pt-2

I roll off her, panting and start laughing. Jess scowls at me. "What's so funny?" she demands.

"This. Us. I just lost my virginity - to my sister for Christ's sakes." The enormity of that statement washes over me and the laughter dies in my throat. I look at her and what a second ago seemed funny to me suddenly causes me to be overwhelmed with shame. I scramble to the far side of the bed and pull the comforter over my lap. I put my head in my hands and start to rock forward and backwards. Someone is moaning, "no, no, no" over and over and I realize it's me.

"Oh, Jesus, Jess, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Jesus." I realize I'm crying.

Her hand touches my back and I jump out of bed.

"Jon," I can't answer her. I wrap the comforter around my waist and clutch it like a drowning man. "Jon, stop. Don't ruin this. It was beautiful." She slips an arm around my legs, rests her head against the back of them. "I'm sorry you're upset. I get it; I do. Two days ago, if you'd have asked me what I thought about a brother and sister having sex, I would have gagged but not now. I'm sorry you're upset but if it helps, you just gave me something wonderful, and with it, the understanding that what Alex and I have is not love." She leaned out of bed and kissed the skin on my back, just above the comforter. "I was a virgin, too. I've fucked before but no one has ever made love to me; not until today, not until you, and I won't feel bad about that."

I stood there, running her words through my head, as she rolled out of bed on the other side. I'm still standing there when I hear the chime that signals someone has inserted a key card in the room lock. I have no idea if we put the chain on. I dive back into bed, frantically pulling at the sheet and comforter. I'm vaguely aware of Jess doing the same in the other bed.

"Last chance, you two," our father's irritatingly cheerful early morning voice calls out. "You still have time to get ready and join us..." His voice trails off.

I sit up in bed, grinding the heels of my palms in my eyes and faking a yawn, praying that he'll mistake my red eyes for sleepiness and not tears. Jess plays it smarter, she pulls a pillow over her head. "Ugh, dad, what are you doing? It's like three in the morning or something."

"No, sweetie, it's like nine in the morning." He answers her but he's staring at me.

I feel myself on the verge of a full-blown freak out. Do I have jizz on my chest or something? Fuck, does the room smell like sex? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I hide my panic behind another fake yawn. "No thanks, dad. Can I get a pass? I think you're right; maybe I did get too much sun yesterday. I'm just gonna chill and read my book."

He nods, glances at Jess. I follow his gaze. Her bare ass is showing. I squelch a moan of dismay before it escapes my mouth. He looks at me, then turns and leaves without saying a word. The door clicks. I fall back into the bed and allow the moan to escape.

"He knows," I whisper to the ceiling.

"No, he doesn't," Jess whispers back but I hear the doubt in her voice.

"Your butt was hanging out from under the covers, your tee shirt is on the floor by my bed, and, just to seal the fucking deal, my boxers are on top of your shirt. Yeah, he knows. He may pretend he doesn't but he knows. Jesus."

"I don't care," Jess snaps, the old fire in her voice. She hops out of bed and stands facing me, looking unbelievably beautiful, her breasts heaving, checks flaming. "For the first time, I feel like someone really loves me, like a man does for a woman. I don't fucking care if it's you. I deserve it. I'm not a bitch. I deserved to be loved."

With that, she started to cry. I lift the edge of the comforter up. "Come here, Jess." She stumbles into the bed and huddles against my chest.

***

Outside the kid's room, a very confused man leans against the wall, wondering what he should do. There's one thing for sure he knows not to do, tell his wife, their mother. He squares his shoulders and walks back to his room and his wife and a road trip he no longer has the least bit of interest in.

***

"Oh, God, Jess, what if he tells mom? She already hates me."

"Are you that dim? She doesn't hate you, she hates me. To our mother, I represent everything she hates about herself. Her sole salvation is imaging I'm worse than she is."

I roll up on one elbow to look at her. "You think that's true?"

"Yes, I do." Jess wipes at her eyes. "You think I'm such a bitch? Try hanging out with our mother for a while."

I try to keep my mind on our conversation but the sight of her boobs is distracting. Worse, her wet cheeks and red eyes beg for comfort. I shake my head, trying to clear it.

"What if she's not a bitch, not really. What if she's simply afraid if she doesn't act like a bitch, she'll get hurt?" I consider whether to say anymore and then plunge ahead. "Isn't that what you were doing?"

"Some. I was a bitch to you because you were so mean to me."

"Jess, I was not," I protest. "I don't want to argue, not anymore, but my first memories are of you tormenting me. You were not an older sister enamored with the idea of a baby brother. I mean let's be real, okay?"

"Why would I? Mom and dad spent all their time 'oh'ing and 'ah'ing over you and totally ignored me."

"I'm sorry if that's how you felt but Jess, think about it. How many times did dad take you, only you, to the zoo, to a movie, skating. He went out of his way to pay attention to you. Do you really not see that?"

"He took you places, too," Jess protests but softly.

"Yeah, he did but don't you think, trying to be honest as we can, he tried to balance it out?" I brush the hair off her forehead. "Maybe we both have had our heads up our asses for so long we can't even see the truth any longer. Maybe it would be better if we started over?"

She chuckled, a lovely sound. "Uh, I think we already have, doofus." She looks at me, eyes serious. "I don't mean about what happened this morning. I mean the way you wiped away my tears last night. I finally believed you when you said you didn't hate me."

"But I did, Jess, right up until that moment when you were crying. I did. Whatever reasons there may or may not have been, that makes me an asshole."

"Made, made you an asshole and, fine, made me a bitch, past tense. I agree, let's start over. Deal?"

"Deal," I agree. It's too awkward for a handshake so I seal the deal with a kiss, just a little kiss, more of a peck on the lips really but either my lips don't leave hers or her lips follow mine when they attempt to leave. In any case, her lips press firmly against mine. I can taste her still, on my lips, on her lips. When her tongue pushes into my mouth, I let it and reach for a breast. Her nipple is hard and hot against my palm. Jess puts her hand on my chest and pushes me onto my back but she never breaks our kiss. Her hand finds my cock. It's already hard. It had started getting hard as soon as she climbed back into my bed, our bed.

She breaks the kiss, bites my chin. "I love your whiskers," she whispers into my mouth. "Don't shave." I vow never to shave again. She kisses my Adam's apple as her hand runs through the wisps of hair on my chest. There's not much. She bites my nipple and I squeal. She giggles.

"You sound like a girl," she teases, and nips at my chest again.

I don't squeal this time, I moan. I want her so bad. I'm a sick piece of shit but I want to plunge my dick back into her pussy and fuck her. Jesus, help me. Her hand wraps around my cock and I whimper. Her hand feels cold around its hard heat.

"Poor baby brother, you're so hard." She squeezes. "So very hard." She lays her head on my belly, facing my dick. I feel her hair brush it. I hear her sniff. "So hard and smelling like my cunt." I moan and wiggle my hips. "Oh, you like that? You like when I squeeze your hard cock? Like when I smell it? Like when I talk about my cunt? My pussy? Huh?"

"Yes," I pant. "Yes, Jessie, I like all of those things."

"Um, good, Jon, cause I like them to. I like them a lot." Her tongue slides up the length of my dick. "Um, I taste good, don't I, or is that you I taste?"

"No, you," I whisper. "Your pussy tastes like heaven. Let me eat your pussy again, please."

"I like that, the way you ask. That asshole Alex was always telling, demanding. And, speaking of Alex, I've been letting him fuck me for almost three years. Not once did I ever cum, ever, unless I did it myself. Every time we fucked, I sucked his miserable cock and he never, ever, went down on me." She lets go of my dick and whirls around in the bed, grabbing my face with both hands. "Jon, I'm sorry I was mean to you all those years. I thought you hated me. I'm sorry. I was a kid, you were a kid. Don't hate me. I don't want to be, or mean to be, a bitch, not to you."

Her eyes are wet. She can't have been the bitch I imagined most of my life. No one can change this much overnight.

"I'm sorry, too. You're not a bitch. I'm sorry for every time I said that word to you. I want to kiss you now, on your pussy, your clit, once for every time I said it. I don't mind asking, I don't mind begging, Jess, please let me eat your pussy. Please."

Her hands tighten on my face. She kisses me, hard enough to mash my lips against my teeth, then she's turning and one leg passes above my face. She's straddling my head and her lush, wet, pink, utterly divine cunt hovers just above me. She reaches between her legs, spreads her lips, opening herself to my waiting mouth and tongue. I put my hands on her hips and urge her lower.

She presses against my mouth and my tongue dives into her. She moans and sits on my face. I can barely breathe, my nose is pressed against her asshole. That doesn't gross me out, not like I would have imagined. Instead, all I can think of is licking her, all of her, her pussy, her cunt, her asshole. I press and wiggle my face against her. My cheeks are already slick.

How much is her pussy juice, I wonder. Surely, most of it. My jizz would have leaked out during the night. My sperm isn't in her cunt; it's on the sheets, under my ass. Maybe I'll fuck her from behind while she sucks my cum out of the sheets, balling the sheets up with her fists, shoving the wad into her mouth and sucking, sucking at my cum. Or maybe she'll make me do it. She'll pull the sheet off the bed, ram the wet spot in my mouth, sitting astride me, riding my cock and threaten to never let me fuck her again, unless I suck my own cum out of the sheets. I got the sheets dirty, dirty with my sick piece of shit cum juice, suck 'em clean baby brother, she'll demand, and I'll do it, do anything for her, she's not a bitch, she's a goddess, I've insulted her, I owe her, I love her, she owns me.

Don't be a fucking pussy, asshole. You own her. Feel the way she's grinding her cunt on your face. She loves it! Loves your mouth, your tongue, your fucking cock - the cock that pounds her, makes her flesh echo and shimmer, tits swaying, panting, lip chewing fucked with your rock-hard meat stick. Fuck her, fuck her with your fucking face, suck her cunt into your mouth and part her lips with your tongue, fuck her, fuck her, eat her, fuck, eat.

