Steps For A Taboo Roadtrip (2 page)

God, he was like a fucking wolf. His sense of smell was preternaturally sharp, and so he could sense all kinds of emotions—terror, happiness, worry, anxiety...just not how desperately turned on he made Nora, apparently. Or if he did, he ignored it. She would have liked to say that she didn’t know which would be worse, but she knew
exactly
which of the two she would prefer. Better a smell-blind hunk brother than one who didn’t think her arousal was worth capitalizing on.

“It’s just...” she shook her head. “Annette sort of rubs me the wrong way. Right? She’s very...pushy. And I think...I don’t know how attached she is to your dad.”

And she fucking gave you a handjob!

But Nora couldn’t say that part. That would be revealing too much. Too big of a secret. And if there was anything that was absolutely true about Nora, it was that she couldn’t reveal the inner-workings of her head. It was all too dirty, too filthy. Charlie would hate her forever. He would disown her, never speak to her again.

Charlie shrugged. “Those two can work out their own problems if they have any. It's not up to us to solve anyone's lives but ours.”

“I guess so.”

He stood up and approached her, putting a hand on one shoulder.

“You look really good today,” he said. “Let me get a look at you.”

Taking her by the arm, he stood her up. He twisted her this way and that, using her arm to piroutte her.

“Yeah,” he said. “Really good.”

She blushed furiously, not looking at him. “Thanks.”

“No, really.” His hands guided her eyes up to his. “I mean, you look beautiful, Nora.”

She paused, clearing her throat. Trying to source out where this came from. “Oh. That’s, I mean...thank you.”

His hands fell on her waist. “God, I love looking at your hips. When you wear tight shirts like that. And your legs in those tight pants.” He shook his head. “It makes you look so fuckable.”

The artillery fire landing is just my heart. The artillery fire landing is just my heart.

“I don’t...why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I’m tired of lying about the way that I feel, Nora. And I think you are too. I’ve seen how you look at me. You’ve seen how I look at you. Why do we need to keep pretending? We’re going to be in a brand new city. We could pretend in a new way. Wouldn’t that be nice? We could act like we’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend for ages.” His lips came to her ear, brushing just slightly. “No one would know anything about who we were. Just us. It would be our secret. We ditch Annette, and then I take you out on the town. We make out in the back of cabs. I fuck you silly in our hotel room...”

“Stop it!”

Nora pushed him away. Charlie was caught off-balance, and tripped across the nearby coffee table.

“Fuck,” he clutched his knee. “Fucking...gah.”

For several moments, he worked the leg back and forth, staring with heavy annoyance at Nora.

“Fine,” he said at last. “Lie to yourself. See if I care. You’ll know where to find me.”

He walked out. Nora was left alone with her locket, staring at the unpolished surface for several minutes. It needed a good work over. A secret needed a good polishing every now and then or else it lost its luster; it lost what made it worth keeping.

Less than an hour later, they were on the road, out of the city, and well on their way to Alder City. From their location in California, it would take a solid eight hours of driving to get there before nightfall. But that was all right. Charlie and Nora were both excellent drivers, mindful of others in their lanes and of the speed limits, and they had no qualms about trading out every few hours to rest.

When Nora and Charlie drove together, they hardly needed to talk at all to communicate when to trade off. Once, they had made their way all the way down to the Mexican border without saying a word, just smiling and nodding and laughing and listening to the radio. Their relationship rested in each other, not in words, and they liked it like that for the most part.

And Annette—beautiful, flawless, bimbo Annette—was a big loud stain all over their perfect, silent communication. Nora struggled with the urge to strangle her dead.

Not really. But sort of.

“Oh gosh,” Annette might say. “Look at that big stupid sign there. Who
writes
that? Why would anyone advertise a cave that’s sixty-eight degrees cool?”

“In the winter,” said Charlie, “it’s advertised as sixty-eight degrees warm.”

“But we’re in a car already,” said Annette. “Why stop at a
cave
? What a bunch of hicks.”

