Dave looked at the empty parking space on the left side of the truck. A week, a whole fucking week, he thought to himself. He pulled the Mercedes into the garage on the right side of the truck and closed the garage door behind him. The house smelled of Pine Sol and Windex; Lucinda and Tracy had been there. From the look of trimmed grass and pruned trees, so had Miguel and his crew. He walked through the kitchen and down the hall into the bedroom closet, hung up his jacket and slacks, and tossed everything else- shirt, socks, and boxers- into the hamper. He would take a quick skinny dip in the pool then ride down to Mike's Place for a beer and sandwich. By himself, and he hated that. Stephanie would be at her brother's place until Sunday. She sent a text late in the morning saying something had come up with Karen's dad. Ken couldn't afford any time off so Steph would drive up to San Luis Obispo and take care of the kids while he was at work. He wondered how she'd manage to stay in that trailer trash dump for a week but it was beyond him; anything for family, I guess. Maybe she'd stay at a hotel, but whatever. "Hey Dave," Mike asked, "where's Steph?" The two shook hands after Dave unclipped himself from the bike. "So she's up in SLO with her brother because his wife's dad got sick or something and he just started a new job, well newer, no newest job of the week so Steph is taking care of his rug rats so he can cook hamburgers or something like that at a greasy spoon downtown." Mike shook his head and handed Dave a Shock Top complete with orange slice. "Still the same old flake, eh? What'd you want from the grill, bro?" He ordered a patty melt with fruit instead of fries and the two talked hockey and baseball and family for two more beers, then it was time to clip back into his pedals and head back up the hill. By himself. It was dusk by the time he pulled into the driveway. He hung the bike, stripped off his jersey and kit, and walked into the kitchen in his socks and underwear. The smells from this morning's housework had disappeared; only the smell of fresh lavender remained. He would really miss her. Yeah, it was love and he was in love and all that good stuff but their sex life had simply exploded the last couple of months. Almost from the minute he got home, it was like, "to hell with dinner, let's fuck." Sometimes it was slow, it was love making, but most of the time it was raw and savage and it would last for hours. He would last for hours. Then there were sometimes when, after they'd ravaged each other and exhaustion began to overwhelm him, he could feel her sensuously sliding around on the bed or rolling over onto her stomach and moaning as if she were going to have still another orgasm. He would miss all of it. He hadn't noticed the humidity on his ride home. In fact, it hadn't been. It was just the house that was stuffy so he opened all the windows to allow whatever cool night air there might be to circulate. Even with that it felt humid when he pulled back the covers and crawled between the sheets. He didn't know how long he had been asleep. Truth was he didn't know if he had even been asleep. He could hear the white noise din of cicada outside in the black gum groves with kudzu vines dripping from every limb and smell the new sap oozing from freshly trimmed loblolly pines. He could feel the presence of a woman in his bed, her full breasts pressed up against his shoulders, the front of her thighs pressed up against the back of his, her long auburn tresses draping sensuously over his neck. "Rafe is gone baby," she whispered in his ear, "it's jes' us two now. Make love to me slow, real slow." "Where is he?" "Does it matter, baby? He won't be back for a week." Her hand came over his hip and stroked his cock until it was hard, real hard. He rolled over onto his back. They began to kiss. She continued to stroke. No, it didn't really matter. This was his wife and making love to her couldn't concern anyone else in the world. Why should he care where Rafe was? He didn't. But why would she let him know he wasn't around? What did it mean? She kissed and nibbled her way down his body, from his nipples to his navel. The sweet slit between her legs found its way to his mouth. He touched it with his tongue. His lips teased her lips and they swelled to a luscious full crimson red. The clit nub at the top of her swollen flesh emerged from its sheath. He sucked it gently. She gasped; he felt her shudder. Her soft mouth enveloped his erection like it had a hundred times before. She tilted her head to take him down her throat like she had a hundred times before. Their rhythm was like a slow dance, her mouth sliding effortlessly up and down his erect cock, his tongue and lips caressing and gently probing her soft moist flesh like it had a hundred times before. Yet it was new, always new, always exciting. Her hips, languid and unhurried at first, hastened their tempo moment by moment, to hurried, to frantic, to spasmodic excitement. She stiffened, her arms abruptly lifting her head away from his erection as she pushed her pubic mound hard onto his mouth. "Oh my god," she moaned, "you do that so good, baby, so good..." She turned to face him, her body on top and her thighs spread wide over his throbbing manhood. Her fingers guided the stiff shaft between her moist swollen petals and she slowly impaled herself on him. He palmed her firm white breasts and pinched the nipples until she cried out in lust. She leaned over and they began to kiss, his tongue guiding their duel, their passionate thrusts, their ardent parries. The rhythmic movement of her body around his hard cock was effortless, without friction; he was deep, deep inside, his pubic bone pressing against her swollen cunt lips and clitoris. He could do this all night, he thought to himself, but he knew he would fill her naked womb with his thick sperm in a matter of moments. So while his mind was saying hours, the electricity flowing in his loins said otherwise. In one quick movement he flipped her onto her back and positioned her knees over her shoulders. Now he could go even deeper.

