*When you lose your family, do you ever find another?*

(This is not really an incest story as there is no blood relation and little familial bond)

*

My Mother met my Dad their sophomore year in college. Mom was worldly; more a free-spirit than a hippy. My Dad was a super geek. Mom was the first woman he ever slept with and the only woman he ever slept with until he remarried my Stepmom many years later. Neither parent denied that they made a plan for their future after graduation. Mom got pregnant but persevered to finish her Botany degree. They got married. Dad went into Genetics and started blazing a trail which became the source of so much of my grief.

After graduation, they were supposed to take a year off to travel but Dad broke his promise to Mom and pursued his career. Mom soldiered on for three more years before it became one too many solo dinners and she filed for divorce. Mom only asked for a little child support for me. He received visitation for any date with 24 hours' notice. I saw him four days in the next fourteen years.

Dad earned his doctorate, founded a business, got a second doctorate then made a train-load of money. We lived in the same city but on opposite sides. I had a moderately comfortable lower middle-class existence with no real idea what Dad did or owned. Mom had to explain to me how Dad had re-married some society lady because I never got my invitation.

When I was sixteen cancer snuck up on my Mom. She struggled to keep it together as long as she could but she eventually lost the house, all her savings and finally my college fund. I later learned that she had been in constant touch with my Father for most of the ordeal. She asked him to take over my care but his new wife didn't want me around and he didn't fight all that hard for me.

Only on her deathbed did he finally show up with his new wife and daughter (from my stepmom's previous marriage). She decided then and there that I was a 'dangerous' element, but Mom made my Dad swear to see me through college no matter what and he caved in to my Mom as opposed to his wife this once. The moment I graduated high school it was off to college with a small apartment and an unspoken warning to stay away. I never even saw the inside of my Father's house.

Nothing fucked up lasts forever it appears. Late in the fall, me and two of my buddies got in my car, went out and got drunk. I was sleeping in the back when the idiots decided to get their weed stashes. Then they picked up this third asshole who decided to get his stash as well. We got pulled over and suddenly my car had a 'distribution' weight of marijuana. Since I had a history of violence in my juvenile record, I was boned.

My public defender -- Dad didn't answer my one phone call -- turned out to be pretty kind and clever. She worked out a deal that would keep me under house arrest for twenty months and I could still do my course credits on-line. The catch? I had to have parental supervision (I was still under 21 and Dad paid for my domicile). Dad still didn't return my calls but my overly ambitious public defender actually caught Dad in his driveway one morning and had him sign the paperwork. I really owe her. I also was to discover that he 'forgot' to tell my Stepmom before taking a business trip to Japan for a month.

I will forever recall my Stepmom Zuiko (she's Japanese-American), arguing like mad with my lawyer, the two sheriff's deputies and their technician about letting them on the grounds so they could establish their parameters for my ankle monitor. For the first month I'd be under tight monitoring -- 100m, then they would take it out to 500m for two months and then finally I would get 2km starting month four if I was good.

The big thing Zuiko harped about once they got inside the grounds was 'would her daughter be safe'. My lawyer kept asking if I'd made any direct threats -- we had exchanged less than twenty words at the hospital and she hadn't seen me since, but she tried to weasel around it somehow. I was definitely not wanted but according to the state and county, she was stuck with me.

Now her and her daughter being in danger from me wasn't a total pipedream. When my Mother first started feeling ill we started going to the YMCA. Mom eventually became too worn down to do more than spend a few minutes on the treadmill. She rested then went at it time and time again. She encouraged me to do my own things. I lifted weights and took a women's self-defense course -- I was the only guy but since I was a teenager they assumed I was the victim of bullying.

One girl, who was often my partner, told me she was going to take a Krav Maga class at a downtown rec center. She wanted a buddy to walk her to the car and I needed the ride (I didn't have a car until much later). She was old -- 25 -- and I was young - 17 -- so nothing happened. It wasn't until my Mother's funeral that I saw her dressed as a city cop. It also clarified that her boyfriend was her training supervisor and the reason we were taking a violent self-defense course.

As I said, I had some issues with my Mom dying and they caused me to lash out. I played soccer my junior and senior years. I was good but not great; I did fill out the roster in a positive manner because I could play either side of the field and my passing skills were impressive -- I sucked on the final approach though so I had no college hopes.

