I just had to hide well, so that I didn’t act like that was what I wanted to do, and no one would find out.
That would be a hard feat to pull off, but I knew I could figure out a way to do it.
Or, at least, I was pretty sure I could. I kept changing my mind from one minute to the next, unsure of whether to leave her alone, go after what I wanted, or at least take a break so that no one could figure out our secret.
I hated how this whole thing was fucking with my head. But all I knew for sure was that I loved how my stepsister’s pussy juices felt on my cock.Chapter Fourteen - TracianneThe next morning, I came down to breakfast with a smile on my face. Daphne was making pancakes and I was down to eat a lot of food. I had worked up quite an appetite from the night before.
“Oooh, I’ll have some of those please. I’ll take a stack of four,” I requested.
“Coming up,” Daphne said, happy to help.
“Four? You don’t need even one,” said Phil. “Unless you’re planning to pack on the pounds.”
At first, I was taken aback, but then I figured he was just pretending to give me a hard time so that our parents wouldn’t know what was up between us.
“Whoa, Phil,” said Richard. “That’s not a nice thing to say to your sister.”
“It’s fine, dad,” I said. “He’s just kidding.”
“I’m just saying it because of health reasons,” added Phil. “It’s not healthy to stuff yourself full of sugar.”
“Whoa! Phil!” objected Daphne. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Just saying.”
This was definitely all an act to deflect from what we had done last night. If our parents suspected or we got caught, that would be quite a disaster. I went along with it and pretended to be mad. Secretly, I wasn’t, though. It was kind of fun to play this game.
The next day, however, I ran into Phil at the fridge.
“Jeez, save some food for the rest of us,” he sneered.
I looked around.
There were no parents.
“I get it,” I whispered.
“You get what? A chocolate cake for breakfast? Take it easy.”
This was getting annoying. The parents weren’t even in the room to hear him and he was saying these awful things.
What was the point?
Guess he was feeling the pressure or something.
I figured I would try to avoid him for a few days.
That night, he came to my door and knocked. I was thinking he was going to invite me down to the basement. But, instead, he was holding his laundry in his hands.
“Hey, use the dryer right and get your crap out of it when it’s done,” he demanded.
“Okay. Why are you being so rude to me recently?”
“I’m rude? You’re the one leaving your stuff everywhere. Try being considerate for once in your life. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Tracianne.”
Day in and day out, it got like this. I had sex with the guy, and this is the way he treated me afterwards.
God! What a mistake!
I mean, it was amazing sex, but who wanted to be put through this bullshit?
I could tell Diamond or Gillian and ask them for advice. But God! I’d just die if they ever found out! They’d probably think I was the biggest weirdo on the planet.
So, who could I tell?
A priest or a therapist, I guessed were my only options. And neither one was doable right now. I supposed I would just have to talk to him about it and try to get a straight answer.
Finally, I had an opportunity to confront Phil. He was mowing the lawn, so I waited until he was far from the house. Then I marched out there and waved him down.
“Hey! Hey, hey,” I shouted.
“What?” he snapped. “What the fuck do you want?”
“What is wrong with you, Phil?” I demanded. “After what we did, you treat me like this?”
“I know what this is, Tracianne. It’s a set up,” he said. “That’s what I’ve become convinced this is.”
“A set up? For what? What do I even have to gain?”
“You want me out of here! That’s what you have to gain,” he growled. “I get it now. You expose me, I’ll expose you. Keep that in mind and stay the hell away from me!”
“You’ve lost your mind!”
“I did for a few hours, but now my eyes are open!” he declared.
I marched back to the house. Fuck this guy! Or rather, never again fuck this guy.
I couldn’t tell anyone about what happened, so my only choice was to write about it. At least in my private diary, I could get out my thoughts.
After about two hours of furiously scribbling, I had gotten all my thoughts on the subject written down. It was a lot to read.
Somehow, I thought that by writing about it all out, I’d be able to organize my mind better. It was still a mess of bees in my head, though. It was then that I got a text.