I came out of the depths of my unconsciousness slowly, my mind grasping feebly for coherent thoughts hidden in the turmoil of ache and pressure that pervaded my head. My eyes refused to open; rebelling against the onslaught of light that I knew awaited me so I lay there and willed my head to clear so I could function again. I was in a bed and I had to piss so bad my bladder hurt but I knew if I tried to stand I would fold boneless to the floor. I didn’t want to move, it would be painful if I did.
I resigned myself to the devil and flipped the light blanket off me then rolled my legs over the edge of the mattress and forced myself to a seated position, feet on the cold wood floor, elbows on my knees, head cradled with care in my open hands. As I sat there waiting for my bones to solidify my mind began to work through the pain, formulating thought and reason. Hangover.
I had a brain crippling hangover and I had to go pee. Those were the two clear messages that managed to get through while I sat with head in hands. I forced my eyes open and looked through my fingers at my own lap. I was naked and my cock was resting limply at the junction of my legs and seeing it only reminded me that it was the hose I needed to use to drain my bladder. I struggled upright and tottered toward the only open door I could see hoping it was a bathroom.
I still wasn’t sure of my surroundings so I was delighted to find a toilet on the other side of the door. I turned my head to look behind me, to get my bearings of the bedroom and just as I was closing the door I noticed a long shapely lump in the bed I had just gotten out of. My head was trying to shut down again from all the movement but I still recognized a woman when I saw one. The shock of seeing a woman in the bed I just got out of jolted me past the headache. ‘Who in hell is that?’ rattled around in my skull as I took in the rest of the room. The careless piles of clothing scattered across the floor and one used condom were evidence of recent sexual activity; but who was she?
I stood in front of the toilet holding my cock, trying in vain to keep my shaking hands from spraying the sides of the bowl with the stream. I inspected myself carefully and noticed that my pubic hair was matted and clumped, a sure sign that I had mousse de amour smeared into it. It was obvious to me that I had gotten fucked sometime in the night but I’ll be damned if I remembered doing it or who the lump in the bed was.
I began to sort through the slow burning carnage in my mind for memory.
I was at my grandfather’s house because my grandmother had died and was buried yesterday. My grandparents owned two bed-n-breakfast places side by side in the historic district of the city so the family gathered and was staying at the inns. As I shook the drops off my dick I tallied the count of relatives that were present. My mother, my dad was history; one aunt, single; one aunt and one uncle with spouses; one adult sister; three adult male cousins, two adult female cousins and an assortment of younger relations from 17 to toddler.
I smelled of stale booze, stale sweat and stale sex and the shower stood invitingly near so I decided to clean up and hopefully clear my head. I turned on the water and stepped into the flow and let it massage the alcohol from my sore body.
A hazy flash of naked female legs teased my mind, whose were they?
My grandparents are Irish so the funeral reception was more of a wake. A party to celebrate the life of my grandmother, not her death. Alcohol and stories flowed, food was consumed rapidly only to be replaced with more from an endless supply in the main kitchen. I remember talking to several young women as the evening stars grew brighter but I also remembered that the last guest left the house around 10:30. After that it was just family, large and small, old and young, close and distant. I didn’t remember making a date with any of the young women guests so who was sleeping in the bed I just got out of???
All of a sudden I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I shut off the water, my body was feeling more refreshed but my mind was still roiling with insecurity, caused by the unknown person in the bed. I toweled off and steeled myself to go back into the room, to face the unknown. I wished for my clothes but they were scattered all over the floor so I could only wrap the towel around my waist. I opened the door to meet my paramour and got yet another shock. The bed was empty. The woman and her clothing were gone. The only trace of her was the rumpled bed and the deflated rubber on the floor. Once again I stretched my memories for clues. The dress? It was a black dress laying the floor. Shifting through the litter of memory fragments didn’t help, most of the women were wearing black dresses at the wake. Which of the girls I had been talking to came back after everybody else had left? As hard as I tried to make one up, I knew that no one had come back. I began to shake; my nerves were kicking in as I realized that whoever she was, she must be related to me.
I got dressed slowly, not wanting to go down stairs for two reasons. The first was the change of altitude, it would compress my head even more and the second would be walking around with the rest of my family. One of my female relatives had been with me in bed and I didn’t know which one. Whoever she was, I doubted sincerely she would welcome me with a kiss and a smile and that bugged me more than I would admit. She knew, I didn’t.
The front room of the bigger house was the focal point for our sad reunion. I walked into the room searching for coffee and was greeted by the din from the gaggle of kids playing around the legs of the more tolerant adults. I scanned the room looking for the adult females feeling self-conscious as hell. My mother was there with her married sister and her daughter Betsy, one of my cousins.