I had a friend who did though; he had college level talent and with some experience and growth, maybe he could go pro. Starting the last third of the season, a rich HS with a great record played on our campus and we were giving them hell. We were up by one and a win was a real possibility when one of their star players 'accidentally' put his cleats into my buddy's knee, taking him out of the game and threatening his career.

He was assessed a penalty then laughed and was patted on the back by his teammates as he went to the sidelines. What followed was the best game-play of my life. I scored for the first time that year and only my second time in High School. I was ferocious and merciless and made me just enough of a pain that when their bastard came back on the field he came gunning for me.

I wasn't in his league and I knew it so I got one of my teammates to set him up. We were charging up field, when I passed to my guy. The bastard shifted focus then my guy kicked it high and behind my target. He was only beginning to adjust when I leapt -- my cleats struck him in the face with all the force of my body behind it. I dragged my foot over his ear on the way passed him.

I stood over his body and smiled down at the ruin I'd made of his face. I was 'glad' that his rich parents could pay to repair the raw meat his right side had become. He would get most of his pretty looks once more but he'd never see out of his right eye perfectly ever again and his hearing was never 100% either. His confidence and control were shot as well.

A few of the bastard's teammates pushed me around before my side arrived to back me up. Their coach, who had idly sat back and let my poor friend get crippled, rushed off the bench and wanted to press criminal charges. My coach benched me immediately and the referees reviewed the play and decided that I'd been 'approaching the ball' so I had a penalty, but I wasn't ejected from the game or the league.

I was done though; the Coach knew what I had done and it was unsportsmanlike conduct. I would never play under him again. My buddy did heal up and played the last few games of the season and played well. He got a college scholarship and he was not too far away even then though our relationship was a bit strained. I damn near killed a guy for him but then...I damn near killed a guy. That was my only episode when my rage got away from me and I had kept it in check ever since.

So, my Mom died, I went to college, got in a fucked-up situation and now my long absent Dad had agreed to sponsor my twenty month house arrest without asking is new wife. She stuck me in the pool house, not the guest house, which was farther back on the property in a place she couldn't monitor me and speed dial the cops the moment I stepped out of line. She didn't want to deal with me; she definitely didn't want me dealing with her daughter Cybil aka Scout.

Denis La Roche (40) is my father, a freaking scientific genius but an utter failure in the social medium. Zuiko La Roche is my Stepmom, a very hot 37 year old MILF, who basically hated my very existence. She did seem to have some affection for my Father but Dad seemed to be as emotional responsive and supportive of this wife as he was with my Mom.

Then there was my Stepsister, Cybil 'Scout' La Roche who was taller than her mother, not as quite filled out, but with darker skin and more subdued, but very sexy, Japanese features. She was 18; almost as old as me. My name is Daniel but way back when, I picked up the name Duke and it stuck. For the longest time I thought it was for the school but in middle school I was introduced to John Wayne. I sort of wished my namesake knew martial arts, but he still managed to kick some serious ass and kiss some real beauties so I could forgive him that lack.

As the Sheriff's Deputies watched me move in and 'anchored' my ankle bracelet to the front door of my domicile, Cybil kept showing up. Zuiko kept driving her off, but the girl was incorrigible. With her looks I doubted I was the first guy she'd ever seen close up. Zuiko acted as if I was about to rape the girl but I hadn't a clue as to what led her to that conclusion -- maybe Dad was a snake?

Being the Convict

An advantage of our location was that not even winter was that cold and while you didn't want to go swimming at 6 am, usually you could safety jump in after 10 am. It was Saturday and I'd eaten and digested my ham and olives sandwich before diving in. What I didn't know, there in my first week, this was when Cybil and Zuiko set aside for their pool time. It was a big pool, so why should they care?

I'd made my first lap in the mutated Olympic sized pond when I caught sight of Cybil moving to intercept me in the water -- she was a good swimmer and that one-piece blue suit worked for her. As she got closer it dawned on me that suit worked for her about three years and two cup sizes ago. Her puppies were trying to escape out the sides. I didn't look long because Zuiko was glaring at me.

"Hey Daniel," Cybil smiled as she treaded water facing me.

"Hey Cybil, please call me Duke; all my friends do," I grinned. I was definitely keeping steady eye contact.

"Then call me Scout," Cybil snickered for no good reason. "I'm -- umm -- sorry I haven't stopped by before now. I've been busy with school stuff."

