After_School_Job

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | Epilogue

Chapter Ten

We did not have sex before school that day, but the start of school only affected our honeymoon a little. It gave me time to recharge during the day, which was good, because when we got home after school we fucked like bunnies, took a nap, and then did it again when we woke up. We found that actually sleeping together was addictive. We hadn't slept in separate beds since Dad left.

We slept in Addison's bed most nights because she had a queen sized bed, while I only had a double. Addison was literally sperm-soaked the entire first week our father was gone. One time I was on top of her, lunging away when the phone rang. We ignored it, and then her phone rang on the night stand. She had already cum, and she simply answered it, still breathing hard. Not to mention her breath was irregular because I was pounding away in her tight, wet pussy.

"Hello?" she gasped into the phone. "Oh! Hi, Daddy!"

I stopped, deep in her. Her non-phone hand went to my butt and encouraged me, using physical signals we were now fluent in, to go in circles. I did.

"Oh," she said. "You caught me while I was exercising. How's Mom? When are you coming home?"

I started grinding deep. I know it was silly, but I wanted to try to get her close to an orgasm, just to see what she'd do. I knew her body well enough by now that I could sense her excitement building. Her hips bumped up, and I felt her vaginal muscles clamp down on me. I grinned and tried to suckle a nipple, but the hand on my ass came up to bat me away.

"Good," she panted. "He's okay. But sometime he's mean to me," she said, glaring up at me. I rubbed sideways and she got a slightly panicked look in her eye. "He makes me do my homework!" she gasped. "He's right here, Daddy. Talk to him!"

She shoved the phone at me and grabbed the pillow beside her head to cover her face with.

But, of course, I had to stop, because I had the phone in one hand, which overbalanced me. I could either fall down on her, which might actually hurt her, or roll. The problem was that I had the phone in my right hand, which meant I had to roll to the right. And the edge of the bed was only a foot away.

"Hey!" I shouted at the phone as I fell off the bed and landed on the floor. I got the instrument up to my ear in time to hear, "take care of your sister."

"I am taking care of her," I said, trying to control my own breath. "I'm even doing exercises with her," I added, just in case.

"I don't want to hear any tales of woe when I bring your mother home," he said. "She's had a rough time of it and she deserves to come home to a loving family."

"We're very loving," I said, and then winced. "Don't worry, Dad. We'll clean the house and everything."

"See to it," he said. "It looks like it might be another four or five days before we start back. I'll keep you posted."

"Okay, thanks."

"Be nice to your sister!" he ordered.

"I promise," I said.

I punched the disconnect button.

Then I got up, crawled back on top of my sister, and was nice to her for another hour straight.

Hindsight is one of those things that you wish you had, and then hate when you get it. Looking back on things, I imagine we would have done things differently if we'd have thought about it. I'm talking about birth control, of course.

We'd both had the course in school. But our class put most of the emphasis on disease prevention, in terms of condom use. Addison still remembers the teacher saying girls should carry a condom with them in case they got into a rape situation, so they could ask their rapist to use the condom. As stupid as that sounds, that's the result political correctness can inflict on good advice.

But the fear of disease was simply nonexistent when it came to us. We were both virgins the first time we had sex. Further, our parents had gotten Addie the HPV inoculations when she was young, and she was told, "This protects you." And I think we both fell victim, if that's the right word, to something very common in teenagers.

We just didn't think she'd get pregnant. We didn't even think, really, about whether she might get pregnant.

Personally, I think that might have something to do with the tendency for adults in our culture to stick their heads in the sand, when it comes to talking about sex with their own children. I haven't done a survey on it or anything, but I bet if somebody did, they'd find out that the average teenager is talked to by a parent about sex for less than ten minutes by the time they turn eighteen and leave the house. I'm not counting "Don't do that!" as a conversation about sex.

I'm not blaming our parents for Addison getting pregnant. I know I did that. She does too. And once she found out she was pregnant, it was obvious where we went wrong.

But the long and short of it was that, while our father was gone to get our mother, neither Addison or I worried about the fact that I was pumping her full of my sperm every night. Often two or three times a night.

