Tits for Tats

I lost my father when I was sixteen. It sounds tragic, doesn't it? I beat his head in with a baseball bat.

He had only himself to blame.

When I was ten he told me to always protect my big sister. She was two years older than me, but of slight build like our mother. For her eighteenth birthday, Sara went out with two of her friends to celebrate. We didn't hear from her for two days. I watched my father stew and simmer for every second of those two days.

Now our father was raised in the South where obedience is taught with a belt. He has a heavy hand for a man of God. Sorry, he had.

When Sara came home I was in the yard cutting the grass. I didn't hear her because of the mower so I didn't know she was there till I came around the corner of the house. I saw her car in the drive and, shutting off the mower, I ran for the back door. I heard my sister screaming as I came inside. It was coming from upstairs.

At the time I don't remember my mother grabbing at my arm. I must have pulled out of her grasp without ever feeling her hand touch me. When I hit the top of the stairs I saw the open door to my sister's room. Through that door, I could see her and my father.

He had her by the back of her head, his left hand an iron grip in her brown hair. Sara's shorts and panties were down around her ankles, hampering her trying to get away from him. Father had his belt in his right hand and he was swinging with everything he had at her bare ass and thighs. Dozens of red whelps already marred her pale skin from the small of her back to the bend of Sara's knees.

She was screaming with tears running unchecked down her face.

My bedroom door was open.

He kept swinging that damn belt. Even when Sara's skin split and her blood ran in red lines down to her knees.

My bedroom door was open.

My baseball bat was by the door. The autopsy report said the cause of my father's death was blunt force trauma to the base of his skull. I hit just at the top of his spine with enough force to sever his brain stem!

Death was instant. All I remember was holding my sister as she cried. I don't remember my mother's screams, or the ambulance, or the police arriving.

They pulled me from my sister. I fought that. Not to get away, but so I would not be parted from Sara. Two large officers held me down, with their knees on my back, while a third put the handcuffs on me. My sister flung herself onto me as they tried to take me out the front door. I stood there with Sara's arms around my neck looking at all the neighbors on their porches. Their faces lit red like demons.

My sister thanked me.

They tried me as an adult. My court appointed attorney pleaded me guilty. He asked the court to show leniency due to my age, that the act was done in the heat of the moment, and that I had swung without the intent to kill. They gave me twenty years. I guess that's lenient.

After that, I did a year and a half at a max juvenile prison and then they gave me to the state. Now any of you who might be thinking I got raped in prison you would be wrong. See I got put in a cell with a man named Chris Tyler. A burly biker looking fella who was coming back for his second stay in prison. He was there to show me the ropes. Where not to step, who not to talk to. He kept me out of a lot of trouble.

Now on the inside, they called him 'Ink'. He was a trained tattoo artist with a dozen years of paid work to show for it. Ink had been running his own shop when one night, in frustrated anger, he put a gun to the head of a customer who had refused to pay.

They called it armed robbery. Chris got handed ten years by the judge like he was handing out candy. But my cellmate Ink would only serve six of them and, in that time, he taught me the trade.

We made our machines from cassette motors and coat hanger wire. Our ink was burnt toilet paper mixed with shampoo. Or, when we could get an ink pen, we would strip it down for our tubes and use the ink in the tats.

As the years so slowly passed I came to spend my days in the weight corner of the yard. Lifting iron, with the muscle heads. Having the biggest strongest guys in the house respect you -- even if you can't lift as much as they do -- doesn't hurt. My nights were I spent learning how to tattoo.

At first, I wrote letters to my high school friends. Trying to keep in touch with the outside world. They were the ones who told me my sister had moved out of our parent's house even before my trial was over. Sara vanished not long after. No one knew where she was. Not my friends, not hers. I tried to write to our mom twice. Both letters came back unopened. I took that to be answer enough.

Poor mom. She lost a husband, son, and a daughter all on the same day.

My buddy, Ink, got his parole after six years. When he left, I hardly resembled the eighteen-year-old boy that Chris Tyler had first shared a cell with. Thanks to him I have some beautifully dark tribal work across my shoulders, down to my elbows. From there shadowy fills of spiders and webbing run down to my wrists in full sleeves on both arms. Off the tribal flows blue Celtic knotwork, which runs down my back following my spine? And then, to round it off, I have Japanese style shaded feathers that appear off the Celtic work and wrap around my ribs. Ab wings, Ink called them.

