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Lila
I flick on the light in the bathroom
and stand in front of the mirror, pushing the curls of my blond hair out of my
eyes to see how I look with a fresh face for the first time since I was twelve.
It’s the first day of senior year and I plan to start off with(out) a bang.
For as long as I can remember, my mother told me that my
forehead was too wide to go without them so every chance I had to cut them just
to cover it up, I took it. But I’m eighteen now and I think it’s time I finally
started to make my own decisions about my hair. And my life. And more
importantly, college in Maryland next fall and if I really plan to attend just
as I have promised. And maybe while I’m at it, I’ll even think about snagging another
boyfriend at some point, one who actually pays attention to me when I talk.
But who would actually want me? My recent douchebag of an ex,
Sebastian, dumped me for some big breasted bimbo at our rival high school just
before summer started and told me before he hopped into his car and drove away
with her that the reason was because (aside from not being submissive enough –
meaning I didn’t kiss his ass whenever he liked) I have no tits (as in, they’re
not the size of my fucking head) and my ass isn’t as round as he thought it
should’ve been, which I took to mean that it’s real and didn’t come from a
factory. Either way, he couldn’t seem to get as aroused as he wanted during sex
and for him that was one of the more crucial aspects in a relationship. I
couldn’t fault him for wanting what he did, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t
hurt like hell when the dropped the bomb on me in front of our entire group of
friends, and at a backyard barbeque no less. I felt like the guy in a rejected 90s
flick who gets dumped by the hot girl for someone who’s barely mediocre. Only
that hot girl was supposed to be me and he was the asshole I was leaving for
someone better.
As I think back on that, I breathe in deep and then sigh.
It’s really not something I should be dwelling about, but the moment to whine
about it hits me every now and then and I just feel the need to get it out. Now
that I have, I realize that it’s time to finally let it all go and start fresh,
which means putting my hair back with the help of a headband and piling on the
mascara in the hopes that my mesmerizing sapphire colored eyes will stand out
enough to distract from my pale forehead. And the apparent shine of it.
When I hear somebody banging on the door, I nearly stab
myself in the eye with my mascara tip and groan because I know that the only
person who would have the nerve to disrupt me when I’m busy would be Ethan. Our
parents aren’t home since my mom goes to work before the sun comes up and his
dad has to drive her there every morning (since she has always had a weird
phobia about cars), before he goes off to his own job. My mom is a nurse at Cedars
Sinai and Ethan’s dad is a prison guard. A glamorous life we live here in the
lesser luxurious part of Beverly Hills, I know.
“HURRY THE HELL UP!” he shouts while
banging his fist against the door and jiggling the knob.
“Just a fucking minute, Ethan!” I
holler back. “Why don’t you just go to one of the other bathrooms downstairs?!”
“This one’s closer to my bedroom and
I have to take a fuckin’ piss, Lil.”
He’s so fucking crass. And I absolutely hate when he calls
me that stupid nickname.
For the last five years, my stepbrother has been a colossal
pain in my ass. Ever since our parent’s got married after meeting on a blind
date, set up by two friends they no longer speak to (ironic), it’s been nothing
but fights, fights, and more fights between the both of us. Sometimes it’s been
over petty things like who had the remote first and other times, we take it to
the next level like when he decides that he’s hungry and eats my food without
asking. We honestly have absolutely nothing in common except for our mutual love
of dogs and I’m being generous as hell when using that word to describe
anything about him.
And alright, this is going to sound amazingly shallow but the
best part about him has always been the way he looks. His eyes are the color of
dark chocolate and his skin is naturally tan because his mother is from Ecuador.
He’s lucky because he has never seen a blemish on any part of himself his
entire life, meanwhile I could’ve been a spokesperson for international acne
ads up until the time I was fourteen when it suddenly cleared up. Anyway, his
lips are pink and plump and his hair is an auburn brown that lightens a little
in the sun. He has the body of an athlete, because he is one, and works out
almost every day to keep it in shape. Mostly every girl I’ve ever known has
fallen at his feet the moment they meet him. They act like he’s some sort of
Greek God that will grant them powers if they give him enough food and sex.