Vlad never mentioned birth control to us. Maybe he thought Addison was on the pill. And while our dialog sometimes dealt with that subject, they were just lines and somehow that made them ... I don't know ... not real? He never suggested we use a condom, of course, because he wanted pictures and movies of bareback sex. And we never thought about it. I remember, now that I think about it, that the film we saw of Kerry and Natalie fucking also had Kerry's prick naked as it slid into his sister. Of course he carefully ensured that he got money shots, of us shooting jism into the girls, so I suspect his motives were financial.

We did make another movie while Dad was gone. Addie was Rapunzel and I was the prince who climbed her hair to her room, whereupon we both engaged in what would, once the movie was finished, appear to be a non-stop sexual frenzy in which the prince was able to spurt six times in one night, before he killed the witch (off stage) and came back to claim Rapunzel as his own, forever.

By the way, while Rapunzel was filmed over two nights, I never had any trouble getting hard or spurting. I have since heard that a man's body can sometimes "learn to perform" If he has a lot of sex. Perhaps this explains why Hugh Hefner was able to take care of a whole stable of bunnies.

In any case, I was having a lot of sex, and I was able on both nights to perform.

And somewhere along the way ... I performed a little too well.

Of course we didn't know that then. What we knew was that we each had a pile of twenties hidden away in our closets. Ten grand takes up a surprising amount of space, and we still had a lot of what we'd been paid before that as well. And you can't, as a teenager, go wandering into a bank with a handful of twenties and ask for hundreds without raising an eyebrow or two.

It is possible, though she's never admitted it, that Addison had a premonition. What I do know is that, after we shot Rapunzel, she told me she didn't want to make any more movies. Neither did she want to model for Vlad anymore. She didn't say why, except to say, "We have enough money. Mom's coming home. Let's quit."

And, while my body was producing all the stiffies a boy could ever hope for, I was tired.

Vlad wasn't happy. I guess we were popular with his client. Even the offer of more money ($7,000 apiece) didn't sway her. So, in the end, he sadly said goodbye.

Mom and Dad got back on the Saturday following the completion of Rapunzel, and our exit from the porn industry. We'd had one last night together in Addison's bed but, strangely, we hadn't fucked like bunnies that night. We lay on our sides, facing each other, with me in her, and just held each other while we made out. Eventually I rolled on top of her with her legs closed, like she liked it so much, and we both had almost calm, gentle orgasms. Then we rolled back on our sides and held each other again while I slowly slipped out of her as I got soft. We fell asleep that way.

There was a frenzy of activity Saturday morning when we woke up. Sheets had to be washed, and Addison's room aired out. You didn't notice the odor unless you left the room for a while and then came back. So we opened her windows and closed her door for an hour. We cleaned the house and Addison made a tuna casserole to have ready when they got home. Then she decided we needed a welcome home cake, and messed up the kitchen I had worked so hard to have clean for when Mom got home.

There was only one bit of sexual play between us that morning. While she was at the counter stirring the cake batter, I came up behind her and slid my hands up inside her shirt to fondle her breasts. She was wearing a bra, and I slipped my hands under that, forcing it upwards.

"Stop!" she said, but didn't sound like she meant it.

"I'm going to miss these," I said.

"No you're not," she said. "You'll still get to see them."

"Not as much."

"Poor baby," she said. "I have a cake to make."

"Let me suck them ... just a little," I wheedled.

"No!" she said. "If I let you suck them, we'll end up in bed and I'll have to air out my room again."

"Not if we do it on the kitchen table," I teased.

"We eat on that table!" she said, in mock horror.

"I can think of something I'd like to eat on that table," I said.

"They could be home any minute," she said, still stirring.

"Okay," I sighed, pulling my hands out of her shirt. "I'll just go beat off."

"Fix my bra," she demanded. "I have batter on my fingers."

"Okay," I sighed. "Turn around."

