Published Sex Stories

Nike a Go Go Pt. 2

Mephistopheles on Sex Stories

Nike a Go Go Pt. 2
By Mephistopheles 

She A Missle Girl, in a Missle World

When I pull over to the dirty, rotten gutter Nike starts rummaging in the back of the jeep, "What are you looking for?" I ask, not turning around, but still taking a peek in the back of the keep. "Nothing she says, grabbing something and spinning back around in her seat. She's found her black trench coat, she hasn't worn it in ages. She steps out of the jeep and throws it around her shoulder. Its a plain black trench coat that goes down to about her ankles, it looks relatively clean, but only Nike knows what god awful things that jacket has seen.

There are puddles of murky water in the gutters an
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d in potholes on the street, though it hasn't rain in years. This place smells rotten, like some dead animal; like a colony of huge, fat rats gathered under the streets and committed mass suicide just to make this place smell like shit. My mind lingers on this thought for only a moment then I move on. I follow Nike into Fred's shop. She opens the entrance but pauses for a second, she starts hacking then spits a wad of phlegm on the sidewalk, near the feet of a passerby. After this profound moment she disregards it and moves into the shop, I follow her.

In Fred's shop the lights are fluorescent but still dim, and considering it's location the place is relatively clean. All along the walls on either side of myself and Nike are glass cases filled with guns and ammunition, and above these cases, on the walls, are tons of racks holding up huge guns and swords, and other things of this sort. I stop at a case, maybe the fifth or sixth along the wall. This is the case I always stop at because it's full of antique revolvers, like six shooters. These days no one uses a gun unless it has seven magazine slots and five sights, infrared, and night vision; in short no one uses anything but a B.F.G.(B.F.G. meaning Big Fucking Gun). But me, I have class, I like to blast a fucker's head off with a nice six gun, I'm particularly partial to the .357 magnum.

Not many people watch films anymore, especially since the earth has gone on menopause, I but like to watch a nice Flem every now and again. A while back when Nike, Flem, Frank and myself were looting up some old scraps from some broken down beater we came across a box of films, not film reels though, more like laser discs. Either way they had a bunch of old movies; Dirty Harry, The Pale Rider, The Good The Bad and The Ugly, and other movies in that vein. I am a huge Clint Eastwood fan, probably the only one anymore, no one is 'light-hearted' enough to watch films when the world is crashing down around our ears, but I really don't care. Everyone has got to die some time.

After imagining myself riding out on the range during sundown I start walking quick, like to catch up with Nike who, despite my pausing, has kept moving on her path. "Slow down Nike, Fred's not going anywhere." I tell Nike, catching up with her, and shortening my strides to match hers. "Yea who gives a flying fuck, I don't like Fred too much and I sure as fuck don't like his goddamn sleazy ass store." she tells me, and even though she's not looking at me I can tell she says this through a rotten sneer. "Who are you calling sleazy?" I say this at a whisper, like only I can hear it, but Nike picks it up, "Yea, why don't you fuck off, instead of having a fuck with me you'll hafta choke your own goddamn chicken." she tells me off.
"Well if I don't fuck you then you don't get fucked." I say matter-of-factly.
"I'll just go out to some bar and find some random fucker to get it on with." she taunts me, "It's not like I gotta worry about AIDS or any of that fuckin' shit."
"Yea well... Fuck you..." I say this last bit at length, not knowing what else to say.

Nike gives a mocking laugh, we both know she's won the argument. At the end of this part of the building is a small office, where we'll most likely find Fred. That's where he always is. When reach come close to the back door Nike stops and turns to me, "You do the talkin' and do it fast, I don't wanna be around this faggot longer than we hafta be, okay?" she tells me, looking straight into my eyes, I nod. I reach up and knock on the door twice. "Yes, I'm very busy, who is it?" a voice calls through the door, Fred's voice. "It's me, me and Nike that is." I shout back through the door.

After a moment, and bit of paper rustling the door flies open and there stands Fred Lowe. He's probably about 6'1" or 2", he's sort of lanky but has broad shoulders. He's got shirt black hair and glasses, today he's got a bit of face stubble and he looks a little worn out. "Good to see you again, my friends." he tells us forcing a, what he would think of as welcoming, smile through his constant grimace. He steps to the side and ushers us into the cramped office, "how have you been?" he asks in a friendly manner, "Good." I say simply, and Nike just nods. He points to the three chairs in front of his desk, which is cluttered with papers and photographs, I take a seat in the one to the far left, and night sets in the one on the far right.