No, stupid. I don't own her. She doesn't own me. We own each other.

Oh, fuck, that's her mouth, on my fucking dick, she's sucking my dick, I'm all the way inside her, my cock is all the way inside her mouth, no, no, don't leave, no, suck my dick, careful, don't pull too hard, what are you doing, that's my foreskin, its gross, no one else in gym has a ugly dick like mine, oh jesus jess don't put your tongue under it, dirty, amazing, don't do, don't stop, I'm sorry I don't mean to fuck your mouth like this but I can't hold still I have to move have to shove my cock deeper and deeper sorry if I'm sucking too hard but your cunt so wet oh fucking hell yes slide your cunt back and forth over my tongue clit flick slide swallow fuck you mouth fuck you eat you love

I explode in her mouth and cry out. I turn my head and bit her leg to keep from screaming. Her pussy is sliding all over the side of my face. I feel her pussy juice run into my ear. Her body stiffens. Something wet sprays my face and chest. Did she pee on me? I don't care. It's hot on my skin and part of her. I try not to bite too hard. I don't mean to hurt her but I must cling to something or I swear to God the pleasure arcing through my body will fling me into space.

I slowly regain control of my body. Jess collapses to my side, whimpering softly. I untangle myself from her legs and kneel beside her. I kiss her but she barely responds. Is she mad at me? I kiss her again. Kiss her breasts. I've barely played with her beautiful boobs. Her nipples beg for my mouth. I oblige. She moans, lower in her throat. I roll her onto her back. I've cum but my brain is still in flames. I spread her legs and stare at her cunt.

It's shiny and red, her thighs are slick. I wipe the side of my face and lick my hand. It doesn't taste like pee, it tastes like her pussy. I kiss her clit.

"Oh, no, no, Jon, too sensitive, stop," she calls, pushing me away with one hand on my head. I groan inside; I still thirst for her. Oh, shit. I see a purple spot forming on the inside of her leg. You, asshole, I scream to myself. Look what you did, you bit her, it's not a fucking hickey, you bit her, bruised her, hurt her, asshole, jerk, dick.

I move back to her head. I cup her face as she had mine. "Jess, I'm sorry if I hurt you. You make me crazy. I don't know what to do. I know you're sore and my dick is still soft but I want to fuck you again, fuck you forever."

"Hush, Jon. You've got a brain full of endorphins. I should know; so, do I. I want you to fuck me again but not right now. Jesus, that was fucking unbelievable. I came so hard I thought I was dying. You didn't hurt me." She smiles at me. "I could taste my pussy on your dick." Her smile widens. "It wasn't gross. I liked it. Could you taste yourself, in my pussy?"

"No, I don't think so." I hesitate. "I imagined you making me suck on the sheet, suck my cum out of the sheet where it had leaked out of you. Fucking gross, huh?"

"No, fucking hot. You'd do that for me? That's fucking hot. I can still taste you in my mouth. Kiss me, put your tongue inside my mouth, you can taste yourself." She ruffles my hair. "That's not an order. If you want to, fine. If not, fine."

My kiss is my answer. I scour her mouth with my tongue. I'm starving and I can fill my mind or my body. We kiss so long my dick starts to get hard. She feels it against her leg.

"Jesus, Jon," she giggles.

I don't know how to deal with what my body is feeling. I start to kiss her boobs, suck on the nipples, tugging and nipping and licking, doing all the things that ran through my mind when I looked at them earlier. My dick gets harder. Her arm forces its way between us. She's fingering her pussy while I suck at her breasts. I straighten up and walk on my knees to her shoulder. I rub the head of my dick over her nipple while I watch her fingers fly over her clit.

"I'm going to cum on your boob, Jess. I'm going to jerk my dick and cum on your boob while you finger your cunt."

She moans.

"Do you want me to cum on your boob? Shoot my load on your hot little nipple?"

"Yes."

I jerk harder, anxious to cum, anxious to extinguish the fire in my brain.

My orgasm is no less intense than earlier, though at this point there's not a lot of cum. It's liquid and clear and runs rapidly down the side of her breast.

I lick it up. I lick my load off her breast and suck her cum-covered nipple into my mouth as her body begins to buck.

***

Gloria is still getting ready. I think about what I'd seen. Tell myself that it's not possible. If I believe it myself, why then am I sliding the patio door open? I walk down the flagstone path to the adjoining patio. I know the drapes aren't completely closed. I noticed that when I was in their room, before I saw Jon's boxer's lying on the floor, on top of Jess's night shirt, saw her bare butt, and realized the once familiar smell I was trying to identify was the smell of two people who've been fucking. Jon? Jess? No!

I try not to creep. That would look suspicious to the early beach walkers. I walk onto their patio as if I belong there, which I do. I'm paying for it. I casually look past the edge of the partially opened blinds. My heart stops.

Jon's back is to me. Jess, my daughter, is on her back. Jon blocks her view of the patio door. He's jerking off, kneeling beside her. I can't see anything except his bare ass and motion of his arm but it's not hard to figure out what he's doing. I see his ass tighten. I nearly fall over when he bends and begins to lick at his sister's breast.

If she looks over, she'll see.

I watch longer than I should, longer than would be normal. I hate the fact my dick is getting hard. I hurry away, back to my room, back to a wife I haven't touched in months and who I think I should leave.

Gloria is standing in front of a mirror, fussing with her hair. She doesn't look up when I slide the patio door closed.

"Where've you been? You were all insistent that we leave right at 9:30, and yet I'm the one that's ready and you're not," she sniffs at her own reflection. I forgo pointing out she's still wrapped in a towel and that it'll be at least another half-an-hour before she's ready. I simply don't care at this point.

"I was watching the ocean."

"Well, that's why we're at the beach isn't it? To watch the ocean? But, no, we have to run off to look at a bunch of falling down rocks, instead."

"We don't have to go," I tell her. "We can stay here if you want."

"What and miss out on a chance to be lectured by you about the Maya? Or listen to you debate the tour guide over something trivial? No way."

"Is that what you think I'll do?"

"Yes," she harrumphs. "Why should today be any different?"

"I'm sorry you feel that way. Truly. I don't want you to come with me. Stay here. I'll go by myself, or maybe I'll just go exploring. Stay here."

"And deal with two mopey kids, whining about sharing a room and what to get for lunch? I don't think so, buster. I'm coming with you."

"No. I don't want you to. I want a divorce."

I walk past her and leave the room before she can speak.

***

I can't breathe. I try to make my voice work but I can't make any sounds, not that I have any idea what words to say. Mark leaves before I can make my mind work. I sit down on the bed. I always known this day would come. I've never been smart enough for him. I've never been pretty enough for him.

I let the towel fall away, stare at my fake breasts. I hate them. I can't feel anything anymore. The surgeon swore that the way they do the surgery now spares the nerves so my skin, my nipples, would have normal sensation. That was a lie or he fucked something up. I hate them. Mark hates them. He told me he loved my breasts, my real breasts, told me not to have the surgery, not to be silly, but I saw the way he looked at all those fucking bitches at that fucking country club. I saw the way they snickered at my breasts, my accent. I could hear their thoughts, poor Mark, married to that drab stupid hick from Nebraska. I fucking hate them. Fuck them. Mark has more money than most of them and I fucking make sure they know it. I hate that fucking club, waste of money. No one in the family golfs. The food is good but who can eat while those catty sluts are snickering at you? I knew he'd leave me. I've told myself that for years, told myself it wouldn't matter, I'd have plenty of money. I'd be fine.

Why are my cheeks wet?

***

I knock as I insert the key. And, unlike my father, I wait before opening the door, even though I know they're both gone, off to visit Tulum.

"Who is it? Don't come in!"

"Mom? What's wrong? Why are you here?" The tone of her voice tells me there's something wrong. If I didn't know this was her room, I'd never have recognized her voice. I hurry around the short hallway, afraid she's sick, but if she's sick, dad would have never gone off to visit some stupid ruins.

"Jon, damn it to hell, I told you not to come in. I'm not dressed."

She isn't. She pulls her towel up to cover herself but doesn't do a very good job. She's proud of her new boobs and I wonder if she's doing this on purpose. Then I see her eyes. She's crying or been crying.

"Mom, what's wrong? Are you okay? Are you sick? You've been crying."

"Spare me, Jon. I don't cry. There's no point to it."

"Everyone cries, mom, even if it's only on the inside."

"Oh God, are you gay? On top of everything else are you gay?"

"No, mom I'm not gay." Just ask Jess, you fucking bi...I kill the thought, strangle it. It's the sort of thought I'd had about Jess for most of my life and I was learning how wrong I'd been. What if I was wrong about mom?

I walk back to their bathroom and grab a towel. When I return she's still sitting on the end of the bed, staring into space. I offer it to her. "Here mom, you're a little exposed."

To my horror, she lets the towel drop. She stares at herself in the mirror. "Are they that ugly? So, ugly, a mere glimpse repulses you?"

"You're beautiful, mom. You have to know that." I can't bring myself to say, 'they're beautiful' about her boobs.

"Yeah, right." She turns from side to side. "They're ugly, hideous. I did it for your father. I imagined it would please him but nothing I do pleases him any longer. He's leaving me." She stands up and faces me. I keep my eyes fixed on her face. "Please go now, Jon. I'd like to get dressed and pack."

I swallow my fear and reach for one of her hands. I hold it in both of mine. "Please don't go, mom, not yet. Get dressed. I'll get Jess, then, please, can we go to breakfast and talk, or just eat, but don't go, not yet, please." I can tell my words are having no effect. "Please, mom? Don't give up on dad, or me, not yet. I love you. I'm sure dad, does to. I know I'm a dick and I don't show it or say it but I'm sorry. You're my mom. I love you. Please, stay."

Her mouth opens, closes. She nods. "Okay, I'll have breakfast but I make no promises beyond that." She pulls her hand from mine and turns to face the patio. "Go on. I'll come to your room when I'm ready."

