Kiss Your Sister

by Lubrican

Chapters : | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Chapter Five

Mom and Dad went old school on us. Well, I suppose you could call it hybrid school.

The old school part was that they called my dad's brother, Uncle Bob (who I was named after) and asked him if he would host Emma for roughly a year, which would encompass the next whole school year and the birth of our baby, with some time for it to emerge from infancy before they were back home and everybody in town would find out about it. The new school part was that both of us were going there, instead of just Emma. Emma argued that I needed to be involved in her pregnancy, because I needed to be involved in taking care of the baby after its birth. It is evidence of just how upset our parents were that they agreed to this. Or, maybe they took an out of sight, out of mind approach to the problem. In either case, my sister managed to get both of us banished to the same place. That, of course, meant we could still be together.

Uncle Bob is kind of cool, but kind of odd. Everybody calls him the black sheep of the family. He's the only sibling who didn't go to college. Instead, he spent six years in the Marine Corps and then became a professional gambler. He was good at it and won a bunch of championships. Gambling isn't "respectable", though, and the rest of the family tried to make him feel unwelcome at family events. He didn't care and came anyway.

The other thing was that he didn't get married. Instead, he had a whole string of girlfriends, and every time he came to a holiday dinner, or reunion, he had a different babe with him. They were always babes, and I'm talking Playboy Bunny quality babes. That also made him a pariah, because if he stayed overnight, his girlfriend always stayed in the same room he did. Mom and dad had an argument about that, in fact. Mom wanted to blame Uncle Bob for influencing Emma and me to "break the rules."

"I never even thought of Uncle Bob once while all this was happening," said Emma, and that was that.

Uncle Bob was smart like a fox. When he'd won a whole boatload of money gambling, he quit gambling and bought a ranch from a player who needed money. He got it for a song, or so he said, and it came with "some horses, too". It was in Wyoming, and nobody in the family had ever been there.

The reason they chose Uncle Bob to farm us out to (quite literally) was because he was the rule-breaker in the family. If anybody would sympathize with the situation, he would. And the worst he could do was say no.

He didn't say no.

So, on the long 4th of July weekend, when Dad was off work, we put as many clothes and personal belongings as we could fit in the car and he drove us to Uncle Bob's 30,000 acre ranch, west of the town of Basin, Wyoming.

We had thought we were isolated, living in the farmhouse Dad bought.

We were wrong.

Uncle Bob's place was isolated. The turnoff to his place was 35 miles from Basin, and the road (driveway?) that went from the highway to his house was eight miles long.

I think we all expected him to be living in a mobile home, or shack. We'd seen a lot of those on the trip here. Instead, when we saw the house, it was astonishing. It was made of logs that were eighteen inches in diameter, and stained a golden brown. The place was huge, and ornate in ways that made my jaw drop. He said a company from Canada had built it for him. I found out later it cost four million dollars.

Inside there were bear rugs and animal heads mounted on the walls. His furniture was also hand made from raw wood. His dining room table was a single slab of wood cut on the diagonal from a tree that had to be eight feet in diameter. It was six inches thick, and sat on legs that had been turned on a lathe but were still a foot in diameter.

There were fireplaces everywhere and the one in the living room was tall enough Emma could walk into it without ducking.

"You got all this with gambling money?" asked Dad, whose jaw was as low as mine.

"I've won pots that had two hundred grand in them," said Uncle Bob, who was wearing a faded checkered shirt and jeans. He looked like the caretaker, not the owner.

"Man!" sighed my father.

"It's only money," said Uncle Bob. "I spent almost everything I ever made to get this place fixed up. I only have a couple hundred thousand in the bank these days, and to run a place like this, that's chicken feed. I'm either gonna have to come out of retirement to play poker again, or sell some of my breeding stock next year." He frowned. "I really don't want to play cards again."

"Why not?" asked Dad, as he fingered a Zebra skin stretched across one wall.

"It's a hard life," he said. "Drinking, smoking, and the stress is terrible. I'd rather go into a firefight than be around some of the people on the circuit."

"I thought you loved that life," said Dad.