Her attitude—so insufferably superior, so clearly thinking she was in the right about everything, so unwilling to tolerate any newness that wasn’t in the form of an alcoholic beverage or some beefcake passing by her sight, only intensified Nora’s deep-seated resentments of Annette.

If ever there was an evil stepmother, Annette was it. Although, even Nora had to admit, Annette was decent enough to Nora herself. But that was clearly only because Annette saw Nora as on her own level in terms of class and perhaps even attractiveness...which was its own particular kind of sick.

Nora longed to simply bask in the sweet, gentle glow of her brother’s quiet admiration for a time. That was supposed to be what this road trip was about, spiritually, before Annette butted her stupid beautiful body in.

She and Charlie had known each other their entire lives, almost. Now, with both of them eighteen, they had grown up with one another, fought with one another, needed one another, helped one another.

Nora did her honest best to not think about what sort of man Charlie had become.

It wasn’t that he was a bad man—quite the opposite in fact. Oh sure, he had his rough qualities—decisiveness to the point of stubbornness, an occasionally quick temper, a personality so introverted that it was sometimes hard to tell (for people who weren’t Nora) whether he liked a person or despised them. But despite these quirks and flaws, he was still a good man. Charlie loved helping others. He spent his spare time at the local recovery center, offering informal counsel to the destitute and homeless folks who walked in, looking for help. Mostly, this informal counsel just consisted of him listening.

“It’s a great gig,” he would say. “I get to just sit and listen, like I’m not even there. And at the end of it, they feel better than they have in ages.”

But there was something distinctly off about his interactions with normal, everyday people. Those dwelling in the middle-class and above always confused him. Everyone searching for some crazy dream fix that they would never quite attain. He dealt better with machines.

That was, in fact, part of the reason for the roadtrip. They were taking an SUV that he had spent years investing in. Equipping it with his bare hands. An engine that he had pieced together himself. The transmission and radiator found from salvaging through junkyards for weekends at a time, sometimes with Nora’s help.

Machines were simpler. They worked or they didn’t. If they didn’t, there was always a cause. Always a solution. The lack of most people’s clear agendas threw him.

Sometimes, late at night, when Nora was deeply unable to sleep well, when her body positively boiled with the need of her brother’s cock filling her from every conceivable position, strange hot justifications for his behavior came to him. That he liked machines because then he was clearly in charge. That he disliked those in the middle class and above because he knew that their superiority was false, that truly,
he
was the superior one. That
he
and he alone deserved to have his will heard. And she would cum, biting her pillow stop from screaming out his name, hips bucking hard to the dreamy, lusty thought of her brother as some kind of king or emperor. Her on her knees before him, her fully pregnant belly pushing up and down on his calves, hot lactating tits rubbing out on his knees while her beautiful young mouth sucked away at his cock in front of rows and rows of other, lesser women who were all jealous of her place before her king brother's mighty impregnating cock.

The orgasm-fueled dream would subside, and then she would drift into real sleep, thinking of what a silly girl she was for thinking all those dirty thoughts.

So, all of that affected how Nora saw her brother Charlie.

And then of course...there was how he looked.

Of
course
there was how he looked. Sometimes it drove Nora wild. If he was just the brother to her that he was, with all his idiosyncrasies and oddness and goodness and hypercapability as a problem-solver,
and
he was schlubby, that would be no problem. If he was even
regular,
that would have been fine.

But Charlie was hot. Charlie was fucking
dreamy
—literally, she had dreamed about him—and over the past year, it had started to drive Nora wild. Twisting in her sheets, her lithe young barely legal body covered in sweat, she would masturbate to progressively more unlikely scenarios like those thoughts of him being a king or emperor. Often the fantasies took feudal themes, Nora thought perhaps because then her desire to be her brother’s property—actually legally his living object—would be fully indoctrinated into the society by law. And then, if he got her pregnant, filled her with his unprotected seed, why, they were just protecting the family line.