"It is not a problem Scout," I sighed, "Your Mom doesn't want you to hang out with me -- I'm a bad influence or so she believes." It wasn't like I had to eat all my meals alone or why?? I couldn't go into the main house at all.

"I usually have a vanilla-mango smoothie when I'm sunbathing," Cybil swam closer, "want one?"

"How about a plain old-fashioned chocolate milkshake?" I proposed.

"We can do that," she floated up to my face, her legs constantly brushing mine. "I've never had a brother before."

I pulled back and noticed Zuiko blazing beams of hate through my Occipital lobe.

"We are not Brother and Sister, Scout," I informed her. "If you were my sister -- umm -- well I would have to think about something else than what's going through my mind now."

"What is that?" she asked with innocent eyes.

"We are not going to go there," I smiled warmly, "Your Mother wants me gone and I'm not going to do anything to make her hate me more."

"Oh, Mom doesn't hate you; she's only worried that you won't be happy here," Scout answered honestly. That meant Mom was lying to her too. Screw that; I was going to get a milkshake.

I realized that I'd left my towel on my side of the pool so I darted back across then did a one armed lap back to the broad steps at their end. I was still holding my rolled up towel at shoulder height when I come out of the water. In hindsight, I probably should not have worn a swimsuit I had last worn two and a half years ago considering I was now bigger in all kinds of ways.

The lining had fallen out -- I had worn these as 'around the house' shorts for some time -- and that left the faded khaki suit virtually translucent. Lastly, Scout had a cute round face with lips made for -- things not appropriate for family discussion -- sucking some of those college and high school boys raw.

Her boobs had been on the edge of escape and her nice round ass had been presented to me as she paddled away. My mast was riding high and proud as I walked up those stairs and turned to follow Scout. Scout had looked over her shoulder with a smile on her face but her words never came -- she was staring -- down there.

I glanced quickly at Zuiko and she was mesmerized as well. Okay now, I know I'm big but I had always assumed that I came by it fairly from my Dad -- I was wrong. I was ten inches and pretty thick and before you congratulate me as a stud-muffin sex god, think about how your average proportioned, five foot six inch tall, one-hundred ten pound girls feel when they see this coming at their lips, vagina, or lord help us all, their anus.

On a good day they start praying to whatever God or Goddess they think can help then relax as much as possible. On a fantastic day, they squeal for joy -- that's happened twice in my nineteen years. More often it is 'Want a hand job?' or 'can we work up to this?' (I get sex but it takes up to an hour). Finally, there were the various degrees of rejections. I have had one girl scream hysterically and act as if 'it' was trying to get her; no lie.

For you guys with your six inch cocks, as wide as three fingers; be happy and proud. You have all the tool you should ever need. If some guy steps up, whips out his foot long trouser python as thick as a 'Coke' can and tells you he is going to take your girl away and she goes for it, you have two options:

You let your former girl get her John Person's freak on and count yourself lucky you found out about that then. For the love of god don't take her back once he's worn a trail through that vagina because it will never get back into anything close to normal shape and any jackass whipping out his dick to steal another man's woman isn't going to stay with the tramp long -- there is tons of tight pussy out there for him to get his jollies in after all.

Or, you become comfortable with the concept of 'fisting' and knowing the contemptible assholes that lead off their romantic conquests by smacking your girl's face with their precum-dripping cockhead could come back at any time. Sure your girl is wide open but she's still yours and that's reason enough to take her from you whenever he wants.

The one time it happened in high school, this basketball player from a different school took one of my teammate's girl with the whole 'BBC' thing. Two weeks later, I did the same thing to him and one of his buddies, 'out-cocking' their pathetic meat (okay, not too pathetic), took back my teammate's girl and the girl of one of his Bros.

The ex-GF and the new girl joined me and the ex-BF on a ride. The ex-BF had a righteous break-up screaming match then we dumped her cheating ass in the middle of fucking nowhere. The black girl with us was scared but I told her straight that this had been the ex-BF's revenge and I had nothing against her. We went out to eat, I talked her up and we screwed (non-sexually) around most of the night.

She even sent a video message to her BF and his buddies and told them all what a small prick he had and what a huge one I had and how she'd never walk the right way again and she said it with a straight face, bursting out with laughter the moment we were done. For the rest of the year, that HS didn't screw around with our ladies. Thus ends the rant on penis size.

So we are back to my uptight 'wants me gone' Stepmother Zuiko staring at my aroused package from a not-safe distance of eight feet. Her mouth opened but she didn't become slack-jawed but did salivate slightly and started licking her lips -- that was a look I knew. It was Scout who broke the spell.

