From: Bistander <vallucanbe@gmail.com>

This is a great site that provides tons of free stories in many genres, except they're not really free. It cost money and time to keep Nifty going. I know I appreciate a platform to post, and the effort the admin puts in. If you can, please support this site. A little bit from a lot of us goes a long way.



Potential

By Bistander


Chapter 33

Photograph




After Deana removed the shower cap, she brushed her hair to its natural, smooth, silky shine, and wrapped a towel around her chest. She paused at her room, smiled, and continued toward the kitchen, thinking, might as well make the most of the time we have left. Maybe Candy would hug her, and the towel would accidentally on purpose fall. Deana wouldn't do anything with Candy now that she knew about Cindy, but that didn't mean it wouldn't be exhilarating to have her naked body pressed against her mother's.

Deana turned the corner and jerked to a stop. Cindy was sitting on the counter. "Cindy, jeez! I didn't hear your car."

"I know," Cindy said. "I pulled a World According to Garp and coasted in. Although, I was hoping to surprise Candy, not catch you naked."

"Mom's not here, and that was a horrible movie." She ignored her flushed face and approached Cindy with feigned confidence. "I'm not naked."

Cindy's feet flew up as she pushed off, catapulting her body toward Deana. The race car driver landed, whipped the towel away, and tossed it across the room. "Now you are."

Deana started to cross an arm over her nipples and grab her crotch, but Cindy's grin made her stop, look down at herself, and smirk. "So I am."

Cindy grabbed Deana's shoulders. She reached up and held Cindy's wrists. "Cindy, do you know Sally?"

Cindy nodded and moved her hands to the back of Deana's neck. "Don't worry, Dee, it's all going to be okay."

Terrified to open her mouth, Deana held her breath. If she asked the next question, it could lead to a conversation that would rip open her heart and leave it more exposed and vulnerable than her naked body. Cindy's arms went around her and held Deana so tight she couldn't inhale, but she didn't want Cindy to let go.

Deana asked, "How much does Candy know?"

Cindy looped hair behind Deana's ear and gently stroked her cheek. "Let's get out of here, go somewhere to talk."

"What, with you . . . in your car?"

"I can't imagine how else we could go somewhere together."

Deana's excitement about going for a ride with Cindy, combined with the anxiety about the conversation they would have, sent her into a rushed frenzy. In her room, she dressed as if she were about to be caught having sex. The result, Deana dashed back to the kitchen in a flimsy sundress, the kind she would toss over a bikini to get from the hotel room to the pool. Too bad there wasn't a hotel, pool, bathing suit or anything else under the dress. She mentally shrugged off a brief moment of concern, thinking it's more than I wear in Evan's car.

Cindy glanced at her, smiled nervously, and opened the back door. "The therapy machine awaits us."

It didn't make sense to Deana, but she followed Cindy down the porch steps without commenting until she was in front of the yellow car with its black stripes. "It's more like a bumblebee."

Cindy chuckled and said, "Swarm of yellow jackets, maybe. Jump in."

"Okay, whatever you say, Captain."

Deana knew next to nothing about cars, but Uncle JC had the car for years, doing what he called a frame-off restoration. Deana had no idea what that meant or why Evan had always been so excited about it, but she knew Cindy loved her car and kept it spotless. The reflecting sun made her squint when she looked over the roof and said, "This is the first time you have ever taken me for a ride in this thing."

Cindy's expression said, those assholes, but she said, "They didn't trust me. I drive too fast, so I had to use a normal car when I took y'all anywhere."

Deana knew "they" meant one person. "Well, fuck 'em."

The seats weren't like any Deana had seen. As she fell into the lowest car she had ever sat in, Brittany Spears came to Deana's mind. At least my kitty has a fresh shave. The warm leather tugging at her cheeks made Deana realize why Cindy had grinned at the short dress. She shoved it down between her thighs and said, "These seats are comfortable. Kinda fit like a glove."

Cindy looked at her and turned the key. Deana screeched and spun her head toward the open door. "Is everything okay? It sounded like something exploded?"

Cindy laughed and rocked the car with two quick taps on the gas pedal. "That's the screaming eagle header mufflers. They're under your seat."

Deana looked down at her seat and said, "I can tell." She pulled the door closed. "Are they really allowed to call them mufflers?"

Cindy said, "Let's roll," and shoved the shifter over and up.

The car backed out of the driveway, and Deana held the edge of the seat the way she would on a roller coaster. For the mile drive out of the subdivision, there was a steady rumbling vibration that made Deana awkwardly aware of her breasts. They felt heavier. "Have you taken Candy for a ride in this thing?"

"Of course, and you can call her, Baby, not this thing."

"Oh, sorry, Baby." The car was starting to seem alive, and considering the things it was doing to her, it was good to be on a first-name basis. Deana went back to imagining her mother's tits jiggling as Cindy drove her to wherever they went during their affair. It must have felt like foreplay.

When they reached the four-lane, Cindy cautiously turned right and glanced at Deana without speeding up. "Is something wrong?" Deana asked and looked for a cop car.

Cindy grinned and a deafening roar assaulted Deana's ears. Her body was smashed back into the seat while Cindy's tan, muscled legs chopped at the petals as fast as her arm flung the shifter back, forward and back again. The needle Deana could see from her angle shot past the 60 and and out of sight. She grabbed the end of her dress in case it had flown up the way her head went back. "Ah, wow, I think Baby is getting fresh with me."

Cindy pressed the clutch in and Deana almost fell forward. "Dee, don't fight it," Cindy said and downshifted.

A torturous vibration made Deana's wet labia quiver. "This is crazy."

"I know." Cindy glanced at her. "It's a rush controlling something so powerful. Especially when you know in a split second it can get out of control, and bam!"

