by Jamie Knight
I paused at the hallway, not ready to leave until I had won this argument.
“The kitchen is a communal area,” I pointed out. “This should be the neutral zone. It’s where the food sleeps.”
“It’s where the pantry is, too,” she added. “Take it easy with the food in there.”
“If your dad is smart, he’s buying food in the can,” I noted. “We could see food supply lanes disrupted. It could mean many more people could starve outside the United States.”
“Do you even know what you’re talking about?” she asked suspiciously. “Because if you don’t…”
“The virus causes flu-like symptoms, but it incubates for like, two weeks in the body,” I pointed out. “During that time, people are contagious and that’s how it spreads. Everyone here might already have it.”
“No one’s sick.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Asymptomatic variants could be anywhere. You go to the gas station, the mini mart, a public bathroom, anywhere people go. They don’t know they have it. People are coming back from Italy and China, showing no symptoms or any signs of having the virus. No one is stopping them at the airports. And if they did, they’d have to quarantine them for at least two weeks.”
“They could test them,” she pointed out. “There must be a test.”
“It’s called the novel Coronavirus because it’s new. They don’t have a reliable test. The Chinese tried taking everyone’s temperature, but again, that doesn’t work. If you have the virus and a temp, you got infected two weeks ago.”
The light bulb finally went off as she clearly began to realize how insidious the virus was.
I was glad someone was listening to me, at least.
“Oh, God,” she said, thinking about it. “My whole campus probably has it! We had a lot of exchange students.”
“Not necessarily. They may have come to the U.S. long before the virus started to spread in other countries,” I noted. “But they trace this thing, rumor has it, as far back as November. The new semester started after Christmas, so…”
“Now I’m trying to remember if anyone I knew was sick. I mean, even at two weeks, that might be an indication.”
“Yeah, me too. The good news is, for us, the younger you are, the less likely you will be affected by it, unless you have a serious underlying medical condition. It’s going to be a few years before they figure all this out.”
“So, this lockdown is, for what? Two weeks?”
“Nah, definitely not,” I said, shaking my head. “That ship has sailed. I don’t think there’s any chance they can put the brakes on this. The only thing they can do is slow it down so that the hospitals don’t get overwhelmed. But if the asymptomatic variants are as numerous as they say, it may not matter. And the lockdown will be for nothing.”
She got out her phone and started looking at the Internet.
“Let’s see what the news says,” she announced, as if comforting herself.
I wasn’t going to tell her that reading the news would make her even more worried about this disease.
Instead, I decided it was probably time to leave the kitchen now, and to just chill and take a nap in my room.
At least Tracianne had calmed down some.
I had even managed to teach her some valuable information.
And if the world was going to end, I wanted to be well rested for it.
Chapter Five - Phil
I was up in my room, John having called me back. We discussed his amazing sex life with his awesome girlfriend he was about to propose to.
Part of me was jealous that he had someone so special to share these hard times with but part of me wondered how anyone could ever really feel ready for marriage. I doubted I ever would. Look at what happened with my mom and dad! It seemed destined to fail and I didn’t like to set myself up for failure.
But I had congratulated John and helped him pick out a ring out of several options he sent me online, the actual jewelry stores being closed to in person traffic. I was happy for him and Zoe, despite my own doubts about the institution they were about to enter into.
So, then I started reading comic books to try to get my mind off real life. God, what a horror show they had turned into, though! I mean, I used to love this shit, don’t get me wrong. But they just weren’t what they used to be. I got nostalgic.
It used to be these superheroes would do things. They would track down criminals, get into fights and most importantly, save the day.
Now all they did was sit around, complain and try to “deal” with their relationships. WTF? Who wants to read this nonsense?
And the worst part was that every issue now was full of politics, politics, politics. Sure, back in the day there were a few creators that dabbled in politics in comics. But they didn’t automatically assume that anyone who disagreed with their point of view was an ignorant dummy, unfit for mere acknowledgement.
The writers and editors now were so deeply out of touch of what their readers wanted. I personally just wanted to see some guy wail on criminals, thanks. Don’t try and sell me on whatever their politics might be.
Like so many other former comic fans online, I was doing videos about it. I wasn’t the best, but I did okay.
I saw a great video the other day, in which the guy broke down why the art sucked, too. It was all computer generated instead of hand drawn. Nothing was the same anymore, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
Go to a comic bookstore, any comic bookstore, and they would tell you that they were on the verge of going out of business and that their fan base was furious over the shitty comics that were coming out now.
So, I set up my camera, preparing to once again complain, complain and complain about comics. I had done it so often I was getting tired of it. It was as if the only reason to make comics now was so that guys like me could complain about it. I felt weird giving the industry my money, even if it got me hits on a podcast.
That was when I heard a splash. My instinct was that neighborhood kids had snuck into the pool. It had happened one or two times. Peeking out the window, I saw Tracianne, swimming around in a bikini.
God damn.