Long days with those weights had left me cut. Dangerous looking. It's not good to look like prey when surrounded by predators. By carrying two hundred pounds of tatted muscle on a six-foot frame, and coupled with the fact I killed a man at sixteen with a baseball bat, got me generally left alone.

Of course, what I could do with ink helped as well.

I had just turned twenty-six when a parole board sat my case. Overcrowding, a good record inside, and the fact I had a job waiting outside got me out with half my sentence served, and ten years parole. I took my last shower and did my best to scrub the stench of the place from my skin. Dressed in clothes that no longer fit right, and with personal possessions I hadn't needed for a decade, I was processed out...

In my pocket, I also carried a wad of cash that I had made inside. My hand checked that as I walked through the last locked door and out into the light again. The guard told me good luck. That was nice of him. Most of those screws say see you soon.

As I stepped outside, blinking in the bright light, a car pulled up with a blonde at the wheel. She blew the horn as I started to walk towards the bus stop. The blonde slammed her car into park and jumped out. Then, as I stood there dumbfounded, she sprinted across the road and threw herself into my arms!

I was numb with shock.

Then I noticed how she smelled, how soft and magically female she was. My bag hit the ground by my feet as I wrapped her scented heat against me. However, it wasn't till she spoke that I knew who she was.

"Oh, god Kevin!"

"Sara?"

My neck was growing wet from Sara's tears as she clutched me tightly, her face buried in my shoulder. I held her to me wanting to cry myself but I was too shocked to do so.

"My god Kevin, it is so good to see you."

She eased up then and I reluctantly let her pull out to the end of my arms.

"How did you know I was getting out today? And since when are you a blonde?" I asked laughing.

She smiled, shook her head and looked me over. "Since when are you buff?" She giggled then. Such a sweet half-remembered sound. "I had the prison to notify me if you ever got parole, silly."

We laughed and hugged again. God how wonderful her body felt against mine. I suppose I should have felt ashamed of the growing arousal I had, but it had been ten years since I had seen much less held a woman. But then I saw a look of surprise cross Sara's face -- her smile, that teasing grin that I remembered so well, appeared -- and I did at least feel embarrassed.

"Come on little brother; let's get you away from here." She nodded her chin down toward my crotch. "If you're getting that kind of reaction from your skinny sister we need to get you laid."

I blushed but then shrugged it off and laughed at my body's reaction. Grabbing up my bag, I followed her to the car. I'm honest enough to admit I was watching her ass. It was a pleasant sight till my mind recalled the last time I had seen it.

"So what do you want to do first?" she asked me with that teasing grin.

I smiled and then to her surprise said "Food!"

She laughed. How beautiful is so simple a sound. Just one among many sounds I had forgotten. The world seemed new to me again. And soon, sitting in the dining room of our favorite fast food place from when we were kids, I had stuffed myself sick in enjoyment of that. As we ate, I listened to her talk about all the things I had missed out on.

"Mom remarried," she said.

I sipped at my milkshake and took a bite of some super salty fries. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"She sold the house, and just about everything in it. She took the money, and moved to Atlanta." Sara reached over and dragged her fries through my ketchup.

Atlanta. Our mom was born there.

My sister grimaced at the salt I had laced the ketchup with. "Don't know for sure, but I would bet she hasn't mentioned either of us to him."

"I wouldn't take that bet," I said nodding again.

She sat silent for a minute or two then looked up at me. "What have you got planned? You need a place to stay right?"

"Yeah, I do. Then I have to report to my parole officer when I find a place. I do have a job offer with a guy I know." I wiped oil and salt from my fingers.

"Well, I have a place, an apartment with a fold out couch. So you have a place to stay."

I started to object, but she shook her finger in my face. "No. You have a place to stay. Now when do you want to go see about this job?"

"Whenever."

"Ok, well when you get done stuffing your face, we will go see. Then we can go to the apartment, and drop off your stuff. Want to go maybe get you some clothes that fit?" she asked stealing the last of my milkshake.

I looked down at my clothes. I was visibly straining the seams of the shirt, and these pants were ridiculously tight on my thighs. "Yeah, sounds like a good idea. I have money."