Baby screamed, the tires squealed, and Deana felt her guts twist as the back of the car swung. The violent thrashing excited her more than the "bam!" scared her, so she moved around in the seat, hoping to ease its seductive grip before the car filled with the smell of sex.



The detailed account of Jason with Becky and his mother left Evan more sure that Mary Barnes had intentionally left the bathroom door unlocked that night. In his mind, Evan recreated the morning he left Jason's house after fucking Becky. He thought about how Mary acted, her words, and the way her eyes moved over him. She must have seen them, but did that mean she wanted him, too?

Evan casually flipped to another picture, then acted uninterested while carefully examining Ms. Style. He had just watched his friend jerk off, and now he was checking out a transsexual. The things his brain imagined made Evan uncomfortable. They didn't end with hoping he might see her naked tomorrow. Hopefully, Ms. Style wouldn't be there.

"Dude, this is mine blowing," Evan said and opened another video. Ms. Style's back was to the camera. She was leaning on a railing, and the redhead was on her hands and knees in front. "Shit! Oh my God, dude, look at that! That's the pool, Style's pool. This was filmed at her house." Evan paused the video.

Jason leaned in close. "I think it could be. Scroll ahead and see if they show the house."

Evan started the video and asked, "Is that the only woman she does movies with or have you seen others?"

"She's the only one I've seen." Jason shrugged. "It's not like I watched that many, but there are probably more. I mean, she must have fucked at least one guy."

"In the ass," Evan said. "We know she did, at least one."

"Fuck you. If you had your face buried in Darlene's pussy and Catwoman started fucking you, you wouldn't have said anything, either."

The view flipped to behind the redhead. They were looking at the woman's big, sexy ass, spread wide, so her ruddy butt-hole smiled at Evan. Style's fists were full of hair, and she was face fucking the redhead. It looked like a great blowjob, but clear as day, in the background, was Ms. Style's house. Evan said, "I work on a porn set."

"You wanna be a pornstar, so ask her for a role in her next movie. I'm sure it pays more than a hundred bucks."

"I'd do it for free." Evan laughed uncomfortably. "Joke, that was a joke."

"Yeah, I know."

"How am I going to act normal when I see her again?"

"That will probably be hard," Jason pointed, "when you do."

"Funny," Evan said. "How did you find out about her? Were you just scanning through the gay section?"

"It's not gay if she has tits and an ass like that. Besides, I was looking for her. I kept thinking I knew her face from somewhere, but at some point, she said, 'don't worry, I'm a professional,' and that triggered something. It was hard to find her without knowing her name. Daphne Dragon, what kind of crazy porn name is that?"

"It's better than Style Pioneer," Evan said. "Shit, I just remembered something Darlene said that day I drove her home. She was talking about chicks with dicks. Damn it, what do you think they do together? She's there all the time. You think they fuck?"

Jason gave his head a quick shake. "Dude, unless you wanna watch me jerk off again, I'm not thinking about that."

It was too late for Evan to not imagine Darlene sucking Ms. Style's cock, but he still wasn't ready to let Jason watch him shoot cum all over the monitor. "Hey, I gotta pee." Hopefully, Deana or Gloria left some panties for him in the hamper.



Fifteen minutes later, Cindy pulled Baby off the road and drove across a grass field. They stopped at the edge of a steep drop-off, facing the Tombigbee River. Cindy said, "Roll the window down."

Deana watched Cindy, then for the first time ever, she manually lowered a car window. A steady breeze passed over them, and Cindy started talking about who Darlene was, and why Sally had to leave. Deana didn't interrupt, ask questions, scream or cry; she hung on Cindy's every word, waiting for it.



It had been in Deana's mind since the day Cindy found the Victoria Secret bag on the porch steps and kissed her. Deana had been telling herself it was true, she wanted it to be, but that hadn't prepared her for when the words, "I'm not your cousin," came out of Cindy's mouth.

Everything Deana knew, all the stuff that defined her, her family, and history were being challenged. Plans, expectations for the future, her sense of identity were all suspended. Deana's brain was numb. It was as if she woke from a dream and didn't know what was real. The next time Deana stepped into the house at 5809 Center Lane, it would seem like a place they had been vacationing, not her home. It would never be home again, and she never wanted to see John again. Sucking his dick or taking a load of cum on her body paled in comparison to keeping her sister from her. For almost seventeen years, Deana could have had a big sister, a companion, mentor, and protector. Instead, Cindy had been a cousin who she didn't get to see often enough. "I'll kill him, I swear I'm going to kill him."

"No, Deana, no, you promised if I told you—"

"I know, but—"

"No buts," Cindy said. "Leave it to Sally. What she is going to do will be worse than death. Trust me, she's been planning this for years."

"She's a badass, isn't she?"

"You have no idea how bad."

Deana thought she might actually have smiled. "I bet."

"Don't forget, I haven't told Candy about us, not yet."

"I won't say anything, but I can't believe she hasn't figured it out. It's so obvious if you look at us."

"Cousins look alike, too, so why would she question it?"

"Because kissing you is like kissing myself," Deana said. "How could she kiss you and not notice?"

"You saying you've been kissing your mother?"

"No, I kissed my stepmother . . . and your girlfriend."

"Let me see." Cindy leaned over and kissed her. Deana closed her eyes and gave her sister unfettered access to the deepest parts of her mind, places she didn't let Evan into. She believed in superheroes again and thought her life might actually get better.

When the kiss ended, Deana held up her hand. "This band represents you. I kind of always felt it, knew that there were still three of us. Evan feels it too, but he hasn't figured out it's you. I don't think he has."

Cindy laughed. "We've both kissed him, so . . . ?"

"Oh, my God, you did it to him, too? I would have paid money to see the look on his face. Did he cream in his pants?"

"Not sure, I didn't check," Cindy said. "I just needed to get him focused, and it worked."

"You know Gloria and Darl—I mean Angela have a thing?"