"OH MY GOD!" she gasped loudly. "You are huge!" Even the housekeeper scampered out of the kitchen (part of it opened with French doors onto the poolside).

"¡Oh, Dios mío," the mature Hispanic lady ogled, "Y su padre es tan pequeña."

"Really?" I looked at her disbelieving.

"Sí, su pene es como una termita's," she confirmed. Apparently Dad did not give me my cock size; he was hung like a termite - whoa.

"Maria -- back in the kitchen," Zuiko said, trying to command the situation. "Cybil go to your room; he is your brother for Pity's sake!"

"Mom, we were about to have shakes and smoothies," Cybil protested.

"That's what I'm worried about," Zuiko snapped. "And you, Daniel, what is the meaning of dressing like this?"

"This is the only swimsuit I own," I growled back. "I haven't lived a millionaire's lifestyle, Zuiko, so I don't have ten of everything."

"Well you can't come out dressed like this," she demanded.

"What am I supposed to do?" I pleaded. "I don't have cable which is okay because I don't have a TV, or a phone line because I don't have a phone or mobile, and I don't have a wireless connection so my computer's an expensive typewriter. I've read every book in there, so what's next?"

"That's not my problem," she got all snooty in my face, or would if she wasn't ten inches shorter than me. Instead she thrust herself forward time and time again as she degraded me about, my criminal background, the grief I'd caused her, my father, and the shame my sister must then go through with a criminal relative living in the house.

"I don't live in the house," I pointed out, "You've seen to that. I know what you are doing and it pisses me off, but I'm not going to break either. I'm going to show you, you evil..." I stopped myself from calling her a bitch. Instead I kept my mouth shut.

I got back to my shack, dried off and power-upped the old computer. I couldn't reach out anywhere, but I could look up things on my hard drive and that included my Dad's deal to take custody of me for my confinement and an hour later I found it -- Areas of the Premises Restricted from Detainee: None. I had free reign of the house, but to make sure, I needed to make it real.

"Maria," I asked the housekeeper when she brought me dinner, "I'm going to need codes for all the rooms of the house."

"Are you sure about that, Mr. Duke?" she inquired cautiously. I turned and showed her the papers then I hit the Translate to Spanish button to ease her reading.

"This is nice," she nodded, "is this program that does this cheap?"

"Maria, it is part of the basic system package," I explained. "It costs nothing."

"Oh," she mused. "Oh, I like that; no one has done that for me before. My English is just fine but I know some others who would find documents translated to Spanish to be very useful."

"No problem Maria," I smiled. "Most documents sent out are on-line too and you can demand they send you a copy. Translating it to Spanish is free and you are ready to go. I'll show you where to go in your directory so you can show others."

"You are white," Maria smirked, "so why do you do this?"

"Maria, the college my Dad sent me to was one step above a community college, there were a lot of us poor kids there and sadly a large number of poor kids are bi-lingual with better Spanish than English," I shrugged.

"I will get you your own code," Maria nodded. "If she tries to cancel your code...nah, I'll just set you up with a Master Code to avoid all that."

"Thank you very much Maria, but I don't' want you to get in trouble," I cautioned her.

"Eh, my oldest daughter's husband's cousin came by last year to update the security and he showed me how to reset the system and check all the codes -- including how to enter a new code and determine its access rating," Maria got ready to head out.

"I repeat;" I said happily, "don't get into trouble on my behalf."

"Don't worry 'Duke'," Maria tapped me on the top of my head, "the only person who can legally do it is your Father, not a simple maid like me."

"I wouldn't know about maids," I kept chuckling, "I played with some boys whose mom's and sisters were maids but they never talked about it. They seemed to be happy to have their days off."

"Day?" Maria laughed. "You know maids. We get a day a week if we are lucky. What did your mother do?"

"She went to school with Dad but she went into Botany," I informed her. "She would go check moisture levels, air quality and sun exposure for small and medium-sized florists so that the flowers would grow full and beautifully."

"That sounds like honest work," Maria remarked in a way that implied that what Dad did, and whatever Zuiko did, if anything, wasn't so honest or even work. Sure enough, she returned to the Main house, I wolfed down my food and went she came back for my tray and gave me the numbers of my code. I slipped out and tested the two doors I needed then crept back home and went to sleep.