She'd left the car under the roof at the entrance to the Embassy Suites, checked in, wheeled her luggage through the atrium and up to her third floor room. She scowled; it smelled of paint. In fact the whole hallway smelled of paints and thinners. She retraced her route back to the car thinking she would ask for a different room when she returned later that evening. Two other cars had pulled in behind her but she didn't care. Family is family and everything, but it didn't change the fact that her brother was creepy, a true bottom feeder, some unidentifiable brown and green slimy thing your hook might drag up from the bottom of a murky pond. She was up here for the kids, nothing more. She'd started thinking about the whole thing when she'd merged into the evening traffic on 101. It would be about a twenty minute drive out to Ken's trailer once she got off the highway. Karen had been so innocent, so clean, and then Ken came into her life. It took a couple of months of catastrophic inevitability; he relentlessly dragged her down into his cesspool and drowned her there and that sweet girl would probably never come back. She turned off the pavement at Ranch Rd 20 onto the pitted gravel and dirt road leading to the eucalyptus grove in front of Ken's hovel. There were about a dozen other decaying trailers scattered like pic-up-sticks around the interior of the grove. She parked her Audi in front of a short black fence created from the carcasses of dead tires and watched the dust settle onto her windshield like a malignant fog. Ken's '84 Impala was gone but Karen's peeling and rusted Dodge Aires K was still there. Karen came down the steps with Daryl and Sasha tagging close behind. In another time and place she would have been a knock-out. David said they looked like twins. Curvy body in all the right places, blonde hair to the middle of her back, lips like a goddess and blue eyes that still smiled. "Hey Stephanie," she said as Steph opened the door, "can you two say hello to aunt Steph?" The two women hugged while the children cowered wordlessly behind their mother's faded red skirt. "So what's happened with your dad? How is he?" "Stroke, or so my brother says." The two stood next to the car and talked about her dad, the kids and their schedules, and the hellhole of a life it was for the three of them. Ken's name never came up in the conversation, which started to wind down as they walked toward the trailer. "Steph, I know it was asking a lot for you to come up here so I want to say it now, how much I appreciate it." It was asking a lot, a lot more than she'd be willing to do for anyone else, but she didn't say that. "Hey, it'll be all right for a few days, no big deal. I'm staying at the Embassy Suites in town. Hope your dad pulls through and that he's still his old self," she replied. Karen pulled the keys out of her purse. "You two be good for your aunt Steph, OK?" She gave each a hug and kiss. "Kid's are fed and ready for bed. Ken works until 10 tonight so he'll be back around 11." Unstated but understood was that Steph would leave as soon as Ken's headlights lit up the ruts in the road. "Drive safe, Karen. Kid'll be fine." A few minutes before eleven she heard the sound of tires coming down the road. She picked up a book she'd been reading and stuffed it in her purse, fished for her keys, and stepped out of the trailer as Ken pulled his Chevy along side her Audi. "You leavin' already, sis?" he said. His eyes felt like spiderwebs raising the hairs on the back of her neck as they wandered down the curves of her body. "Y'know you can spend the night here, baby." "Thanks Ken but I have a room in town," she muttered. Her eyes avoided his and they passed each other without touching. The faint smell of paint thinner had defused throughout the hotel. She knew there would be no use in asking for another room. She took the elevator to the third floor, found her room, and went quickly to the bathroom and filled the tub. She felt soiled, polluted and was hoping a hot bath would rinse the feelings from her body. She poured a class of chardonnay and settled into water just warm enough to turn her pale skin bright pink. All she could think about was the trailer. Karen kept it spotlessly clean but there were things a sponge and ammonia spray couldn't remove. She and Ken had dated for a few months before they got married, and four months later they announced she was pregnant. Sasha was a beautiful baby but it was obvious Ken wasn't the father. He bragged as if he were but the baby's dark skin belied the parentage. Later that year a series of eight videos appeared on XTube. It was Karen having sex with one or another African American men, sometimes two or three at a time. None wore condoms and the videos detailed where the semen went. Ken had been been both the videographer and narrator for all eight. She took a sip of wine. It had almost a lavender bouquet and it quickly found its way to the part of her head where she had memories of things she shouldn't remember. Just because Ken was movie-star good-looking did not change the fact that he'd always been a pervert. The summer before she started junior high school she caught him once in her bedroom with his penis in his right hand and her panties in his left. He had been erect but she was too young then to know what an erection meant, what any of it meant. He turned around when she came in and asked her if she wanted to touch him 'there' and could he touch her 'there' with the thing in his hand he'd wanted her to touch. He was smiling but his eyes told her this was in a dangerous place. She left, went to a friends house, and when she came back there was clear sticky glue-like stuff all over her panties. She really shouldn't be remembering this. Another sip of wine and the fragrance of lavender. Of turpentine and solvents. She was touching it. She was touching it with her lips. She was kissing it with the lips between her thighs. Her thighs parted and she was swallowing it with the lips