He takes a seat at his desk and continues he's bitter-sweet smile, "What brings you to my neck of the woods?" he asks, looking from Nike to me. I hesitate for a second, but then press on, "The same thing we always come here for." I tell him. "You need rare and expensive parts then." he says putting his right forefinger to his chin. "Well you got the 'rare' part right." I say jokingly, though not really wanting to spend any money. "Of course, of course." he says laughing at my feeble joke.

"So what sort of items are you looking for?" just the usual questions.
"Well, we're looking for a p38 to 3.75mm adapter for one of our energy generators. And maybe a few guns and some ammunition." I knock the list off.
"Well, it's going to take a while on the p38 to 3.75mill piece, that's rare, and I know we don't have any of those in stock, I'll have to order it, but it'll take anywhere from two days to a week for delivery though. And on the guns: what you see is what you get."
"Okay, well..." I pause, I don't want to stay in town for a week, and I know Nike doesn't either, "Well, we'll go ahead and take the guns I guess, but Nike and I will have to talk about the adapter..." I pause, waiting for him to get up and leave us alone, but he doesn't move. "Can you give us a quick minute." realization hits him and he gives an embarrassed laugh, "Of course, of course. I'm so sorry." he hops out from behind his desk and walks toward the door, "If you would be so kind as to open the door when your done." the he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

Once the door is locked Nike jumps out of her seat and starts walking around his office. She looks around his three filing cabinets, and thumbs through the documents and photos on his desk, "What are you doing?" I ask in a shouted whisper. "Shut up!" she says this in the same hushed yell, "I'm looking for something we can make money off of." I give her a puzzled look, "look, idiot, if he's got to order this fuckin' adapter then it's gonna cost us out the ass. And I don't know about you, but I don't wanna pay like that." she opens the draws to his desk and hits pay dirt.

She reaches her hand into the drawer and draws it out, holding a golden antique revolver. She smiles and tosses it to me, expecting me to be an expert. "Wow..." I say more to myself than to her, "An M1869 .45 Caliber Schofield single action six shooter, with a nickel finish." I recite this almost involuntarily while I finger the gun and turn it over in my hands, "This is so freaking cool." I'm awestruck, this is such an awesome pistol, "Glad you like it, it's a sale then, we'll take it." she says smiling in a viscous, greedy way.

"Okay," I say, preparing to change subjects, "What about the adapter?" I say this pocketing the pistol.
"Fuck..." she says in contemplation, "I guess we'll hafta wait on it, we can't go back without it, we fuckin' need it" she makes up both our minds.
"Alright." I say, moving to the door, as to open it. As I reach for the knock it twists before I can reach it and the door opens again, "Sorry, I couldn't stand the suspense." Fred says. He's laughing when he sits back at his desk, "So what have you decided?" he asks me.

"You should know, you were fuckin' eavesdropping." Nike says before I can answer him. I look from Nike to Fred and notice Fred's face is turning red, "Well," he chuckles, "I'm sorry, I can't resist and secret" he continues to laugh, but Nike stares daggers and knives at him. "Well then, you know that we'll order it then, Fred." I tell him, looking down at my feet; fucking dickwad. "Naturally." he says smugly.

"Okay, you get in contact with your people then get back with us, we'll need to know how long we'll have to wait." I explain to Fred.
"Of course, of course..." Fred pauses for a second, crunching numbers in his head, "Come back tomorrow, I should know when it will arrive by tomorrow." he tells me.
"What time?"
"Maybe..." he looks at the ceiling, "One, no two PM, no one. Come back tomorrow at around one PM."
"Alright, fine, we'll be here." I stand up with Nike and we leave. I notice Nike has bit more speed in her steps now than when we were arriving, she must really hate Fred. Who knew cyborgs could be so prejudice.

Nike pushes the door open hard, nearly sending them off their hinges, "You really hate Fred huh?" I ask as we jump into the jeep, me driving again. "I just don't like fuckety ass faggots, that's all." she says with a rotten sneer. "So what do you want to do for the rest of the night?" I ask starting the car up. The engine rumbles and the vehicle starts to rattle.
"Let's go to a bar, get something to eat, then get someone to eat." she tells me, a curly grin on her face.
"Someone to eat?" I look at her strangely, "A girl then?"
"Yea, I think another hot piece of pussy might liven things up, who knows, we might find another big dick to bring back with us."