"Cousins," Cindy shrugged, "better than siblings hooking up."

Does that mean she knows about Evan and me, or—Cindy turned the key and Baby roared to life. She backed up too fast, turned two donuts in the grass, and went sideways down the tree-lined access road. Deana's appreciation for Evan's idealization of Cindy grew as did her respect for race car drivers. Her pussy lips moistened, and her nipples erected while trees flashed past. Bam was something to be afraid of, but Deana trusted her sister with her life.



Once they reached Center Lane, Cindy sped up, shifted into neutral, and turned Baby off. With only the sound of the car slicing the air, they glided past 5803, 5805, 5807, and turned right at the gray mailbox labeled 5809.

In the kitchen, Candy's expression changed rapidly from surprise to joy and back to surprise. "Cindy, ah, Dee, Cindy, you and Deana were together? Where did you come from?"

Deana tried to maintain a neutral face, but Candy rushed forward, asking, "What happened?"

I guess my transparency has reached epic proportions, Deana thought as her mother practically ran her down and crushed her in a hug. "Honey, oh, honey, I'm sorry, I'm—"

"Shh, Candy, don't." Cindy wrapped her long arms around both of them. "This isn't your fault, it's none of our faults."

Deana was pressed into the soft cushioning love of Candy's body by the beautiful, brute strength of her sister. Nurturing love, fierce maternal love, the love of siblings, and the passion of lovers forced apart, all flowed through Deana and filled her heart. Their shared secrets had forged an unbreakable bond. Now, they were family, friends, and lovers.

Deana kissed her mother, then watched Candy kiss her sister, knowing how it felt to kiss both of them. A shameful longing made Deana say, "I'll leave . . . let you—"

"No, Dee," Candy said and kissed her firmly. Cindy smiled and turned Deana's face to hers. Deana's mind sparkled with thoughts that weren't her own, and suddenly it was her mother's tongue in her mouth instead of her sister's. Cindy's hand was on her ass, lifting the dress. Deana raised her arms. That was all it took, and she was naked, but not exposed.

Like twenty of Rebecca's feathers, their fingers barely touched Deana, moving over her cheeks, neck, shoulders, down her arms, over her ass and around her hips and stomach. A fire of sensation raced to every nerve ending in her body. She felt like a child in the hands of women, surrendering everything to them. They weren't making love to her, they were loving her with pleasure.

Deana's nipples ached to be touched, pinched, twisted and bitten, but Cindy only traced the pink rim of the areola. Candy ran a finger down Deana's spine and through the crack of her ass. Cindy's lips followed the same path, passing like air over the tiny hairs in the curve of Deana's back, and over the globes of her ass. Gentle puffs teased the groove between her cheeks. Deana didn't understand how not being touched could be so intensely erotic. Again, she had to force herself to relinquish control and let the experienced lovers have their way with her.

Cindy's fingertips traced the curves up the insides of Deana's legs. Her forehead rested on Candy's. They stared into each other's eyes. Candy lifted Deana's hair and draped it over their heads. Cindy rubbed her face on Deana's ass, dragged the tip of her nose through the groove and up Deana's back. Her hair followed, sweeping Deana's flesh like millions of tiny feathers. Then, she was sandwiched between the two women. Cindy's hard nipples pressed into her back, and the pillows of Candy's breasts engulfed her tits. Hands were on her groin and ass. Candy kissed her while her sister's excited breath taunted Deana's ear. She wasn't having an orgasm, Deana had become the orgasm. Her whole being-mind, soul, and body-were enveloped in the most compassionate, loving pleasure she would ever experience. Her legs trembled, and the women had to hold her up. She started to cry, and her mother joined her.

Deana couldn't speak while her limp body was guided all the way to her mother's bed. She watched her sister undress as if looking in a mirror. Cindy joined her under the covers, and they watched together as Candy removed her clothes. Then, Deana was between their naked bodies, both women's lips at her ears. "We love you more than life itself, and nobody will ever hurt you again."

Without reservation, Deana believed her sister's words. Everything was going to be okay. Her physical being collapsed into a deep sleep, but Deana's heart was wide awake and overflowing.



A little while later, Deana woke up smiling. She didn't think she had been dreaming about it. Still, her brain was already actively thinking about a life that included Cindy living with them. She would have a big sister instead of a mother who sometimes played that role. Would that make Candy feel more like her mother? It didn't matter because the woman would be happy and in a relationship with someone who loved her the way she deserved to be loved. Maybe, Rebecca could come live with them? And, if things worked out with Evan and Gloria, and they were all happy for each other and willing to share, sometimes, then—Wow.

There was only one person in the way of a happily ever after life. That scared Deana less now that she knew Sally had more reasons to hate John than anyone else who was still alive. Sally had her baby taken from her, and she was forced to live without her sister. Deana knew that pain now, but Sally had lived it for years. How much more painful was it to have a child taken away?

Cindy and Candy were sitting on the end of the bed with their backs to Deana. The hushed conversation Deana could hear didn't seem like eavesdropping because Cindy had already told her everything. Sally had told Candy everything, too, except Cindy's secret. How would Candy react when she found out her lover wasn't a niece by marriage, but a stepdaughter?

That wouldn't matter after John was gone. However that happened, Deana didn't care, but Candy, having been a teen mother herself, might not handle the news well.

Deana tried to imagine what it would be like to have a baby and give it away to the father's sister so that he wouldn't go to prison. If Sandra loved John and knew they would get married as soon as she was old enough, it must have seemed like the right thing to do. But, had he lied to Sandra and said they would get Cindy back? Only John and maybe Aunt Julia could answer that. Sandra told Sally that she wouldn't take Cindy away from the people who loved her and had been raising her as their daughter, but everything changed when Sandra found out what John did to Sally. Deana shivered at the thought of a mother finding out Sandra had given her baby away to protect a man who raped the babysitter right under her nose, then extorted Sally into leaving her child behind. Deana had some ideas about what she might do, but what had Sandra done or tried to do?