Even though she's naked. I walk to her and put my hands on her shoulders. "Thanks, mom. Thank you." I'm about to leave when her right hand comes up to rest on top my mine. "It's fine, Jon. You always worry too much. Go on. I'll be over in a few minutes."

"Okay," I whisper before fleeing.

***

"What are you talking about? That's crazy!" Jess is shaking her head at me.

"I'm telling you, mom is sitting in her room, crying, crying. She says dad told her he's leaving her."

"I'm going over there," Jess mutters. I take hold of her hand and pull her back down. She slumps against me. I slip my arm around her shoulder. "No, don't. She said she'll come over when she's ready. If we make her feel embarrassed, it'll just make things worse." Jess pulls away and looks at me. "Dad wouldn't really leave her, would he? I mean what would she do?" I shrug. "Mom's pretty tough, Jess. You think they've been happy? Really happy?" She shakes her head and then lays it back against my chest. "No, but they're so used to each other. Are people married that long supposed to be happy?" I chuckle. "Yeah, ideally I think that's how it's supposed to work."

She tips her face to mine. I'm not sure if it's what she wants but it's what I want, so I kiss her. I taste her toothpaste when her tongue touches mine. We both jump at the knock on the door.

Jess hurries to the door and yanks it open. I see her jump into mom's arms. Mom awkwardly pats Jess on one shoulder.

"It's not true is it, mother? Jon misunderstood."

"No. Your father announced he didn't want me to go to Tulum with him and that, in fact, he wanted a divorce."

Her voice is not the one I'd heard just moments ago. This is the voice of Gloria Vandermach, neighborhood bitch. Please, please don't use that tone, mom, I beg her silently.

"He's just upset or something. You two just need to talk."

"No, he's right. It's over. I'm tired of failing to meet up to his expectations. It's exhausting."

"Mom, what do you mean expectations? He loves you," Jess insists.

"Once maybe, but he's always been embarrassed of me, the silly, dumb, blonde he rescued from the boondocks."

I hear the crack in her voice. I hate it but I love it at the same time. I take her hand again. That's twice in under twenty minutes. Wow. She lets me lead her over to the bed, Jess's bed, the one that doesn't reek of our fucking. I sit down. Mom sits down. Jess sits down.

"One, you're not dumb or silly and dad has never thought that about you," I tell her. "No one thinks that about you."

"No, you all just think I'm a bitch."

I nod. "That's true, mom but isn't that what you want us to think?"

She turns to look at me, eyes wide. "Why would I want my son," she turns and looks at Jess, "my daughter, to think I was a bitch. Like any mother, I'd like to think my children would have some love for me."

"Mom, do you really think we don't love you?" Jess whispers.

"Oh, sure, you squeal 'I love you, mommy', when you get something you want but when's the last time you've just said it?"

"Mom?"

She turns to look at me. "When's the last time you've just said it to one of us, especially me?"

Her eyes narrow. I'm afraid I've fucked up, gone too far. Her mouth opens. I ready myself for the onslaught. She starts to cry, noiselessly. Huge tears fill her eyes and cascade over her cheeks, cheeks free of makeup for the first time in my memory. She stands to go but Jess grabs her in a bear hug. This time mom hugs her back. They rock in each other's arms for a moment.

"Come on, mom. Lie down with me," Jess whispers. She kneels on the end of the bed and moves toward the head, holding on to mom's hand. They lie down. Mom on her back, Jess curled up by her side. I lie down on my back beside my mother, who suddenly seems like a mom to me. She reaches over and takes hold of my hand. I squeeze it. She squeezes back.

"I love you, mom."

"I love you, kids."

Our three voices overlap in the quiet air. Outside, the surf rumbles ashore, like it always has and will continue to do, at least until such time as the earth heats up like Venus and all the water disappears into space. Fucking scientists, they're so goddamn cheerful.

***

I don't know about mom or Jon but I'm starving. I'm starving but lying with my head on my mom's shoulder, listening to her breathe, smelling her shampoo and glimpsing my brother stretched out beyond her is the most relaxing thing that has ever happened to me. Thank God, Jon's stomach growls. My head bounces as mom laughs. It's a good sound. She sits up.

"Come on, you two. I'm hungry, too. Let me wash my face again."

She emerges from the bathroom in a couple minutes, patting her cheeks with a towel.

"I like you without makeup."

Mom smiles at my brother. "Thank you, Jon. If only everyone was as accepting as you."

Jon looks at me. "Don't you agree, sis?"

"Mostly. Sit down, mother." She does. I grab my purse. I gloss her lips with a light pink. A little mascara. "No more crying, today, mom." She nods. Just a brush or two of blush and, voila. I step back and look at my mom for the first time in a long time, not as a mom but as another woman. "Jesus, you're pretty, mom. No wonder all those cunts at the club resent you."

"Jessica! You know I hate that word!" Mom gapes at me, shocked. Then her lips twitch. "They are pretty cuntish aren't they?"

"Fuckin' A right they are," Jon chirps. He gets a gape, then a chuckle.

"You two are a bad influence on me," she sighs.

When she stands, I take her hand. We leave the room and start down the hall. Jon takes her other hand.

Breakfast is outside. It's gorgeous. The place is all inclusive, except booze. Mom settles for fruit and a mimosa. Jon offers to get an omelet for me, while he gets his own. I'm touched that he remembers how I like my omelets. How had he done such a good job of convincing me that he hated me?

"What's going on with you and Jon?" mom asks.

I jerk around in my seat; Mom is staring at me. "What do you mean?" I stammer, horrified at how guilty I sound to my own ears. Get a grip, dummy, I chide myself silently.

Mom looks at me a moment longer. "You haven't insulted each other in almost an hour. He offered to get your breakfast for you. If all it took for you two to start acting like brother and sister was your father threatening to leave me, I'd have had him do it years ago. The bitch-asshole show becomes quite droll after a time, you know."

"Hmm, how many dumb hicks use the word 'droll' mother? Just wondering."

She gives me a hard look. "Don't change the subject, Jess. What's going on with you two?" I roll my eyes, channeling what's left of my inner sixteen-year-old. "Nothing. We talked to each other last night, actual conversation. That's all. He's not totally hideous and he agrees I'm not totally a bitch."

"You never were, unlike your mother, you can't quite pull it off."

"Bullshit, mom! Total fucking bullshit. I'm a really good bitch when I need to be. It's you, it turns out, who's the real cream puff."

"You go on and believe that if you want but I could give the names of a couple football players from high school who'd disagree with you."

"You never talk about when you were a kid. Tell me more."

"Tell you more what?" Jon asks, sitting a plate with an omelet in front of me. "Coffee?" I shake my head. "I'm fine with water." He nods and sits down.

"Mom was telling me how she kicked some jock ass in high school." I look at my mother. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk about your childhood. I mean, I know, your parents are dead but beyond that, I mean, like, nothing."

"My father is dead. I don't know about my mother."

Jon and I stare at her. I hope my mouth isn't hanging open as widely as his.

"You said your parents were dead," Jon manages to choke out at last.

The server walks over and hands mom her mimosa. "Hang on a second, honey," mom tells the young woman and then downs the mimosa. "I'll have another, thanks." Mom looks at my brother. "I'm going to need more on my stomach than some over ripe melon." She gets up and heads over to the omelet bar. I look at Jon, who shrugs and begins to eat his omelet. I don't feel hungry any longer but I force myself to eat.

***

I will not let my children in on my sordid childhood. I will not. I don't need or want their pity. Why the hell did I order another mimosa? I should have switched to bloody Mary's - or just vodka.

***

Mom sits down and begins to eat. She drinks half of her second mimosa. I set my fork down and surprise myself by touching the back of her hand.

"Uh-uh, mom, we're not going to let you act like nothing's happened. You've always told us your mom was dead and now you mention you're not sure. What's up with that?"

Jess nods in agreement. She leans toward mom and puts a hand on the back of her arm. "Jon's right, mother mine, spill." She picks up the mimosa glass and drains it. "We're not letting you wiggle out of this one," she says, setting the empty glass down and smiling.

Mom is not smiling. "That was my drink, daughter mine. You're under-age. I could have you sent to a Mexican prison."

"You'd be tortured by guilt and descend into alcoholism and, eventually, into huffing household cleaners. It'd be awful. I'll risk it."

"Jon, can you shed any light on what is wrong with your sister?"

I nearly choke on a bite of omelet. Mom gives me a hard look, past her turned head, I see Jess roll her eyes.

"What's wrong with her? You mean besides being pushy and nosy?"

Mom holds my eyes for another moment and then drops it.

"My father died when I was fourteen. My mother hounded him to death. I went to live with my aunt Clara; you met her when you were small. I haven't talked to my mother in over twenty years. She could still be alive. I don't know. I don't care. She was awful. My dad worked for the town water company. She always said he was a 'sewer worker'. He never made enough money. She never had 'nice' things, like her 'friends'. He took a job working at nights at the gas station out on the highway near the small town I grew up in. They found him dead, heart attack, sitting in his chair with half a sandwich in his hand. Mom took the insurance money and headed for Omaha. I stayed. She was a terrible mother, terrible person, a real bitc..." her voice fades away. She covers her mouth with one hand as her eyes expand to fill her face. She pushes her chair back and runs past the startled server.

Jess follows her. I put the drinks on mom's room, add a nice tip, sign the receipt and head off to find my sister and mother.

"The door's locked. She has the bolt thingy on. I have a key but it won't open." Jess looks worried.

"Come on, follow me." I hurry down the hall and open the door to our room. I hurry past the beds and out onto the patio. I skip the path and hop over the waist high wall that separates the two patios. Jess follows. Dad is always fussing at mom about forgetting to lock the patio door. If she went outside this morning we might get lucky.

The door slides open. One of the beds has the covers askew. The other is covered with suitcases and clothes. I don't see mom. I head for the bathroom. If she's locked the bathroom door I tell myself I'm calling security. It's locked.