She trusted me, and did so, holding her arms (and her hands, which did, in fact, have batter on them) away from her body. I lifted her shirt up to her neck and told her to hold it there with her chin.

Then I Ieaned in and captured her left nipple between my lips.

The next thing I knew my face was being smeared with chocolate cake batter.

I ducked back, laughing. She reached for a towel, wiped her hands, fixed her bra and gave me a mock glare.

"Maybe you won't get to play with them any more!" she growled.

"I have to!" I crowed.

"Why?"

"Because I promised Dad I'd be nice to you."

"Go pick up the living room," she said, changing the subject.

"I did," I said.

"Then go pick up what you missed the first time."

It might have gone on, but we heard the garage door opener cycle. Our parents were home.

The honeymoon was over.

Mom's homecoming was great for us all. We had no problem with Dad being in charge of us, of course, but it was still nice to have Mom around. She was dead tired, but we knew she'd bounce back from that. And she was excited to talk about what they'd found at the dig. Of course we weren't nearly as gung ho about it as she was, but we'd gotten used to looking interested years ago. All of us ... Dad included.

We had the tuna casserole, with vegetables from cans. The cake was done during the meal and had cooled enough to be cut by the time we finished eating. Mom said she'd prefer it with no frosting anyway, so we just cut it up and had pieces like that.

Mom said, "I need a nap."

Dad said, "I'll take one with you."

Mom smiled at him and said, "I might fall asleep on you."

Dad said, "You can fall asleep after we talk. We have a lot to catch up on."

I sat there thinking that they'd just spent three days in the car, able to talk and catch up on things the whole time. But I knew what he was talking about. I glanced at Addison, who was blinking her eyelashes at me rapidly.

"We'll do the dishes," I said.

Dad smiled at us. "Thanks. Try not to make a lot of noise this afternoon. It will likely be a long nap."

"No problem," I said.

"I'll ride herd on him," said Addison.

"You two are certainly getting along well," said Mom, when I didn't react to my sister's catty remark.

"It's because I'm such a great father," said our father.

Mom stood up. "I want to hear all about your modeling, but I'm too drained to do it now. Can we talk about that later?"

"Sure," said Addison. "It was pretty boring, really. And time consuming. We quit, actually."

"We can talk about it later," she said. " I need sleep."

"And I will see to all your needs," said Dad.

"Get a room!"said Addison, finally.

Dad grinned. For some reason I glanced at the front of his khakis. There was a bit of a tent there.

"Not to worry," he said. "We have one."

Addie stood up from putting the last of the dishes in the dish washer.

"You know what they're doing in there," she said, softly.

"Of course I do," I said.

"I used to think that was icky," she said.

"Really? I always thought Mom was kind of a MILF."

"You're horrible!" she gasped.

"I think you're a SILF," I quipped.

"I was getting horny," she said, making it clear her horniness was fading.

"What can I say? Us guys are still just cavemen at heart."

"And us girls would like a little romance in our lives," she complained.

"I think you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," I said, softly. "I love you, and I can't imagine my life without you in it."

She stood stock still for a few seconds, and then her face flushed pink.

"Now that's more like it," she said.

"There's something I want to show you," I said. "Come with me."

I led her to her room. I closed the door.

"You can't be serious," she said. "They're right down the hall."

"Doing what I want to do with you," I said.

"It's crazy," she objected.

"I want to suck those nipples. I want to lick your pussy. I want to put my rigid penis in it and watch you put a pillow over your face because I've made you cum. And then I want to shoot deep inside you."

She stared at me. "You don't play fair."

"All is fair in love and war," I said. "And I want to make love, not war."

Which is how I ended up lying on top of my sister at one end of the house, sliding my boner in and out of her until she covered her face with the pillow, while I spurted deep inside her.

I wondered, briefly, as I came, if my mother had a pillow over her face too.

Life settled down for us over the next week. It was astonishing how much "extra" time we had when we didn't go to Vlad's. We got homework done and had time to read, or watch TV before supper.