We're driving down 138th again, we're heading to Clyde's, which is on 140th and 67th. It's a Friday night and there are always all kinds of people staying around Clyde's a lot of hot girls, and a few good looking guys, nothing special; I'm sure at least one will peak Nike's interest. Night falls soon enough and we're sitting outside Clyde's, sitting in the jeep. "Okay, we needta find a nice short brunette, with a nice big ass." she explains to me what kind of girl she is looking for. I nod at every new characteristic and feature she adds, "long hair, red lips, cute small boobs." I agree with everything she says, her and I have similar taste in girls.

I pull the keys out of the ignition, Nike strips off her trench coat, and we step through the doors. The instant we enter the door heads are turning after Nike, whether it's because of the fact that they know who she is, or because she's sexy, I don't know. I look over at Nike, and she looks gorgeous, particularly in this light. She's checking out the bar, looking from table to table, seat to seat, looking for a prime piece of meat. "No..." "Not her..." "Too thin..." I hear her mumbling to herself, apparently about the girls who don't meet her standards.

"Let's take a seat at the bar, have a drink, you know." I tell her making my way toward the bar, she follows, sort of. She's zigzagging her way across the floor, looking at every girl she can see before reaching the bar. "Dry beer, J & B." I told the bar tender, he turns and looks to Nike, "The same for her." I say, brushing him away. I turn around and run my eye over the bar, there are a few choice girls I'd like to have, but what does Nike think? "Like anything?" I ask her, sipping my beer, not looking at her.

She keeps looking around, lingering in a place for no longer than a few seconds, "Kinda, there are a few hotties, but mostly ugly fucking pigs." she doesn't look at me. She picks up her beer and drinks it down in one, two gulps; she's definitely some kind of machine. "Well, do we have someone that meets your requirements?" I ask her, glaring hard at her breasts. She continues looking around then turns her eye on me, "Yea, I see one." she tells me.
"Well who the fuck is it?" I ask, getting a little frustrated, she won't stop dodging my freaking question.
"Her." she says pointing into a crowd of four, maybe five girls. There are a few cutey pies, they're all looking pretty young, seventeen or eighteen years old maybe.
"Which?" I still can't tell which girl she's talking about.
"The one with the long brown hair, with the glasses." she tells me condescendingly, as if I can't understand what she's saying.

I find the girl she's talking about immediately, and wowey, what a little honey dip. She's got curly, shoulder length blonde hair and a nice round butt. She's got a cute face and those black-horn rimmed glasses make her look even better. I wonder what sort of diplomatic way Nike will go about getting this girl to come back to a motel with us. Nike get's up and starts wandering over to the gaggle of girls, not stepping off to look at anything else, just walking straight at them, she looks like she has meaning in her face.

Nike snaps at the girl and gets her attention, but I can't hear what they're talking about, the noise in the bar is too much. Nike says something else and the girl's face flushes, she turns bright pink, and she looks even more cute! Nike holds her hands up in front of the girl, like she's talking about a fishing trip, like she caught a huge fish, then Nike points to me. What the hell are these girls talking about?

Nike leaves the girl and comes back to me, she sits down a the bar and orders another beer. "Well? Is she coming with us?" I ask, laying my hand on Nike's thigh. Nike kind of shivers, takes a sip of her beer, then looks me square in the eye "She'll meet us out front in five minutes." she tells me like it's no big deal.
"What? How did you hook her?" I'm dumbfounded.
"Nothing, don't worry about it, the point is that she's coming with us, now pay the fucking barkeeper and let's get out front and wait for her." She sips her beer again and lays it down on the bar.

I wave to the bartender and he promptly walks over. He draws up the tab and gives me the bill, so I lay down the cash and leave him a nice five dollar tip, "It's your lucky day." I tell him tossing the cash on the bill. Nike and I stand up and find our way out of the bar, which is a little hard seeing as how the bar is packed to the brim with swingers and sluts looking for dirty one night stands, so I guess Nike and I are one less pair of perverts.

Nike and I hop into my jeep and we sit out in front of the bar, waiting for our little girlie. I start the engine up and turn on the heater, it's a little cold out tonight. After a few moments of sitting in silence with Nike our little girl friend comes out of the dim light of this rusty little bar, but there is someone with her, a man. He's sort of tall (at least taller than I am) and he's got long wavy hair. He has chiseled features and a puss full of straight, white choppers; and he's smiling a lot for some reason.