"I hated that life," said Uncle Bob. "But I could make a ton of money. I thought about going back to the Middle East and working for one of the security contractors. I had some contacts in that area and I could have made a lot that way, but I could also have gotten killed. Poker isn't quite as dangerous."

"So now you breed horses?"

"Actually, Brad does the breeding. He kind of came with the property. He had some ideas of his own that the previous owner didn't buy into, but I told him to go ahead. If it works out, my money problems will go away."

"Why?" asked Dad.

"We're breeding Arabians, and there are some wealthy sheiks in Saudi Arabia and Qatar and Oman who want Arabians."

"Wait. You mean they'll pay what it costs to get the horse and then ship it halfway around the world?" My father was agog.

"Yup," said Uncle Bob. "I have a contract right now for a pair of Arabians that, when complete, will net me seven hundred thousand. And if he likes the horses, he'll buy more." Uncle Bob smiled. "And he has friends who will be jealous as hell of his stock. They like to keep up with the Joneses, too, over there."

"Doesn't it take time for them to grow up?" asked Emma.

"Yes, and that's what makes this a speculative investment. There are vet bills, and feed bills, and you have to have the right studs. Then, after the foal is born, you have to wait two years before you ship it. So all those bills go on for two years before you can sell them and recoup your investment. You need to let them out on the range so their muscles develop properly, but there are predators on the range. You can lose a horse to lots of things, and then all the money you spent on it is down the drain."

"I think I'll stick with engineering," said Dad.

"You were always smarter than me," said Uncle Bob. He didn't smile when he said it. "So, what's the deal with these two?"

That was when I found out they hadn't told him why he was being asked to let us live with him for a year.

My father decided it would be good for us if we had to explain why we were there. In fact, to make sure we had to do it ourselves, he basically said, "They'll fill you in. I need to get back on the road."

Just like that, only twenty minutes after getting there, our father was gone and we were at the mercy of our black sheep uncle.

We'd met him, of course. He was the cool uncle, who told great stories and always had a beautiful woman with him. But we hadn't spent any "quality time" with him.

He had always looked spiffy, in good quality clothes. He wore boots and I remember one pair that he said were made of ostrich skin. Now he looked kind of worn down, and the boots on his feet were plain brown ones that looked like they must be ten years old.

He took us to the kitchen, where there was an island in the middle that had bar stools around it. He opened the doors of a massive, stainless steel fridge that was stocked with twenty different flavors of a cheap soda brand. I picked a cherry cola and Emma got a can of something and we sat down.

"So, obviously you two are in trouble," said Uncle Bob. "I can't imagine they'd quarantine you here if you wrecked the car, or broke something. It has to be something you were both involved with. If it was drugs, they'd have said something, so I'd know to keep an eye on that, but they didn't say anything, so it's not drugs. I doubt you're what we used to call incorrigible."

He looked at me, and then at my sister.

"That leaves sex," he said. "And it's hard for me to believe that both of you separately can't keep your pants on, so that suggests to my admittedly perverted mind, that the sex involved both of you." He blinked. "At the same time." He blinked some more. "Together," he finally finished.

"I'm pregnant," said Emma, cutting to the chase.

Uncle Bob looked at me.

"And you're the daddy?"

I nodded.

"Hmph," went Uncle Bob.

He fiddled with something and a section of the table top retracted, creating a rectangular opening. A shelf with a laptop rose to fill that opening. He tapped keys and waited, and then tapped more keys. He pulled a phone from his rear pocket and dialed.

"This is Bob Masters, out at the Box T ranch. Are you accepting new patients? I've got a sixteen year old girl here who needs obstetric care."

He went on, gave them personal information about her I had no idea he knew. He made an appointment for five days hence and then hung up.

"Okay, that's taken care of. I plan to put you both to work to earn your keep. I'm not a slave driver, though, so you'll have options as to what kind of work you do."

He frowned.

"Actually, you may have to pitch in with just about everything, but it won't kill you or anything."

"We have no idea how to do anything connected with horse ranching," I said.

"Neither did I when I bought this place. But there were experts already on the ground, and I kept them. You'll learn. School will be a pain, unless you opt for online school. The brick and mortar school is forty miles away and winters here don't like letting you get around, even with four wheel drive. You can go to regular school if you want to, but I'd recommend online school."

