Family Jewels Ch. 01

Katie casually kissed me on her way out the door. My mouth was full of coffee, so I couldn't adequately kiss her back or respond to her hasty news: "I can't go to Costa Rica. Philip wants to come visit." And she was out the door.

We didn't get to talk about it till that night. I had had a restless day at my cubicle to stew about this, and I'd decided to be firm. After all, it wasn't the first time her brother's whims had interfered with our plans. We had changed the date of our wedding, for heaven's sake, because it conflicted with a trip he was taking. And he had gotten drunk at our wedding and dominated Katie's attention at dinner. She had insisted that he sit to her left, with me on her right side and our parents at another table. At that time I didn't want to interfere with Katie's wishes -- after all, it was her big day -- so I hadn't made a fuss about all this. The few times I did complain, she had acted outraged that I would "criticize her family." So, I had dropped the subject. But now...

"Katie," I sat next to her on the sofa where she was glued to some inane reality show. "Costa Rica... We really can't change our plans. The tickets are non-refundable. Everything is paid in advance."

This was no lie. It was standard practice when traveling to Central America.

"We have to change," she said, barely tearing her eyes from the screen. "Honey, you have to learn to live with my family."

I was truly exasperated. "This isn't about whether I can live with your family. We can't change our plans and that's just the way it is. Philip will have to come another time."

Abruptly she turned to me. Her hand darted forward and grabbed my package through my jeans. "You'll have to come another time, then, little man. Or maybe never."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I pulled back, aghast. She just giggled and went back to her show.

The conversation ended there, and the next day at work I changed our reservations. To my surprise, the travel agent was fairly understanding, but I still had to pay a substantial penalty. And Katie and I didn't revisit the subject of her brother's visit, only two weeks away. The only time we alluded to it was when she asked me to prepare the guest room. But I couldn't get our conversation on the sofa and her threat to withhold sex out of my head. It was truly unlike her to be so aggressive and downright mean. And -- "little man" -- what did she mean by that? I am 6' 1" and 180 pounds, so hardly "little." In truth, though, I knew exactly what she meant; I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

Philip arrived on a Saturday, at a moment when I was working in my study and Katie was watching TV. She had given him a key to our house, so he simply let himself in and dropped his bags in the hallway, yelling, "Hey, kids. Daddy's home!" It was a weird choice of words but somehow totally in character for him. I rushed over to greet him and was reminded, as I was every time I saw him, that Philip was adopted. While Katie was petite with soft, downy skin, Philip was average height with a rough, reddish complexion riddled with acne scars and sandy-red hair. He had been a powerlifter when he and Katie lived together in San Francisco after graduation from Berkeley (where they attended college together), and his body still looked as if it were made of pig iron. These thoughts were interrupted by Katie sweeping into the room and throwing her arms around her brother, pressing herself against him. He kissed her, just missing her mouth, and, as they detached I noticed his crotch.

Philip was wearing tight, slim fit jeans. He had an enormous bulge in front, truly beyond anything I had ever seen. Did he really stuff his jeans? He was a sales rep for vacation resorts, not a 1980s rock star. Or maybe everyone in the Bay Area, where he still lived, put a sock in their shorts. I smiled at these thoughts.

"Honey, we're just going to have a little brother-sister time before dinner," Katie casually said and Philip followed this with, "Talk later, Bro'." They disappeared into his room and I heard the snap of the locking door.

I was in turmoil trying to sort out a mini-tornado of unsavory thoughts and images: Katie pressing herself against her adopted brother, the two of them living together in the past, how she always said she hated New York and missed the West Coast, the way she called me a "little man" and the way her brother's crotch bulged, the sight of her pressing herself against him as they hugged, and the two of them locked in our guest room -- what were they doing?

With a voice in my head saying, "You shouldn't be doing this," I crept to the door and listened. What did I hear? Silence, which was more disturbing than anything. The two of them were meant to be talking. As I listened, the sound of my own breath was louder than anything from inside the room, until I heard a very low male moan. But had I imagined it? I crept back to my study, a hot prickly sensation over my face and lower half.

That night I was almost afraid as I got into bed with Katie. Since that first conversation about her brother she had seemed different, almost cold. I had resumed working in my study right after dinner, with the result that Katie had gone to bed well before me. However, as I got into the cold sheets, she turned around abruptly, and I saw that she was wide awake. Her green eyes were intensely focused on my face as her hand grabbed by cock and balls, vulnerable in my loose cotton pajamas.

"You have a problem with what's going on here, little guy?" she said.

"I have a problem with you calling me that. I'm taller than..."

She squeezed, causing me just a little pain. "Than my brother? Why do you compare yourself to him, little guy?"

"Do you -- do you mind that I have a small penis?"

She laughed. "Let's just say sometimes I want the real thing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'll do anything for a real man, Daniel. I'll get on my knees like a two-dollar whore and suck a real man dry. " She squeezed, causing me to yelp in pain. "And I bet you would too."

"I don't like this, Katie."

"Then why are you so hard?"

Her green eyes were fixed on mine. I didn't want to ask what was on my mind, but I felt, somehow, as if I had no choice. "What were you and Philip doing in the guest room?"

She paused, stroking my short cock, her gaze still locked on mine. Finally, she said, "I just told you, hubby dear."

I was getting close. "You -- you were giving head to your own brother?"

"Yes," she whispered, "and you will too, short stuff."

"No --"

"And you'll love it."

I gasped and came.

*

I woke up late the next morning feeling groggy after restless dreams. Looking out, I saw that a mid-sized moving van had pulled up in front of my house. Philip was asleep and Katie was probably out shopping; I went out to see what was going on. One man was getting out of the cab and another was opening the back. He waved to me and handed me a clipboard to sign.

"Are you Philip Grosvenour?"

"That's my brother-in-law. He's staying here."

"This is his stuff."

I looked in the back of the van. It contained boxes, racks full of clothes, and a couple small pieces of furniture. I signed the clipboard and handed it back to the man.

In a fury, I went to wake Philip up and demand an explanation. As I walked in, he was just emerging from his room in a bathrobe that hung partway open. One hand ruffled his hair as he grinned and waved to me. The robe fell open and I saw his cock. My jaw dropped, and I realized what I had been dreaming about all night.

My world was crashing down around me.