Suddenly, Candy was on her feet, fists balled. "Mother fucker." She turned and saw Deana watching.

Cindy stood and held Candy's wrists. "Take it easy, Candy, please."

"I can't. He, he, he kept you from Sandra. She had to watch you grow up, pretending she wasn't your mother. I can't imagine how much that must have hurt. Then it got her and my father killed. He killed your mother."

"What?" That was something Deana hadn't heard. She popped up and repeated herself, "What?"

"That's just something Sally says. There's no proof," Cindy said. "Who would get in a car they know is going to crash?"

Deana's mouth hung open while she stared at the two naked women standing in front of her. She needed a drink or whatever the equivalent to that was in her world.

"Dee, honey, whatever you do, don't tell Evan," Candy said. "Any of this."

"I know, I know, but I need you . . . both of you, I need you to get back in bed with me. Please, hold me, I need you to hold me."



After cuddling for a long time, Deana was on her back with Cindy and her mother as flesh bookends. Candy's breasts warmed Deana's skin. Cindy lovingly ran her fingernails up and down Candy's arm. Deana could feel them looking at each other, and it made her feel guilty. She had been hogging them. They were the lovers who hadn't been able to see each other, so Deana said, "I'm going to go. I love you."

Her mother kissed Deana's cheek, and Cindy said, "We love you, too."

Reluctantly, Deana moved from between them, sliding across Candy's body. "See you later."

"Honey, those pictures you were asking about, Sally found them. They're on the dresser." Candy pointed.

As if it had been years since she made Evan ask, Deana had forgotten. She looked back and forth from her mother to the box. "I guess Evan said I was the one who wanted them?"

Candy smiled. "No, but I figured."

"Thank you." She picked up the old shoebox and walked backward to the door, watching the most loving tender kisses she'd ever seen.

"Honey, lock the door when you go."

Her mother didn't say anything about putting something on before she left, so Deana grinned and walked naked through the house. Is this what life could be like?



It reminded Deana of waking up on Christmas morning and rushing to see what is under the tree. She ran to her room and sat Indian style on the bed with the box on her folded legs. Heart thumping against her ribs, Deana flipped the lid back on its tape hinge. On top, a five by seven photo confused Deana until she realized it wasn't Cindy or herself in a few years. Her vision blurred with threatening tears. The long, flowing black hair and dark olive skin belonged to Sandra, their mother, the lady who carried them, spoke to them in her belly and gave birth to all three of them. She was beautiful, and she was gone, never again to be the woman who held them. Deana dropped the picture and pressed her face into a pillow so nobody would hear the screams.

If not for Deana's starving curiosity, she might have cried herself to sleep. Instead, she spread the photos out on the bed and went to work like a detective at a crime scene, searching for clues. A bundled baby filled Sandra's arms, and Candy stood at her side. She's younger than Gloria is now, Deana thought and held the picture to her heart. How terrifying it must have been for Candy to become a mother at that age.

There wasn't any detective work required when Deana saw a boy leaning toward the pretty, blonde babysitter with his lips puckered. Evan must have already been infatuated with the fairy princess. The joy in Candy's hazel eyes matched her broad smile and dimples. She looked happier than Deana ever remembered her being, but Deana's memories only went back so far.

As a child, your parents always seem older. They are the grown-ups, but in some of the pictures, Sandra didn't look like an adult. She was so young and already had three kids, except one she didn't get to raise. How hard it must have been to pretend and easy to hate the man who took her baby.

After slowly examining a few photos, scouring them for details, Deana tore into the rest like a dog into a Thanksgiving trash bag. She tossed the varying sizes in general mental categories. Sandra often appeared with twins in her arms, but Evan showed up more than Deana, and even when it was apparent he hadn't been invited. Their mother was eyeing him with a squint and raised brow. It gave Deana a chill even more so than when Cindy mimicked her. Or was she mimicking Cindy?

The family dynamics started to unfold. Her now mom, Candy, was clearly more than their babysitter. Deana could see the adoration and admiration in Candy's eyes when she looked at Sandra. They appeared more like mother and daughter than boss and babysitter, especially when the pregnant version of Candy was in a picture.

There were some Polaroid snapshots of Evan and her in the bathtub. He had a pile of soap suds on his head, and Deana laughed, knowing she had probably done that to him. There was another one with part of a finger in front of the lens. It was a profile shot of Candy and Evan, both with puckered lips just about to touch. Deana tried to find those memories in her brain, but there was nothing. When I see Sally, Deana thought, I'm going to hug and kiss her for saving these pieces of history.

Deana's brain worked like the chemical process that turned a blank square into a vivid image, building a past from nothing. She was able to identify Sally as the girl with Candy and a hunk of a boy with blonde hair. It had to be Bobby, the uncle Gloria had never met. Deana didn't think she had ever met him, but she had heard Candy talking about her brother. Bobby had Gloria's smile and piercing blue eyes. Sandra appeared a few times with a man who was not their father. Deana set those pictures off in a pile she had questions about.

"I see Candy finally turned those over to you."

Deana had been so focused she never heard Sally walk into the room. For a second, she reached for a pillow to hold in front of her but decided to act like it was reasonable to sit around naked with her door open. "Aunt Sally, I was just thinking about you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for saving these."

Sally stood behind her and held Deana's shoulders. "I'm glad I was able to find them for you."

"Look at you and Candy." She lifted a picture. "Y'all were gorgeous. Every boy in school must have been knocking at your door."

"Not nearly as beautiful as you, Dee."

Deana looped her head around as Sally massaged her shoulders. "Mm, that's nice."

"Do you have any questions?"