"Really? What have you been doing that got you money?" She grinned "You ain't been pimping out that ass have you?"

"No." I was shocked at my sister. She had never been this forward when we were kids. Of course, Dad had been around then to keep a tight rein on her.

She laughed at me, the expression on my face.

"I have been doing tattooing," I told, her taking back my milkshake only to discover that Sara had finished the little bit at the bottom that tastes so much better than the rest. Damn. Picking up my tray, I stood up to go.

"Really? Cool. I have always thought about getting a tattoo. So that's your job?" she asked.

As we walked out to her car we went past the plastic playpen with its colored ball pit. That pool of plastic orbs had been the site of so many wars between us as children.

"Yeah. This guy that I know, Ink, he taught me. He was my cellmate for about six years."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

We got into Sara's car, and following the directions, I had detailed out in a letter. With that minimal guide, we made our way across town to Ink's shop.

"Hot Needle Hell? What a name for a tattoo shop!" Sara pulled into a parking spot on the side.

Going inside, I caught a glimpse of Ink in the back as he passed from the hall into a backroom. It was strange to see him not in the institutional orange I had always seen him in. There was a young woman at a desk near the door that looked up from a sketchpad as we came walking in.

"Hello." Her face was all smiles. "Welcome to Hell. Can I help you?"

I heard a chuckle from behind me.

"Yeah, could you tell Ink that Kevin is here?"

"Sure." She got up and went to the back to get him. As we waited I mostly watched Sara looking over the flash on the wall. I could tell that most of it was original designs. Ink had told me years ago how he hates the flash bought from a tattoo supply house.

"Kev!"

Turning, I grinned as Ink came across the shop with his arms open wide. He gave me a quick rough hug, then stepped back grinning.

"So they decided to kick your ass out early. Told you, you keep your nose clean they would." He looked at Sara. "And who is this?"

Sara smiled. "I'm his sister."

"Oh, so you're the pretty sister he told me about, but he said you were a brunet?"

Sara grinned. "The curtains don't match the drapes."

Ink chuckled. "I like her." He looked over at me. "I might go to prison for her myself. Well, Kev, you ready to get to work?"

I had to laugh at that. "How about tomorrow? I just got out this morning."

Ink nodded. "That'll do. I'll put in a call to some of my clients on my waiting list. I'll round you up some work. Your style is close enough to mine they won't be able to tell the difference. Mary?" he looked at the woman now back at her desk. "Think we can round up enough odds and ends to get Kevin setup?"

She nodded. "Sure. He will need a blood test, though."

"Yeah, that's true. Call Jim down at the clinic. See if he can work Kevin in. Mention that Kevin can do his color work, which will get him moving." Ink turned to me. "There is a free clinic about a mile down that way." He pointed to the right on the road out front of the shop. "When you get there ask for Jim. He'll know what you need."

Sara and I would spend the rest of the afternoon together running around. I left a blood sample at the clinic with Jim. We went shopping for some clothes. A quick stop through a drive-thru got us some dinner, and we headed for her apartment. Up the stairs and to the front door brought me into her world. A place that was filled with the scent of her. It drifted out the door as she opened it and walked in. Unsure of what to do, I watched from the doorway as she put her keys on the table. Sara paused to grab up some clothes, including a very lacy black item but stopped her cleaning when she looked back and saw me standing there still on the landing.

She smiled and gestured with her fingers. "Well, come on in."

I moved hesitantly into the room unsure about what to do. I found a seat on the edge of the sofa and looked around at the pictures on the walls. I heard her chuckle.

"You look really uncomfortable. It's okay," she said. "I promise."

I took a deep breath of the female scented air. It was almost an aphrodisiac by itself. "It's been a long day," I told her softly.

Setting her armload of dirty clothes on a chair, Sara came over and knelt down in front of me. She took my hands in hers. "It's alright little brother. Believe it, or not I do understand." She leaned in and kissed the side of my face. Then she rubbed my hands and got to her feet. I watched her move around the room, picking up back up the clothes.

"Sorry, I'm such a slob," she told me when she had an armload of clothes.

"Nothing new there, you always were."