"Mom, open up. It's Jon." Despite my fear, I find time to chide myself for being stupid. It's Jon. No shit, asshole. Fucking moron.

"Will you two please, for the love of God, leave me the fuck alone for a few minutes?"

"No can do, mother," Jess calls through the door. "I don't what's wrong with you but I've never seen you like this. Let us in or I'll call security, tell them you're in there sawing away at your wrists or something. Open up. I'm not sure how much better the psych hospitals are here than the prisons. Even if daddy pops for an air ambulance you'd be in for a night or two of padded rooms."

I gape at my sister. "What the fuck?" I hiss at her. "Are you trying to make things worse?"

The door flies open. "You wouldn't dare do any such thing, Jessica Anne! When I got out of there I'd skin you alive!"

"Careful, mom. Talk like that will only extend your stay," I tell her, trying to smile. This is a test of how much of the old mom is lurking behind this new, strange, almost vulnerable being that looks like my mom. If 'old' mom equals 'true' mom; I'm fucking dead. Her mouth opens and closes a few times. She leans against the bathroom door. She looks old suddenly. I've never thought of her as old. That scares me more than anything.

"Come on, mom, lie down. You were sick, weren't you?" Now that the a little of the drama has faded from the room I notice the sour smell of vomit. Underneath that is the smell of orange juice. My stomach does a slow crawl.

"Oh, damn it all to hell," mom snaps, she pulls away and heads for the toilet and flushes it. "Get out and give a little peace, please."

"I'll pull the door closed but don't lock it. We'll wait for you."

"Jon, I think I like you better when all you did was scowl at me."

I lean against the wall. I want to tell her she's full of shit. She is full of shit, isn't she? Do I scowl at her? I know we rarely talk but I don't scowl, do I?

The woman who emerges a short time later from the bathroom looks more like the mother I thought I knew, but the new mother, the vulnerable, frightened mother is still visible. I don't imagine I'll ever see her in the same light again. That, on top of the change in my assessment of Jess, leaves me feeling lost. The twin stars that have guided my life have always been, one, my mother is a bitch, and two, my sister is a bitch. To have them both, in the space of a day, revealed to me as people as insecure and as desperate for love and approval as myself, is overwhelming. How can I have missed something, two somethings that big, that huge? Am I really so self-absorbed, so unobservant? Am I just a total dick? More important, what about dad? Is the man who told his wife he was leaving her this morning, as wrong, as clueless, and out to lunch as I am?

"I really wish you two would just give me some peace and quiet. I need to think." Mom shakes her head, disagreeing with herself. "No," she said, squaring her shoulders. "What I need to do is pack."

"Please don't do that, mother? I thought we settled that earlier?" Jess' voice is soft and gentle. I swivel my head to look at her; Jesus she's beautiful. I add that to the growing list of questions rattling around inside my head, how the fuck did you miss the fact that your sister is seriously gorgeous? We each take hold of one of mom's hands. They're cold as ice. "I agree with Jess," I tell her as I give her an awkward one-armed hug. "Don't go, not yet. Let dad settle down and talk to him."

"About what, exactly?" she snaps, in a voice that's one hundred percent 'old mom'. She seems to realize it. She tries to smile as she pats my cheek, a gesture every bit as awkward as my hug had been. "He was pretty clear, Jon. I don't see the point of talking." She shakes her head again. "No, it's probably best if I'm not here when he gets back. Assuming he gets back. For all I know, he skipped Tulum and headed to the airport himself."

"He wouldn't do that without telling us," Jess whispers.

"Besides, you have a lot to talk about," I insist. "Look at me. I've lived my entire life thinking Jess was a total bitch. It's only in the last day I realized how wrong I was, what a total asshole I was. And..." I look at my mother with more than a little trepidation. "You put on as great a show, if not a better one, than Jess does. How do you know dad hasn't totally missed that you're tough as nails act is just that, an act?"

"Sweetheart, if you think I'm not..."

I interrupt her, a rarity. "Of course, I know you're tough as nails but that's not all you are and you don't have to be around us. Don't you get that? I didn't, not until an hour ago at breakfast. Why are you so afraid of me, afraid of dad, of Jess, for that matter? We all love you, or want to love you. Some of us, me at least, where afraid to, afraid that was the last thing you wanted, not the thing you craved. What if dad is just as fucking clueless? Tell me the truth, mom, do you really believe thinks you're not very smart? Or that he even images you'd worry about that? Really?"

"Mom, I'm not claiming any credit, because it was an accident," Jess intercedes. "I let my guard down yesterday in front of Jon. I knew he thought I was a bitch and I thought he was a jerk and an asshole. I was mortified when I started to cry in front of him. I was waiting for him to rip into me. I was planning how to defend myself. You know what he did? He got a washcloth and cleaned the runny mascara off my cheeks. Crying in front of him was a total accident but what if it I hadn't? Would we still be walking around, totally misreading each other? Hating each other? I can't imagine dad is any bigger douche than my douchey brother." She tosses me a smile. I smile back. "Don't you think you should give dad a chance? Tell him you don't want him to go."

"I will not cry just to keep your father."

Jess stares at her. "Why not? If you really love him and don't want to lose him, why the fuck not? Besides, you don't have to cry, just fucking talk to him and in person, not over a shitty cell phone connection. Don't go."

"Let me think about it." At the sight of Jess' smile, mom frowns. "I didn't say I wouldn't go. I said I'd think about it." She flaps both hands at her children. "Now, shoo, I want to lie down."

"Mom?" She turns to look at me. "Promise me you won't run off if we leave. Promise you'll stay and at least try to talk to dad. Please."

She nods. "Okay, honey. Sure."

"Mom?" Her look has a lot of 'old mom' in it. I know I'm pushing my luck. "Would you tell us more about your dad, our grandfather. And," I hesitate. "Your mom?"

She sits down on the bed. "He was a lot like you, Jon. He loved to draw. He'd come home from work, take a bath. We didn't have a shower. Weird, huh? After my homework was done we'd draw on these giant pads of cheap paper that would tear if you tried to erase anything. My mom would snort that it was a waste of time and money." She shakes her head. She looks so sad. "I can't believe I've turned into her."

"Mommy?" Mom doesn't say anything so Jess pushes ahead. "What if your mom was sort of like us, scared?"

"Maybe, honey but I don't think so. She was mean and hard and cold as Lucifer's bare ass in a blizzard."

"Were you good at drawing?" I ask. I want to change the subject but mostly I'm curious. She'd never expressed much interest in my art work.

"I think I was," she answers softly. "I stopped after he died. Your grandmother tore down every drawing of his I'd taped to my walls and burned them."

Jess and I look at each other.

Mom looks up from her lap. "Kiddos, I'm beat. Why don't you take a hike, huh? I'd like to lie down for a spell."

I nod. "Sure, mom. Call the room if you need anything."

"Can I stay?" Jess sits down beside mom. "I won't pester you or anything. It was nice lying down beside you, earlier. I remembered how you would lie down with me sometimes to take a nap." She looks up at me. "Both of us, remember?" I nod.

"I remember, baby girl," mom says patting her on the knee. She scoots back in the bed. "One syllable, one burp, one fart and I'll kick you the hell out. Got it?"

Jess giggles. "Yes, mommy dearest."

Jess snuggles in beside mom. I don't really think about it. I dig in my pocket, pull out my phone and snap a quick shot.

"Later," I whisper. I go out through the patio. I leave the door open. I'm hoping the breeze, the smell of the ocean and muttering of the surf will help mom relax. Jess, too.

***

The guide, Hernando, is talking. He notices the tall American start to open his mouth. He mentally grits his teeth, ready for whatever it is the man wants to challenge him on. He's spent years studying to be a certified guide. He has a master's degree in archaeology and this tourist is about to question him. He can feel it. Instead, the man closes his mouth and shakes his head, frowning. Hernando continues the tour. At the end, the tall American, shakes his hand, tells him it was a wonderful tour and gives him a perfect tip. It's not so much as to be insulting but more than typical. Hernando tips his hat and the tall American wanders away to sit on one of the benches and stares out at the ocean. Hernando decides he's rarely seen a lonelier man. He wants to offer to buy him a beer but knows that's foolishness. He tucks his tips safely away and walks to his car. He smiles, imaging the supper his wife will have waiting.

The tall American, James Vandermach, sits alone on the bench. He's in the shade but he pulls his hat low to protect his face. The hat has a French Foreign Legion style curtain of cloth to protect his neck. He hates getting sunburned. He tries to focus on the beauty of the ocean. He finds the ocean, water in general, to be the most relaxing sound, sight, smell in the world. He can't find its magic today, however. Today, even with his sunglasses, it's too bright, too blue. Today, what he smells is seaweed festering in the heat. Today, all he hears is the hum of flies and the ringing in his ears, a souvenir from too many rock shows in the dive bars of his youth. He tries to focus, tries to find his balance but his mind hums and buzzes and refuses to shut up.

Gloria is right. I was going to quibble with the man and over some trivial, meaningless, difference I read in National Geographic. This is his fucking job. Is she right, do I really have to always make it clear I know stuff, stupid stuff maybe but still, that I know something they don't? No. That's not it. I'm curious. I want to hear what other people think. Bullshit, buddy, his wife's voice inside his head says with a snort. You aren't interested in what they think. You want to prove to them you know as much as they do. No! That's not true! I don't have anyone to talk to. Because I'm too stupid to talk to? No! Gloria, I don't think you're stupid but you don't seem interested...In talking? Of course, I am but you don't talk, you lecture, you pontificate. No, I don't, that's not true. Is it? Isn't that why you married me? The ignorant cornhusker, so you'd have a student for life, a built in 24/7/365 guaranteed audience? A life-long improvement project? You were more interested in being Professor Higgins than my husband, weren't you? The lonely man on the bench shakes his head. No, that I know is not true. I loved you. You were beautiful and funny and took no shit, never backed down and got shit done. You were magnificent, a god damn force of nature, just as beautiful, just as fascinating and just as scary. "Loved?" "Were beautiful?" "Were magnificent?" James Vandermach pulls his sunglasses off and rests his head in the palms of his hands. They smell like sun screen. He feels sick to his stomach.

