I was thirteen and she was twelve when Greg and Pam first got married after three months of extravagant dating and wild sex. I used to crawl under my bed and clamp a pillow over my head while they talked dirty to each other in the next room, the headboard slamming against the shared wall. I met Mackenzie three weeks before the wedding when our parents dragged us to a bridal shop to be fitted for a little tux and a flower girl dress.
Pam was an attractive woman, her body firm and toned from hours in the gym and a diet of lemon water and yogurt. Her blonde hair and sharp features made her look like a Viking warrior queen; at least they would’ve if not for the make up caked onto her face.
Her young daughter was different – chubby from the flood of hormones that comes at the onset of puberty and horrifically awkward. On the way to the shop, Greg told me she was retarded. It didn’t take me more than five minutes to see that she wasn’t, just a weird, dorky little girl who’s uptight bitch mother was, once again, uprooting her life to play house with a man she didn’t know and his well-spoken athletic son.
Pam snarled insults and Greg rolled his eyes, sighing when Kenze argued about trying on dresses. I couldn’t help but relate. The poor girl was just another product of a broken home and a mom who saw her as more of a prop than a unique human being with interests and dreams of her own.
I sat in the corner, my beige tux and aquamarine bow tie already picked out, and pretended to play a mobile game on my Dad’s phone while the cute little girl with honey blonde hair and the sweetest little button nose stomped her feet and cried because she was too fat to fit into the dresses her mother pulled from the rack.
“You look like a busted tube of biscuits,” Pam had said, Greg failing to suppress his braying laughter.
Kenze and I talked about video games and movies over bad seafood while Pam and Greg drank too much and made out in the booth. Once she was able to relax, she told me all about the books she liked and outer space. Even then, I was pissed off that such a smart girl with gray eyes hidden away behind dorky glasses was going to be my sister. So I did what any angry, bored teenage boy would do – I made fun of her while she grew and developed into a gorgeous young woman with big dreams and the smarts to make them happen.
I jogged past an area off the path marked by broken branches and trampled ferns. Mackenzie was somewhere off in fantasy land drawing pictures of bugs all by herself. She had no regard for her own safety. What if she twisted her ankle and fell? What if she got lost? What if some creep followed her back there and attacked her? She never considered any of these risks and it drove me insane. At least I knew where she was.
The thought of her ignorant ass at Rutgers made me sick. College guys wanting to hit it and quit it ate girls like her alive. They didn’t care that her Dad left her with Pam when she was three. They’d lie about caring about the environment just to get her to lower her guard. And after they fucked her a few times, they’d get bored and ghost. Mackenzie would become one of those sad, lonely little freshman girls who either started sleeping around, or totally isolated themselves from everybody.
I ground my teeth as I took off into another sprint, furious that there was nothing I could do to protect her.
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Mackenzie
I wiped tears from my cheeks as I plopped down in front of a patch of Common Milkweed, Asclepias syriaca, wiping tears from my face. God, I hated Adam. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but he always went straight for the jugular.
Two monarch butterflies fluttered out of the dense leaves, their determination to carry on with their fragile existence despite a chaotic world inspiring.
“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” I said, smiling as I took off my glasses to wipe away the sweat that had gathered there. I couldn’t have them fogging up if I was going to sketch.
One of them descended back into the leaves while the other landed on a purple flower, flexing its lovely wings as it gathered nectar. I shrugged off my backpack and took out my pencils and notebook, eager to get to work.
My wounded feelings melted away beneath the brutal heat of the day as the afternoon progressed and I lost myself to a singular focus: capturing the gentleness of the creatures flying around me. Two swallowtails jostled with each other to my right, too caught up in their mating dance to notice anything else. In that moment, I was just as much a part of that meadow as any other plant or animal, even if I was more of a casual observer.
Sweat trickled down the back of my neck and the damp material of the extra supportive sports bra I’d chosen chaffed my skin. I set my notebook down, pleased with the fruits of my efforts, and undid the buttons of my shirt, a rush of air against my chest and torso a brief, but incredible, relief.
Dozens of Large Milkweed Bugs, Onocopeltus fasciatus, climbed all over the Milkweed stems, devouring the plant. Whether they were indifferent or unaware of my presence, I couldn’t say. Insects are driven by no other purpose than being alive. They hatch and almost immediately get to work continuing the propagation of their species. In a way, I admired them. They didn’t have to worry about parents, school, or sexy step-brothers.
