stacey - best - 151

(photo by me, of my wife)

by David Cain

I’d been living with Todd about two weeks. I wanted to live alone, but I compromised when I found the best I could afford on my own was little more than a large shoebox. At any rate, living with Todd was like living alone, for he lived fast and loose and only rarely spent more than four hours running at the place.

I had a date that Saturday night, but Melissa called me at six-thirty to cancel. She told me she had the flu. Something in her voice made me wonder if her dose of influenza wouldn’t suddenly vanish when Rick or Mark or whoever was taking my place rang her doorbell. I didn’t argue. I was probably as tired of her as she was of me.

Reluctant to surrender, I’d called Brian and Steve, thinking that getting dumped by Melissa was good cause to go out and act stupid. Brian had the flu. Uh-huh. Steve was going to an Indian Film Festival at the Art Theatre. Somehow I didn’t think that reading subtitles was going to cure my blues. He wouldn’t budge on the plans, so I resigned myself to an evening of potato chips, beer and television.

Todd had disappeared early in the afternoon. I didn’t expect to see him again before Monday morning. He hadn’t said anything to give me that idea, except that I heard him mention New Haven when he was on the phone. Miles are no obstacle when Todd’s chasing skirts. He could have come home at any moment. I doubted that likely.

The cable had been hooked up, but an economical impulse had prevented me from adding any premium services to the entertainment package. I had counted on my constantly expanding social life making movie channels a bad investment. Given a proper cost-benefit analysis, I had made the right choice.

But that lonely Saturday night went into the cost column as I found myself sitting on the floor watching one lame network program after another. Even with a steady diet of beer and chips, the dramas proved uninspiring and I soon drifted toward sleep. Only ten-fifteen on a Saturday night, and I cashed in my chips.

A rapping on my chamber door roused me from my dull dreams, and wiping the drool from my cheek, I stood up, slightly confused. The sound of knocking struck again. I checked my watch. Eleven was on the wane. I pulled aside the curtain that covered our apartment’s sliding glass door.

A woman raised her hand to strike the glass again. The weary frustration in her eyes hit me at once. I twisted the latch and pushed the heavy door along the aluminum track. Her waxen cheek blushed tenderly as she looked at me.


“Is Todd here?” she asked.

“No, he’s gone. Can I help you?” She looked troubled.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“He took off.” I shrugged.

“Figures. Shit. Look,” she said, “I’m Cindy.”

The name meant nothing to me. Keeping track of Todd’s women would be an exercise in futility.

“I’m Todd’s sister. I was hoping I could crash here.”

I could see the resemblance in her eyes. Aside from the blue-eyed blondness, they both shared an energetic spark, a lazy-yet-intense quality that in Todd marked a constant readiness to move on.

“Come on in,” I said. Cindy stepped into the apartment carrying a small overnight bag. I pulled the glass plate closed. “Sorry about the mess,” I said.

“Hah!” said Cindy, showing her teeth with a glittering smile. “You obviously haven’t lived with Todd very long. Cleanliness has never been one of my brother’s strong points.”

I smirked, delighted to witness some of the same family friction I had known growing up and almost forgotten. Cindy dropped her bag at the end of the sofa, stretched and then put her hands on her waist and leaned backwards. Even if I hadn’t been a bit excited by the sudden presence of a woman, Cindy would have been attractive. In my present lonely condition, her loveliness was unbounded.

The knees of her faded blue jeans were torn and I leered at the soft inch of creamy thigh above her slightly scuffed knee.

“Can I use the john?” she asked, walking over to peek into the kitchen.

“Sure,” I said. “To your left.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning. Cindy stopped at the first door, slightly ajar and laughed, pointing. “Todd’s room,” she said, knowingly, tipped off by the unmade bed and sea of crumpled clothes.

I turned off the television, and found myself mesmerized by the shuffles and tinkle of Cindy’s business. My interest stiffened slightly, but I felt a twang of restraint. She was Todd’s sister, and for some reason, that meant something to me. She wanted to stay the night, and that gave rise to possibilities, but then I thought, What if it were my sister? How would I expect Todd to treat Susan?

“I needed that,” said Cindy with a smile. “I’ve been driving for four hours.”

“Did Todd know you were coming?” I asked.

“Nah,” said Cindy, sitting down on the sofa. “I’m on my way

back home to Richmond but I got started later than I planned. I should already be there.”

“That’s another four hours.”

“Yeah. That’s why I hoped I could crash. I’ll get some coffee down at the Kwik and just keep rolling. But tell Todd he can forget about getting a birthday present from me.”

“You can stay,” I said gallantly. “Todd’s probably not coming back and driving tired is dangerous.” Cindy nodded.

“Cool,” she said. “My eyes were already creeping shut when I got here. I don’t know if I could make it all the way home.”

“No problem,” I said. “Can I get you a beer, or something?”

“That’d be great,” said Cindy. “Do you mind if I use the phone?

Mom’s still expecting me.”

“Over there,” I pointed. I retreated to the kitchen.

“No,” I heard her say, “Todd’s not here. I don’t know. His roommate’s going to let me spend the night here. No, it’ll be all right. No, I don’t think so. I’ll get on the road early and be home before noon. Two. Love you, too. Bye.” Cindy hung up the phone and took the beer I held out to her.

“I’m really grateful,” she said.

“Don’t think twice. I mean, if my sister needed a place to sleep, I’d hope Todd…”

“Take my advice,” Cindy said, lifting her beer to touch mine. “Don’t let your sister get anywhere near my brother.” I laughed. “She’d get a bed, but I don’t think he’d let her sleep.”

The thought made me frown slightly. Cindy touched my arm.