"Do they have diplomas?"

"Yup. I know a couple of youngsters who did that and are in college now. So colleges accept an online school diploma."

"I'm supposed to go to college," I said.

"You sound reluctant," he said.

"I don't know what to major in," I said. "I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I got my sister pregnant and I know I have to be a good father, but you don't go to college for that."

"Well, that's a year away," said Uncle Bob. "You have time to think about it."

He looked at Emma.

"Do you want your own room?"

She blinked.

"Do I have to have my own room?"

"Of course not, though it might be a good idea if your parents think it's that way. I'm not going to judge you. I've done things far worse than sleep with my sister."

"So we can have a room together?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Ladies are highly respected in this part of the world. What you want is what you get."

"Okay, what I want is a room together."

He looked at me.

"Do you want to sleep with her while you're here?"

I felt my face get hot and knew I was blushing.

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound casual.

"I'll show you a couple of rooms and you can choose which one you want. Just make sure your folks don't find out about it. I'm pretty sure that's not what they had in mind when they sent you here."

The rooms he showed us were like high-priced hotel rooms in a big city, where people who are willing to spend that much money for a room expect opulence.

I think Emma and I were both left a little slack-jawed.

"It's so beautiful," sighed Emma, in one room.

"I worked hard for my money, and I figured I might as well convert it to something I could enjoy," he said.

"But you have no kids to leave it to," said Emma.

"Actually, I might," said Bob. "You haven't met Gidget, yet."

"Who's Gidget?"

"She's my girlfriend, kind of, sort of," said Uncle Bob.

"Kind of, sort of?"

"She's a very independent girl," said Uncle Bob. "She thinks the title 'girlfriend' suggests some kind of ownership, and she rejects that concept."

"And you think she might give you children?"

"She's probably in her studio right now," said Bob. "She writes music. Want to go meet her?"

"Does she live here?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," said Bob. "She definitely lives here."

We followed him down a wide, curving staircase into a theater room, with a huge screen on one wall and actual movie theater seats in two rows. They were the plush, upholstered kind, like you find in the theaters that serve food while you watch the movie.

"You got all this playing cards?" said Emma, weakly.

"Well, if you're going to be living with me, and since you were so honest about your, um, situation, I guess I'll be honest with you, too, but I have to swear you to secrecy, okay? You can't tell your parents what I'm going to tell you. You can't tell anybody what I'm going to tell you. Deal?"

"Was it illegal?" asked Emma.

He laughed.

"Nope. Perfectly legal."

"Okay, then, we promise," she said.

He looked at me.

"She just made a promise you have to keep," he pointed out.

"Oh, Sorry," said Emma, looking sheepish. "I kind of think of us as one unit." She patted her still barely bulging belly.

"It's okay," I said. "I promise, too."

"Okay. When you play cards at the level I did, there are high rollers, who have more money than card sense. In one game, the game cleaned one guy out and he put the deed to some property in Colorado in the pot. He said it was an old gold mine and he had intended to fix it up as a tourist trap with a museum. I won that pot."

"So now you own a gold mine?" Emma sounded impressed.

"It hadn't been worked since the 1800s," said Uncle Bob. "It was a hardrock mine, back then, which means they dug with picks, and blasted and things like that. They didn't have the kind of technology that's around these days. The mine was played out, based on 1800s technology but I figured that the tailings from the mine might still have some gold in them that could be recovered with today's tech. So I hired a geologist to look around. She decided that whoever had called the mine 'played out' back in the early 20th century was wrong."

"So there was gold there?" Emma sounded awe-struck.

"The tailings had some, but once we reopened the mine and started using modern tech and knowledge, it paid off. We found a vein that was forty feet deeper than the old miners had been digging at. We got two thousand troy ounces out of that in the first three months of operation and it's still producing."

"How much is a troy ounce of gold worth?" asked Emma.

"At current rates, about eighteen hundred dollars," he said.

We could both see Emma trying to do the math in her head.

"Call it three point seven million," said Uncle Bob.

"In three months?!" gasped Emma.

"Don't be so impressed," he said. "It dropped to an average of two hundred troy ounces a month after that."