***

I'm so engrossed in my drawing that I, at first, I ignore the tap on the door, as I would a fly buzzing around my head. The second time, or maybe it's the third, the knock is louder, the fly has landed on my cheek, and I have no choice but to deal with it. I'm shoving back the chair before it occurs to me it could be mom or Jess. I've been so lost in my drawing that the morning's events have been pushed to the back of my head. I don't waste time telling myself I'm a self-absorbed dick. I hurry to the door. It's not mom or Jess. It's my father.

"Sorry, dad. I didn't hear you at first." He looks terrible. Like mom, he suddenly looks old, which totally freaks me out. If they don't get old; I don't get old. The opposite is also true, which is what freaks me out.

He peeks past me into the room. "Is your sister here?" I shake my head, trying to keep my face neutral. "No, she's with mom, in your guys' room." He nods. "Okay, if I come in?" I step back. "Dude, you're paying for the rooms. Plus, you're my pater familias, why wouldn't I let you in?" He walks past me and I have nerve enough to ask his back, "Are you okay, dad? What's going on with you and mom? She said you told her you wanted a divorce and walked out."

"That's right. I did."

"You did? Or you do? Want a divorce, I mean."

"Jon, did you do this?" He shakes his head with a grimace. At first, I'm afraid he's grimacing at my drawing but, no, the grimace is aimed at himself. "Scratch that, stupid question. This is good. I mean really good. I've always thought you had talent but this is extraordinary." He's holding my drawing, tilting it this way and that in the light, examining it. It's pencil. He knows enough not to smudge it, so I resist the urge to tell him to be careful. I step closer and look past his shoulder. It is good. I hate judging my own work but he's right; it is good. It's the photo of mom and Jess lying in bed, at least that's what it started from.

I've changed the angle of the light on their faces. I've made them younger. In the process, I had to think, hard, about what it is in a face that denotes age. Why does mom look older than Jess? Her face is nearly free of wrinkles. She has a couple of small crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiles but she's not smiling in the photo or the drawing. It's hard to show gray hair in a pencil drawing, not that she would allow a gray hair to make an appearance on her head in any case. It's easy to make mom look younger; Jess is a mini-me of her. That's something else I've failed to notice over the past nineteen years, how much they look alike. Jess is harder to draw as a younger person. I summoned my memories of her as a teenager. Most of those are memories of how I hated her. I don't want to draw her as a child. I want to draw her, just as she's awakening to the fact she's on the cusp of leaving childhood behind, still clinging to her mother but about to let go. As I examine my own drawing, I can't recall some of the details I'm seeing in it. I don't remember putting that shadow there. Did I lighten that spot? I must have but I don't remember doing so. I was drawing in some sort of trance or something. I've head of automatic writing but automatic drawing? Fuck it. It's good. The idea for the drawing popped into my head as soon as I snapped the photo. Instead of going to my room I'd gone to the lobby. The gift shop had pencils, not drawing pencils, just plain old yellow No. 2 writing pencils. No one writes letters these days, so the only paper was a couple of yellow legal pads that were so old they had faded from yellow into more of a pale, dying, lemon color. I'd ended up asking for a few sheets of printer paper from the front desk.

"Turns out, what talent I have, probably came from mom. Did you know she used to draw? That her dad used to draw?"

He shakes his head as he lays the drawing back down. "No. I know the gist, the rough outline of her life before I met her, but that's it. I know it was tough."

"Did you ask?"

He gives me a sharp look, anger flickers in his eyes. "Of course, I asked. What kind of question is that? She'd shut down, close herself up into a little ball and change the subject. After a while, I gave up. Who was I to say what the best way for her to deal with her childhood was?"

I consider telling him, her husband, but don't. I nod at the drawing. "I never noticed how much Jess looks like mom. Weird, huh?"

"Weird that you didn't notice? Or weird that they look so much alike?"

"Both."

Dad nods. "Yeah. I noticed." He sighs. "They're a lot alike in more than looks."

"Yup," I tell him. "But not in the way you think." He gives me that sharp look again. I ignore it and go lie down on my bed. I was busy drawing and sent room service away. I don't want him lying in the bed Jess and I have been making love in. He sits in the desk chair.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks when it becomes clear I'm not going to say anything more.

"I grew up thinking Jess was mean, a bitch. I thought the same thing about mom. Yesterday, it finally got through to me that I was wrong about Jess. Yesterday, and last night, I kept thinking she was fucking with me. She wasn't on my ass. She wasn't riding me about something. She was actually being almost nice. Then, when we came over here, I was still seething about having to share a room and being a total dick, she broke into tears. I don't think I ever saw her cry."

"Why was she crying?"

"I was being a dick. And Alex has been cheating on her."

"I always hated that smarmy little fucker," dad snarls.

"Ditto, pops. Ditto."

"She cried? Jess?"

"Yup. She told me that Alex was the only one that was ever nice to her and that she loved him, that she wasn't pretty enough or smart enough for him."

"That's absurd!"

"Yeah, I agree. Does it sound like anyone else you might know?"

He stares at me, puzzled. Jesus why are smart people so fucking dense most of the time.

"Mom thinks you think she's an ignorant hick." I tell him.

"That's not true." He doesn't shout that statement; he whispers it. "I do come off as condescending at times, don't I?" He looks at me.

"Sometimes," I agree with a nod.

"I don't think she's ignorant. She just never seems interested in what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. You're spot on about how she pulls herself into a, what did you say, 'little ball'. She does. So, does Jess. I think it's mostly because they're afraid if they open up, they'll be taken advantage of, hurt."

"Yeah? So? You're probably right but after nearly twenty-five years if she hasn't learned to trust me, what's the point? It's done. Time to quit wasting energy, both of us, and move on."

I shrug. "Then you really will have wasted your time. Oh, and she told me she always expected you to leave. That that is why she got her boobs done because you were always eyeing the women with big tits at the club."

"That's crazy," he snaps. "I hate that fake shit. I hate those ridiculous things she paid for."

"I agree but that's not what she thinks." I lean back on the pillow. "She was crying so hard she threw up." I leave out the mimosa detail.

"She what? She was crying?"

"Yup."

"Your mother never cries."

"Everyone cries, dad, even if it's only on the inside." He rolls his eyes. What the fuck? I think it's a goddamn profound fucking line but both he and mom have shit all over it.

He opens his mouth, closes it, shakes his head. He stands up and goes to the patio door and stares out at the ocean. "I'm afraid it's too late, Jon. I'm not sure I love her any longer."

My heart clenches, not just at the words but the tone of utter resignation in his voice.

"She was going to pack and leave. Jess and I talked her out of it."

"She doesn't have to. I'm going to."

"I think that's foolish. You need to talk to each other."

"That's all we do."

I throw a pillow, hard. It smacks him in the back of the head. He whirls, pissed. I don't care.

"Let me rephrase. Instead of fucking talking, try listening. Listen to each other, you fucking morons!"

The phone rings. "Yeah," I snap, jerking the phone to my ear.

"Well, hello to you to, asshole." It's Jess. "Oh, what's up," I pause. "Bitch." She chuckles. "I take it dad is back and in our room? Or are you shouting at yourself?"

"Fuck, was I that loud?"

"Yup. I'm impressed. I think mom is, too. I didn't think you had that kind of fire."

"Does she want him to come over?"

"Hang on." There's silence. "Uh-uh," Jess tells me when she comes back on the line. "She says she needs more time to think. Maybe in the morning. She wants me to stay here and dad stay with you."

Yesterday, that was what I'd wanted in the first place. Now I fucking hate the idea. "Oh, okay." My voice is a whisper.

"It'll be fine." I parse her words and tone, looking for a sign that she's as upset as I am. "Oh, and she says, we're eating at 7:00. You two can eat before or after that but not at the same time."

"You're kidding me?"

"Nope. Maybe we can have breakfast together." I'm convinced I hear a note of wistfulness in her voice. It cheers me up.

"Yeah, okay. Uh, bye, I guess." Inspiration strikes. "Hey, it's not that late. You want to go swimming before dinner?"

"Mom," I hear her call through the hand she's put over the receiver. "You want to go swimming? Okay. Mom doesn't want to go," her voice is clearer now. "But I will. I'll meet you on the patio in five? No, make it ten."

"Sure." I hang up the phone. "Pops, you want to go for a swim before supper?"

"No thanks, Jon."

"Okay. Oh, mom wants you to sleep over here." He nods. "And, oh, we've been instructed to eat either before 7:00 or after 8:00, mom and Jess are eating at 7:00."

"Oh, for Christ's sake. What if I want to have dinner with Jess?"

I shrug. "Talk to mom. I can ask her, Jess, I mean."

"No, forget it." He gets up and walks toward the other bed. "Did they change the sheets?"

"Uh, no. I thought Jess would be sleeping there. She only slept there one night." I try to ignore the glance he gives me. He pulls up the covers and lies down on top of them, clothes, shoes, and all. I roll out of my bed and make my way to the bathroom. I change quick and grab a towel. "See you in a bit, pops." He doesn't say anything. I start to tell him everything will be alright but I don't. I'm not sure it will be.

***

"How is he?"

"A mess, probably as big a mess as mom, maybe worse." I let Jess lead the way. She heads for a spot a little further from our rooms than we'd been yesterday. "I'm going to miss you tonight," I whisper. I want to take her hand but I'm afraid someone will notice, someone who may know she's my sister.

"Me too, little brother, me too." She stops by two lounge chairs and looks around. "This is as much privacy as we can find, I think." She looks at me. "You have any ideas?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. What if we rent one of the cabanas tomorrow? They're not totally private but better than this."

"Good idea," she says with a smile. "Maybe we can roll all the sides down and you can eat my pussy again."