Mom did interrogate us about our short lived modeling careers. Fortunately, Addison had paid attention to the brands of stuff she's modeled, and was able to talk about it in a way that made her sound pretty professional. As for me, I said, "He gave me stuff to put on and I did and he took pictures. I was there for the money. I didn't care who made the clothes."

"Did you pose together?" asked Mom.

"A couple of times," said Addison, who had recognized it was probably better if she did most of the talking. "We did a couple of shoots wearing outdoorsman stuff, you know, with a tent set up and a fake cook fire. That sort of thing."

"Fascinating," said our mother. "So why did you quit again?"

Addison went into a long diatribe about having to hold your body in poses, and not breathe, and how hot the lights were, and how it caused her to sweat, and how Vlad never seemed satisfied and on and on, complaining about all sorts of things, even down to getting stuck by pins. Dad said, "You didn't mention all this to me," and Addison said "Mom understands ... don't you?" She looked all doe-eyed at our mother, who had just spent three months living on a dusty, cold Peruvian mountain, digging in the dirt all day and sleeping in a tent on a cot.

Mom said, "Of course I do. It must have been awful." She rolled her eyes at Dad when Addison wasn't looking.

But I realized Addie had just disarmed our mother, making her think her little girl was soft and unable to put up with minor adversity. She had neatly put our modeling career in the family history book, never to be examined again.

Or so we thought.

Mom had been home three weeks when Addie slipped into my room one night, frowning. We'd managed to have sex half a dozen times since Mom got home, but it wasn't the same as before. It was more tense, knowing there were now two adults right down the hall who might discover our relationship.

She sat down on the edge of my bed. The tips of her breasts were round and smooth, and that told me she wasn't excited.

"I should have had a period by now," she said, getting right to the point.

What does a guy say in that situation? Right. Nothing. And that's exactly what I said.

"I never miss a period," she went on. "What if I'm pregnant?"

I'll swear in court that's the first time it dawned on me that by fucking my sister and cumming in her unprotected pussy, I could actually get her pregnant.

"Wow," I said. I was in awe. The concept that I had fathered a child was so enormous I didn't even know how to begin examining it.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I said.

Basically, that conversation repeated itself a couple of times before we both came to the conclusion that neither of us knew how to proceed. And it was for that reason that we decided to do nothing.

When a couple of teenagers, one of whom is a junior, and the other a senior, discover ... or suspect ... that the senior has gotten the junior pregnant, but they aren't sure, it sort of puts a damper on being "In the mood."

I did a lot of poking my head into her room asking, "Are you okay?" and she did a lot of answering, "I don't know" or, "What are we going to do?"

It's not like the guy can go to her and say, "Girls miss a period all the time. Lots of things can cause that. You might not be pregnant! So we can still have sex ... right?"

Not that that's how I would have put it. But a rose by any other name is still a rose. And I think I was reacting to all this a little differently than she was.

That's not strange. I'm not a girl, but I can imagine realizing there might be something growing inside you that will get bigger and bigger and then require that you force it out of your body, at which point it will be a baby you have to take care of twenty-four hours a day. I mean it's a life changing event. And even if you want it to happen, when it does, it really affects the female in lots of ways. And if you don't want it to happen ... well that just piles more on the poor girl.

For the guy, it's completely different, whether he wants it to happen or not. Once he injects the sperm, he's pretty much done. If he wanted that sperm to take hold and turn into his offspring, then he's happy. If he didn't want it to happen, his major problem is to decide whether to stick around ... or not.

That sounds rough, but it's basically true. Of course I knew I was going to be sticking around. And I cared how all this was affecting Addison.

At the same time, the thought that we had created life together pulled at me, like a far off kind of dream that was ... I don't know ... exquisite?

I mean I loved her. I really loved her. And while I'd insisted that someday she'd get married and have kids, the thought of her doing that with another man left me feeling hollow ... empty. I knew it was crazy. I knew I'd have to let her go some day.

