna be sunny and warm all day.” She put her hands on her hips and drew my eyes
there. “I’m spending my time catching rays!”
“Whatever.” I stepped out of the shed into the fresh air.
“What were you doing in there?” She smirked, peering into the dim shed.
I waved the insect repellant at her. “Big-arse spider out on the patio table.”
“Sure there was.” She moved toward the lounge chair where she had spread a towel. How
long had she been out here, I wondered?
I put the can on the table. “There was. It’s obviously crawled off somewhere. Maybe it’s
on your lounge chair.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “Quit being such a pain in the arse. I’m in a good mood
and you’re not going to spoil it.”
Dawn positioned her chair, looking up toward the sun as she did, and then crawled on. Her
bikini bottoms rode up between her cheeks and I flashed on the picture in Naughty Bits
that I’d found the writing on—her arse up in the air, cum sliding down her slit. I sat
down at the table, putting the paper in my lap to cover my erection.
“What’s got you so perky?” I scowled.
She was lying on her back, now, and she lifted her sunglasses to look at me. “It’s my
first day on holiday, you git! Two whole weeks off work!”
I turned my chair away from her, opening my paper back up. My cock was still throbbing
and watching her oil herself up out of the corner of my eye wasn’t helping. She was
slathering lotion all over, rubbing it into the creases, even between her toes. I could
smell the stuff, like coconuts, as if a tropical smell was supposed to make you turn
darker.
“You find anything in there yet?” She dropped the lotion next to her chair and leaned
back. Her breasts jiggled in the white bikini top when she did, and I couldn’t help
watching. Seeing real flesh move was different from looking at a picture in a magazine. I
found myself wondering what it would feel like to touch her there, just the top of her
breast, all shiny from the oil. I flushed.
“No.” I turned my eyes back to the paper. “There’s nothing out there.”
“Well, mum and dad won’t let you scrounge off them forever, you know.” She threw an arm
up over her head.
“Sod off!” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not the one who’s still living with my parents at
twenty-five.”
I stood up, deciding to go into the house. Maybe take another shower. I felt hot and
sweaty, although it wasn’t really that warm out here, yet.
“Hey.” Dawn lifted her sunglasses again. Her eyes were soft, and so was her smile. “You
wanna do something for me?”
“If it involves lotion and your back, forget it.” I reached for the back door. “I’m your
brother, remember?”
She stuck her tongue out. “If you’re going in the house… maybe you could bring out one of
dad’s bottles of wine?”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “The good stuff?”
“Yeah.” She grinned. “Why not? Let’s celebrate my holiday…”
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