The little girl stands beside our ride for a second and looks at me, "Hello, I'm Gillian." she tells, trying to be polite, "And this is my boyfriend, Devin." I look Devin over once and I look Gillian over twice, then a third time for good measure. "Hop in." I tell her throwing my eyes on the road ahead of us. The jeep purrs away while we drive down these mucky roads, the vibrations climb in my gut and nestle down, then crawl back out again and after that, on comes the next wave.

I find a low down motel and I pull into the parking lot, not because it's the only one that's vacant, but because it's only fifteen credits a night for one person, so Nike and the other two can sneak in once I've paid. I hop out of the jeep and find my way over to the office where I pay the desk clerk fifteen credits for the night. He gives me a weary glance and I wink at him, then I leave the office laughing like a jackal.

Room twenty-three on the second floor. So I whistle down to Nike and she brings up our two friends, Devin and Gillian, and I can already tell we are in for a hell of a night. The first thing Nike does when we all get into the room, and I close the door, is strip down to her bare ass. So Gillian and I start to do the same, but Devin stands their looking at me shyly. I take my time when I undress, I slowly loosen my shoe laces then toss my boots off to the side, then I slide my shirt and my pants off. Gillian is undressed and staring at me while I get down to my boxers, Nike is standing to the side with her arms crossed and Devin is still standing there fully clothed, all eyes are on me.

I pretend not to notice everyone staring at me, waiting for that special moment, and I just pull my boxers off. I step out of them and toss them across the room. I stand up and look around, and put my fists on my hips, trying to show off my piece a little bit. "You were right." Gillian whispers to Nike, her face going a little red. "Yip, that's why I keep him around." she says jokingly serious. She steps up to me and grabs hold of my flaccid shaft, then she turns to Gillian and Devin and winks at them.

I put my hands behind my back when Nike kneels down in front of me; finally, Nike's going to give me a freaking blow job! She licks up and down the shaft and strokes it a little to get it hard. She holds my cock up and kisses the head, then she slides into her mouth; though not all the way, only about the first two inches. She doesn't let me fuck her mouth though, she just sucks on it like a popcicle.

Nike pops my cock out of her mouth and looks to Gillian, so Gillian joins Nike on her knees. At this point Devin finally starts to undress. Nike and Gillian take turns licking my cock; Nike holds it to herself, licking it over, then holding it out for Gillian to lick it. My breathing is getting heavier as they change pace and Nike starts sliding it into her mouth, then Gillian does the very same. I'm moving closer and closer. They keep sliding my piece in and out of each others mouths and before too much longer they're taking turns sucking on it. I especially like Gillian's way of giving head, she's twirling and twisting her tongue around my cock like a slimy snake.

I'm getting nervous when Devin joins Gillian and Nike on their knees in front of me, does he want to suck my dick too? "Whose gonna suck Devin off?" I ask, trying to get him away from me. "No one, silly." Gillian told me in the split second she pulled my cock out of her mouth. "That's the deal," Nike starts to tell me, "They came with so that me, Gillian, and Devin will all get fucked by you."
"I don't know about that." I'm not gay.
"Look here fucker, you're going to let me, Gillian, and even Devin suck you off, then your gonna fuck all of us up the asses, and that includes Devin." Nike tells me, threateningly.
"I ain't fucking gay, Nike" I tell her, trying to reason.
"Gay or straight, there's no real difference anymore, that is a decades old problem." Devin tells me getting closer, pushing Nike and Gillian apart. "Whoa, whoa! Hold on!" I start to yell when Nike hands my cock off to Devin.
"Oh relax Benny-boy," Nike tries to relax me, "If some guy is sucking your dick you're not gay, its just some faggot sucking you off, that doesn't make you gay." she has a crappy logic.
I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the pain when Devin leans in on my crotch. Wasting no time he takes my entire length in his mouth and starts in by deepthroating me. When I he push down on my cock no further he sticks his tongue out and starts licking, this is probably for less endowed men though; when he sticks his tongue out he is supposed to be able to lick the dude's balls, but it's pretty much impossible to do with my cock.