“I shouldn’t say that. I’ve been teasing the kid so long that I forget to stop. Todd’s got a good heart. He just has a thing for girls.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, smiling at her honest display of affection. I liked Todd better, knowing he had such a sweet sister.

“Do you mind if I change?” she asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Sure, go ahead.” Cindy picked up her bag and headed into Todd’s room. She closed the door behind her. I sat on the sofa and took a long drink, while butterflies tickled my stomach. She really was attractive.

My jaw dropped for a split second when she emerged from his bedroom. Cindy wore a long t-shirt with a teddy bear in a sleeping cap imprinted on the front. The nightshirt ended halfway down her creamy thighs. I had guessed Cindy was about twenty-seven, clearly Todd’s

older sister, but the nightgown took ten years off her age. I closed my mouth and took a swig of beer. Cindy sat down on the floor.

“You guys have a nice place,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said. “We really just moved in.”

“Todd’s last apartment stank.” Cindy wrinkled her small nose slightly, remembering.

“It’s hard to get a decent place in this city on our salary.”

“You two work together?” she asked.

“Yeah, although not so much together anymore. I got moved up to a different group a month ago.”

“Congratulations,” said Cindy. She put down her beer and leaned back on both arms. The hem of her shirt lifted slightly, showing the white cotton panties nestled over a soft puff and a small brown mole on her white inner thigh. I took another drink. The teddy bear pulled tight across her chest, clearly outlining the dark circles that tipped her full breasts.

“Thanks,” I said, my throat relentlessly dry, “but that’s up like upstairs not up like up the corporate ladder.” Her nipples hardened slightly and she touched the brown bottle to her lips.

“Oh, well, it’s better than going down.” Cindy lifted the beer and I watched her swallow the cold drink with a bit more fascination that was probably warranted. Cindy licked her lips and I sighed. She told me about her job and some stories about Todd’s misadventures in high school and I fought every peek at her panties and tits with no more success than a man of my age could expect to show.

“You have a sister?” she asked.

“Yeah. Susan’s a couple of years younger than me.”

“She’s lucky,” Cindy said, standing. “I wish I had a brother like you.” She bent over to pick up her empty beer bottles. I nearly fell backward, staring at the sudden flash of her bottom. A slight dimple in the white cotton neatly suggested her shrouded lips while the untanned flesh of her globes gleamed around the fabric wedged in between. Cindy dropped the bottles in the trash and then reached down to adjust her panties.

“Goodnight,” she said, heading into Todd’s room.

“Goodnight,” I replied, my voice failing.

I turned the corner into my room, reminding myself again that she was Todd’s sister and threw myself into my bed, my prick throbbing with rage. I held on tight as the lust Cindy incited poured through my aching flesh. I tortured myself with visions of every aspect of her delicious charms I’d seen, all the ones I imagined, playing scenes

of seduction I hadn’t dared to commit in a thousand variations that ended in a thousand more decadent acts of wild debauchery. I felt feverish and delirious and bit my pillow as the night slowly crept over my mind.

I heard a sound and turned over. A figure stood in the doorway.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” she asked. I lifted the covers and she slid in beside me, embracing me tightly, her head on my chest. I held her close.

“It’s all right,” I said, instinctively. She kissed my cheek. My cock burned. I ran my hand over her back, still covered by the t-shirt. She teased my chest. My hand reached the hem and slipped underneath. The cotton panties were gone and I held her bare bottom. She twisted under my touch, bringing my hand nearer the warm center.

“What if I were your…” she kissed me and moaned. I spread the cheeks of her bottom with my hands. She plunged my prick inside her hot cunt, rocking over me with a rhythmic smooth arch and fall. I pulled at her shirt and Cindy sat up, my cock deep inside her, and lifted the teddy-bear shirt over her head. Her breasts gleamed in the moonlight and I cupped them in both hands.

Cindy began to ride me faster and I groaned. I found a nipple between my lips and suckled her tits. I turned her over and drove hard inside her. I licked her wet pussy and she drank my stiff dick. I showered her with wanting, lying drenched in her juice. I fell finally to sleep, holding her close.

The bright sun of a well-developed morning made my eyes blink to open. The rich aroma of sausage stirred my hunger. I pulled myself out of bed and finding a pair of shorts, I went into the kitchen. Cindy stood by the stove in her nightgown, wielding her spatula against the splattering grease.

“Good morning,” she said, smiling gaily.

“Morning,” I said, scratching my head, still asleep. Cindy opened the refrigerator and bent down. The sudden view of her pink pussy lips nestled cozily between her lean thighs awoke me with a snap. I stared and instinctively moved closer.

“Don’t you guys have any eggs?” she asked, turning.

“Too much cholesterol,” I replied, putting my arms around her waist, pulling her bottom against my rigid cock.

“Hmm,” she said playfully, wiggling her bum. “A little appetizer before breakfast?”

“I’ll take two servings of you,” I said. We kissed and played until our new smoke alarm peeped as the sausage burned black.


“Cup of coffee,” she said, “then I’ve got to go.”

“Aw,” I replied, taking my cup.

“Mom’s waiting for me,” she said.

As we drank, I asked her if I could call her. She told me she had a boyfriend and besides, she’d rather Todd didn’t know about our little affair. I nodded my assent and watched Cindy drive away.

Later that day, I went into Todd’s room and nervously sifted through his piles and boxes of junk. I thought I might be able to find Cindy’s number, or address, or at least just a picture of his beautiful sister. No number, no address, no letters, no cards. I found an album of photos, something his mother put together for him at Christmas. There wasn’t a single photograph of Cindy.

“Sister?” he said. “I don’t have a sister.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, nsfw, personal, quotes, reading, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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