"Oh yeah," I said. "That's not very impressive at all. That's what, about three hundred and fifty thousand a month?"

"Three hundred and seventy," said Uncle Bob. "But you have to subtract the cost of production. We're moving tons and tons of earth to recover that gold. I have to pay a manager, and employees, and there are equipment costs. It's not like I get to keep all the money when we sell the gold."

"How much did you get to keep?" asked Emma.

"You're being rude," I scolded.

"It's okay," said Uncle Bob. "It's pretty obvious I did okay. We've been working the mine for eight years. I've gotten paid about ten million."

"Oh my gosh," moaned Emma. "My uncle is a millionaire!"

"It's just money," said Uncle Bob. "It's useful, but not the answer to happiness."

"I'd be pretty happy with ten million dollars," said Emma.

"Let me ask you this," said Uncle Bob. "Do you love Bobby?"

"Of course I do," she said.

"No, I mean did you love him enough to decide to make this baby, or was it an accident you just have to live with?"

"I didn't try to have a baby," she groaned.

"So why didn't you just get an abortion and go on with your old life? Why go through all the changes and stress of carrying an unplanned baby to term?"

"I love this baby!" yipped my sister, covering her slight baby bump with both hands.

"What if somebody offered you a million dollars to give the baby to them? Would you do it?"

She didn't hesitate.

"No. Nobody can have my baby. I love this baby and we're going to keep it."

"Then the baby makes you happier than a million dollars would," said Uncle Bob. "Money isn't the answer to happiness."

"You're pretty clever for an old man," said Emma, and then she hugged him to remove the sting from her comment. "Thanks for letting us stay here."

"I want you both to be happy," he said. "I figure you have a better shot at that here, than back home."

"I hate to have to give up home," sighed Emma.

"They'll come around when you present them with a happy, healthy baby," said Uncle Bob. "Nobody can resist a cute baby."

"What if it's not healthy?" asked Emma.

"Worry about that when the doctor tells you to worry about it," said Uncle Bob.

He led us through the theater room to a door that looked kind of odd, because it was wider than usual and made of steel. When he opened it, there was a whoosh of air and I could see that the edges of the door had some kind of feathery insulation on them. We walked into a room that looked just like the recording studios I had seen on TV and in movies. The door we had come in through led to a small section, walled off by clear glass, that had a console in it with about a thousand switches and sliders and such. There was another door in that part that led to a larger room that had musical instruments in it, including a drum kit, a piano, five or six guitars hung on pegs on the wall, and, on a low table in one corner, what looked like an accordion.

There was also a woman in there, sitting at the piano, writing on a piece of paper with one hand, while the other picked at keys. She looked up when we came in and smiled with strong, white teeth. She was pretty in a tanned, healthy-looking way, rather than the models Uncle Bob usually had with him whenever we had seen him in the past. Uncle Bob led us into the performance area.

"These two are my niece and nephew that I was telling you about," said Uncle Bob. "Emma and Bobby, meet Gidget."

"Ahhh," said Gidget in an alto voice that sounded like butter. "You guys are the ones who got banished to the boon docks for some heinous misdeed."

"He got her knocked up," said Uncle Bob.

"Uncle Bob!" moaned Emma. "That was supposed to be private!"

"Hey," said Gidget. "We're sisters. We have no secrets between us. In any case, that's not the kind of secret you can actually keep."

She stood up. She was wearing a tank top and sweat pants. The tank top clung to her upper body like a second skin. I had already noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra under the tank top. When she stood, she revealed a bulge that made it look like she'd swallowed a small watermelon.

"Your uncle knocked me up, too," she said, with a wide smile.

I looked at Uncle Bob. He was my dad's age, minus a year or two. Gidget looked like she might be in the later stages of college.

"Gidget is my geologist," said Uncle Bob. "She's the one who decided we should reopen the mine."

"I thought I was the love of your life," said Gidget, trying to look sad.

"You are. I've tried to marry you for years, now, but you keep rejecting me."

Now it was Uncle Bob who was pretending to be sad.

"I can't marry a decrepit, old geezer like you," she said. "You'll probably die in a few years, and then I'd be a widow. Nobody wants to marry a widow. I'd be alone for the rest of my life!" She put one wrist against her forehead and swayed. It looked like the heroine I had seen on an old silent movie clip.