Morning Workout and Evening Roughhousing

The resistance machines were in such a stage of disuse that I feared they would be unusable. I checked the wires and resistance devices and with a little TLC I had them up and running in good time. I had built up a good sweat, taken off my tank top, dried off and built up a new layer of sweat.

Zuiko was half way to her exercise bike before she saw me.

"What are you doing here?" she squawked.

"It is the exercise room -- so I'm exercising -- Mom," I tried to keep things cool.

"Get out; you aren't supposed to be here," Zuiko snapped. "I didn't give you permission to leave the pool house."

"I don't need your permission, Mom," I said evenly. "Dad gave me free run of the property. Call him if you like or simply read the Custodial Agreement he signed." Zuiko huffed then turned and stormed out. That night she had a conniption when I enjoyed eating at the dinner table with her and Scout. Zuiko tried to drag Scout away from the table but she refused to leave.

At 9pm two policemen showed up and we four had a talk. I showed them the paper, Zuiko called Dad to have me tossed but -- surprise, surprise -- he didn't pick up or return her numerous messages. What tiny flicker of respect I had for my Father evaporated. All Dad would really have had to do was call his lawyer and I knew they would be rich enough to screw me royally. Maria got the officers some coffee and they left slightly annoyed with Zuiko.

The next day, Monday, we repeated the scene; I was there and she came in, screeched at me then stormed out. Tuesday she decided to outdo me and showed up very early. She beat me by fifteen minutes but was under the impression that 800 sq. ft. wasn't room enough for us both to work in.

"Good morning Mom," I greeted her as I strategically shed my shirt.

"I was here first," she pointed out. I nodded and headed to my first machine. She gave it a good ten minutes. "I was here first and you should leave," she came over to tell me.

"I'm comfortable working with you in the room," I tried not to tease. "If you feel uncomfortable for some reason..."

"You are a criminal in my lodgings under house arrest," Zuiko countered.

"We've been down this road before, Mom," I sighed patiently. "I was drunk in my car, my friends gathered up some weed and they got busted. Since it was my car, they had to charge me with some offense, so I ended up here."

"I know, I know and stop calling me Mom," she growled in frustration.

"What do you want me to call you?" I asked.

"Anything but Mom -- or Mother or Zuiko," she demanded.

"Fine, I'll call you Hotness," I grinned.

"You will not!" she shouted angrily.

"Sorry, but you said 'anything'," I reminded her.

"You will not call me that, here or in public," she demanded anew.

"My next series of repetitions are with bench press," I told her as I started moving to the next machine. She put a hand on my chest to stop me so I gave her a few seconds to rub my sweat beneath her fingertips. Zuiko lost herself as my warmth ran up her fingers which was a reaction I was totally unprepared for. I only wanted her to acknowledge that I had a place here.

I put my hands on her hips and she grew terribly still but this was not going sexual. She was the same annoying bitch and I had to live there for 20 months with her and her child. I picked Hotness up, she gasped then I turned 90 degrees and put her back down.

"Hey!" she exhaled.

"You were in my way," I informed her as I grabbed my towel and moved past her. She studied my back until I lay down and began the next stage of my workout. She eventually got back to whatever wacky routine she had. I couldn't tell what she intended with her exercises and I was not going to antagonize her any further by trying to help.

It is a little past three when Cybil/Scout came back from a hard day at school. Normally I could barely hear anything at the front door from the 'entertainment' room of Dad's mansion. This one room was nearly the size of my childhood home. It was bigger than the apartment my Mom and I ended up in when she was ill and this sofa was bigger than my bed.

"Duke?" Scout shouted.

"I'm watching TV," I replied then realized that half the rooms in this house had TVs. "Back of the house - by the pool," I clarified. Only when she got close did I realize that she'd brought a friend. I quickly took my foot off the futon and scanned around for something to cover my ankle monitor with. I had no such luck.

"Hey Daniel," Scout greeted me, "This is my friend Jacye." What was it with rich people and those freaky names? J-C? Or was it Jacye? "Daniel goes by 'Duke'."

"Duke," Jacye stared at me like I was a tall glass of ice water offered up to her in the midst of a burning desert. "So you are a criminal. What did you do?" Well, that was rude. I had to think fast.

"I'm not supposed to talk about it," I said in a low gravelly voice.

"Cybil, could you get us something to drink -- I'd like a Bottled Water please," Jacye requested of her friend.