"I do." She wanted to know how her father had forced Sally to move away, but she pointed and asked, "Is that your father with my mom?"

Sally got closer. "Yes, that's Sandy and my dad."

Deana tipped her head back to look up at Sally. "Did they know each other well?"

While supporting Deana's neck, Sally leaned her back and kissed Deana's forehead. "They were close, were always close."

"I think, um, the way she looks at him, I think she loved him."

Sally sat on the edge of the mattress, and Deana turned, letting her body lean into the woman. "They did," Sally said. "Your mother was always very special to him."

"How did they know each other?"

"Your father, they were friends, grew up together. My dad tried to watch out for Sandra."

"Too bad she didn't marry him." A flash of heat rushed to Deana's face. "I'm sorry, I guess—"

"It's fine, Dee, completely okay to think that, but if he married Sandra," Sally shrugged, "there wouldn't be you and Evan."

"True." Deana sighed and pointed at the tall, blonde boy. "Is this—"

"Yes, that's Bobby, our big brother."

"He's really cute. Too bad he's not around."

"Sweetie, he's in his thirties, too old for you."

"That's not what I meant. It's too bad he's not around for Gloria. She didn't get to know her uncle."

Sally drew in a long, thoughtful breath and said, "I know, but stuff happens, life happens. You know about that."

"Yeah, I do."

"I'll leave you to explore," Sally said. "You can ask Candy if you have more questions."

Deana spun the rest of the way around and dropped her feet to the floor when Sally stood. Her aunt's giant chest loomed above Deana's face. "I love you, Sally. Thank you for everything you're doing." She laid her head on Sally's stomach.

"I'm sorry it took so long, baby, I really am," Sally said and pushed Deana's face into the warm rise and fall of her belly. "It's all going to work out."

Deana said, "I know," and wrapped her arms around the broad hips. Her clasped hands rested above an ass more bodacious than Candy's. She imagined trying to grab on, the feel of fingertips sinking in, and her hands trying to contain that sculpted mass of sexiness. What would it be like to have the heft of Sally's naked flesh on top of her? Deana wanted that, she wanted the woman to pin her down, handle her roughly, and teach her all the things that only Sally could. Why Deana didn't know, but she was sure Aunt Sally knew more about sex than anyone else.

"Can I see your tattoo?"

"Huh?"

"Gloria told me about it," Deana said. "Can I see it before you go? It sounds really cool."

Sally's expression said, I don't think that's a good idea, but she said, "Sure."

Deana watched the lady's hands move slowly around the waistband of the tight dress pants. Fingertips worked the button, and the zipper clicked downward as if it were the timer on a bomb Deana was defusing. She swallowed hard and wondered why the innocent act was turning her on like a striptease.

"These are kind of tight," Sally said and wiggled the slacks lower on her hips.

Please take them off. Shit, I hope I didn't say that out loud. The black panties weren't fantastic, but the swell of the mound under them excited Deana to the point of wetness. She tightened her thighs to stifle the scent of arousal. Sally struggled to lower the underwear in the V of the opened zipper. Deana saw the top edge of red, and Darlene's pubic hair flashed through her mind.

"Oh, jeez." Sally huffed. "I don't know why I'm trying to be modest. You're not wearing anything." She pushed the pants and panties down.

Deana gasped then flushed with embarrassment. She's my aunt, Darlene's mother, and I'm staring at her pussy, wishing I could stuff my face in it. "Oh, God, it's beautiful." Deana realized how inappropriate it was after her fingertip was tracing the letters, but she didn't stop. "Candy, wow." The urge to kiss the tattoo made Deana look up.

Sally smiled and held Deana's face. "You really love her . . . Candy, don't you?"

Deana nodded stupidly while Sally's fingertips caressed her ears. "I used to have a crush on her."

"Me too," Sally said and got on her knees. "She's a very special person."

Deana's legs parted so Sally could get closer. If she wrapped them around Sally's neck, would her aunt push back, scream, slap her, or show her what it's like to be fucked senseless by a real woman? Deana tightened her hold on the edge of the mattress while Sally looked into her eyes. The woman's tits were right there, inches from Deana's hands. Was Sally waiting for her to make the first move?

"Honey, right now, I need to go . . . go talk to Candy," Sally said and slid her palms up Deana's thighs as she stood. "We can talk more another time."

Deana stared, processing the words, "right now," and "talk more." The first, made Deana think Aunt Sally knew what she wanted and would come back later and fuck her, but the latter meant they were finished talking for now. Either way, Deana knew Sally must have sensed her desires.

Sally turned as she tugged at the pants. Deana saw cheeks being forced upward, and the valley between them increased. She knew when Evan saw that, he would say it was the badonkadonk to judge all others by. Deana's next thought made her sure she was at least as bad as Rebecca.



Deana spent more time with the pictures; her thoughts were scattered, thinking about what happened with Aunt Sally right after the Cindy, Candy thing. I'm turning into a sex-crazed pervert like Evan, she thought. Actually, it was Deana's way of coping with everything she had learned and the thoughts of their father's return.

The man wasn't in one picture. Zero, none, not one time did he appear in the Kodachrome past life. Had her father never wanted to be seen, or had Sally destroyed all of the photos he was in?

Enough for now, Deana thought and stacked the pictures in the order she wanted to show them to Evan. The expressions on his face would allow Deana to feel like she was seeing them for the first time again.

Before fitting the piles back in the shoebox, Deana noticed something, and a swarm of butterflies took off in her stomach. "Crash" was the word that made her realize the newspaper wasn't a liner. Very carefully, Deana peeled out the clippings that were stuck to the cardboard. Sweat formed on her palms as she started to read.