between her thighs. It moved between her lips, in and out, and a current began flowing from between her thighs to the space behind her eyes where colors, swirls, lightning and explosions happen. Explosion after explosion, a kaleidoscope of colors and currents. She was cumming. So was Rafe; she could feel his erection pulsing and throbbing against her swollen lips. "Oh God baby, I've wanted this since..." It wasn't Rafe. It wasn't his voice. Her eyes bolted open. Ken was on top of her. They were both naked in his bed, in his trailer. Her legs were spread wide and his cock was deep inside her body, close to filling her with his semen. She was pulling him close, crushing her breasts with his chest. It was immediately revolting and exciting. Her brother had just fucked her and, more than that, his sperm would soon be swimming around in her womb. In her daydream she'd enjoyed the feeling of her sex and his merged but her daydream had been in a warm tub somewhere in Georgia with the smells of lavender and Rafe filling her senses. In spite of the last jolts of an orgasm twitching through her body, this was nauseating. She slapped him hard on the face and rolled away from him. "You fucking bastard!" He hit her on the side of her head with a closed fist and pulled himself back between her legs. "You fucking cunt! What the fuck was that about!" "This is incest you goddam letcher, fucking pervert..." "What the fuck, bitch, you came to my bed..." "You're a lyin' bastard Ken, I can't stand to be within a hundred miles of you so ..." "Steph, check it out bitch, you're car is out front and your robe..." "... I wasn't wearing a robe..." "... not by the time you got in my bed and started fucking my brains..." "... I wasn't wearing a ..." "It's layin' in a heap by the door, bitch." He slowly inserted his resurgent erection into her still very slick pussy. She did nothing to stop him. "And who the fuck is this Rafe dude?" He was almost completely inside her again. She still wasn't doing anything to stop him. He started moving his shaft in short sharp thrusts. Her hips began to move in rhythm with his. He was ready to finish what he'd started. Her eyes were closed. The tenor in her voice changed from anger to lust. "I don't know anyone named Rafe," she cooed. She spread her legs wider, taking him deeper. Her arms pulled against his thighs, pulling him harder onto her swollen lips. She moaned and cried while whispering dirty nasty things into Rafe's ear. He bit a nipple, then the other. "I've wanted to have your tits in my mouth since you started having tits." Her whole body shuddered with another orgasm. "Oh jeez Rafe, you're making me cum oh god Rafe..." Rafe again, but it didn't matter because he didn't care. She might be batshit crazy right now- who knew for sure- but she was one hell of a piece of ass in the mean time. "Oh hell Stephanie, I've wanted to fuck you since as long as I can remember..." that being since he had learned what fucking was and how you do it. He was thrusting now hard and deep. "... Oh god Rafe, I'm cumming..." This was too much for him, feeling his sister ride ruin on his cock, the muscles in her twat tighten down on his dick, a dream come true. He was a beast making his sister cum and now she was an animal making him cum. "... cum inside me baby please baby cum oh god cum baby cum in me baby..." That was it, that was what snapped the rubber band in his brain, that's all it took. His body stiffened and he was deep inside, his throbbing organ streaming thick ropes of sperm into his sibling's womb. But it was really Rafe, whoever he was. No problem. He'd settle for seconds if it meant he could still feel and bite his sister's gorgeous tits and fill her luscious pussy with his cum and make her moan like the little bitch whore he knew she was. Rafe made rough tumbling love to Stephanie four more times before he had to get up, feed the kids, get them to school, and get ready for work. She'd been a panther between the sheets; he hadn't gotten more than two hours sleep. He was completely spent and even his dick was sore but he fucked her one more time before he finally left for work. It would be a long, long day, he smiled to himself. She was dazed, her pussy was sore and bruised, and the sheets were wet with sweat and little sticky spots from their sex secretions. Hell, she thought to herself, her thighs were wet and sticky and there were little bite marks around her nipples. She had no idea how many times she'd cum or how many times Rafe had. But then, it wasn't really Rafe, was it? Horror was the reality: she'd had sex, really hot sex, with her sleazy brother. There was also the frightening mental disconnect of how it had happened. And how much she liked it. How much she loved it. How much she lusted for and craved it, and how much she wanted to do it with him again. He had come back after dropping the kids off and she'd wantonly spread her legs for him one more time, abandoning all pretense of propriety. She didn't know why. She wanted him, wanted his sex, wanted to feel his cock throb, feel his flesh in hers. She was disgusted with her own lust and felt like a used condom. Every time an orgasm swept over her she felt like a cock whore but couldn't stop. It was the worm turning in her brain. She took a shower but knew she couldn't feel clean ever again. She shaved what had been her carefully bikini-waxed and coiffed pubic mound; she shaved it clean- as if that might help- but it didn't. It couldn't. It wouldn't. And who was Rafe? It was a name that came and went through her subconscious, a ghost one second and her lover the next. She wrapped herself in the discarded robe and went to pick up the kids from school. Later they ate dinner, took baths and donned PJ's, then to bed. She would leave the moment Ken got home, just like the first night. They would pass each other wordlessly, going their separate ways. Headlights bounced down the dirt road just before eleven. The robe sat next to her purse on the kitchen table."