"I'll have a whiskey sour," I glanced over to Scout.

"Right," Scout teased me in response, "that is two waters and one chocolate shake."

"How old are you?" Jacye inquired.

"Nineteen," I confessed.

"Oh, you look...older, more mature," she observed as she settled close beside me on the sofa.

"Well," I emulated my namesake, "when you've broken a man and left him bleeding at your feet, it changes you inside." Jacye scooted closer to me.

"Really, what happened?" she insisted.

"You can't tell Cybil or her Mom -- they've been told a cover story," I held back until she acknowledged my code of secrecy, "but I had to shoot a man three times."

"Oh my God," she gasped and rubbed her hand over my thigh, "how did this happen?"

"I had a good friend and I was -- familiar -- with his sister," I said in a conspiratorial voice. "My friend owed some money to a drug dealer. This big-time drug dealer beat up my friend and took his sister as payment."

"Oh my God," she repeated with the definite bonus of rubbing a hand over then under the top band of my gym shorts. "What happened next?"

"I had to retrieve the girl, I knew the back way into the Drug Lord's hangout and I knew where he preferred to take the women he was going to force to fulfill his needs," I absolutely and totally embellished the lie.

"What happened?" she murmured with a sexual curiosity that was new and intriguing.

"She was nearly naked and handcuffed to the bed when I found her. He had stepped out for some reason so I started to pick the locks on her cuffs when the door opened and he came in," I dragged this farce out a bit longer. Didn't all low-lives like me know how to pick locks?

"Were you scared? Was he armed -- I mean, packing?" Jacye panted as her hand moved past the waistband and grabbed a solid handful of my cock.

"Yes, I was scared, and yes he was packing but I couldn't leave the girl to suffer at his hands so I rushed him," I looked intently into her eyes. Oh, come on, it isn't like poor people can't call the cops too. Apparently the idea of me being dumb enough to go after a known, armed drug dealer was giving her an endorphin rush from hell.

"He had his gun in his belt but I grabbed it same time he did. The gun went off, hitting his thigh. Rico, the drug dealer, was stronger and bigger than I was and he wrestled the gun up. I squeezed the trigger," and she began squeezing my trigger, "and a second and third shot went off."

"Oh God," Jacye moaned sensually. She gave up the pretense of actually listening, working my shorts down past my ankle monitor and totally off instead. "Were you hurt?"

"Umm -- no; the second shot went wide but the third hit him in the foot. He went down screaming and the gun went flying. I'd have done something worse to him, but his buddies were close by so I freed the girl and fled the scene," I groaned. "Your shorts are still on," I reminded her.

"Did she reward you for all the danger you faced?" she licked her lips while staring at my raging rod.

"Oh hell yeah," I growled, "I had blood all over me from that other guy, so she stripped me when we got back to her house and I was -- appreciating her, legs hooked over both elbows, when the cops broke in. I never got to cum -- it's been months now."

-

"Oh poor baby," she said as she started licking my assembly like it was one big fleshy lollipop.

"Yeah, I really wanted to hammer her into next week -- and you look a lot like her too," I grinned. I didn't know if she's bought any part of this but if this was her 'faking it' I couldn't wait to see her being sincere. She was proving to me that she was hardly an oral virgin when I started to think that Cybil should have been back by now.

I made a gentle half-turn of the head and caught sight of Cybil with three large glasses filled with a variety of things, hovering by the entrance to the room and watching us covertly. I got back to stroking Jacye's light blonde hair with black roots and a chic comb-over that looked kind of punk. It took me a few second for me to figure out that Cybil could see Jacye and vice versa.

"Hmmna mmph mmapah," it sounded like as she was impaling her mouth on my meat. Jacye pulled back up, her eyes watering. "I can't get it all in," she related with some wonderment. "I've never had one I couldn't swallow before."

"Uh, sorry," I apologized.

"Oh, don't be," she gulped hungrily. "I thought Scout was pulling my leg when she told us about you, but I owe her a big YGG for bringing me here today."

"YGG...'us'," I muttered. She shot me a very carnivorous grin as she started crawling up my body.

"YGG = you go girl; and 'us' as in our Art Study group which is only the eight of us girls who are studying the modern expression of body art," Jacye informed me.

"Are we worried about a condom," I put a break on our progress.

"Do you get blood tested in prison? Because I was clean at the last Red Cross blood drive," she informed me. My nod suggested that I did get tested when I was processed in jail and that I was clean.