"We'll see how decrepit I am when we go to bed, tonight," he growled.

"Bob! Not in front of the children," she teased.

"The children managed to make a baby. I think they know the deal."

It was fun watching them tease each other. It felt so natural and loving.

What I couldn't understand was why neither of them seemed to be horrified that my sister had an incest baby in her belly.

Apparently, Emma did feel some kind of sister-hood with Gidget, because when Uncle Bob offered to show us his horse-breeding operation, she said she wanted to stay and talk to Gidget.

"Assuming you have time," she said, looking at the older woman.

"I have all the time in the world," said Gidget, smiling. Her smile was beautiful, and I could see why Uncle Bob had been attracted to her.

Later that night, I found out Emma wanted to ask her about how a pregnancy develops, and what to expect.

Uncle Bob took me outside and led me to a big metal barn that was the stable for his horses. We hadn't seen it when we arrived because the house blocked our view. I met a man named Brad who wasn't nearly as friendly as Gidget. He was introduced to me as Uncle Bob's breeding manager, and the man who took care of the horses. He lived in a small mobile home behind the barn. I found out later Uncle Bob had offered to let him live in the house, but he'd said he was used to things the way they were.

Brad ate, slept, and maybe even dreamed about horses. He had no interest in me or Emma. He was polite, and as time went on, consistently called Emma "Miss Emma". Uncle Bob said that was because he was raised in the South, though I had no idea why that would make a difference.

The horses were beautiful, and all of them seemed interested in this new person who came to see them. They came to the doors of the stalls and snuffled when I reached to pet their sleek, soft noses. There were twenty of them, eighteen mares and two stallions. The stallions were kept at opposite ends of the barn, in stalls that had rooms for storage between them and the next stall. I found out later they were only exposed directly to the mares when they were at stud.

There was another, smaller barn that had equipment in it. There was a tractor with a bucket on the front, a snowmobile, a four wheel ATV, and some motorcycles. The bikes were mostly dirt bikes, but there was a big Harley there, too.

"We'll go out and inspect the range later," said Uncle Bob. "I expect you two are tired from your trip and want to get settled in."

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked.

"Shoot," he said.

"How come you're so ... okay ... with what we did?"

"I've been around the world," he said. "I've seen strange things and I've seen people whose customs are different than ours. I learned a long time ago that people, wherever they are, are just trying to get by. Lots of them live in conditions I think are sad, but they're all trying to be as happy as they can. It's not my job to decide who's right and who's wrong. I know you two shouldn't have done what you did, but you did it, and now I figure my job is to help you get through it as best you can. It may not be easy, and you two may face big problems, but I shouldn't be one of those problems."

"Thanks," I said.

"She's a cutie," he said. "I get it." He winked at me.

An hour later Emma and I were unpacking and putting things away in our new, palatial bedroom. Emma reported on her conversation with Gidget.

"She's so cool," said Emma. "She played me the song she's working on now. It's going to be beautiful."

"If she's good, I wonder why we haven't heard of her," I said.

"She sells her songs. She says performing is too much stress, and she doesn't want to tour and be away from things. It's more of a hobby for her. Her main job is with the gold mine. She flies down there every other week."

"This is all so different than what I expected," I said. "Who knew Uncle Bob is a millionaire?"

"Nobody in our family," said Emma. "I bet that's because nobody likes him. But if they knew he was rich, they'd probably all want things from him."

"Maybe," I said. "Do you think that's why Gidget got ... you know?"

"She loves him. After you left, we talked and I told her about how he's the black sheep of the family. She said our family must be stupid, because he's smart, and generous and just a good man. She loves him. I can tell."

"Did you talk about us?" I asked.

"She asked me if I was okay, and if anybody forced me to have sex with you. Once I convinced her there was no coercion involved, she seemed to relax. Then she asked me if I got pregnant on purpose. I told her it was an accident and she said she decided to have Uncle Bob's baby."

"But she won't marry him?"

"She said she might, but we're not supposed to tell him. She's worried that if they get married, it will change their relationship too much, and that people will think she's a gold digger."