Sara stuck her tongue out at me and threw the whole wad of clothes at me. Turning back to her cleaning she didn't see where everything landed and as luck would have it, a pair of her underwear hit me square in the face. For a fraction of a second, my nose was filled with an only half-remembered smell.

I felt my breath catch in my chest. My pulse raced at full speed, and to my shock, I found myself instantly hard. Trying to slow my breathing, I picked up the bag with our food and dug out my sandwich.

Picking up a black plastic remote, Sara turned on the TV and then tossed the remote to me. "Find us something to watch while I go get changed." She went into her room and closed the door.

For a second, sitting there alone and unwatched, I was very tempted to lift her panties back to my nose. Pushing the clothes aside, I flipped through the channels till I found something simple. Sara came back in wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. She plopped down on the couch and grabbed her sandwich out the bag.

"Good choice," she said pulling a bell pepper out the side before it fell out.

Just enjoying being together, we watched TV for an hour or so while finishing our food. She got up to throw the wrappers in the trash and came back with us each a beer. Sitting next to me, she threw her arm across my shoulders and leaned her head into my arm.

"Good to have you home, little brother."

When I fell asleep I don't know, but I awoke when she stood up. She yawned, stretched and shook out her hair. "There is a handle on the side that lays the back of the couch down flat. Stretch out. I'll get you one of my pillows and there are blankets enough in here to keep you warm. Know where everything is?" She pointed to the half-open door to the bathroom.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Okay, well get some sleep. I don't have to leave for work till around lunch so you can sleep in." My sister leaned down and kissed my cheek. "Sleep tight."

"You too," I told her catching her hand and giving it a quick squeeze.

She returned that and then went to her room. I got up and headed toward the bathroom. Several minutes later, as I came back out, I saw the light go off in her room. I was now wearing some of the clothes we had bought for me that afternoon. Sweat pants, so soft inside they were almost uncomfortable, and a stretchy black t-shirt. Sitting down on the couch, I accidently turned off the TV and, deciding to leave it off, I laid in the dark.

Listening.

The sounds of the neighboring apartments, heard through the thin walls of this apartment, were a soft blending of sounds. Closer by, stronger, I could hear soft music from Sara's room. There were no prison sounds here. No slow step of a guard doing night check. No sound of a toilet being used. No sound of someone being used. Turning onto my side, I looked at the now gray TV screen and tried to drift off but to no avail.

Restless, I turned my face towards the pillow and that was when Sara's scent filled my nose. I breathed deeply. Perfume, shampoo, female sweat, and a deeper perfume that was her own personal scent. There in the dark, unable to sleep, surrounded by the smell of her, my eyes went to the pile of clothes by the side of the couch. On top of a towel lay her panties. My hand moved without thought to pick them up. I brought them to my nose and breathed deeply the rich odor of a woman.

I felt myself harden.

Holding them to my nose, my other hand went into my sweats and pulled my cock clear of the too soft fabric. The soft touch of the fabric sent a shiver through me. I breathed in deeply the scent of my sister and, with my cock in hand, it felt like bare seconds later that I had to grab a towel off the floor to catch the flow.

Silently trying to not gasp for breath, I dropped the towel to the floor and turned over into the couch. I fell asleep ashamed of myself then. And it was with that feeling in my heart that I finally fell asleep. I didn't realize I was clutching her underwear to my chest till I woke.

My eyes popped open.

Disoriented, I listened for the sound of the guard coming to sound the morning bell and I found myself moving into my morning routine before I could stop myself. I paused as I turned to make up my bed and saw not a prison metal shelf but the too soft couch. Not quite knowing what to do, I went to the bathroom to shave. It was only then that I noticed the bit of lace, and cotton clutched in my hand. Overwhelmed with a dozen emotions, I sat down on the side of the tub and it was there that Sara found me when she woke up.

"Kevin?"

I looked up at her.

"Are you alright?" she asked me from by the door. She crossed the room to me when I didn't answer and then knelt down and looking into my eyes. All I could do was shake my head. "What is it?"

"I feel ... lost"

Sara stood up and wrapped her arms around my head as I started to cry. Ten years' worth of tears I could never shed inside came pouring out in a rush. Rocking me against her, she ran her fingers over the back of my short cut hair and held me tight as I cried myself out. Silent tears running down her own cheeks the whole time.