Through the blinds, I could see that incredible, glistening ass just above the water line as she swam from the deep end to the shallow. If she wasn’t my stepsister, I’d be all over that. Even with that high and mighty attitude she liked to display, I had to admit she’d be worth it.
She flipped over and did the backstroke. Her breasts were now floating across the surface of the water line.
Fuck. She was so hot.
She got out of the pool and flipped her hair back. Mmm, her walk to the lounge chair, even, was sexy as shit. I found myself getting aroused. My cock was growing hard for my stepsister, even though I didn’t want it to.
Suddenly, as she was drying herself, she looked in my direction. I knew, however, that with the way the light hit this side of the house, she probably couldn’t see me.
I didn’t move. Any movement would’ve drawn her eyes in my direction. When she looked away, I backed off.
She laid back to sun herself. I loved seeing her curvy body on display like that. Damn. My cock was rock hard now. It was jutting out and wishing it could push its way into my stepsister’s hot little pussy hole.
I’d like to see what was under that bikini.
I’d like to fondle her big breasts, run my hands down her wide hips, slap that juicy ass of hers. I wanted to slip a finger under her thong, slide it to the side so I could get a good look at her wet cunt before plunging my big cock into it and fucking her like she deserved to be fucked– long, hard and good.
I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about my stepsister like this. I couldn’t help myself from thinking about pounding her tight little pussy, though. My cock was like a steel rod and my mind was totally distracted with thoughts of bending her over and spreading her ass cheeks wide, spanking them and grabbing hold of th
em before ripping her cunt open with my cock.
I wanted to stretch her tiny hole wide open with my thick cock. To grab her hair while she rode my rock-hard dick, sliding all over it with her wet pussy juices, calling out my name and saying I was turning her into such a bad girl for wanting her stepbrother so much.
I couldn’t help it, now. I had to take my cock out of my pants and wrap my hand around it, so that I could jerk myself off while I thought about her naked body bouncing up and down as her pussy took the ride of its life on my pole.
“Phil,” I imagined her saying, as her inner walls tightened around my cock in my fantasy like my hand was in real life. “I shouldn’t be doing this. We’re stepsiblings now. But I can’t resist your hard cock. It feels so good in my pussy. Fuck me harder, Phil.”
“You like when I’m crammed tight inside you, don’t you, darling stepsister?” I’d asked her, spanking her ass while fucking her good. “You like when your stepbrother puts his cock inside you and stuffs you full?”
“Yes,” she’d cried out, as I twisted her nipples in between my fingers, pinching them and punishing her for being so naughty. “I’m your dirty little stepsister. Your bad little slut. Fuck my pussy until I cum for you. Fuck. I’m cumming for you, stepbrother…”
Shit, I thought, as I came in real life, all over my hand, thinking about my stepsister’s wet cunt juices dripping all over my cock as I made her cum in my fantasy.
Well, fuck.
I felt utterly disgusted with myself.
What the fuck was I doing?
Was I that horny?
Fuck, yes, I guess I was.
But, being sexually attracted to my stepsister?
Had I hit a new low?
This was why I needed to get a girlfriend at college. I had avoided any opportunity to get into a relationship. And unlike the many guys on campus, I didn’t have the time or the energy to put into just banging coeds.
Sure, there were a lot of women on campus, but you had to put in the time and make it a numbers game. Time was valuable to me. I didn’t want to spend two nights chatting up some chick just to pump her and dump her.
Yeah, you get laid, but it was a cheap high. I wanted something more emotional than that but it, too, would take time to cultivate. I guessed what they said was true, that nothing good comes easily.
Avoiding relationship entanglements had worked. My studies, the podcast— they were going well. I had a system in place.
Yeah, I tended to masturbate a lot, but what guy my age doesn’t? You just do it and it’s over. Then you can concentrate again.
Like right now. It was over. Done.
I had fantasized about my stepsister and I had cum.
That wasn’t that bad, was it?
Except I felt fucking ashamed.
And I didn’t have much shame when it came to porn. I mean, I get it, too much porn—
You could go down the rabbit hole and get weird.
I knew some guys that talked about porn more than sports. When you started knowing all the porn star names and could rank their performances, it was too much. Some of these guys would recommend porn that was just too much for me. I wasn’t going to watch some chick jerk off a guy with her feet. That was bizarre.
Porn had that subgenre of step fantasy, I reminded myself, as to make myself feel better, that it wasn’t just me.
It was all just the same thing, only the “actors” pretended they were in a family like mine. Two step siblings have sex.
“It’s okay, we’re not related.”
The acting was so terrible, and the two people were obviously strangers. It didn’t look remotely real. Just another two porn stars banging.
Now, here I was, though, thinking about my stepsister that way. Had I crossed some kind of line here?
Maybe I had been watching too much porn. Maybe I just needed more human interaction in my life. But it was kind of a bad time to realize that with the lockdown going on. It wasn’t like I could go back to campus and start expanding my cadre of friends.
