XXX Shamus Read Free Page B

seeming to get wider each year, and sculpted legs, tiny feet. She saw her brother with his cock in his hand, and she kept a straight face. Her throat made this noise, a deep hum that Hopper didn’t know what to do with. He stopped cold, covered himself with his sheet, reached for his shorts.
    After a moment, Sister said, “It hurts, doesn’t it, when you can’t do anything about it?”
    He said, “I’m sorry.”
    “You don’t have to apologize. This is natural. We’ve talked about it.”
    “Talk didn’t feel the same as this, though.”
    That got a grin from her. He noticed she stood with her ankles crossed now, her torso moving in a little circle. She said, “Are you going to finish?”
    “Later.”
    “It’s still hard now, isn’t it? Do it now.”
    Hopper knew no matter what he’d seen her do that the vice versa wasn’t supposed to happen. She was the older one, so why did she want to watch a brand new teenage man jack off?
    “I can’t. Let me do it later, on my own.”
    She took in a deep breath, slipped a hand under the bottom of the T-shirt nightie and tugged her panties down her hips until they fell to the floor on their own. She took a slow walk across the room to her brother, whipped the sheet off. Easing his hand away, she said, “Let’s do something about it.”
     
     
    It didn’t really hit him until a month or so later, finally noticing the girls his age in school and what they lacked compared to Sister, but he still lusted for them without having to think twice. It didn’t hit him until Sister got mad when he turned her down a few times, the way she made him feel guilty about it. That’s when he started waking up in the mornings, his naked sister next to him in bed, and running into the bathroom to vomit. It was wrong, what they were doing. She wasn’t going to let him stop.
    Not ever.
     
     
    Hopper ignored Sister’s last message and called the teen girls’ parents. He arranged to speak with both girls at once. Less dangerous that way. The parents would be in the room next door. Funny how they didn’t seem to have a problem with it, both saying something like, “As long as you’re not a cop. You’re really not a cop, right?”
    “I’ve never been a cop.”
    “Good enough for me.”
    Something about “New Orleans” and “police”—the words didn’t mesh.
    The frat boy was next, but Hopper knew he’d have to trap him, surprise him when he least expected. The current boyfriend, squeeze him in there too. And the guidance counselor, Hopper arranged a dinner meeting. Out in public. He had learned to pad himself that way, couple of layers of insurance.
    He changed into fresh khakis, fresh Polo, fresh sport coat. On his way out the door, the phone ran again. He waited. Two rings. Three. He almost let the machine get it, but something pulled him to the receiver, in his hand before he could stop himself. He held it to his ear, didn’t even have to speak.
    “I’ve been worried,” Sister told him.
    “We have a new case. I have people to interview.”
    “Can’t they wait a little while?”
    “Every minute counts.”
    One of her hums. Sister had filled out over the years, but her body was still erection-inspiring. Something about the wide hips, full saggy breasts, and her long hair, almost black. She had soul-piercing eyes. They drained you.
    “It’s a full day, and I’m not sure when I’ll be done,” Hopper said.
    “Surely before midnight, right? Ten?”
    He closed his eyes, let the words out and stopped trying to stop them. “Yeah, by ten. I can be over by ten.”
    “What will I do until then?”
    “Take a shower.”
    “Not until after. You’ll wash me, won’t you?”
    Stomach cramp. “Yeah. Clean as your heart, Sis.”
     

 
     
     
     
    While the parents of Janice and Layla were more than happy to let Hopper have some time alone with them to help track down poor Yasmin (“And give her mother some peace, the dear…”), the girls looked annoyed and bored.