I took my shirt off completely and balled it up in my hands, using the stiff fabric to wipe the sweat from my skin. Adam typically took his shirt off when he worked out. He probably looked perfect, a prime specimen of humanity, as he ran along the gravel path.
I sighed, guilt clouding an otherwise lovely scene. I shouldn’t have compared him to Greg. Adam wasn’t anything like his horrible father. Greg was a mouth-breathing dope, but Adam was actually fairly intelligent. Low self-esteem and risk aversion kept him from branching out into something other than athletics. That was probably on Greg. He completely ignored Adam except for when he was playing sports.
When we were younger, Adam had displayed an aptitude for working with his hands. He’d loved Legos and made sure our bicycle chains were oiled and our tires filled with air. An elderly neighbor had even taught him about lawn mower and weed whacker maintenance when the guy had noticed the youth hoovering at the edge of his driveway while he worked on his lawn equipment. Adam had cried real tears when that man died.
Using my shirt as a pillow, I laid down in the grass and closed my eyes as desire flickered in between my legs all over again as I reminisced on Adam mowing, weeding, and mulching our parent’s yard with his shirt off. He loved being outside as much as I did.
The zipper of my front-clasping racerback bra irritated the slick skin of my breasts and some wild impulse urged me to take the sweat-soaked undergarment off. I checked over my shoulder, daring myself to do it. Being naked outside is the most natural thing in the world.
The zipper was loud, but the velcro shoulder straps were even louder in the meadow. I sat up and used my shirt to dry “boob sweat”, as my mom called it. If only she could see me now. She was always trying to get me to wear more form fitting clothes so everyone could admire my “womanly figure”. Mom wasn’t fooling me, though. She just wanted everyone to see how thin her chubby daughter had grown up to be.
I tossed my bra off to the side and laid back down, running my hands over my tight stomach and rubbing my heavy breasts. I caught Adam staring at them all the time. I didn’t blame him, though. They were pretty big. And I was guilty of checking out the bulge in his sweatpants, especially when he exercised or did yard work without a jockstrap.
Not even a rush of shame could dampen the pang of lust that surged from deep within my core and I couldn’t pretend the creamy wetness that flooded my panties was sweat. I slid my hands to my groin and squeezed my pussy over my pants, my clit throbbing in response to the pressure.
I sat up, cheeks burning with heat, lust, and shame as I peeked back over my shoulder. There had been no cars in the parking lot when we’d arrived and I was roughly twenty yards from the tree line where I’d emerged from the woods. As far as I knew, I was alone, the only other human around on the other side of those trees, his cock and balls bouncing along in his athletic shorts as he jogged.
A recklessness seized me and I stood, undoing my fly and pushing my work pants down to my ankles before laying back down. I left my boots and socks on in case I needed to make a quick getaway.
I curled my pubic hair around my fingers, closing my eyes and teasing my nipples, pretending it was Adam touching me. I was a total virgin, but he would know what to do. He’d dated a few girls we’d gone to school with, and it was safe to assume a hot football player would have his pick at a college campus.
I slid my fingers inside my pussy lips, pushing apart my slick folds to find my aching clit, teasing and stroking it as I imagined Adam kissing me while he played with my supple breasts. I’d run my fingers through his hair and stroke his chiseled physique.
Sweet, familiar pressure welled up within me and I began to pant, the thought of Adam massaging my torso as he worked his hands toward my pussy, his caress on my thighs gentle before moving to my clit.
I typically liked to draw out masturbating, taking the time to enjoy my body and my fantasies. Considering the setting, I knew it would be best to keep this session short, but I pulled my hand away from my tender bud, running my hand over my thighs and body. Nobody would see me. The longer I teased myself, the more satisfying my orgasm would be. No. I would take my time.
###
Adam
‘
I couldn’t believe I forgot to grab a big bottle of water from a gas station. Fucking Mackenzie had me all worked up. My car’s air conditioning refreshed me at first, but all the sweat on my skin grew cold, making me shiver. I shut off the car and got out, heading toward the woods. Mackenzie had water in her backpack. If she gave me any grief about it, I’d drag her ass away from her drawing and go get my own water. It’d been long enough.
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