But no matter how good he looks, it never made up for his
shitty personality or he way he has always treated me, which wasn’t even like
an actual sister. More like someone who broke his heart in elementary school
and he was still holding a grudge about it. He didn’t even tell me that he was
sorry when my asshole ex decided to dump me. In fact, he still hangs out with
him from time to time which has put even more strikes against him my book. We
might not be blood related, but he should still feel some sort of obligation to
look out for me as his sister. It’s not like this was some overnight thing,
we’ve been living under the same roof since we were both thirteen years old!
“Lila, hurry the fuck up!” he calls out to me again.
I drop my hands to the counter and breathe out in agitation.
“Just. A fucking. Second! Rome wasn’t built in a fucking day!”
“I told you that I have to take a piss! How do you think Rome
feels about that?!”
“I think it could give a shit and I told you to go to another
bathroom if you’re that desperate.”
“It’s too early in the morning for you to be such a bitch,”
he says. And that’s when I’ve had my fill of his crap for the morning. It’s
barely 8am.
I yank back the door and shove myself against him. He drops
back when I get too close as if my breath stinks, which is bs because I’ve just
finished using mouthwash. “It’s never too early for being a bitch,” I tell him.
“Especially with a brother like you. It is too early, however, for that.” I point down at his boxers and
his eyes travel to the direction of my finger. When he notices the bulge, he
recoils and I laugh.
“Move.” He slightly shoves me out of the way and rushes into
the bathroom, slamming and locking the door. I laugh to the point of tears
before heading back down to my room to get ready for school. The beet red
embarrassment on his face when he realizes what I’m referring to is something
that I hope will satisfy me for the rest of the day.
Ethan
I can’t fucking believe I let her see
me like that. If I had known that I still had a boner from my dream this
morning, I would’ve gone down to one of the other bathrooms like she said
instead of waiting for her to get out of this one, all so that I could get just
a little glimpse of her tits in that white tank and her ass in those satin
panties that she wears every night to bed. I couldn’t even appreciate them when
she came out of the bathroom just now. And I sure as hell couldn’t tell her
that the reason my cock was still hard is because I had spent most of the night
dreaming about it being inside of her mouth. That kind of thing happened from
time to time when we were kids, the dreams, most often after our parent’s got
married and I was living here fulltime.
But over the years, I had managed to get some kind of control
over those dreams. It also helped, at least for a while, that I forced myself
to dream about anyone else until I was about fifteen, when I finally figured
how to replace the dreaming about sex with my sister to actually having it with
other girls. But even then for some reason, no matter who I’m with or how many
positions I manage to get her into, Lila is always the one I can never seem to
get out of my head. And I don’t know why that is. I’ve always thought she was
pretty but not a conventional kind of pretty. She’s the kind that if you look
at her from a certain angle, you see where the beauty comes from and she’s drop
dead gorgeous. Despite all of that, she’s never really been my type of girl to
date, which is another reason why I can’t understand my attraction to her. I like
my girls extremely toned, with tight round tits, a nice ass and ready for anything
in the bedroom. She’s toned and tight in all the right places but has a smaller
ass than I’m used to with tits just a few sizes bigger than mosquito bites. They’re
a little bigger than that, about average, but still smaller than what I
normally like and am used to. Even so, I’ve always wondered what they taste
like and if her nipples are straight up pink like her pussy or a raspberry
cream color.
Every night for the last six months the wondering has gotten
stronger and it’s been killing me to keep quiet about all the things I would do
to her if she would let me. But I can’t say anything because she would freak
out and probably think I was some sick and twisted asshole with sick and
twisted incestuous fantasies. We’re not exactly blood related, but we have been
told to love and care about each other as siblings since we were thirteen. I
could never really see her that way, but tried like hell to treat her like shit
just so that I didn’t treat her like I wanted to fuck her every five seconds or
whenever she got too close to me wearing that perfume that made her smell like
pure sin.
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