Maybe I needed to get on Zoom and talk to more people. But I couldn’t even meet up with anyone in real life. That would be dumb, right now, with the virus going around. Maybe that was why I was going insane.
I still couldn’t believe I was thinking about my stepsister like this. Sure, I knew I couldn’t act on it; that would be wrong.
However, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
And once I got an idea in my head, it was really hard to get rid of.
I shouldn’t want my stepsister, because I always went after what I wanted.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Chapter Six - Tracianne
“God, I’m so bored already,” I texted Diamond.
“Damn girl. One dip in the pool and you outta shit to do?”
I snapped a pic of my frowny face and sent it to her.
“You lookin’ good poolside. That new stepbrother of yours checking you out? LOL!” she asked.
I sent her a puke emoji and then I looked back at the house. Phil wasn’t staring at me from his bedroom window, was he?
I was probably being paranoid, just like I had been about the sprinklers that automatically came on, when I thought it was him doing it on purpose.
God, that would be just icing on the cake, though, if he were looking at me now. Big fucking know-it-all, lecturing me about the virus like he’s the WHO.
Who died and made him King of All Knowledge?
I texted Gillian. She was less gregarious. I wanted a mellow conversation.
“Hey, Gil,” my text said.
“Hey.”
“How are you doing?”
She called instead of texting back. Guess she was feeling cooped up.
“I’m okay, I guess. But my parents are already driving me nuts. I have to get out of here!” she said over Facetime.
“Where would you go?”
“Anywhere! I just wanna go to Starbucks and hang out. Or a bar. Yeah, a bar would be sweet right now. Wish we had a pool like your family.”
“You’re not missing much. I’m already bored with it,” I relayed. “One swim and I’m all done. I’ll be all day washing and fixing my hair just for a dip. It’s almost not worth it because it takes forever to undo the damage.”
“Why? You can’t go anywhere. Who cares how you look?”
“Well, I do,” I countered. “I don’t want to completely slob out over this.”
“Oh, fuck that. I’m already in sweats. I’m not shaving or anything until this over.”
“Gil!”
“Well, what’s the point? My family lives out in the sticks. You have to get into a car to see anyone,” she lamented.
“At least you can go for walks in the woods, right?”
“Yeah, that’s true. That’ll be nice, I guess. For a while. But shit. I think I may be a functional alcoholic. I’m going through withdrawal!”
“No, you’re not. You’re like a two-beer chump, Gil.”
“That’s not true! Remember Margarita Night?”
“That doesn’t count. That bottle of tequila was so tiny and the mix we had— that was like a ten to one ratio!”
“Still, I had like three of them.”
“Yeah and you still passed out,” I laughed.
“And what about that time with you and Jared?” she reminded me. “Oh, Jared, that’s so interesting! Oh, Jared, you’re so tall and smart! Oh, Jared, take me!”
She mimicked how I’d sounding, making me feel mortified.
“I didn’t even go out with Jared,” I was quick to counter. “He was just talking to me at the bar that time.”
“He was warm for your form. You should’ve gone home with him.”
“I barely know him!” I objected. “Besides, he didn’t make a move. A man has to make a move on me.”
“Whoa, look at you with your standards,” she joked. “You were pretty tipsy that night.
I’m surprised you didn’t end up going home with someone.”
“Diamond did.”
“Diamond always goes home with someone,” she noted. “No offense, but that girl will spread for anybody.”
“Gil! That’s not nice.”
“It’s true, Traci. You know it. Remember that weightlifter she brought back to the dorm? God, he was a maniac. Kept showing up to the room looking for her— I mean, he was in love with her.”
“She does attract men like magnets.”
“And that other guy. Dave? Dan?”
“Sam?”
“Yeah, Sam! She starts dating him and then he goes Goth and then Diamond tries to be Goth. Remember how we talked her out of getting her clit pierced?”
“Oh, God. So gross!”
“They say it enhances everything, though,” Gillian pointed out. “You haven’t thought about it?”
“No! Holy shit. I squealed when I got my ears pierced. I think I’d have a heart attack and die if I got my, well, you know, pierced.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“My stepbrother’s lurking somewhere. I don’t want him to hear me say things.”
“No offense, but I would do him.”
“Gil! God! I texted you because I thought I wouldn’t get this kind of conversation from you! Diamond is already planning on meeting some guy.”
“She lives in Jersey City. That place is so densely populated, you could meet a guy going to take out your trash in the hall.”
“They put their trash in the hall?”
“In a slot. In an apartment building.”
“Oh, right,” I laughed. “I was picturing tiny trashcans in the hall and that the apartment landlord would pick them up.”
“In what?” laughed Gillian. “A tiny trash truck? Didn’t you ever see Seinfeld? The characters live in an apartment in New York.”
“They wouldn’t show the trash on TV,” I scoffed.
“Why not? It’s not illegal. And I think they did in one episode,” she pointed out. “Maybe that’s what I should do. Binge watch Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm again.”