"Well, sure, that's an option. Or, how about this. You can suck my dick again?"

"Oh, poor innocent college frosh to be. You ever heard of a '69'?"

"Slut," I tell her with a wink and a leer.

"For you, yup." She jumps into my arms and kisses me. Her breasts feel hot against my chest, even trapped behind the thin material of her swim top, they burn against my skin. I feel my cock start to swell. When she steps back, her nipples poke out of the material. It's all I can do not to pull her top off and start sucking her tits. Fuck me, she's hot.

"So, you don't forget me," she whispers before spreading out her towel and lying down.

I spread out my towel and join her. "I don't think you need to worry about that," I whisper and then try to listen to the sound of the ocean.

"If we were alone right now, I'd make you put your hands under your head and promise not to touch me." Jess's voice is soft and somehow captures the rhythm of the surf. I keep my eyes closed but I move my hands under my head. "What would you be doing that would make me want to grab you? Other than being alone with you?" I whisper back.

"Hmm, I stand in front of you, off to the side, so that the sun bathes my body in light, and I'd take off my top. The breeze would make my nipples hard. They'd ache for your touch."

"Would you let me touch myself?"

"Oh, no, baby, no." Her voice is a purr that sends a wave of goose bumps washing over my body. The sun is hot but I shiver at the sound. "No, I wouldn't let you touch yourself. I'd only let you watch."

"Um, that's kinda mean, isn't it? Teasing me like that?"

"Hmm, I wouldn't want to be cruel. If that was the way you felt, I guess I'd put my top back on. Is that what you'd want?"

"No," I reply without hesitation. "No, I want to see your beautiful breasts shining in the sun. It's nearing sundown and the light is honey gold on your skin. Your nipples get even harder when you rub your hands over them." I purposely change to 'want' from 'I'd want'. Doing so makes it more real, even if it can't happen, not here on a public beach. Besides, it's the truth. I do want to see her bare breasts in the sun. There's nothing fucking hypothetical about that.

"Yes, I'll cup them in my hands, letting the nipples peek out between my fingers. I'll squeeze and pull at my breasts, while your eyes eat me alive and your cock gets hard. I make your cock hard, don't I?"

"God, yes, Jess. You make my cock hard." My eyes are still closed. I see her, in my mind, standing in the sun, her bikini top blowing down the beach, unheeded, while she fondles her tits and my dick strains against my trunks.

"My pussy gets wet. Can you see my pussy through the wet cotton of my bikini? There's no lining; I rip it out. I'm so wet. My pussy aches for your cock."

"Yes," I whisper into the wind. "I can see your wet pussy."

"Should I take my bottoms off?"

"Yes, please. I want to watch you stroke your pussy, your wet pussy. I want to see your love juice run down the inside of your legs, so I can dream of licking you clean with my tongue. Take off your bottoms, Jess. I want to see your gorgeous pussy."

"I'm naked now, naked in the sun and wind. I use my fingers to spread my lips. See how wet you make me, brother? My cunt is weeping for your cock."

I groan and shift my hips because the pressure on my cock is almost unbearable. It's stuck in the leg of my trunks. I refuse to move my hands.

"Your cock would be so hard, like it is now. Flesh turned to hot steel wrapped in soft silky skin."

Her hands touch me. She tugs at my trunks, unties them. She pulls my cock free of the leg. She doesn't pull my trunks down. It's a public beach after all but my cock is stiff enough that it holds the waistband up. She can see my cock straining at the fabric. I hear a creak as she settles back in her lounge chair. I sigh. I'd hoped she'd give me a hand job, fuck the public beach. I picture her leaning across the space between our chairs, sliding her hand inside my trunks and jerking me off. I'd keep my hands behind my head as her breasts brush against my arm and her hot little hand strokes my cock. But, alas, she settles back onto her lounge chair, content to peek at my cock as it strains against the waistband of my trunks. Damn.

"That's better, isn't it? It's better for me. I can see your cock now. Anyone walking past the head of our chairs who looks over at us can see your cock, little brother. Does that excite you? If a woman stopped and stared at your cock would you like that? Would you like it if she stared while I jerked you off?"

I can make no response except a soft moan and a tensing of my ass as I try to rub myself against my trunks.

"Hmm, that sounds like a 'yes' to me. She, or maybe they, maybe a couple, a little older than us, they're hot, nice bodies, nice tits, I can picture his dick getting hard. It's a nice dick, his hand is on her ass, he pulls at his cock as I ease your trunks down. Your cock stands up hard and proud and finally free. Then I'd suck your cock, Jon, I'd suck your cock while they watch; while she rubs at her crotch, and he squeezes her ass and pulls at his cock. You like that?"

"Yes," I whimper.

"I'd wave them over. She'd kneel, pull your cock away from me and start to suck it. You would open your eyes in surprise, just in time to see her husband put his hand on my head and offer me his cock. Would you want me to take it, Jon? Would you want me to suck his cock while you watched?"

"Oh, Jesus, Jess, yes, okay, suck his cock, okay, if that's what you would want to do."

"I want you but I want his cock, too. I'm a slut, a fucking slut."

"No," I protest. "No, babe, you're not a slut. You're a beautiful woman, full of love and life and lust. That doesn't make you a slut. It's okay, babe, you can suck his cock as long as you come back to me."

Jess makes a strangled noise and I glance over at her. Her hand is in her bikini bottom. She's cumming. I hadn't realized she was masturbating. I glance over my shoulder and a couple is walking away, down the beach toward the resort. Coincidence? Did Jess know they were there? Where they listening? I look closer. There are footprints in the sand near the head of our lounge chairs. They could be ours. I wait until Jess's body relaxes and her breathing slows.

"I didn't know you were playing with yourself," I whisper, lying on my side now to look at her. She smiles. "That's one advantage women have over men, less clean up." She glances around. "You can jerk off, might be fun, it would sure be fun for me to watch. It's okay, there's hardly anyone around."

"Jess, was someone watching you, us, listening? I saw someone walking away when I opened my eyes."

"Beats me." She doesn't look at me when she says it. I'm not satisfied.

"What about it, bro? Will you jerk off for me?"

"Will you kneel by the chair, kiss me, watch me?" I can't believe I'm saying this. I'm usually the cautious one.

"That would be a riskier, don't you think?"

I nod. She's right.

"What about in the water? Beyond the surf?"

"I don't know," I say, frowning. "I look kinda strange just standing there in the water with one arm moving."

Jess laughs. "Come on, I have an idea." She grabs my hand and pulls me up. I grab my trunks as they sag over my butt, with only my boner to hold them up. She laughs again. I can't help it. I know we're standing on a public beach, less than a hundred yards from our rooms, but I can't help it. I pull her close and smash my lips against hers, shoving my tongue in her mouth. I step back, pull her hand to my face. I smell her pussy. I put her fingers in my mouth, the ones that were rubbing her clit. I taste her pussy on her fingers. I suck and lick. I'm straining so hard not to drop to my knees and bury my face in her pussy that my body starts to shake. She pulls me toward the surf. I follow, one hand in hers, the other holding my trunks up.

We dive through the surf. Beyond it the water is chest deep. Our bodies rise and fall as the waves move past us, then begin to break.

"Take off your trunks. Give them to me." I do as she asks. She splashes me. "Pretend like we're having a splash fight, then grab me, like we're playing." I splash her back. She laughs. I laugh. The pretend splash contest turns real and we laugh like a couple of kids, though I'm naked and my cock aches in the warm water. The sight of Jess' boobs, even covered in cotton, swaying and floating in the water as she uses her arms to fling water at me, keeps me hard. I flounder toward her, grab her. She laughs and throws her legs around me. Her hands are behind my neck. She smiles. She lets go with one hand, tightens her legs and raises her body. Her hand goes between us and pulls her bottoms to one side. I steady her with a hand on her back, the other guides my cock to the warm slick place between her legs. We both sigh as I enter her.

She leans back, floating on the water with my hands on her hips. The trunks dangle from one hand. The ocean waves move her up and down. I find the rhythm of the water and we fuck her together. She starts to breathe harder. Her free hand moves to her clit. Her legs clench around my waist.

"Oh, fuck, Jesus, Jon, don't stop," she gasps.

Stop? What the fuck is she thinking. I never want to stop, I think to myself as begin to thrust harder, taking over the lead from the ocean. The surf roars louder as my ass clenches and I fill my sister's pussy with my seed. She bucks against me, chewing at her lip. She holds her breath, holds her body still, then lets go with a shudder and a gasp as her body trembles.

"I can't believe how you make me feel," she whispers as she releases her legs and stands. "All the time I was with Alex, I never understood why people made such a fuss about sex. To me, it was dumb. It was messier and more awkward than masturbating and besides I was much less likely to get off than if I was masturbating. If I had had any concept that sex could be this amazing, I'd have dumped him years ago." She leans towards me and gives me a quick kiss. "I hope you haven't ruined me for other men." Her eyes widen. "Oh, shit, Jon, your trunks. I dropped your trunks." She begins to scan the water. I spot them, off to the left, waving back and forth a foot or so under the water, gradually making their way towards the open water. I don't care. I want to be naked with her. The resort isn't going to do anything, or not much of anything, we're paying too much money.

"Fuck it. Come on." I take her hand. We ride the next wave toward the beach. I walk casually toward our chairs, Jess following. I pick up the towel and wrap it around my waist.

"You're making me all wet again, Jon. Fuck."

I smile at her. "Good. I'm glad. I like the cabana idea. If I can wait. I want to make love to you, with my mouth and then, then I want to fuck you like an animal."

"Nine Inch Nails."

I nod. She wraps her towel around her and we head back toward the resort.

In my head, I keep replaying her words, "other guys", she'd said. The idea makes my stomach clench.

As we approached our rooms, I notice mom sitting on the patio.

"You two seemed to be having fun. I almost joined you." I seize her words and turn them over and over in my head, looking for any sign of secondary meaning. If Jess is worried I can't hear it in her voice.