We finished unpacking and stood there, looking around. I went to the bathroom, which was probably three times the size of the one back home. There was a glassed-in shower that four people could stand in. It had what looked like jets on the walls. I imagined Emma and me in there, together, and got stiff in my pants.

When I went back to the bedroom, I told her what I'd found, and what had happened in my pants. She gave me a look that I had come to understand meant that I might get lucky.

"I need a shower," she said, sounding completely innocent.  "I bet you do, too. I bet you're all stinky from being around the horses."

"Gee," I said. "Which of us should go first?"

"I don't want to fight about that," she said. "Didn't you say it was big enough for both of us?"

"I did," I said.

Ten minutes later I was making love to my sister as we were pummeled by warm water. I managed to get my dick up inside her, but all we did was hug and kiss while it was in her.

After we were dry, I got in her again, this time on the bed, with her legs spread wide in welcome as I pushed and rubbed.

"You got me pregnant," she moaned.

"I'm not sorry," I huffed.

"After I have the baby, will you try to get me pregnant again?"

"Maybe," I groaned.

"Okay," she sighed.

Just like that, I went off in her.

She knew exactly how to push my buttons.

Uncle Bob's house was big enough that you might not run into anybody else unless you went looking for them. Uncle Bob spent part of each day working with Brad and another employee named Ralph. Ralph didn't live on the property. He usually arrived via motorcycle. He did the grunt work in the stables, like cleaning the stalls and getting rid of the manure and polishing tack. He was glad to meet me because he (correctly) thought that I'd be helping him with his duties. As the days went by, I was brought into that process. I learned how to muck out stalls, which wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Once everything had been raked and shoveled out into the main aisle, we used the tractor to scoop it all up and take it out to the manure pile, which was several hundred yards from the barn. Ralph said horse dung wasn't much good as fertilizer, but once a year they spread it on the range, anyway.

Taking care of the horses was smellier than mucking out their stalls. When I curried and brushed them, a fine dust coated me and it didn't smell all that good. I went from taking showers every two or three days to taking them every day. If Emma was around, she invariably got naked and got in the shower with me, washing every inch of my body. Sometimes she'd get on her knees and suck the juice out of my balls, too.

Emma hung with Gidget a lot. She learned how to operate some of the sound equipment, and recorded some of Gidget's music. That music had a country kind of feel to it, but it was mostly upbeat, with some rock and roll influence, too.

Gidget didn't try to do lyrics to go with her music. She just liked creating sound. She left the meaning of a tune to others.

School started and we decided to give in-person learning a try. It got us out and about, and we met new kids. Uncle Bob let us use one of his cars to get there and back. His garage would hold five cars, but he only had three. One was a restored muscle car called a Super Bee. One was a Chevy Silverado pickup that was five years old. The other was a Subaru Forester with four wheel drive. That's the one he let us use.

School was interesting because the kids were the same as all other kids, except they were really different, too. About half of them came from ranches around the area. They were called the "Hicks" by the other half, who lived in towns. They were called "Townies" by the Hicks. The Townies were more like kids back home. We were immediately adopted by the "Hicks". Our "cover" story was that Emma got pregnant and I was sent with her to keep an eye on her. This did two things for us. It explained why I was with her all the time, and it discouraged boys from getting too interested in her.

As it turned out, her being pregnant didn't make guys disinterested in her. She was paid a lot of attention by them. Maybe it was because it was obvious that she had 'put out' in the past.

There were some cute girls there, but I didn't try to form any relationships. I already had the only relationship I was interested in.

That relationship changed as Emma's pregnancy progressed. Part of that was because Emma's belly got bigger and bigger, and that affected how we made love. It also had a profound effect on me, because I could lie there for hours with my hand on her swollen abdomen. I also got my face close and talked to the baby inside. Emma laughed at me when I did that, but told me not to stop.

When Emma was six months pregnant, Gidget went into labor. The Silverado was a four door model, and good in snow less than 18 inches deep, so we all went with her to the hospital. Emma got to go with her for her complete labor and delivery. It sobered Emma, but she also said it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

She said I'd be grossed out if I went with her through her labor and delivery.

I said that was nonsense.

"No it isn't," she said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

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