My younger sister Zoë saw me come in and grabbed a cup and filled it with life sustaining liquid from the coffee pot, wound her way through the kids and handed it to me. I thanked her then finished my inventory of female relatives. Missing from the room were my single aunt, one cousin and my uncle’s wife. That was three women, one of whom was probably taking a shower just then trying to wash away the shame of incest before she came face to face with me again. I ruled out the married aunt and concentrated on my mother’s unmarried sister and the cousin. My mothers youngest sister Carlene is just 6 years older than me which makes her 31. She’s a pretty woman, nice body, great legs, fantastic tits. I’m not supposed to think like that but ever since I grew hair on my balls I liked being around my aunt. She works in some kind of investment house so most of the time she wears clothes that make her not only professionally confident but also highlight her figure and looks. She exudes sexuality which must help her a lot when working with male clients. I’ve secretly lusted after her for years. The only cousin not in the room was Kendra. Kendra is a tall stack of eye candy too. She’s 25, same as me and just finishing up some sort of graduate degree at the local university. I’ve heard a few stories from my sister Zoë on how Kendra celebrates life at frat parties which she apparently does at least once a month. If the truth be known, I wouldn’t have minded at all if Kendra was the one who slinked from my bed that morning.
My aunt or my cousin? I just wished I could remember.
“Hey! I’m talking to you.”
I looked around at my sister, “I’m sorry, what?”
“How’s your head? You look like shit, your eyes are gonna bleed to death.”
“You don’t look so fresh and eager yourself, your hair is a fucking bird’s nest. What’s going to happen today?”
Indifferent to my compliment about her hair Zoë answered “Grandmam is buried, I guess we all go home. I have to be in Dallas tomorrow.”
I looked around the room again then asked Zoë “Have you seen Carlene or Kendra yet?”
“I saw Kendra tiptoeing down the hall to the shower about 30 minutes ago. She looked totally wrecked herself.” Zoë looked me with a slight smile on her lips and hesitated before she asked “Why?”
“Why did she look wrecked? Maybe because she got hammered last night too” I shot back.
“No, why do you care where they are?” I wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation so I walked away to find my mother. She was riding with me and I wanted to find out when we were supposed to leave. The little bit of information from Zoë about Kendra was enough to decide that I had fucked her the night before. My cousin? Okay, not too bad. I would have liked to remember it because Kendra is hot and I’d bet I had a lot of fun for a few minutes. As I looked for my mom I began to plot another meeting with Kendra, next time I wanted to be sober and enjoy it.
It was another 10 minutes before she came in. When she walked into the room most of the men swiveled their heads to watch, Kendra had that effect on testosterone even though we were all family. Knowing that I had screwed her just hours earlier made my cock perk up and my heart quicken. I gave her time to get coffee and a scone before I approached her.
“How you feeling?”
She looked at me with half open eyes, “Stomp on my foot maybe that will make me forget my head.”
“Grandmam would have been proud. I don’t think anyone over fifteen was sober last night.”
She grinned lopsidedly like half of her face wasn’t working right “Thirteen; Ricky was as plastered as the rest of us.”
Kendra may have been hung over but she looked sexy as hell. She was wearing a soft blue peasant blouse over ass hugging stone washed jeans. Her long legs were made even longer by the heels she wore, putting her face almost to the same level as mine. Her short jet black hair was still damp from the shower. I looked into her soft gray eyes and decided to explore a little deeper. “The shower felt good this morning, it took me several minutes to wake up but it helped my head.”
“Yeah, I took a long one too. I might have used all the hot water but I don’t give a shit, I needed to wash last night off me.”
“You had fun?” I was hoping she thought I remembered what we’d done.
“Fun!?” She almost spit the word out, “I woke up this morning with my legs lying in a puddle of puke, Betsy threw up on me then passed out. I was so disgusted I pushed her off the bed, she hit the floor so hard I think she dented the boards.”
Betsy was her younger sister, she was 17 and generally a pain in the ass drama queen. At first I didn’t understand what I heard but as I looked at the revulsion on Kendra’s face it sank in, if she was sleeping with Betsy, she wasn’t in bed with me.
Just then Carlene came in to join the crowd. I glanced up at her and my heart slammed hard as I thought about Kendra’s words. Carlene was the second candidate on my list of two; had I actually fucked my hot aunt? I left Kendra to hate Betsy and went outside to clear my head, there was no way in hell I was going to try to talk to Carlene about the night. She was different, she was my mother’s sister.
Zoë herded our mother to the car so we could leave. Mom wasn’t exactly feeling chipper so she took over the back seat, fluffed up a coat for a pillow and went to sleep as soon as we hit the streets. Zoë was riding shotgun while I tried to keep the car between the curbs, I was still a little rocky from the booze and lack of sleep. Sis rested against her door and watched me cautiously while I drove.
“You okay? I can drive if you want.” “Turn on some music, but not too loud.” In moments she had found a station and we had Adele to keep us entertained. Zoë was looking out the window watching the trees march by when she asked “How was your night?”
I glanced at her “I don’t think there is any alcohol left in the house. I got most of it.”
She smiled ruefully, “Not all, most of us were pretty fucked up.” She fidgeted for a few seconds, a frown on her face the she then confessed “I got so drunk I didn’t know where I was this morning when I woke up.”
