A Family Reunion Chapt. 1 (Growing up with Marcy)

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My memories of my early childhood were not pleasant. While some people wish they could go back to their carefree childhood days, I look at childhood as something I survived and lived to tell about. I recall my first few years on the planet as being in the middle of two parents who spent most of their awake moments arguing and fighting. The fights often became physical, no doubt fueled by my fathers alcohol abuse and my mother’s addiction problems. They finally broke up when I was four years of age. It would be the first time I could recall that I was able to get a peaceful nights sleep. When my parents broke up my mom was six months pregnant. I was sent to live with my father by a quick judge’s ruling because of my mother’s addiction problems. It was ruled that she was not the best choice of a parent for me to live with. Once I left her house and Danville, Pennsylvania, I never looked back. I didn’t even find out that she gave birth to a baby girl until years later. I had a sister I never knew and really had no interest in getting to know. I seriously tried to erase all connection with that town and that part of the family and had no interest in doing otherwise. My father took me out to New Jersey to begin our new life. He had a sister out there and some other family he wanted to be closer to. It was also a bit easier to find work, which was a definite plus. My father actually tried hard to be a good parent after the divorce, perhaps trying to compensate for the bedlam that passed as my early family life. He nearly gave up drinking completely and worked hard to make a good life for him and myself. My thoughts of my mother and that part of the world were soon far behind. I wanted to keep it that way. My father did take advantage of his newfound freedom though. For the first few years of his bachelorhood, he did have a fairly steady istanbul travesti stream of girlfriends. It wasn’t until I was almost a teenager that he became really serious about one woman. Denise shared a lot in common with my father, so it was not surprising they would eventually tie the knot. Both were single parents who had been married to spouses with serious addiction problems. Her husband was an abusive alcoholic who abandoned her and left her with two children. She had a son Steve, a year older than myself and a daughter that was a year younger than me. It was her daughter Marcia that would prove to be the person who would have the biggest effect on my life. She entered my life shortly after I had reached puberty. I was fourteen at the time. When I first met Marcia, I actually thought of her as a bit of a tomboy. She seemed a bit rough and was constantly acting out. When I say tomboy, I really mean that in a good way. The type of girl who was not afraid to get dirty once in a while. The type of girl who was not afraid to hang out with the guys. Oh yes, that would prove to be very true. Her acting out I thought a bit tiresome at first. She seemed to constantly crave attention regardless of the costs. When I first met her, while my father and Denise were still dating, I thought it just annoying. Once she moved in however, I found it quite intriguing. It only added to her many charms. Having her in the house during my adolescence was a distraction, to say the least. In a relatively short period of time, this tomboy went from ripped jeans to designer jeans. Her once short haircut she let grow out so that she now had long, flowing blond locks with a slight natural curl. Her natural blond hair color perfectly complimented her big blue eyes. Her body had seemed to hit a bit of a development spurt as well. Her istanbul travestileri breasts grew round and firm. Her perky nipples seemed to press against the fabric of everything she wore. What she wore seemed to change as well. Her clothing became more and more revealing and there was no way that this adolescent boy living under the same roof was not going to notice. There was no question that I was starting to have feelings for my step-sister. The question was what to do about it. Marcia, or Marcy as we called her, was developing a bit of a reputation in her teen years. I had heard various tales of her sexual escapades, including stories of her with other girls. How much of it was true, I really was not sure. The one thing I knew was that she was occupying my thoughts more and more. If my dad knew, he would kick my ass no doubt. If my step-mom Denise found out, I would be out of the house immediately. The threat of getting kicked out certainly was not enough to get me to stop thinking about Marcy. I did the usual teenage dating, but was admittedly a bit shy around girls. I often found myself thinking about my step-sister while masturbating. I was fascinated by her. I wanted to get closer to her, but I didn’t dare. I really wanted to know everything about her. It got to the point where I found myself going through the laundry hamper looking for her panties just so I could smell her scent while thinking about her. One day I recall very distinctly. I was seventeen years-old at the time. I was sitting in my room on my bed masturbating. On the bed was a Playboy magazine open to a picture of a girl I was imagining to be Marcy. A pair of her panties lay nearby. Marcy suddenly walked into the room to ask me something. I thought to myself, this could not be good. I immediately stopped what I was doing and prepared travesti for the worst. To my surprise, my step-sister didn’t say a word. Instead, she started walking slowly towards me with a big, sly grin on her face. She bent over and took my stiff cock in her right hand while looking me straight in the eye, never saying a word. She gripped my member tightly and began to stroke it with long, firm strokes. With her other hand she undid her tight jeans and began to finger herself through her panties. As her stroking continued, I could feel the tension building down to my toes which were curling in my sneakers. Marcy continued to finger herself while stroking me harder and faster and I could see a wet spot forming around her fingers as she pressed them into her teenage lips through her panties. I could hear her soft moans as I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I shot my load all over my chest. When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the sight of Marcy standing over me with a big smile on her face. She dipped her right index finger into my cum and touched it to her lips. “Mmmm…tasty.” She said with a huge grin. She then looked down at the panties lying on the bed next to the Playboy magazine. “I think you could use a fresh pair of those.” She cooed. She then proceeded to slide her tight jeans down with a distinct wiggle in her hips that was making me hard all over again. She then reached down and pulled her jeans completely off. Marcy began to slide her panties down past her gorgeous thighs and legs. When she pulled them off past her feet, she held them up for a moment and then tossed them onto my face with a giggle. She then picked up the old panties off the bed and her jeans from off the floor, turned around and sauntered out of the room. I never said a single word. From that time on my relationship with my step-sister would never be the same. How could it be? My fascination had escaladed to a near obsession. Although we had a sexual encounter that day, our relationship had still not become sexual. A couple of months later, I was peering into her room through the keyhole in her door.

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