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There are tears running down Chrissy face now, and she lets out a soft whimper. But Angela’s on a roll as we try to process her words, and she thrusts a stack of photos before my father.
“Here you go, honey bun. Now, I know we haven’t seen our children naked since they were in diapers, but how did your sons learn to do that? How did they learn to treat a woman like that? Look at how Chrissy’s stretched, with her legs so far over her head. They were hurting her, don’t you think? Oh, and ignore the splotch of semen on her belly, even if it adds a certain authenticity to these pictures.”
My brother and I gape because suddenly, the import of Angela’s actions hit us. Is she showing our dad the naughty pictures we took with Chrissy? And even more, are we related to the curvy girl, even if only by marriage?
“Yes,” Angela confirms maliciously, her blue eyes gleaming as she reads our minds. “You’ve been fucking your stepsister, didn’t you know that, Ryder and Rick? You’ve been boinking cute little Chrissy McCall, as she was named back then. She’s Chrissy Stanton now because my ex gave her his last name, but did you have any idea you were doing the nasty with your sister?”
I jerk around to stare at our girlfriend.
“Is this true?” I demand. “Tell me it’s not true.”
But Chrissy can’t meet my eyes and merely sobs as she looks at the ground.
“Oh, I see you don’t know,” Angela hisses gleefully, clearly enjoying the effect of her insane outburst. Then, she turns her attention back to our dad. “What about you? Did you know Fred? Did you know that your boys have been fucking my daughter? What kind of stepbrothers would do such a thing?”
I blink several times, looking at our girlfriend for some sign that Angela is insane and lying, but just as quickly, details start to click into place. No wonder Chrissy appeared familiar at our high school reunion. It wasn’t just déjà vu because actually, she’s our former stepsister. And no wonder Chrissy seemed to know our life stories, even before we told her. It’s because we all used to live in the same house and eat at the same dinner table.
Chrissy.
I stare at the gorgeous girl, hardly able to believe that the ripe, luscious brunette before us is the awkward, buck-toothed girl my brother and I used to ignore. Hell, we probably only spoke ten words to her the entire time we lived in the same house.
“Holy shit,” my twin growls, distress evident on his face.
But Angela continues to address our father, ignoring me and Ryder. “And do you want to even know what’s worse?” She leans in close, bracing herself on the arms of Fred’s wheelchair. “They’ve been screwing her at the same time – two on one. How disgusting is that? Do you want to see more pictures, Fred? Here, let me help you,” she says, beginning to flip through the stack.
I can only imagine how horrifying those photos must be for our father because during that steamy session, we stretched Chrissy so hard that she couldn’t walk the next day. Her pussy and asshole were so sore that she literally stayed in bed and we brought her all her meals, in addition to providing warm baths and ice packs as needed.
“I think I deserve something for all this, don’t you think?” Angela hisses as my dad’s eyes grow wide, staring at the photos. “This is worth money, wouldn’t you say? Oh, here’s an especially good one. My daughter’s like a ballet dancer, I swear. So graceful, leaping through the air like that, and look: is that where she’s really going to land? On their dicks, with one in her pussy and the other in her ass?”
At that, my dad begins to wheeze heavily, and choke. Is it a piece of food? The bread from the complimentary bread basket? But then Fred begins to shake in his wheelchair, grabbing at his chest in desperate panic. His wide blue eyes lock with mine before he keels over, that white head slumping to the table.
“Call an ambulance!” I shout. “My father’s having a heart attack!”
For the next several moments, everything erupts into pandemonium as we try to save my dad’s life. But even as the sound of sirens grow loud in the background, a thought keeps circling in my brain: why didn’t our stepsister tell us?
10
Ryder
I pace the gleaming white corridor, waiting on the doctor for an update about my dad. It’s been over an hour since we rushed Fred to the hospital, and while we know that he had a heart attack, it’s unclear how severe the damage might be.
Rick sits in a worn-out floral chair against a far wall, holding his head in his hands. Neither one of us is prone to waterworks, but tonight, everything has gone out the window. Seriously, I don’t know how things could go further off the rails, seeing that we just found out that we’ve been in an illicit affair with our stepsister for months now.