Some of the articles were more about the dangerous conditions on the road known as Bloody 98. Other stories were the typical grab your attention with a picture of a horribly smashed car then provide details about the location, cause, and the names of the victims. Nothing made them tear-jerking human interest pieces unless you knew the names. "Young mother of twins pronounced dead at the scene." Tears blurred Deana's vision faster than she could push them aside. It wasn't like reliving the shock of her mother's death. She was reliving all the years they had gone without their mother.

Deana would have stopped torturing herself immediately if Candy hadn't said, "He killed your mother." Those words had Deana searching the black ink, searching for a definitive explanation. But Cindy had to be right, nobody gets into a car they expect is going to crash. Why would Sally have told Candy that?

With smudged fingers sticking straight out, Deana struggled to return the pictures to the box, stashed the newspaper clippings in her desk drawer, and called Rebecca.



Out in the garage, the last thing Deana wanted to do was find the pump and figure out how to fill her bike tires, which were flat from lack of use. That was Evan's job, but she had to avoid her brother. It would be impossible to act like herself around him. The revelations bouncing around in her head would fly out if she let Evan too close. He'd have to be satisfied with the panties she left him. At least for now.

Fuck the pump, Deana thought when she found Evan's bike had air in the tires, but when she straddled it, the bar hit her crotch, and the seat was raised to a useless height. If she wasn't careful, it might kill her kitty. Oh well, she thought and started down the driveway.

The longer Deana stood up, peddling, the hotter and sweatier she got, and the more she regretted demanding Rebecca meet her at the park. It was emotional and rash, but the kick in the gut feeling the newspaper articles gave her, made Deana want to talk to her best friend. Now, with the pointed seat stuffed into the crack of her ass, Deana would have called and cancel their rendezvous if Rebecca wouldn't murder her.

How could she tell Rebecca anything without giving up all her secrets? If she said, I think my father killed our mother, then Rebecca would ask questions and come to the obvious conclusion, who gets in a car they know will crash? Plus, who would believe their father killed anyone without knowing all the other horrible things he had done? Deana pictured herself saying, well, he made my aunt give up her baby and move away. Rebecca wouldn't believe that unless she admitted Cindy was her sister, and maybe even gave up the big secret. After all this time, Deana would be humiliated. Rebecca would look at her with her mouth hanging open and ask why she hadn't told anyone? What kind of girl lets their father molest them without telling someone? What would Rebecca think, I liked it, or I was too stupid to ask for help?

Deana came to a stop, screeched and fell over where Rebecca was standing at the edge of the road. Rebecca said, "Spazz."

"Shut up. This bike is giant-sized. My feet don't touch without smashing that bar into my poor kitty."

"It serves you right for making me ride over here. What on Earth is so important—" Rebecca stopped. "Have you been crying? Your eyes are red and puffy as fuck."

"No, maybe, yeah," Deana said. "Can we go sit over there?"

Rebecca nodded.

A few kids were playing and there were two women on a bench watching them. Deana led Rebecca to a fallen tree at the back edge of the playground. She sat on the log, and Rebecca stood, facing her, and said, "So, you were. Tell me what's wrong?"

Deana blew out a whoosh of breath and pressed her forehead into Rebecca's stomach. "Pictures, Aunt Sally brought a bunch of pictures. I was looking at them for a long time. My mom, Sandra, died, got killed in a car crash."

"I know." Rebecca tilted Deana's head back so she could see her face. "I'm sorry."

"We all seemed so happy. Candy, Sally and their brother Bobby, their father was in some, my mother, Evan." Deana gulped at the humid air. "My mother is . . . was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She looked so happy, we all looked happy. She was a great mom, Sally told me, and Candy said she was like a mother to her. She helped Candy with Gloria when she was a baby. Candy was so young, just a kid, and she had a baby. It's crazy to see her pregnant when she didn't even look as old as Gloria is now. Sally loved my mom, really loved her."

Rebecca knelt in front of Deana and held her hands. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I can see why you'd be upset. All those old memories coming to life again."

"Thank you, Reb. I don't know what I'd do without you." She squeezed Rebecca's hands. "They died . . . both of them died together in the same car."

"What, both who?"

"My mother and Candy's father were in the same car, with my father, too. How come I never knew that?"

"I'm sure the details weren't important then, you were a kid."

"He didn't even get hurt. They both died, and my father didn't get hurt. I think I hate him."

"Was he driving?" Rebecca asked.

"No."

"So it wasn't his fault, but it's probably normal to feel that way after seeing her and how things were, but he's your father. Hate is kinda, you know."

Deana wasn't sure if her father could have done something to cause their deaths, but she definitely hated him for not dying. He didn't deserve a "miracle"; her mother did. Too bad Deana couldn't tell her girlfriend and let Rebecca hold her. "I'm acting crazy. I'm sorry, I guess I'm upset, feeling cheated, and wanting someone to blame." She leaned forward and kissed Rebecca long and hard. Then, she realized they were in public. They would never be able to hide it when they went back to school. "Thank you for being here for me."

"Anything for you, my dear," Rebecca said. "Dee, it's sad, it is, and if there is anything I can do, please ask?"

Deana glanced around. The women and kids were leaving. Maybe they didn't want their children to know girls could kiss each other? She pointed at the top, the enclosed part of the yellow, spiral slide. "Let's go up there."

Rebecca turned. "Ooh, I hope you don't mean so we can slide down?"

"Mm, maybe we can do that after." A naughty, excited buzz took the edge off the pain and anger.

Rebecca hopped up, yanked Deana to her feet, and practically dragged her toward the playground.



Friday, it took Evan longer to get to Ms. Style's house than the first time when he wasn't sure where he was going. He drove slow and dreamed up scenarios. It was like a trip to the mall on the minibus, imagining all the things he would do and say, knowing he wasn't actually going to end up having sex with whatever high school girl he was picturing. But why was he thinking about it at all?