I glanced at her “What do you mean?”
Her face began to glow red “I mean I woke up naked in a bed, my clothes were strewn all over and I heard somebody in the shower, there was a used rubber lying next to me.” She hesitated slightly, looked sheepishly at me then continued softly “I got laid last night but I don’t know who he was.”
I almost missed the curve in the road. Her words jolted me so hard I forgot to steer and when I realized I needed too I jerked hard left to keep from running into a parked car.
My heart started pounding, I heard ringing in my ears “Who were you with?” I quizzed carefully.
“I told you, I don’t know. When I woke up enough to think, I realized he had to be one of our cousins and I got scared then got the hell out quick.”
“Whose room were you in?”
“I don’t know that either, you know I was staying in the other house, I don’t know who was there. I was hoping you might know who had the room at the top of the stairs, left side.”
“You want me to tell me who fucked you last night?”
“You don’t have to say it like that,” she grumbled, “I might have had sex but I didn’t get fucked.”
My heart slowed down, I was thinking more clearly. I didn’t want to tell my sister that it was my room she was in, that apparently I had screwed her. “Why don’t you just let it be a mystery? Sex with no name, some people get off on that.”
“Goddamnit, don’t play with me asshole! Do you know who was in that room or not!?” Zoë was getting pissed.
I didn’t say anything; I let her fume while I tried to sort my thoughts. How in hell did my sister and I end up in a bed together? Even as drunk as we were we should have known better. Both of us. What had we done or said that would break down the barriers of our sibling relationship enough that we would think it was okay to have sex?
We drove in silence for five minutes before she spoke again, the entire time I was desperately trying to remember how she and I ended up in the same bed. I fought for every fleeting memory, looking for hints. Wondering if we at least had fun with each other.
Zoë is 23, two years younger than me and I have to admit, she looks as good and hot as my Aunt Carlene or Kendra. As we grew up I often idled time away imagining what she looked like naked but I never spent any time thinking I would want to screw her. Brothers and sisters just don’t mix, aren’t supposed to, it’s against nature or something so what had we done? I was beginning to hate the fact I couldn’t remember.
About the time we got to the freeway Zoë checked on our sleeping parent. Satisfied that she was soundly out my sister put a hand on my arm and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Tell me, who was I with last night? I’ve never done that before and I feel really strange that I don’t know who I let between my legs.”
How was I supposed to answer her? If I told her it was me she’d probably go crazy right there in the car and kill all of us. If I lied and named one of our cousins, she might confront him and he wouldn’t have a clue what she was talking about and of course deny it then she would be doubly embarrassed and angry with me.
“I know who was there but you have to promise me no matter what I tell you, who I name, you won’t fly off the handle and start a big fight. You don’t want to wake mom because I don’t think she’d like what we are talking about. You gotta keep your cool. Swear it.”
She snarled at me “Just tell me prick, I’ll decide if I’m going to be mad or not.”
“No Zoë, you have to stay calm, no shouting, no fighting or I won’t ever tell you. Just take a big breath and count to a hundred or something.”
She pulled as far away from me as she could and glared out the side window for about 30 seconds then sighed deeply, “Okay, you tell me and I promise I won’t go postal on you.”
There was a highway rest stop just ahead so I told her “I’m gonna stop there, we can talk outside the car and leave mom sleep.”
We got out of the car and walked to a picnic bench. I sat down but my sister stood expectantly in front of me “Who was he?”
“Let me tell you how my morning went.” I described to her what I had done and seen, waking up hung over, the form in my bed, the shower and how she was gone when I came back. I told my sister everything and by the time I was done I didn’t need to mention any names or say ‘I did it’.
She stared at me open mouthed, deep brown eyes wide with some unknown emotion. When I was done telling my tale she turned away and walked to the end of the rest stop, she didn’t say a word. I sat on that bench for several minutes before she turned around and came back. “Did we at least have fun?”
I was surprised by the question; it wasn’t what I was expecting, “I don’t know, I don’t remember any more than you. We only did it once because there was only one condom.”
Zoë shook her head, “It was more than once, I douched sticky mess out of me this morning. We fucked at least twice.” The conversation was done. She turned back to the car and I followed, amazed that she hadn’t blown apart at my revelation.
The rest of the drive was calm and quiet as I drove. Zoë rested her head on the window and dozed off. About 15 minutes later she opened her eyes, looked at me and asked “Really?”
I nodded back at her and she closed her eyes again. Mom woke up near the house and chatted with us as if the world were perfect. I dropped my sister and mother off then went to my own apartment. It had been over two weeks since the wake, I hadn’t seen Zoë or mom since then but I couldn’t let go of that night. I tried to remember taking my sister to bed several times and each time I failed, I ended up with the same blank night. But the more I thought about her and me the more I wondered how it would be to have her awake, sober and in bed. Like the dawn slowly brightening the morning sky, the thought of fucking my sister again was growing, sending reason and good judgment to cower in the shadows of my mind.