"Don't worry, we are very discreet," she assured me even she's rubbing my cock through her fluid labia, letting me discover two piercings that decorated the entrance to her vagina, and then flickered her gaze toward Cybil at the same time.

"God, this is a Monster," she moaned wantonly. I'd heard that before but usually with more fear and respect. "I'm not sure...oh so big and firm," she exhaled as she relaxed her thighs and gravity helped me transfix her womb. I reached out and cupped each ass cheek to slow her progress.

"Take your shirt off," I directed Jacye. That was the polite way of saying 'show me your tits'.

Jacye clearly got that memo because she immediately started rolling up the bottom of her shirt. Her eyes weren't locked with mine; she was shooting Cybil a daring look with a smug smile on her face. She was challenging Scout to 'interrupt' us.

I was really happy she didn't because it really had been months since I entered a pussy, much less one this accommodating. Jacye made a great show of peeling her shirt over her head; let it 'trap' her arms over her heard and finally twirling it around. She was definitely playing to an audience that wasn't me.

"We are not going to piss Scout off, are we?" I requested of Jacye. Her eyes flashed down with a wicked cast.

"I don't think so but she's your sister; don't you know?" Jacye countered.

"I don't know," I sighed sadly. "She doesn't like me much. Maybe because we aren't really brother and sister she doesn't feel we need to be close."

The blonde started tantalizing her sports bra upward, languidly allowing her nicely fashioned breasts to bounce free and then lowered her left nipple toward my lips.

"Too bad, Scout is a really fun girl," Jacye waggled her breasts before me. "She must take your relationship very seriously to be giving you your space. She's normally rather saucy."

"Well, she's a sweet girl to her mother and the staff here, but that's the reason there is never going to a relationship between us; her mother hates me," I explained.

"Oh," Jacye pulled me into her breast. Before my vision was obscured I could see her eyes flicker above me -- she was looking at more than one person -- shit-tastic; Hotness was in the audience too.

I let her drop the last inch or so down my shaft which bought a grunt from her, and a sliver of space for me. I sucked her left nipple in between my lips and roll the pronounced tip between my teeth. This earned me a prolonged moan as well.

"Her Mother is a really nice woman," was Jacye's guttural response. I started to push her upwards with the assistance of her thighs flexing as well.

"Oh, she's a wonderful woman," I panted, "Do you promise -- not to -- tell anyone..."

"Sure," the blonde vixen lied convincingly, at least omitting the fact that my audience was listening in.

"If you promise you won't let a soul find out," I ground out as she gyrated on my rod. She nodded her affirmation of my goal to not be found out, "I call her Hotness when I don't think anyone else can hear."

"Oh -- oh -- oh -- oh, why is that?" she purred, temporarily shutting me up with a nipple.

"I -- I use that term because I can't decide who is hotter; mother or daughter. What do you think?" I teased between lip-smacking mouthfuls of puffy areola and nipple. We were also starting to make wet fleshy sound as she got up 2 or 3 inches of my shaft than splashed back down hard onto the top of my ball-sack.

There was a tight squeeze on the uppermost surge of my cock as it speared something deep inside Jacye.

"Ah -- ah -- ah -- ah -- ah, that's my -- cervix, damn it," she exulted. "You are breaking past my cervix; this has never happened before." Sadly, it had happened to me before. The cervix was a vice like opening at the top of the vagina and its purpose in life was to keep a baby's head in the uterus.

Crushing the life out of my cockhead was simply basic training for this bad girl and it was getting to work right about then. In my defense, I'd been nearly decapitated penetrating a cervix before so my cock recalled that it needed to stay strong and that if I massage the opening and the valve itself, I'd be okay and give a mind-blowing experience in the process. The object was to stay in control.

That wasn't made easy when after the first full stroke in, Jacye started having convulsions and shook like a leaf in a tornado. In the distance of my perceptions (about 15 feet at the moment), I was aware of a struggle to intervene kept in check by both parties desire to keep quiet. I just didn't know if it was Cybil holding back Zuiko, or Hotness holding back Scout.

I switched from her left nipple which was rather abused to her unmolested right. I took in the large blood-pink areola, twirled my tongue over the nipple and scrapped my teeth from the edge of the fleshy breast to the base of the nipple but I didn't bite; the mere threat propelled her over the crest again and again. My shooting warm, milky cum into her womb was one final kick toward her psychological oblivion; all by it temporary.