"You should have. The water is great. Let me change and we can go eat."

"Uh, Jess, dad was wondering if you'd eat with him?"

Jess looks at mom, who shrugs. "Go ahead, sweetheart. I'm fine. I'd like a little quiet time."

"Can I eat with you? I promise, I'll keep my yapper shut." She looks at me for a minute before nodding. "That would be lovely, Jon. I'll be out here. The water looks invigorating."

That sets my brain a whirl again. I force myself to relax. If she suspects something, or even if she knows something, there's nothing I can do about it. I tell myself that, if anything, she's probing. I need to keep my mouth shut and say no more than is required.

"See you in a few minutes." I turn to Jess. "See you later, Jess."

"Maybe we can watch a movie later? I stop over after mom and I eat, see what's on."

I nod and step over to the foot wash station by the patio entrance. The water is cold. The edge of the towel dangles in the water. My mind is full of mom's words and images of Jess. Without thinking I toss the towel on top of the low patio wall. It's only for an instant. I'm grabbing it back and throwing it around my waist even before mom gasps.

Jess is laughing so hard she collapses against the patio wall. "His trunks came off in the surf. Bro, did you forget you were bare assed?"

My face is flaming. Mom glances back and forth between us, frowning.

"The towel was getting wet. I'm sorry."

"Uh, well, um, it's not that big a deal. It's not like I haven't seen you nude before, though not since you've grown into a young man. I was just surprised. You're usually so terrified of anyone seeing you less than fully clothed. That's all." Mom offers me a crooked smile. "Go get cleaned up. I'll wait for you here."

I nod, finish washing the sand off my feet and retreat to my room.

"Did you see how white his butt was, mom?" is the last thing I hear as I slide the patio door closed.

My father is sitting up in Jess' bed, propped against the headboard. He's relaxed enough to take off his shoes but he still has that tired and old look.

"What was all the laughing about?" I take that as a good sign, that he's interested enough to ask a question.

"Uh, I had a wardrobe malfunction that my sister found hysterical."

"You two seem to have become very close lately."

I don't pause. I continue on to the bathroom. "Yeah," I answer. "I feel like a fucking asshole for totally misunderstanding her all these years. It's great to not feel like she hates me."

Dad doesn't reply before I close the door. I shower fast. As soon as I touch my dick, I remember how Jess' body had felt floating up and down on my cock and get a hardon. I do my best to ignore it. By the time I've brushed my teeth and brushed out my hair, it's mostly gone down. I start to wrap my hair into a bun before remembering Jess said she liked it down. I let my hair fall loose and brush it out with my fingers. I wrap a towel around my waist and walk back to my bed. I keep my back to my father as I drape the towel over the back of a chair and pull on a pair of natural hemp boxers.

"You think the break-up with Alex is a permanent development?"

I pull on a pair of light cotton pants. "Oh, yeah, I think so." I shake my head and turn to look at dad as I pull on a polo shirt -- no tee shirts in the dining room for supper. "I can't believe she's so insecure. I thought she was impervious to doubt. She wouldn't believe me when I told her she was beautiful."

"But she is," my father replies, amazed.

"Yeah, I know that. You know that. She didn't, maybe doesn't. You know mom is pretty, too."

"Your mother is not pretty, she's beautiful," he corrects me.

"Yeah, pops, I agree but just like Jess, I'm not sure she believes it. I'm not sure she thinks you believe it. You might want to think about that." The look on his face is hard to take. "Dad, I'm not saying you don't tell her she's beautiful. I know you do. I've heard you. I'm just saying, maybe she thinks you're just saying it because you have to, just like Jess. Just because she's older doesn't necessarily mean she's gotten everything figured out." I shake my head. "I have to say my faith in the wisdom of my elders has been taking a battering."

He snorts. "We're as full of shit as anyone. Don't delude yourself on that point."

"Yeah? Maybe we should all try a little harder to shovel some of that shit off the wagon, huh? Oh, I'm eating with mom. Jess will come over later."

"Ask your mom where she wants to eat? I'm hungry. Jess and I can go to the bar restaurant if Gloria wants to go to the main dining room or vice versa."

I walk to the patio door and slide it open. "Mom, where did you want to eat? Dad's hungry. He and Jess will go to wherever you don't want to go to."

"What?"

"Jesus, mom, it's not a differential equation, are we going to the dining room or the bar for supper?"

"The bar."

"Okay, be right over." I pull my head back inside.

"I heard," dad says. "Will you tell Jess to come over here when she's ready."

"Sure, pops."

***

Mom is on her second martini before the burgers arrive. She hasn't touch the chips and dip. She swallows the last of it as the server sets her plate down. "Hit me again, young man." He nods and sets my plate down.

"Mom, how are martinis like breasts?"

"One's not enough and three's too many. That joke is older than I am. Tonight, three is not too many. Hell, four might not be. And, might I remind you that you promised to keep your 'yapper' shut?"

"At least eat something," I tell her, ignoring the yapper remark. "Remember you already hurled chunks earlier today."

"That's disgusting, Jon. Really. I'm supposed to be the unsophisticated red-neck, here."

"No one thinks that except you, you know that, right?" She shrugs as she dips a French fry in catsup and eats it. "Barf. Puke." She stares at me. I start to smile as I continue. "Ralph. Call Earl. Drive the porcelain bus. Worship the porcelain god. Hurl. Spew. Toss your lunch. Toss your cookies. Turn the town, in your case this morning, orange."

"Okay, stop. I'm eating here." She tries to sound like 'old mom' but she's smiling. She's also picking up her burger. I attend to my own. When her martini comes, she barely touches it until she finishes her burger and fries.

"Can I try it?"

She shrugs and hands it to me. I take a sip and make a face. She chuckles.

"That's disgusting."

"They're something of an acquired taste."

She finishes it while I sip a cup of coffee and polish off a plate of sopapillas.

"What's going on with you and Jess?"

I'm prepared for the question. I knew it would be coming. I shrug, chewing. "Nothing," I reply after swallowing. "It's just so weird not hating each other. We're sort of reveling in liking each other."

"She mentioned breaking up with Alex, while we were resting. She seems pretty upset."

"She is but I think it's more because she let it go on so long than it is about missing his stupid ass." I wipe up the last of the honey with the final bite of sopapilla and savor it before saying anything more. "She's a lot like you, you know. I'm, like, fucking stunned..."

"I wish you didn't pepper all your comments with 'fuck'," she snaps. I smile. There are things I love about 'old mom'.

"I don't, actually but okay. I'm gobsmacked at how insecure she is. It never, occurred to me she wasn't as tough as she acted." I make sure I have mom's attention. "Did it occur to you that perhaps dad is as clueless as his son?"

"Honey, I assume all men are clueless."

"I don't think so," I say shaking my head. "If you did, you'd root deep, push harder to make us poor dumb dudes understand."

"It's exhausting. That's why."

I nod in agreement and nearly spill hot coffee down my shirt. I set the coffee down and dab at my chin, doing my best to be as suave as Hugh Grant would be with coffee dribbling down his chin. Mom smiles. "Dad's a fucking basket case, mom. You need to talk to him."

"Watch your language, Jon. Please."

"Talk. To. Him."

"He knows where I am."

"You told him to keep out," I remind her.

"Yes, I did. He hurt my feelings. I'm still angry. I don't want to talk to him while I'm angry."

"Fine. Cool. I get that but don't let angry become your default. Okay?"

"Who died and left you the parent for Christ's sake?"

"Language, mother," I tease.

"Should Jess talk with Alex?"

I gape at her. "No! He's a fucking asshole!" She raises her eyebrows at me. "Dad is not an asshole," I protest. "He's not been cheating on you. You really think dad is as big a dick as Alex?"

"No," she sighs. "He's cold, aloof, arrogant, and a twit. Let me have a sip of that coffee."

I pass her the mug. There's only a swallow left.

"Hey, they have music out on the plaza, want to check it out?"

"I don't know, Jon. It's been a long day."

"Come on. It's barely past 8:00. It'll probably be some lame reggae knock off and we won't even stay."

"Fine but only for a little while. I'm beat."

***

Jess ignores the fact that her father has barely touched his salad. He's spent his time moving various parts of it around. She wonders if he's eaten any of it other than the broccoli. He's on his second Macallan, fourth she supposes, since they were doubles. She hadn't realized they'd skipped lunch until the server set the shrimp scampi down in front of her. She'd been absorbed in her meal, her father in his salad rearranging, they'd barely spoken.

He drains the tumbler of scotch. "You and Jon seem to have grown quite close," he offers as he sets the glass down beside his plate. Jess concentrates on wiping up her plate with a piece of bread. "I know, weird, huh? I can't believe he's not as hideous as I always thought. He's kinda cool actually."

"He mentioned you're done with Alex." Jess scowls. She covers her mouth, she's still chewing. "Yup, he was screwing all my, so-called, friends."

"I have to say, sweetheart, I never really took to your friends, or Alex, for that matter."

"Why didn't you say something then?"

"What? And would you have listened? You have not been one to relish a discussion of your decisions with me, not in the past anyway."

"What discussion? You could have just said, 'Jess, your friends strike me as a gaggle of cunts'."

"Hmm, I believe Urban Dictionary suggest the proper collective term is 'a shower of cunts'."

Jess giggles, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "You read Urban Dictionary?"

"Certainly, it's quite - enlightening."

Jess shakes her head as she pops the last bite of bread in her mouth.

"I hope you find someone who deserves you, sweetheart. Someone you can be happy with long-term."

"Dessert, daddy?"

"No, honey. I'm not very hungry." James catches the servers eye. "I'll have another," the taps the empty tumbler. "And I believe my daughter may be interested in dessert."

"No, I'm good. I'll weigh five hundred pounds at this rate." The server nods and heads toward the bar.

"Are you planning to get plastered?"

"No, I have a pretty good tolerance for liquor. This will be my last."

"Let's go listen to music."

"You go on. I'll head back to the room."