But now ... now everything was in flux. Her last period had ended on the seventh of December, according to her calendar. Now it was the middle of January. If she really was pregnant, I knew she'd have that baby. Our parents were firmly on the right to life side of things. They hadn't joined an anti-abortion group or anything, but we both knew how they felt about abortion. The question was ... what would happen to that baby? And the thought that some other man and woman might raise our baby also left me feeling hollow and empty.

But I couldn't talk to Addison about how I felt. She wasn't ready to hear that yet. I didn't know if she'd ever be ready to hear that I wanted us to be able to raise that baby as our own.

If she was even pregnant. After all, women do miss periods for various reasons.

But it was still possible.

Which possibly was pretty well established when that next period, which we both had marked on our mental calendar, failed to appear as anticipated.

"We have to tell them," she said, tearfully one night, after our parents had gone to bed.

"I know," wishing there was some way we could do all this in secret.

"When?"

"I don't know."

"You have to help me," she said. "They're going to want to know who it was. What do I tell them?"

I thought about the guys she'd gone on dates with. But only briefly. I knew she hadn't done anything with them, and they did too. Besides, there was no way I was going to blame it on somebody else.

"I just won't tell them," she said.

"That's not going to work. They'll badger you. They'll never leave you alone."

"I can take it," she said.

"Addie," I said, sadly. "This is going to be hard. Kids at school will find out. Everybody will find out. They'll all want to know who the father is."

"Don't you think I've been thinking about that?" she asked, much too loudly.

"Calm down," I said.

"I can't calm down!" she moaned. "What if they try to take our baby away from us?"

That was when I discovered she'd been thinking about things in a way remarkably similar to how I was.

It was so agonizing that we couldn't take it. They say confession is good for the soul. Maybe that's true. All I know is that both of us just couldn't deal with the stress of keeping it secret any longer.

We did wait two more days. That was because we wanted to do this on a Saturday morning. We didn't want to drop this bomb on Mom when she was required to go to work. And we didn't know how long the "confession" would take. We were completely out of our depth, here.

It started like this. We were at the breakfast table, and Addison said, "Mom, there's been something bothering me and I need to talk to you about it."

Mom looked at her and said, " I've been wondering when you'd say that. You've been walking around like you lost your best friend for the last month."

" I might lose my best friend," said Addie, her eyes filling with tears.

"Who?" asked Mom.

"You," whispered Addison.

I watched as the blood drained from my mother's face. She got so pale I was afraid she'd faint.

"You're pregnant," she sighed.

"She's what?!" Dad chimed in.

Addison could only nod, because the sobbing came over her like a wave crashing onto the shore.

"Oh, Baby," moaned Mom. She got up and moved around the table to hug Addison.

"She's what?!" said Dad again. He looked as shell shocked as I felt. I suddenly felt queasy.

"Come on," said Mom. "You and I are going to the bedroom and have a little talk."

"Now wait just a damn minute!" blurted Dad.

Mom looked at him with that look she had when she wasn't going to argue about something.

"Steve, I'm going to talk to her. When the time is right, you'll be invited in. Let me handle this!"

"But ..." he looked helpless.

"We'll be back in a while," she said. "Just be patient."

"How can I be patient?" he yelled. " I just found out my baby girl is pregnant!"

"She's not a baby anymore," said Mom. "That should be obvious." She looked at Addie then, and I realized that as much as it was obvious our mother loved her, and was empathetic to her plight, my sister was in for a rough time in that bedroom.

They were gone for an hour. We menfolk had no idea what to do. Looking back on it, I didn't act like the innocent brother who has just become privy to details about his sister that most boys couldn't wait to spread around to his friends. Instead, I paced, just like my father paced. It should have been obvious to Dad that I was involved in this. But he had his own troubles, and wasn't paying attention to me or anything else.

When they came out, they both looked like they'd been through the wringer. Mom looked at Dad and said, "She won't tell me who it was."

I saw Dad's face go red and he drew breath to yell. I knew it would be a yell, and I knew it wouldn't do anybody any good.

"I'll tell you," I said. My voice was remarkably calm, for as agitated as I was. I couldn't let her do this alone.

I got it over with before Addie could object.

"It was me," I said. "I'm the father."

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