Chapter 13

“Lookit,” Grace said. “I’m 16 ... I talked it over with mom and she said you’d be perfect. I’m on the pill. You’re sure not going to brag to your friends. I’m not a notch on the bedpost and my panties aren’t going to hang from your rear-view mirror. Generally ... we can’t stand each other and you have a small dick.”

We were on the elevator to the tower room ... sorta. We were on the elevator to the fifth floor ... then it’s the staircase to the tower. The tower room is isolated from intruders. Central Michigan is a mixed population. People from all over Europe settled there.

Pewamo, and Westphalia, towns south and west of my hometown, are largely German and the rural Germans have a tradition, Brautentführung or kidnapping of the bride. Close friends will at some point “kidnap” the bride after the ceremony, dragging her from bar to bar while the groom tries to find them. The kidnappers might just also leave the bill behind for the groom to foot. Access to the tower room in the hotel was planned to hide the bride from the marauders. Get her leaving the church or don’t get her at all.

That’s why mom rented the tower ... nobody was going to catch us.

Why weren’t we doing the deed at home? Daddy.

Daddy didn’t have a clue. This one was all on mom.

I didn’t get to unwrap my prize. Grace was naked before I could unlock the tower room door ... old hotels like this didn’t have card lock. She’d been stripping on the way up the stairs.

Once in the room... “Shuck ‘em buddy,” Grace said. No ... don’t kiss me ... yuck ... you’re my brother. I don’t want romance. God, David. Just get on with it.”

So ... I got on with it. But ... when I dropped my boxers ... I was soft. She’s my sister ... Greasydeal. A much improved Grace ... but still ... ya know. She may have modified the outside ... but the interior was Grace.

Evidently she thought that soft ... and short ... was the normal state of affairs.

“S’amattU? Can’t get it up?”

“Grace ... shut up. You don’t look like Grace ... but you have her attitude. As long as you don’t talk ... I might be able to take care of your problem.” I commanded.

“On your knees ... suck.

“What? Put that in my mouth?”

“You want this ... suck ... and be quiet.”

Piloted by her ears in five minutes I was ready.

“Holy Shit! Mom said it was little. That’s never going to fit.”

“Lay down ... and spread ‘em.”

I made a meal of it. Four orgasms and she was ready.

The surgeon was an expert. Four what looked like pencil punctures were nearly healed. But Grace was on top ... we didn’t want silicone failure.

I did my best ... but tomorrow I was going to my closet ... heh heh heh. I’m sure Val can ease the trauma.