When she finally couldn't take anymore I relented, letting her body rest, its sticky sweatiness against my chest with her head resting on my shoulder.

"That was -- that was -- indescribable," Jacye panted thirty seconds later. "I don't normally...jump my friend's brothers." She struggled up so that she could see both me and the people at the doorway. "I'm not a slut."

"No, of course not," I really didn't care if she was a slut or not. I cared if she was hurting Scout, who has attempted to be nice to me. "I think you've been helping me keep Scout safe. I was getting so horny and she and her Mom both look so great. You most likely saved us all some awkward moments."

"Like at the pool?" Jacye teased, still hot, sweat and riding my shaft which wasn't playing nice and going down.

"Yes, like what happened at the pool; that was embarrassing," I groaned. "Hey, should Scout be back any second?" I made a show of trying to look over my shoulder at the doorway. Jacye strategically got her chest in the way so all I could do was hear the scurrying by the entrance.

"Help me get dressed," Jacye demanded playfully. I happily obliged and by the time my shorts were up, Jacye's bra and shirt were fixed and her pants were flying up her thighs, Cybil announced herself.

"Hey guys, sorry it took so long," she rounded the sofa, handed Jacye her water and then rounded the futon before giving me my somewhat melted shake. Finally she crashed next to me on the sofa opposite her blonde buddy.

"So, what did you two talk about?" Cybil teased as she sniffed the strong odor of sex in the air.

"Mostly about you," I embellished.

"We talked a little about the Art Group," Jacye remained more truthful. "Duke, do you have any tattoos?" I leaned forward enough so that I could pull off my shirt.

"None," I displayed. "I've never been sure what my first should be -- it has to be something important and life-changing, right?" I got two sets of bobbing heads agreeing with my suggestion but I also got a right hand from Jacye and a left from Scout massaging my shoulders, pectorals and abs that were still sticky and salty from the earlier episode of sexual exploitation.

There was a feminine cough from the door.

"It is good to see you again, Jacye," Zuiko announced her presence from the doorway. "I see you've met out house guest, Duke La Roche."

"Oh yes," Jacye licked her lips in an obvious play at sexual superiority -- she had just gotten some sex under the older woman's roof and Mrs. Zuiko La Roche clearly has not getting any. "Duke gave me a warm welcome."

"I'm sure he did," Zuiko got snippy. "Don't the two of you have homework to get to?"

"Mom, it is the start of the semester," Scout became petulant but I doubted she was going to win this one.

"All the better to get a leg up then," Zuiko snapped; "leave Duke to his pedantic pursuits."

"Come on," Jacye stood and motioned for Scout to come along. She offered me a hand. "It was nice -- really nice to meet you. Maybe we can get together later after..." she looked to my government issued jewelry.

"I'd like that Jacye; any friend of Cybil is a friend of mine," I looked to my 'step-sister', "she's special to me."

"Ah -- thank you Duke. I'll see you at dinner?" Scout asked.

"Sure thing, as long as Hotness doesn't get too angry about it," I winked at the two girls.

They took their drinks, snickered and raced from the room.

"Stop calling me that," Zuiko seemed pissed, so I, of course, didn't let it go.

"I'll pick a less honest name if you like, but I hate lying, especially to you," I twisted on the sofa so that my arm was hooked over the back and I could stare at her.

"That name is disrespectful," she persisted.

"Not in the barrios I come from," I deflected her argument. "There it is a status thing. Few women get called it and fewer still deserve it."

"Well, I don't like it, so stop," she proclaimed. She spun and left before I could get another word in which considering how tight her capris were over her butt wasn't really a bad thing. I also noted she didn't give me an alternate name to use.

Later, over a subdued dinner, the three of us were eating -- me down by Dad's end, Zuiko at the wife's spot and Cybil at her side when I noticed that I hadn't been requested in any manner to leave and Cybil had been allowed to shoot me some glances without Zuiko getting apoplectic.

"Mrs. La Roche, there was a very large stain on the leather sofa in the entertainment room this afternoon," Maria informed the head of household.

"Maybe Duke made it," Hotness snipped at me.

"Oh no, Senora, this is not the kind of stain a man would make," Maria winked my way. I almost spewed my fruit punch.

"Oh," Hotness gave me a furtive glance then looked out the window. "As long as it's cleaned up," and that was the end of the matter. Next time Jacye came over, I was using a towel.