Nike gives Devin's ass a nice slap before she stands up. She leans in on my and starts kissing me hard, really hard. She bites my bottom lip and she bites my tongue, she sticks her wet, writhing tongue in my mouth, and I am about to scream with ecstasy. She starts sucking my tongue, which almost sends me over the edge, then I remember there is a dude on my cock, and that brings me back off my cloud. She holds my head close to hers, gripping my hair to keep me in place. Then she backs off.

She crawls back down to where Devin and Gillian are. Gillian and Nike kiss and run their tongues up and down the sides of my cock while Devin handles the head, it's pure pleasure. I put my hand behind Nike's head, rubbing her neck, and shoulders gently; I do the same to Gillian. "C'mon, yea, I'm getting there." I tell them between breathless gasps.

Finally Nike grabs hold of my fat shaft and starts jerking me off, this deters Gillian for a second, but then she joins in. There is easily enough room for Gillian and Nike to fit both their hands on my cock all at the same, so that's what they do. The two girls are jerking my off, with four hands total, while Devin keeps sucking away at the head of my cock. "Oh fuck, Oh shit." I mutter, I'm getting closer and closer, shit...

"Oh, Fuck!..." I cum like a freight train. My cum spurts up in Devin's face while he holds his mouth open(though none actually gets into his mouth) I'm breathing heavily while the cum still squirts out, leaning back on my arms, "Shit..." Devin isn't done yet, he's still jerking my cock slowly, trying to milk it for every drop of cum.

I am being pulled and twisted like pink taffy at this point. I'm disgusted with myself for letting some faggot suck my cock, but at the same time it feels so fucking good... Almost as good as Nike, though I would never tell her this. I'd never live it down if I told her getting my cock sucked by a guy was almost as good as being sucked by her...

Penguins4fuel on Taboo Stories

**Disclaimer**- I am not a writer and have never written anything like this before. This "pilot episode" is meant to tell the backstory leading up to events that will transpire, and contains no sex or anything remotely close. If that's all you are looking for, i suggest you go watch some videos. I write purely to tell a story, though this will become an erotic one. just be warned that it starts out much like any fiction novel would. That said, please review my post and leave comments on where you would like to see the story, and sex, progress. the characters and places in this story are entirely fictional as is the story itself. enjoy.

 

 

 

I suppose that I should start at the beginning. My name is Thomas. I was born in the late 1980’s and was raised in a small farming community in the southeastern US. The story has its roots when I was 15 and had just met who I had assumed to be the girl of my dreams. As it turns out, I wasn’t the boy of hers and when I was 17 she left me for my best friend. But I remained on good terms with her little sister Casey, who was four years younger than me. Casey had always looked up to me because her sister was a poor excuse for a sibling and even while I was dating her sister, I would always insist that we bring Casey along on our dates so I could spoil her like the little sister I had never had.

We had remained in constant communication over the past two years and I had helped her through some tough spots as well as I could, seeing that her sister wasn’t about to help anyone but herself, and Casey actually was a huge help getting my life together after my breakup with her sister, being the only person who would truly understand how much pain I was in. So I played the big brother to her and scared away most of the guys she liked( none would ever meet my standards) and she did the same for me with prospective girlfriends, never thinking any of them worthy to date her big brother. We saw each other a lot until I went to college and she was always excited to be picked up at school on a Friday by a hot older guy in a killer classic muscle car in front of all of her friends. Her parents never bothered us because after all, they had both thought me perfect for her older sister and therefore trusted me to be a caring helpful big brother to Casey and respected me for keeping her happy. I think they thought that I just spent time with her because I felt obligated, and didn’t really want to. They were wrong. Casey was like my little sister and meant more to me than anyone else ever had.

The story picks up with the completion of my first semester in college. It was December. I was nineteen and she was fifteen. It was a Friday night, my Finals were done, and I was headed to the farm that my grandmother had left me in her will, which was in the town that I had spent my entire pre-college life. We called it a farm, but the only thing that grew there was sage grass and it was really just a lot of land with a farmhouse on it. But everyone in town lived on a “farm” whether it actually was on or not. I was about an hour into the grueling two hour drive. I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket and turned down my stereo as I extricated it from my jeans and smiled when the caller ID read “Casey” and showed a picture her mom had taken of us the previous new-year. I answered with a corny joke as always and only got halfway through with my line.

                “Thank you for calling Tommy’s pizza how-“ I was cut off by Casey’s tearful screams.

                “GET AWAY FROM ME TANNER!!! I SAID NO!!!” At first I thought that she was yelling because of the loud music on her end, then I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was both infuriated and terrified.