All those videos he had found of Style's made it impossible for Evan to turn off his imagination. She was still a sexy lady, and so fuckable in his mind. The problem was, Evan wanted to do it more now than before he knew she had a dick. Maybe he had been curious ever since the first time he'd seen the mule, but guys didn't turn him on? Now, a woman he had a boner for, had a cock. He watched her give head, get fucked in that ever so sexy ass, and do the same to others, women and men. Guys had sucked her off, and that was the thing that scared and excited Evan the most. Daphne Dragon seemed to be one-hundred percent Grade A woman in every way, so if he didn't know, and things were getting hot and heavy, would he run away if she whipped it out? Hell no. So why was it different now that he knew?

This is stupid Evan told himself and put on his blinker before turning into Style's driveway. The woman hadn't been there the last two times he was there, and when she was, Style hadn't given any indication that she was interested.

Shit, two cars, Evan thought. One was Style's for sure. He cut the engine off, took a deep breath, and opened the door. What if she was swimming or sunbathing or—"Stop it," he said and quietly made his way into the backyard. Nothing is going to happen, and even if she offered, you'd chicken out once you saw her dick.

It was quiet except for the hum of the filter. Instead of going straight to the barn for the equipment, Evan checked the screen room. It was empty, but he saw a towel hanging over the gate at the top of the walkway, so he went toward the pool, practicing his opening, hi, I hope this isn't a bad time. I haven't seen you for so long. I thought . . .

Ms. Style was bobbing on the water. The gate squeaked, and she turned. "Evan, hi."

Evan's arm moved in what he realized after was a jerky, unsure wave. The sun on the disturbed water distorted his view, but for the split-second that Evan had the nerve to look, he didn't notice a top. The woman was making her way to the ladder, but if she's naked, how am I not going to stare, Evan wondered? Ms. Style climbed with her eyes closed until her shoulders were visible, then she paused and smiled at him. He looked over her head at nothing, wondering if she expected him to leave or if the pause was a tease?

The woman Evan expected to be Daphne Dragon continued, and her firm tits appeared. Damn it, it's a nude-colored bikini top. He watched the six-pack abs, and wide hips rise. The small triangle of fabric that only covered her groin was fastened with strings that looped high over her hips. Everything else was exposed. He stared in disbelief at nothing. Even with the dragon head and the top of one of the wings visible above the bathing suit, Evan refused to believe there could be a dick in there.

"Excuse me, Evan."

Fuck, I'm staring, she caught me staring. "Ah, hi, um, how are you? I hope this isn't—"

"Evan, I need that towel behind you."

"Jeez, I'm sorry." He handed it to her, but she didn't step back. Style dried her face, arms, stomach, and legs. He had only seen her in pants before, so he had no idea how incredible her legs were. Everything from her plump, red lips to her blue toenail polish made him horny. They must have been wrong, he thought. There probably were thousands of people with dragon tattoos.

"How have you been?" he asked. "I haven't seen you. Has everything been good? Are you happy with—"

"Evan," she grasped his biceps, "relax. You're acting as if you've never seen someone in a bikini."

"I, ah, uh, sorry, I'm, oh, tattoo, you have a tattoo?"

Style tossed the towel over her shoulder and traced the wing to the edge of the material, poking her fingertip under. "Yes, it's a dragon, but I suppose you can see that."

What kind of idiot tries to ease an awkward moment by bringing up a tattoo that must start at her pubic bone? The hard buds poking out the front of Ms. Style's top advertised the loops attached to them. Evan thought, why don't you mention those, too?

Right when he was sure the level of uncomfortability couldn't get any higher, Style stepped closer, and Evan looked directly into her cleavage. Then he looked everywhere else as if that might erase the fact that he had stared at her tits.

"You seem nervous about something," Style said. "Is everything okay? You're not planning on quitting, are you?"

"No, no, I'm not," Evan said. "I mean, yes everything is okay, and no I'm not planning on quitting."

"That's good," she said and inched back. "I'd hate it if you did. I'm delighted to have you . . . coming here."

The telltale pulse and tug from the muscle behind his balls made Evan want to reach over and guide his dick into a harmless position, but he couldn't unless he wanted to draw attention to the growing erection. In hindsight, he realized that attention would have been better. His dick had caught on the front of his Nike sweatpants. It lurched and jerked, trying to finish its rise. I'm pointing the full monty at my boss. Shit.

"My goodness," Style said, and the blood drained from Evan's face so fast he saw spots. "I'm flattered." He looked down and saw her hand move. "And impressed."

The smell of chlorine got stronger because his nose was close to the top of her head, which was tilting forward, blocking his view. The woman's hands felt cold. "Very impressed."

It sounded stupid before the words were out, but Evan couldn't stop them. "Thank you."

Style didn't ask or even make eye contact until her strong hands were down the back of his pants, looping side to side, lowering his pants. "You always go commando at work?"

"It gets hot," he said.

"I can imagine with all this cock, and—" Both hands collected his hanging balls. "God, what a set you got."

This time, Evan kept his mouth shut and stared at his cock and balls in Style's knowing hands. She smiled, lifted his shirt over his head, and caressed his chest and stomach. "Do you mind?" she asked, but she was already bending her knees. He shook his head. She yanked the string behind her back and tossed her top aside.

The woman wasn't so much tan as she was white where she hadn't been in the sun. It looked like she had been wearing a narrow tube top around her chest, leaving bold tan lines that were very much a turn on. Evan decided her tits were fake, but very natural looking and the nipples pierced through with rings made them that much more desirable.

Style cupped his testicles and used the other hand to bring his stubborn stiffness down so it pointed at her open mouth. "I've wanted to do this since the first time I met you."

Not as much as I wanted you to do it, Evan thought and gasped. Porn star, still not convinced, but experienced at giving head, absolutely no question in his mind.

