Forbidden Fantasies (Erotica)

“Why don’t you invite your friends over here tonight? It’s Saturday, we could have a proper party to welcome Nick,” Amanda said.

“That sounds awesome!” Emily exclaimed.” I can’t wait to show you off to my friends.”

Emily stuffed another piece of bacon into her mouth, then darted out of the kitchen like her pants were on fire. Of course, I watched her bubbly butt the entire way.

“Does she ever sit still?” I asked Amanda.

“Nope,” she laughed.

I finished my plate of food and carried it around to the sink, scraping the leftovers into the bin before rinsing and storing it in the dishwasher. Making sure I did it when Amanda’s back was too me, just in case she tried to do it herself. I’d really have to help her out around the house to give her a break.

“What about you?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she replied.

“What are your plans for today?” I added.

She pursed her lips in thought, as if she really hadn’t thought about what to do with her free time, which was something I had gathered she hadn’t had a lot of in the years since her mother left, and our father had died.

“Not sure, might just read a book or listen to some music,” she shrugged. “I’m not really all that exciting.”

“Sounds like a pretty good day to me,” I said with a smile. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, but you’ll probably have to fight to get away from Emily,” Amanda said. “She’s been so excited to meet you and show off her long-lost brother to all her friends.”

“Any of the cute?” I asked with a smirk.

“Quite a few,” Amanda half smiled.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“Maybe I can get her to set me up,” I added with a laugh.

“Oh Nick, I doubt you’ll have any trouble finding a girl,” Amanda replied, giving me one of those intense looks.

Her eyes bore into me, making my heart beat a little faster. Suddenly I was feeling a little hot, and I was aware of the tight denim shorts she was wearing, showcasing her super-star long legs and I felt my barely receding dick spring back to life. It was going to be another one of those days.

Just then, Erica came down from upstairs in a pair of Lycra leggings and sports bra. The bra was meant to keep her breasts in place for working out, but it seemed to be slacking off since they bounced with every step she took.

“Morning Erica,” Amanda greeted her sister with a plate of eggs and toast.

“Good morning,” she replied to Amanda, then gave me a flat stare.

She didn’t look too pleased to see me, not a single smirk, smile or seductive wink this morning. Maybe I’d gone too far with the shower scene this morning, but she had to know she couldn’t do what she was doing and get away with it. I’d have to fight fire with fire when dealing with this temptress.

“Morning Erica,” I said in my most pleasant tone.

“Morning,” she replied, then took her plate and sat down at the dining table by herself.

I studied her for a moment as she slowly ate her food and flicked through some social media app on her phone, stopping to take a selfie or two from time to time.

“Something happen between you two?” Amanda asked, making me jump.

“Nope, nothing, maybe she is just a little hungover and embarrassed from last night,” I lied.

“I’ve never known Erica to be embarrassed by anything,” Amanda mused. “But, having a brother is a new experience to us all.”

“Especially me,” I laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’ll just give her some space.”

“Okay, but you let me know if she starts being a bitch to you, she got that from our mother,” Amanda added.

“Sure thing,” I replied, not really intending on getting Erica in trouble with her sister. I could deal with her on my own if she kept it up, it was actually kind of fun fucking with her.

I said my goodbyes to my sisters, too which Amanda gave me a one-armed hug and Erica ignored me. I left the kitchen to search for Emily, then I heard the muffled rumble of a bass guitar coming from the door I suspected led to the garage. I knocked on the door but the playing continued, so I tried the handle and found it was unlocked. I inched the door open and peered into my idea of heaven.

The interior of the garage had been sound proofed in a professional manner, and the concrete floor was covered neatly with carpet tiles to further dampen the sound both inside, and outside. A massive double-bass drum kit sat on a small riser at the far end of the room, the cymbal rack glittered with an impressive amount of polished brass cymbals and the drums themselves were a deep red with black swirls laced with mother of pearl. It was a beautiful set-up, and I wondered who it belonged too.

“Nick!” Emily said as soon as the bass guitar stopped.

“Hey, sweet set-up,” I said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me.

Emily was seated on a stool in-front of a massive 6×10 bass cab with a Mesa M9 carbine amp sitting on top. The amplifier was a serious piece of band equipment, at 900watts it could probably vibrate the whole house if it was turned up. I noticed the volume was only on two and was surprised I could hear it so well at a low setting, even through the sound proofing. Resting on her knee was a 4-string BTB Ibanez with a five-piece neck-through design. The polished wood finish was spectacular and the tiny mother of pearl inlays along the fretboard shimmered whenever Emily moved the instrument. She held it with a familiarity one only gets from playing an instrument for long hours.

“Thanks, it’s not all mine though,” she said, placing the bass on the stand beside her.

Other stands sat by two other guitar amps on either side of Emily’s. Both guitar rigs were almost identical, both had a 4×10 mesa guitar cab, but the amps were different. The one to her right was a Mesa Stiletto while the other was a Mesa dual rectifier. Whoever owned all this equipment definitely had their favourite brand picked out when it came to amps. Guitars were a different story.

The stand, by the amp was a multi-stand that held three guitars, each hanging by a clamp around the base of the headstock. One was a beautiful deep-red swirled PRS, while the other two were Jackson guitars, one from the Kelly model with long, sweeping points while the other was from the V collection. The V was stark white with black edging and the Kelly was plain black. While I’d love to play either of them, the black one had caught my attention.

“You play, don’t you?” Emily interrupted my ogling of the instruments.

“I do,” I replied.

“Wanna jam?” she smiled.

“Are these yours?” I asked, pointing to the guitars.

“No, they’re Amanda’s, but she doesn’t play anymore,” Emily replied, sounding a little sad.

“How come?” I asked.

“Dad taught her,” she replied simply.