                “Casey what’s going on?” I asked in my best concerned/ composed voice, although I was very confused and scared.

                “Zack? Oh thank God. I need-“I could hear glass shattering and my little sister shrieking. “-I need your help,” she continued, her voice teary. “I don’t have time to explain, just get to Tanner’s house as fast as you can. Are you close?”

Knowing I was an hour away if I stuck to the speed limit, and also knowing the speed capabilities of my ’71 Challenger R/T, I said, “Casey, can you give me twenty minutes?” She replied with a “probably” and then the phone went silent after a particularly violent crash.

                “Shit,” I said to no one in particular. I floored my Challenger, calling on the full power of the 465 horses under the hood, on which were badges that read “426 Hemi” in bright red lettering. I made the trip in record time, and managed to avoid any law enforcement officials, which was handy, because It would have taken me precious seconds to shake them, and I didn’t know how many of those seconds I had to get to my Casey. I got off the interstate and blew through stop signs and red lights, not daring to glance at my speedometer as I quickly exited the lights of what passed for “downtown” here and got closer to the 95 acres that Casey’s current boyfriend, Tanner Blane, lived on with his parents. As I got to his driveway, I mentally prepared myself for whatever was going on here and in a second, went from worried, scared Thomas, to cool, collected and alert Thomas. I ran the length of the quarter-mile driveway in twelve seconds flat and slid to a stop in the front yard, ten feet from the front door. I got out with the engine still running, approached the house, and when I heard Casey scream and I narrowly dodged a baseball that came crashing through the porch window, I reared back and kicked in the front door.

Standing in the living room were two people: one was sixteen year old Tanner, shirtless and obviously under the influence of SOMETHING. The other was my little sister, wearing black and green Tripp pants and the remains of her favorite TWLOHA T-shirt, which had been reduced to shreds of cloth doing nothing to hide anything from the waist up. Her arms were doing their best to cover her chest, but for all intents and purposes, they were failing miserably. There were tears of embarrassment, betrayal, anger, and disappointment in her eyes when she looked at me, though her face lit up and she ran towards me.  Tanner tried to head her off, but I was prepared for this and before he could take one step, he was knocked into the wall four feet behind him where he collapsed, unconscious, the print of my boot on his bare chest.

At this, Casey came running to me and wrapped her arms around me, crying into my chest and as she began to convulse, I feared that she was going into shock; but she was just crying that hard. She was in no position to walk, so after pulling my hoodie off of myself and onto her (both because she had no shirt and because it was nineteen degrees outside) I easily hefted her 4’9’’, 81 lbs. body into my arms and exited the house through the same splintered doorway that I had entered through. I walked directly to my car’s driver door, still ajar, and set her right next to me on the black, fabric bench-seat. From the time I had arrived at the house and exited my car, to the time I threw the Four-speed floor shifter into reverse and sped off, not more than sixty seconds had passed; and not a word was spoken.

I began to survey Casey as I drove, as soon as I hit the road, and noticed that although she was shaken and very pale, she seemed to be otherwise unharmed, nary even a bruise or a scrape; thank God. She looked up at me and threw her arms around me, the only brother she had, and continued to cry. I put my right arm around her waist and rubbed her side while I kissed her hair and promised her that it would be alright.

                “I know sweetie,” I comforted. “I know. I can tell what was going on; you don’t have to talk about it.”

                “No,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes with the super-long sleeves of my school hoodie. “I need to talk about it.” She continued as I nodded. “My parents went to Aspen for the weekend, and they left my sister in charge of me. I was just planning to spend the weekend at Tanner’s house, because his parents went to Tybee Island for the weekend.” She took a break to catch her breath and blow her nose on a napkin that had come out of my glove compartment.  “I went home with him from school and we were having a good time, just making out and stuff, you know…” here she paused because she knew how I felt about her making out with boys, but she continued when she read nothing but concerned interest on my face. “At about five-thirty or so, he started drinking and he started to get handsy. He knew the rules that I had set, and he had always stuck to them, but not this time. When I said no, he came at me stronger, until he got really violent! Tommy, I was so scared…” She began to tear up again and just held her close while I found my phone and dialed the number to the local sheriff’s office, which I knew by heart.

