Thicker Than Blood
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, Cuckold, Incest, Slow,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A malaise of family dysfunction and emotional ruin.
They say that blood is thicker than water, and I guess that’s so. Still, water evaporates, and the supply of blood for any one individual is limited. But, the feelings one has for the love of his or her life never truly evaporates and has no limit, none. I am living testimony to that great truth. And that great truth is what this story is about.
My dad, Philby Carter, married Xena Westbrook in 1964. I came along a year later, and joined my brother, Ronald Carter, a product of mom’s first marriage, completing the family Carter. Oh, we had relatives, chief among them mom’s sister Aunt Delia. But, our nuclear family was complete with the final addition of me.
My brother at twenty-nine is nine years older than me, tall, muscular, and a genius at business; oh, and okay looking. Ronald has had my back from day one. Mom used to say that he could change diapers better than she could; I think she was kidding. But, there was no doubt that Ron and I were tight. Oh, and I’m David Carter: age 20, five-seven, slender, seriously handsome, and a hard worker if not exactly an imaginative one.
I never met Ron’s dad. Never knew much about him, and, as was the case, neither did Ronald. The story was that he was a big guy and handsome; and, he was a player who’d abandoned mom and child after a year of more or less worthless fatherhood. And I guess this might be a good place to note, that if there should be a sub-title to this story, “Fatherhood and Some Men’s Visceral Desire to be a Father,” would be it: “some men’s” being the modifying factor here.
My earliest significant memory of Ronald and me goes back to my days in grammar school, fourth grade actually. At the time he was a senior at Central High. He was mister all everything there: football, class vice president, lead in the senior play; oh, and real popular with the girls.
Jenna Kirby was arguably the prettiest girl on planet earth, or so I thought, and she was Ronald’s personal arm candy. Well, she was until she caught him making out with Sofie Matson. I was there when she told him to take a hike—her exact words actually. But that was Ronald, a player; guess he inherited that particular trait from his daddy. At any rate there was always a girl on his arm and he wasn’t selfish. Hell no, he set me up with my first two dates! I always suspected he paid them to go out with me, just kidding! Like I said, I was actually pretty good looking for a five-seven skinny guy.
No, truth was that I had dates, plenty of them; not as many, nor with as many different girls as Ron; but, chopped liver I certainly was not. Oh, and if you didn’t get it, I was better looking than him; well, at least that’s the story I’m sticking with.
Ron met the woman, Madeleine, that everyone thought was the love of his life in 1979 I think it was. They got married in 1980. Big ceremony, high hopes, and for the next few years things looked rosy as heck. But, well, I guess it’s true what they say about leopards. Madeleine caught him in bed with her best friend, and as had Jenna Kirby before her, told him to take a hike. I know for a fact he shed a few tears over her; she really was a winner.
The upside to his divorce was that there was no alimony: she made more money than he did. He was working as a used car salesman at the time, pure commission. He was pretty good at it but Madeleine had a steady job as a bartender at an upscale bistro, and a week’s tips alone for her could be as much as Ronnie made in a month, well, at the time.
Maddie and Ronnie had no children, her decision; Ronnie wanted them, and he wanted them badly—again the fatherhood thing. But, Maddie ruled the nest, well, until she didn’t. At any rate daddyhood may have been denied him, but the desire to be a daddy, incongruous as it sounds considering what a womanizer he was, only grew over time. It actually grew into a major obsession with him. An obsession, that one day, would have major ramifications for all concerned.
Still, singlehood did seem to work for Ronald. After his divorce he dove into his job like the wild man of Borneo, non sequiturs notwithstanding, to help him forget his lost love. He became so good at selling cars that dad gave him the seed money—dad did have to take out a second mortgage to do it—to get started in his own business, yeah, used car sales.
What also came of his success was a big head. He eventually, that is after the memory of his Madeleine faded enough to allow it, had women around all of the time. Kind of scandalous actually. He never tired of giving his little brother, me, advice on women. “Find yourself a soulmate, bro,” he’d say. Ala high school days, he even set me up with a couple of “nice” girls; read girls who wouldn’t put out.
Why he was so interested in getting me married was a mystery to me and remains so to this day. He, on the other hand, in spite of his mania to become a daddy and it was a mania in his case, did not seem in a hurry to get married again. Most of us in the family thought it was because he just couldn’t get over losing Madeleine. Well again, she had been a stunner. All of that said, Ronald would eventually marry again, and that little reality would be at base the cause of everything else this story’s about.
“Okay man, you’re going to be getting married too? I mean in just a few weeks? Your woman’s gorgeous and bossy and oh so much smarter than you,” said Ronald Carter.
They were milling around in the largish multi-purpose room of the church. Their mutual friend Harriet Stover was getting married and the reception was just getting underway.
“Yeah, well I guess that’s so. But I’m taller than she is,” said Darnell Driscoll, and he was laughing.
“Yeah well, anyway, me and my bro will be coming. Hope there’s going to be some good looking fluff there too,” said Ronald.
