Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 6

"For someone who never even runs, you sure get a lot of cramps." He grabbed her foot, pressed his thumb into the ball and started working it. "You sound like you know her."

Deana leaned back on the door. "I run in gym class and I played volley ball and she's part of the club, so don't have to know her, to know her."

"Jeez, what club is that, the double talking evil wenches club?" he said. "And you only played volley ball so you could get out of softball. His fingers rolled her toes. The nails were painted pink.

"Giris club," Deana said, "and we're not evil, just more complicated than boys."

"Yeah, I guess, you Jane, me Tarzan."

"Mmmm, that feels good," she said. "Forget all that for a minute and imagine we were given up for adoption or put in a foster home when mom died. What if we went to different homes. What if we just met now for the first time? I wonder if Darlene had any brothers or sisters."

He drove on, mindlessly playing with her toes, considering her question. It was something he'd never given any thought to. He tried to never think about their real mother. "You have nice feet," he said.

"Thanks," she said, "but don't change the subject. What If we got shipped off some place, then got separated. We might have forgotten each other."

"No chance," he said. "There's noway I could have forgotten the things you put me through."

"Yeah, whatever, but you get my point," Deana said. "Darlene has gone through things you can't even imagine. Imagine every time she dates somebody she has to worry about if it could be a brother she never knew she had?"

Evan stopped rubbing his sister's foot. A thousand thoughts flew through his mind. "Are you saying she's not into me because she thinks I'm her brother?"

Deana raised one brow and squinted her other eye. "I think she'd be able to rule that out. Italians don't make redheads like Darlene. What I'm getting at is, Darlene is more complicated than the other girls you've been banging."

"Deana, jeez, why do you say things like that!" he said. "As far as you know, I've never been, 'banging, as you crudely put it, anyone."

His sister's smile was telling, and a little frightening. "Okay, whatever you say, Deana said. "If you want to 'Be nice' to Darlene, like you were being nice to Stacey, then I suggest you learn more about her. She's not like anyone you've ever been into before"

Evan wondered how much his sister really knew about Darlene. "Seems like you know her better than you're saying.

"I'm more perceptive than you, that's all."

"I'm perceptive...about things," he said.

"Not to change the subject, don't you wish we knew more about mom and had pictures of us and her when we were little? Why do you think dad won't even talk about it or show us pictures?"

He thought about it for a minute. "I don't know, I guess he doesn't want to think about it."

Deana waited until Evan pulled into their driveway to speak, "But we think about it. More like keeping something from us."

She opened her door. "Why don't you see about getting mom to dig some pictures up, she must have some."

Evan sat there until Deana reached the porch. She had given him plenty to think about.

In the kitchen, Evan found Deana talking at light speed. "Your Highness," he said, holding Deana's bag in the air, "here." He dropped her bag on a chair. She ignored him.

"Hi, Mom," he said. If he wasn't careful, "Candy" could still slip out. Last time it happened his father slapped him up-side the head and said, "She's my wife and that makes her your mother. Don't let it happen again."

Candy said, "Hi, Honey," while nodding at Deana's verbal brain dump.

He kissed her cheek and headed for the bathroom.

After double checking that the bathroom door was locked, Evan flipped the lid up on the hamper. There was something about the feel of a girl's panties on his bear flesh that made his cock surge to life. He used the underwear to dig his balls out of his pants. Would Jason rub his sister's underpants on his dick?

The crotch was pungent and it made him dizzy. He tried to picture Mrs. Beck or Darlene, but Candy's tits kept flashing through his mind. They're so big and firm, and he remembered them when she was a pregnant teenager with huge, swollen nipples. She went bra- less back then when his parents weren't home. Maybe that's why he loved big tits so much?

He slid the soft panties up and down his boner. Deana's foot on his lap had triggered an unwanted erection, and no matter how hard he'd tried, her heel kept touching it. Had she notice? No, she would have pulled away and called him a pervert, or worse.

He came quickly, but kept pumping his dick with the wet, slippery material. He needed to fuck a real girl again, soon, or he'd go Insane. Why did Stacey Bauer have to move to Michigan? They had a wonderful year together. She was as horny as he was, but as soon as they'd gotten into a routine, she was gone. They'd fucked like horny teenagers, but he wished they had more time to find new places and explore new positions. Mostly, they did it on her bathroom floor because that was the only place they could hide from her kid brother, but once he'd talked her into doing it standing up against a tree behind her house.

Darlene got off the school bus and separated herself from the other kids. She wasn't a loner, but she didn't fit in with her peers. Not because she felt superior, it was just that she was years ahead of them in experience and suffering.

She paused in front of the Anderson's house and thought about their Irish setter, Boy George. She hoped Mrs. Anderson would still want her to babysit Jesse on Friday? Jesse was an easy kid to watch. They had an understanding, and the Anderson's had high- speed Internet.

When Darlene reached her trailer, she was disappointed to see that her Mother Fuckers' car was out front. Mother Fucker, that's how she referred to her foster father. Her foster mother wasn't much better. None of the foster families had ever been what she imagined real parents would be. At least this mother fucker didn't want to fiddle with her, not yet.

Without saying hello to the man sitting on the couch, Dariene went down the hallway to her room. She fell backwards onto a beanbag chair. Styrofoam balls floated up into the rays of sunlight that cut through the dusty air. Evan had annoyed her yesterday, but today he pissed her off. In elementary school, he called her names, but she didn't hold that against him. Boys acted stupid at that age when they got around girls with breast. What made her mad was that he wanted her to be his girlfriend. He'd want to go steady, take her places and have her meet his parents-his step mother. She picked up a pair of scissors and rammed them into her teddy bear. He was rich, strong and cute, but she could never be his girlfriend. Why couldn't he just want to fuck her like everybody else?

At Evan's House The American Rejects pounded the speakers and Evan pounded the heavy bag. His dad had pissed him off at dinner, he had no chance with Darlene and Deana had stirred up memories. He didn't want to think about their real mother, Sandra, she was gone, and Candy was their mother now. "Candy, Candy, Candy," he said in defiance. His father had replaced their mother with his Candy.

Evan kicked and stumbled backwards. "Damn it," he shouted, "Deana, what the-"

"Sorry," she said, with her hands out in front of her. "If you didn't have that crap blasting you would have heard me."

"Crap?" He pushed the stop button on the player. "It's better than Carrie Underwear or Fergalicious."

She put her fists on her hips and shifted her weight to the right. "At least you can dance to my music."

Despite his best effort, he smiled. "Maybe you can, but I can't dance."

"If you're nice to me, maybe I'll teach you."

"Yeah, whatever," he said. "What do you want anyway?"

Deana adjusted the towel turban on her head. "I came out of the shower and saw the light on down here, so I-"

"Dee," he said, looking her up and down, "it's obvious where you came from." Most of her long, olive legs were exposed and shined with the lotion she just coated them with. The smell made him uncomfortable.

"Dee?" she said. "You never call me that anymore."