Sheriff James A. Packard had been the sheriff in my home county ever since I was born, and In a county of just over 4,000 citizens, it was no surprise that the sheriff had gone to the same church as my grandmother (who had raised me) and I. I remember having Sheriff Packard over for dinner almost every Saturday night before my grandmother had died in my junior year of high-school. His wife and my grandfather had been killed in the same fire some fifteen years before my birth, so I think he and my grandmother felt a natural bond with one another. He was as “friend-of-the-family” as they came.

The phone rang twice before he answered. “Sheriff Packard speaking,” he said in his old, husky voice.

                “Sheriff, It’s Tommy.”

                “Tommy boy!” he said, dragging up my old nickname. “How the hell are you son?”

                “I’m fine sheriff, but listen…” and I proceeded to tell him everything that had happened tonight, beginning with the phone call I had receiver on my way home, and ending with Tanner’s attempted rape of my little sister.

                “You’re a good man, you know Tommy,” he said. “How you treat that girl. You know, if she were just a few years older… But as it sits, you are the best thing that she could hope for in a brother, you know son? Your grandma’ would be so proud… Anyway, I’ll get a unit out to the Blane farm and pick up Tanner. Are you taking Casey home?”

                “Her parents are out of town Sheriff, so I was planning on putting her up at my place until they get back on Monday. I have plenty of food and stuff. Don’t worry about us.”

With any other people, in any other town in the world, the sheriff would have had me arrested for even suggesting that a fifteen year old girl shack up with a nineteen year old college guy for the weekend, but not here. Not us. No one had to worry about US.

                “Ok, well you kids be careful. I know that you’re probably the best person to help her through this right now. I may come by on my way into work tomorrow to check up on ya’ll, but don’t be offended if I don’t, we stay kinda’ busy ‘round here these days.”

                “Roger that sheriff,” I said. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Good night”.

When I closed my phone we were pulling into the driveway, which stretched for more than a mile past wide rolling pastures that had not grazed livestock in over fifty years, and woods that held numerous tree-houses from my youth. It still didn’t feel right calling this “My land”, even though it had been legally mine since I was emancipated when my grandmother died. I was just seventeen and a junior in high-school. My mother had died a few years following my birth in an auto accident, and my father had never been in the picture. Since my mother was an only child, as was my grandmother, I was left in my grandmother’s custody. On her deathbed, which she was on for a painfully long four months, we talked a lot, her and I, about my becoming my own guardian if she passed before my birthday. We signed all the papers and it became official when she died. I had become a legal adult at seventeen, which gave me rights to go ahead and collect my inheritance, which in addition to the farm, had consisted of a few million dollars worth of investment portfolios and a sizable trust fund that while wasn’t enough for me to live like a king for the rest of my life, ensured that I would never have to worry about money if I budgeted well.

 We pulled into “my” garage, which was my grandmother’s sixteenth birthday present for me. It consisted of five bays, three of which had vehicle lifts. If you couldn’t find the right tool in that garage, you didn’t belong anywhere near a car. The garage was ported for cable and high-speed internet and had a small office that had sort of become my bedroom during those last years… I loved working on cars and this was my grandmother’s way of showing that she approved of my hobby. When we finally reached the house,  we exited my car and went inside.

The original farmhouse had been built on this land sometime in the mid 1800’s and had burned to the ground around forty or so party goers in 1974, the fire that had killed my grandfather and so many others that night. My grandmother, while never selling the farm, and my mother had then moved to Florida and didn’t move back until my mother became pregnant with me in the late 80’s. They had a new, modernized farmhouse built towards the back of the property line and we all moved in when I was two. My mother died shortly after, so then it was just me and my grandmother in this huge, three-story farmhouse with a finished basement, full –finished attic, four enormous bedrooms, a home theater complete with a 72” front projection television and many other modern additions. I had since added a few modifications myself, including glassing in the rear deck and equipping it with a comfortable hot-tub and the only HD television in the house, besides the 52” 1080p in my garage. And I had converted the Theater into more of a living room.

After losing my grandmother to cancer and my girlfriend to a cross-country running backstabber in the same month, I had needed something to distract me, so I had often thrown parties here on the weekends during my junior and senior years. The house was cool, but it wasn’t designed to host parties, so the modifications were necessary.