“Yeah there will be, man. All of Jane’s buds are lookers,” said Darnell. “You’ll have a lot to choose from, promise.
“Good, I need to get my little brother a serious girlfriend. The dummy just doesn’t realize that time is running out on him,” said Ronald.
“Running out on him? He’s only twenty-two!” said Darnell. “You’re the one that needs a wife, not him, not yet, I mean him.”
“Yeah well, I’ve been down that road. Not real anxious to go down it again. But maybe one of these days, we’ll see,” said Ronald.
The Sover’s wedding reception was going strong. The champagne was flowing. The bride and the bridesmaids were carousing and dancing, and the groom and his entourage were doing their thing out on the patio.
It’d been a largish wedding a couple of hundred in attendance. But, as far as David, me, age twenty-two, unmarried and wished he was, married that is, was concerned there was just one guest he would ever remember; and he, David, me, is slow dancing with her at this very moment.
“So, you’re a warehouseman, David,” said Stacey Wilcox. “I guess I don’t have to worry about you wanting to show me your etchings.” She laughed.
“Yes, been in the business since high school. My dad got me the job; he’d worked for Ferguson forever. And no, no etchings; but I’d like to tell you about the new headers on my car,” I said. “You know over coffee or lunch or something.”
“Oohee,” she screamed, in simulated joy, “can’t wait to hear about those.”
“Yes, well the extra power I get from the reduced back pressure from the manifold is most definitely worth a good ‘ole rousing oohee!” I said.
“Hmm, well, if you’re job pays you enough to afford me, you can take me out to dinner tomorrow night,” she said.
I admit it. I blinked when she said that. I mean, was she putting a move on me! But, I recovered pretty damn quickly.
“Hmm, I love an unabashed gold digger,” I said. Now she broke up laughing.
The day after the wedding happened to be Sunday. I had to work the next day, but as I discovered, she didn’t; she had Mondays off. She was a waitress at Mahoney’s B&G in beautiful downtown Troy, Ohio, our home village.
Dinner at the Silver Spur was good. The dancing was even better. And, while I didn’t have any etchings to contribute to my campaign to bed her, she evidently didn’t see a problem. And no, the new headers on my car didn’t get a mention either.
The drive back to her place was slow and safe and very difficult. It was difficult because her hand was resting quite comfortably, for her, on my thigh not six inches from my very prominently engorged cock. I kept shifting hoping she let her hand slide up seven inches more. I hoped in vain. As far as teasing moments were concerned this one was Olympian.
I pulled into her place and I got a seriously passionate kiss from my future wife. Oh she didn’t know she was my future wife, not yet, but she was. I didn’t care if I had to kidnap her and haul her off to a mountain top in central New Guinea; she was definitely going to be mine. Then she hit me with the dumbest question I ever got.
“Would like to come in, David?” she said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, initially feigning indecision. “Of course I would!” I didn’t quite scream. She started to laugh so hard that her sides had to be hurting.
An hour later, we lay side by side utterly exhausted. Her breasts were heaving. I didn’t understand that one; I mean I was the one who’d done all the work, and man had it ever been worth it!
“That was the best sex ever,” I said. “I hope it was okay for you too.”
“Hmm, it was very good, David, thank you,” she said.
I thought it was something that she didn’t say that it was the best sex that she’d ever had, but, I guess honesty is the best policy; and, she had said it was very good. Well, and we were both only twenty-two years old, so what did we know.
“Was it good enough to get a second date?” I said. She rolled over and looked me straight in the eyes.
“Damn straight it was,” she said. “I’m just glad as can be that you noticed me at the reception and decided to ask me out.”
“Me too, but truth told, it would have been real hard to not notice you,” I said. “You were without a doubt the best thing at that little gala, no doubt about it.”
She laughed. “Well, thank you for that,” she said.
“If you’re clear this coming weekend, there is a little family get together. You know the barbecue bit and such. I’d kinda like to show you off if you’d be up for it,” I said.
“Of course,” she said. “I’d be delighted. Formal or informal?”
“Very informal,” I said. “Pick you up at high noon?”
“Sounds good,” she said. “I’d love to meet your family.”
Oh boy, this was the woman for me, no freakin’ doubt about it. I had to have her. Nothing else in the world mattered and iota: Stacey was the one.
I was proud of myself. I’d actually found a woman who I could not only be proud of, because she was such a looker and such a fun person, but also because she was going to be supremely popular with the family. My much older brother, nine years older, especially would be thrilled I’d finally found someone to latch onto. He’d been bugging me about finding the right woman for forever, hypocrite and womanizer though he was and had long been.
Oh, he’d, had my brother, had a winner in Madelaine, his now ex-wife. But, he’d soured that in almost no time cheating on her with damn near every pussy in sight. She’d finally caught him of course; he wasn’t especially cautious in his antics. She’d divorced his cheating ass she had, and thereinafter disappeared into the eternal ether of the cosmos never likely to be seen again, well, by any of us. Well, that’s what we all thought at the time.