And so, fantasies assailed her constantly.

Like maybe she was caught alone in a castle, somehow, and there’s a knight to come save her...all the while his helmet is on, but right as she comes, when all her walls were down, invariably the knight would strip his helmet away and it would be Charlie underneath.

She had taken to idolizing other people in his place. Celebrities. Male models. Trying to push his image down so that he wouldn’t pop in her mind while she came. But every time, as her nimble young fingers pushed up hard into her g-spot through the folds of pink pussy, as she thrashed on her bed, moaning with orgasm, it was Charlie’s face she had to push down and push away.

And of course this only made his unknowing grip on her all the more solid.

Though sometimes, of course, it did not feel so unknowing. Sometimes it felt like he knew what he did to her very much indeed.

The three traveled on, and she fell asleep, more troubled than ever, her thoughts filled with Charlie filling her.

* * * * *

T
he landscape stretched out before them in long mountainous hills and deeply folded valleys filled with trees and wildlife. To the one side of the road there seemed always to be only sparse amounts of life. More rocks and hills, more long plateaus filled with nothing but air and minute insects and lizards that could not be seen from the travelers' quickly shifting placement on the concrete. And to the other side always there was more lushness. Intense greens and fertile rivers flooding, long canyons beneath them were upon deer hopped from one side of a stream to another, playing in the afternoon sun.

They stopped at a gas station not far outside the state border. Nora was asleep when they pulled in, and must have been for some time, for it was the cessation of motion that woke her; the same way that someone might finally notice they had been in pain because all of a sudden it stopped.

It took her a while to actually open her eyes. In that nice, half-dreamy stage, she was thinking of the way Charlie’s body looked in that sky blue shirt he sometimes wore, the one that contrasted so nicely against the color of his skin, and she imagined what it might be like if he were to strip it off in front of her. Those abs, so chiseled and perfect, right there in front of her, oh fuck...

Her eyes snapped open. Fingers had found their way past her tight pants and into her pussy. She started upward, laughing strangely and looking about—but there was no one around.

There was...
really
no one around. The gas station was located on the side of the road, positioned underneath a rocky outcropping. There were two pumping stations, and no kind of clerk seemed to be manning the store. Was it all automated, somehow?

Through the SUV window, Nora scanned the area—there, behind the store. Movement. No, more than movement.

She saw Charlie and Annette having some kind of argument in the shadows, out from the heat of the midday sun. His hand was around her throat. He slapped her once, and then did it again. Her knees buckled before him.

And weirdly, Annette was nodding and smiling through it all, her look that of...arousal? Encouragement? Whatever it was, she wanted him to keep doing what he did.

Fuck, but Charlie was so much bigger than Annette. It was hard to remember sometimes because of the force of her personality, and the quietness of Charlie’s, but he was a big, big man. She looked up at him with pleading, gentle eyes. He raised his hand again, and she slipped her own hands around it, bringing it to her plush mouth. Kissing him deeply on the knuckles. Licking them. It was so twisted. Like she was worshiping his hand for striking her.

That was...that was inexplicable for Nora. Why was this happening?

Annette kissed him then, nodding fiercely into his body. He pushed her away and then down, raising her skirt up. In a few short, brutal movements, his pants were down and his hot manhood thrust up into Annette from behind.

She took one hand and wrapped it around her throat. Nora gasped.

That explained it—all of it. Annette
wanted
him to choke her. To slap her. She was some kind of sick masochist, and she was the one in charge. Nora felt, in a way, relieved. Charlie was being taken advantage of, that was all.

She really couldn’t blame him. He was a dreamy hunk teenage stud. She had little doubt that he was completely virile. Certainly the vast musculature of his build attributed to that hypothesis. And Annette wanted him, and had somehow used her feminine wiles to seduce him completely. Seduced him so completely, in fact, that he fucked her right there in the open, where practically anyone could see.

From her strange, hot dreams, Nora was already turned on. It took almost no effort to slide her fingers back down to her pussy.