Evan grabbed the iron rail of the fence and leaned back. It was the same position the Dragon lady had been in while that mind-blowing redhead squatted and sucked. He looked down between Style's widely parted knees, but couldn't find even a bump of evidence. Was he disappointed or relieved? Evan didn't know because either way, getting a blow job from your boss was exciting and frightening.

The way she sucked dick was undoubtedly the best head Evan ever had and maybe ever would get. Her one hand worked his nuts, rolling them and tugging and occasionally kissing or sucking them. The other hand firmly held his shaft, twisting it while her mouth opened for the purple head. She licked the slit and sealed her lips on the tip, slowly sucking it in. Once her lips snapped past the ridge and tightened behind his head, she turned right left right and pushed forward until he banged into the narrow opening at the top of her throat. She sucked as she drew him out, paused when she reached his knob, then tilted her head back, popping the top edge of his mushroom dome past her lip. Then she sucked and rocked, popping him in and out faster and faster. His sack tried to draw up, but her fingers looped around it and pulled his balls down. Every time he got close, Style slowly took him all the way down her throat and held him there.

With both hands stacked, twisting in opposite directions, Style popped his head in and out. Evan looked down, ready to beg with his eyes for release, but his heart stopped. Style Pioneer had lowered the front of her bikini, and right there between her bent legs stood Daphne Dragon's erection. It was stiff, curved inward, and wagging as she vigorously jerked and sucked. He gulped and groaned, and never took his eyes off that dick while a load of cum blasted into the transgender woman's mouth. She pulled back and aimed him at her face, encouraging him to finish shooting his orgasm on it.

"Wow, a cum shot like that will make you famous," Style said and milked him from below his balls to the tip, letting the drops fall into her mouth.

When she stood, her tits rubbed up the front of his thighs, over his groin and up his stomach. Her hands clamped down on his ass and yanked him into the thrust of her groin. Evan's brain tried to make sense of it based on the millions of times he had touched himself, but the silky head, smooth shaft, and hairless balls humping his skin didn't feel anything like he imagined it would. It was fascinating, and he wanted to explore, but it was scary, too, so he didn't do anything. Then Ms. Style was kissing him, and her tongue was in his mouth, and so was the load he had blown in hers. Evan still didn't do anything, except now her ass was in his hands, and he was helping the Dragon grind her cock on him. Style's face tightened, and she grunted, and Evan felt the hot release squirting up the front of his body. Preconceived notions, ego-driven presumptions, and porn-induced imaginations, all bounced around in Evan's confused mind. At the same time, Style's balls jerked and more slippery cum lubricated the path for her humping dick.

"Style, what are you—Oh, you didn't."

"I had no choice," Style said, "the boy pointed his gun at me."

Evan turned as shame and embarrassment wilted his excitement and inflamed his face. Shit, the redhead from the videos was standing there; her huge tits within arms reach. They were bigger than Candy's, and her narrow waist made her hips seem enormous, but in an "I have to fuck you" kind of way. "Ahhhh." There is a porn star standing in front of me, and a tranny's cum sliding down my stomach. How does something like this happen? I saw something on the internet, and now, bam, it's real life. It couldn't be a coincidence, but in Evan's mind, there couldn't be a logical explanation. "Hi."

Style said, "Evan, this is my business partner."

"Hi, Evan." The redhead kissed his cheek. "It's nice to finally see you."

Evan looked down at his body, where the woman's tits had pressed against it. This isn't real life, Evan thought. I'm in a movie. Naive teen gets punked by a tranny, they get caught by her boss, and he has a threesome. "Ah, you too."

The redhead's smile gave Evan a déjà vu experience. She rubbed his arm and said, "You're even more handsome in person."

It was confusing enough to be standing in front of a porn star after what had just happened, but why was she acting like she knew him and had seen him before? Does she think I should know her? Evan looked at the ground. The redhead had beautiful feet, cute little toes.

"Evan, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, but I thought you might recognize me, and I needed to tell Candy . . . you know, you can imagine if I wasn't the one to tell her."

A flash of lightning struck Evan's brain, and he looked right at her pussy. Damn it, how could I be so stupid, he thought. No, not stupid, too focused on what Jason was doing with the mule, Ms. Style's dick, and the redhead's beautiful tits. How was he supposed to remember what Gloria told him, and notice that? He mumbled, "Tattoo, you're—"

"Yes, that's right, I'm Candy's sister, Sally." Unabashed, Sally crushed him in a hug. "I don't do that stuff anymore." Style laughed, and Sally added, "Well, not in the movies."

Was that an offer, Evan wondered? "I'm glad I finally got to see . . . ah, meet you."

"Mmm, me too," Sally said.

"We'll see more of each other, but I better not hold you up, you have a lot to do before that party tonight."

"Party?"

"For Rebecca. You didn't know?"

"No."

"That's funny, you're the one picking up Deana's friends."

"Jeez, why am I always the last one to find out about everything?"

Sally shrugged. "I'm sure you'll have fun anyway. Now, I'm gonna swim some laps while you mow."

He slowly nodded as pieces of the puzzle came together. This wasn't a coincidence; there was a logical explanation. Sally knew I worked here on Fridays, but she couldn't have known Jason would show me the videos—Wait and minute.

Sally dove in and swam the length of the pool with fantastic form. More puzzle pieces moved in his mind but didn't quite fit into place, not yet.

"Evan," Style interrupted his thinking, "you should pull up your pants before you start working."

Her tone didn't suggest she wanted to make him feel like a fool, but Evan did when he realized his pants were still around his ankles. "Yeah, good idea." He would have fallen on his face if she hadn't said something.

Style scooped up her bathing suit and slinked up against him. "Thank you, I enjoyed that. Too bad we didn't have a camera crew here."

Evan stood there, scratching his head while Style Pioneer wiggled her ass all the way to the screen door. Damn, the dude looked like a lady. Style opened the door, turned back, and waved. "See you later." He ignored the cock hanging down and smiled.