I got out of my car, and was proud to see that Casey giddily hopped out under her own power, through my door. But then she jumped into my arms and I easily, and quite happily, carried her into the house. Since I was the only one who lived here and I hadn’t been home in over a month, it was quite cold in the house. Knowing that the only thing protecting my little sister’s upper body from the sub-zero temperatures was my thin hoodie, I ran her upstairs to the second story, where the bedrooms were located. She had always had a bedroom here, ever since we had first become close, years ago. I stood on the landing outside her door and nudged it open, all the while not daring to put her down, for fear I would lose her in the dark, cavernous hallway that ran the length of the second floor. Once inside the bedroom, I felt for the light-switch and upon finding it, sat her down in front of the now visible closet door. She got really excited upon seeing her closet and had apparently forgotten about how much I used to spoil her when I was still living here full time. Inside the closet, which was large enough itself to play a game of half-court basketball, were entire walls filled with clothes of every brand, shape, size, color and designer; shirts, pants, skirts, dresses, sweaters, vests, jackets, pantsuits, swim-suits, Halloween costumes and shoes; OH THE SHOES!!! I don’t care who she is, I have never met a girl who would turn down my buying her a pair of shoes… or 200 pair. There were boots, heels, flats, flip-flops, sandals, slippers, ore boots, tennis-shoes, running shoes, Cons, Vans and essentially any other kind of shoe one could dream of.  This closet had become furnished right about the time that I couldn’t afford that new BMW Z4, and probably blue-booked somewhere in the range of $45,000 dollars.

                “I have been wanting to come here for SO long!” Casey giggled. “I’m going to put on something put on something really warm!”

                “Dress in layers,” I warned. “I’m going to get the heater going tonight and by tomorrow morning it’s going to be freaking toasty in here!”

Casey nodded and turned, closing the closet door behind her as she entered. It had been quite a few months since I had seen this room so I took the time to re-familiarize myself. Against the opposite wall from where I stood was a massive king-sized four-poster bed, complete with a canopy of pink lace that draped down and completely encased the entire bed in a transparent pink tent. In the far corner of the room stood a 42” rear projection HDTV and the most elaborate surround system that best-buy had had in stock the day that I bought it. On the wall to either side of the TV were shelves that held literally thousands of CDs, which were all duplicated of ones that I had purchased for her room at her parents’ house, as were many of the shoes in the closet. Every square inch of free wall space in the room was covered with posters of bands, movies, actors and actresses, and pictures of her close friends and family. As I completed the tour of the room, I heard the closet door open and turned to see Casey K. Conner, reborn after being submerged in a pure fashion environment for 15 minutes. She had taken my advice and dressed in layers, the outer layer consisting of black sweat pants that were two sizes too big and a matching top, proportionately grande. Her short brown hair was down and loose around her neck, and for the first time, I noticed that my little sister was quickly on her way to becoming a woman. She had always been old for her age, her home life being sketchy at best and horrifying at worst. Her parents were neglectful and not understanding in the least, but at least they trusted me with her, having enough sense to see that she was truly happy when she was with me. Not because I spoiled her, but because I truly loved her more than anything. And I think she loved me too. And standing here in front of me now, her body was beginning to catch up to her mind. Even hidden behind the sweats, I could tell that she was a knockout. No wonder Tanner wanted her so bad, I thought to myself. But as long as she was here with me, she was safe. I would protect my little sister with everything that I had, even if I was protecting her from her own growing beauty.

The rest of the night went by very fast. I made us dinner after I got the house started back up again, and we watched Underworld: Evolution in the “living room”. It was one of our favorites. As the credits rolled, I looked over to see that Casey was fast asleep, looking more like an angel than any human being that I had ever seen. I took her into my arms as gently as I could and took her upstairs for the last time that night. I thought I had managed not to wake her, but as I laid her down in her giant bed, she stirred and I heard a tiny groan escape her lips.

                “Don’t leave me alone Tommy,” she pleaded while still mostly asleep.  “I really need you close to me right now.”

                “I understand sweetie,” I assured her. “I will sit right here on your bed until you are fast asleep, okay?”

                “No,” she said coyly, almost playfully. “I need a teddy bear!” and with that, she took me totally be surprise and was able to pull me down to where I was laying directly beside her, in the middle of her giant bed. Then she rolled over to face me and buried her hands and face in my chest in a desperate attempt to stay warm. I was a little uncomfortable about sleeping with Casey, but I knew that she hadn’t meant anything more than innocent by it, so if it didn’t bother her, I was fine with it. My last conscious thought before drifting into dreamland was that her hair smelled like fresh strawberries, still growing in the vine. My first dream took place in a never ending field of strawberries.