She Helped Me Write Dirty Stories
- 2 years ago
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My Mother Helped Me Write This!Chapter 2x free porn video
I was up early the next morning, working on my newest story, when Debbie barged in.
“I figured out that you must fantasize about me, is that right?”
“Calm down, Sis,” I said to her, “What exactly did Mom tell you?
“Mom! She didn’t tell me anything ... I decided to get on that story site you’re always babbling about. I looked for Authors that wrote in your style, and I found HARDIII, go ahead and deny it!”
“That’s me! So you read some stories, and you think, that they’re all about you?”
“Do not take that holier-than-thou attitude, you write smut, pure and simple!”
“I write erotic stories; the sex is mildly stated. They say to write what you know, and since I don’t know much ... I don’t write much. Some of my readers actually tell me that my dialogue is very realistic. Mom likes it, except she wants to run a red pencil over everything I write. She says to perfect my ‘Voice.’ Until yesterday, I didn’t even know what a ‘Voice’ was. She explained it to me. At least, she tried to,” I said.
Her hands were still on her hips, waiting for me to verbally assault her.
“Debbie, sit down please, I have something I need to say to you, and you’d better be sitting down,” I said, trying to bolster my ego for this.
“OK, I’m sitting ... but I’m nervous because you sound so serious. Go ahead and say whatever it is?”
I took both of her hands, and looked her in those beautiful blue eyes she has, along with her blonde hair, and her facial features. Her nose, how it crinkles when she smiles, her lips turn up in the corners and make the cutest dimples in the whole wide world.
“Earth to Richard, what is it, you have to say to me? We both have school to get to ... Oh my god, I have to leave! We’ll talk later, all right?”
She got up and started to go, but stopped, came back and gave me a peck on the cheek, and said, “Talk at you later, Richy-poo!”
She hasn’t called me that in a very long time.
====================
I got home, and started to go up the stairs, when Mom came out of the kitchen saying, “Hold it right there!”
I turned around and went back down the stairs. I saw her and I said, “How has your day been, beautiful!”
“I got a call that you were tardy for school this morning, care to explain?”
I quickly turned it back, saying, “When do they call parents of kids who are tardy for school?”
“Just tell me, Richard, why were you late?”
Her hands went to her hips ... just like Debbie did this morning. I never noticed how similar their shapes and gestures were.
“RICHARD!”
“I was working on my newest story, and lost track of time. Then Debbie burst into my room having figured out I was HARDIII. She started to rail on me that I was some kind of pervert, because I write stories about being in love with my sister.”
“I decided to try to talk to her, about how I feel about her, but she bolted out, after realizing how late she was. I did my best to get to school on time, but I was thirty minutes late, because I had to track down a city bus,” I was getting pretty irate.
“Back-up there, a minute,” she said, “You were about to tell her that you were in love with her. And what were you expecting from her, after you dropped that bomb? Stop thinking with your dick, Richard ... Use that brain of yours. Keep your feelings to yourself. You’ve been doing fine so far. I’ve read some more of your work online. It’s gotten better from story to story. You do need a better spell checker though. I’ve noticed some lingering grammatical issues.”
Dejectedly, I said, “Thanks Mom, you’re right! I didn’t know what to expect, I just felt compelled to tell her, to find out ... if she had any feelings about me. That was really stupid of me.”
The door banged open, hurricane Debbie was home, “Come upstairs with me Richard. We need to finish our discussion.”
I looked to Mom, she just shrugged and said, “Be careful with her, don’t be stupid. Use your natural charm!”
Mom forcefully turned me around and said, “Go get her, Tiger!”
================
I knocked on her door, hearing, “Come in Richy-Poo!”
I opened the door, seeing her working on her laptop. I stood there, waiting for her acknowledgement that I was in her room. She usually never lets me in here, at least not in a long time.
“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll be just a minute.” Some pages were coming out of her printer. She took them and rolled over to where I sat down on her bed.
“Here, this story that you call ‘My Sister Makes Me Hard!’ In it, you talk about coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her ... you do that with me all the time!”
“And here, it says, ‘I went up behind her and said, “You are so pretty.” Then you said, “She put her hands over mine and said, ‘I know, pervert!’ When we were in high school together, you would do that all the time, and I would say those exact words. It was like a game we played. You made me your object, and I didn’t think I enjoyed it at first, but acting so flirty with my own brother was, kind of hot.”
“But I didn’t expect you to write about it ... that’s why I’m so pissed at you. A lot of my friends would recognize that, and know it was me!”
“So, you’re saying that because I took a moment from our personal lives, that I am obsessing over my beautiful sister, waiting in the lurch to take her in my arms, and kiss her, like this!”
I took her, and turned her facing up, looking at me. At that point, she looked like something from a movie. I moved in for the kiss, and she rolled out of my arms, landing on the floor, laughing at me.
I got up and left her room, totally embarrassed as I heard her laughing even after I closed her door. I clomped down the stairs, and walked into the kitchen, saying, “Thank you for such gooood advice, Mother. I’ll be in my room ... for the next decade!”
I started back up the stairs, even though she tried to stop me. I kept going, got to my room and locked myself inside.
Trish
- 02.01.2021
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