"Come on, it'll be fun. You've moped enough." She fixes her father's gaze. "Mom's a mess. You need to talk to her. And not while you're drunk or hung over."

"I have no intention of approaching your mother in anything other than tip-top form. She'd chew me up and spit me out."

"I don't think so, dad. She's not as tough as you think, or at least not in the ways you think. I don't mean to be a nag but the two of you need to talk. This whole thing is ridiculous."

"I'll listen to music with you, for a bit, but I'm not discussing your mother with you. What's your pleasure?"

"Fine, what a grump. Jeez."

The smile fades from her face as she faces her father motions to the server and tells him to just bring the check and skip the scotch.

***

I see Jess and dad at the same time mom does. I feel her stiffen beside me. "I didn't know they were coming, mom. We didn't set this up. We can go. I'm sorry."

She stops and looks at me. I hold her eye. She nods. "It's okay. I believe you. I'm not silly enough to imagine we can draw a yellow line down the world and divide it between us. That didn't even work with the pope." She laughs at the look on my face. "Treaty of Tordesillas. How did you get into that upper crust liberal arts college we're sending you to in the fall? Come on. Here's a table."

I don't think dad or Jess see us. We're off to one side of the small stage. The lights might be in their eyes. Mom orders a glass of white wine. My resort wrist band indicates I'm a beer only guest. I order a Corona, feeling like a cliché. I keep an eye on Jess and dad. If mom is keeping an eye on them she doesn't let on. They don't seem to be talking. Or at least, dad doesn't. From what I can tell from this distance, Jess is chattering away. Loneliness floods over me. I miss her. I want to go talk to her. This is silly. When we get back she'll head off to her college and I'll head off to mine.

"This is silly, mom. Even if you two call it quits, we're still a family. You and dad will have to learn to be around each other. Come on, let's go sit with them." She looks at me, unsure. I hold out my hand. She takes it. We walk across the plaza with her hand in the crock of my elbow as if I'm escorting her, which I suppose I am.

"Jon! Mommy!" Jess squeals.

"James, Jon assures me this is not a set up. I believed him, though now I have my doubts." Dad stands up and moves around the table and pulls out a chair for her. She sits. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he answers and sits opposite her. They don't look at each other. I spot the server standing across the way, looking irritated. I wave until he sees us. I thank him and apologize for not waiting for our drinks. "Did you guys order?" I ask Jess and my father. "I'll take a Corona please," Jess tells him, waving her wristband in lieu of ID. "Macallan, 18, neat, make it a double." Jess looks at dad and then at me. She holds up three fingers and makes a face of amazement.

The band takes the stage. As I expected, they sport dreads, except the bass player. Her head is shaved. My interest is piqued. They open with "Rolling in the Deep" and the intriguing bass player sings the lead. I nod in appreciation. They're good. The second round of drinks arrive. Jess looks at the tumbler in dad's hand and then at him. He bugs his eyes out at her. He looks ridiculous. He never looks ridiculous. I swallow a snort of laughter. I think I hear mom do the same but when I turn to look at her, she's watching the first dancers and nodding her head to the music. The server is turning to leave when inspiration strikes. I stand up and lean close, the music provides the perfect cover. I slip him a twenty and whisper my request in his ear. He looks puzzled. I tell him I want it to be a surprise. He nods and pockets the money. He makes the rounds of the tables, jotting down orders. He waits until the band is finishing a song and then approaches the bass player. I try not to keep staring at him. That would only draw attention to him.

The next song starts. I tap my fingers and watch the bass player. Jess leans over and whispers in my ear. "Put your tongue back in your mouth, dear brother." I turn around to protest my innocence but she simply laughs at me. The band starts into the next song.

Maybe I didn't love you

As often as I should have...

They give it more of a Willie Nelson feel than an Elvis feel, no matter. I peek at my father. He's staring in his drink, swirling it. As I watch, he lifts his eyes to look at mom. I can't look at her without turning and being totally obvious. I look at Jess. She mouths, "nice" at me. Fuck, I thought I'd been smooth. Maybe mom and dad missed it; they were preoccupied.

Jess stands, tells mom she needs to use the ladies. Mom nods but stays seated. Jess makes her way toward the restrooms. I notice her detour to whisper to our server. She returns, looking so innocent she's clearly guilty of something. The band plays a few more songs. She can't help smiling when they play her request. I'm surprise they know it.

Woman, please let me explain

I never meant to cause you sorrow or pain

I wink at her. Well played. I finish my beer and head for the bathroom. I have one even Jess can't top. It was the first song they danced to at their wedding.

"Oh, for goodness sake you two," dad snaps when the song begins to play. I heard that little bit of a slur that tells me he's as close to blitzed as he ever allows himself to get. He turns to mom. "Gloria, perhaps if we danced these two will leave us alone. If we don't they'll bankrupt us bribing the band." I'm not sure what her answer will be. She hesitates but maybe she was just timing her entrance. As she stands and he leads her to the floor the band gets to:

...everyone turns to see

this beautiful lady that's walking around with me

"Little brother, I think our work is done here. Let's go."

"You sure?"

"Yup. Let's go."

"Uh, to separate..."

"No, doofus. They'll want their own room, for sure."'

"Don't jinx them." I touch the table top, which, fortunately, is made of wood.

"Come on."

As we're leaving I see a couple smiling at us. I can't place them at first. I'm still not one hundred percent sure. I'd mostly seen them from the back but I think it's the couple that had been walking on the beach.

***

I barely get the door closed before Jess jumps into my arms. Her lips are hot against mine. My hands go around her and I pull her close, pressing my rapidly waking cock against her.

"What if they don't want to spend the night together?" I ask, when we break the kiss. "What if in a few minutes one of them knocks on the door?"

Jess shakes her head in frustration. "This sucks," she snaps. "I want to jump your bones."

"And I, yours but, Jess, Jesus. I'm sure dad knows and I think mom is suspicious." She nods. "Can't you see them knocking on the door, just to see if they can confirm their suspicions?"

"Maybe. I wouldn't. I might not want to know."

"You wouldn't want to know if your kids were fucking each other?" I scoff. "Come on."

"If I trusted them, I might not."

"Turn on the TV. Pick a movie, or something, anything they'd believe we'd be interested in watching."

She does as I ask while I check the patio door, make sure it's locked and drapes pulled. Jess hugs me from behind. I turn in her arms and find her mouth. She tastes of beer and faintly of garlic and altogether delicious. I grab her ass and grind against her as we kiss.

Without breaking the kiss, I pull back enough to get my hands under her dress. I hook my fingers in the top of her panties and pull them down. I'm able to get them over her hips without pulling my lips from hers. She wiggles. Her panties drop to the floor soundlessly. She steps out of them. I finally break the kiss and step back. I unzip my pants and fish my cock out of my boxers and the fly. She wraps one hand around my cock and squeezes as she finds my mouth again and moans.

I step back, again, and use my hands on her hips to turn her. "Lean against the dresser," I tell her. She does. I lift her dress, pushing it up over her ass, up to her shoulders. I've been taunted by her bare tits under that dress all evening. I reach around her and cup her breasts. Her nipples blaze against my palms. I rub my cock against her butt. I let go of her breasts and straighten. I bend my knees as I spread the lower part of her ass with one hand. I guide my cock forward. The head rests inside her wet slit. She pushes against me, slowly, and my cock fills her.

She throws her head back. "Mmm," she purrs as she moves her ass in small circles. My hands find her breasts as I begin to fuck her. I tilt my head, watching the way her cunt clings to my cock. I pull all the way out and then watch as I slowly impale her once more with my dick. She never stops moving her ass in circles. I feel her tightening the muscles around her pussy, milking my cock.

"Fuck, Jess. I don't want to do anything else except fuck you," I whisper against her neck when I lean over her back again.

"Fuck me, then, little brother. Fuck me, little brother with the big cock."

My hands leave her tits and I grab her hips. Her head hangs between her arms as I start to truly fuck her with fast, hard jabs. Jabs that make her ass jiggle and tits sway and fill the room with the sound of my body slapping against hers. I use my thumbs to spread her ass. Her asshole spreads and contracts with every thrust of my cock in her pussy. The sight causes me to shove my cock in as deep as it will go. My cock head is pressed against the hard ball of her cervix. I unload my seed deep inside her pussy.

Even though I've cum, my brain remains in flames. I pull out of her pussy and throw myself back onto the bed. "Sit on my face Jess, quick," I pant. She turns, holding her dress around her waist and climbs onto the bed. She turns around and throws one leg over my head. I had only intended to eat her pussy but if she wants to '69', who am I to argue. Her thighs are slick. A strand of cum stretches from the bottom of her cunt. I pull her down onto my mouth and lick her slit, driving my tongue into her. Her dress falls over my head. She grabs my cock and the heat of her mouth engulfs it. My poor cock doesn't know what to do, whether to get soft or stay hard. She sucks and licks our juices off my cock.

I suck at her pussy, lick her already slick thighs, then trap her clit between my lips and lash at it with my tongue. She lets my cock fall from her mouth and pushes her mouth against the top of my leg. She bites me when she cums but I barely feel it.

***

Gloria fishes in her purse for her key. James stands there, as awkward as if this were a first date.

"I'll go send Jess over," he mumbles as Gloria opens the door. She shakes her head. "That might not be a good idea." He gives her a sharp look. She makes a wry face. "I'm still pissed as hell at you, asshole. But you might as well come in."

"I am an asshole. I'm sorry."

"You are and you should be." She sighs. "But I'm a bitch and I'm sorry, too." She offers him a tentative smile. "Come on. We should talk."

They brush their teeth. They undress, almost shyly, and climb into bed. The patio door is open. The sound of the surf rides moonlight into the room.

"I've always been afraid you'd leave me for some big-titted woman with a college degree," Gloria offers softly.

"Oh, sweetheart, I don't understand how I could have failed you so badly that you'd ever worry about that."

They talk in whispers and tears as the moon slides across the sky.