Happy Fuck Valentine’s Day by FamilyGuy66
Author’s Note: This is the first time I’ve ever attempted pure fiction. Those who have read my incest stories know I write character-driven love stories and that I try to create a believable reason for the protagonists to engage in such a taboo act. This is by far the longest story I’ve submitted, so expect a long, slow build before the action really heats up. If you’re looking for quick gratification, this story probably won’t be for you. I understand the commitment it takes to read a story this long, and I hope I’ve done well by you. Enjoy- and Happy Valentine’s Day!
February 10
My personal cell phone pinged while I was sitting in an unproductive video conference for work. Keeping the phone out of camera view, I turned it over and looked down at the message preview.
FML!!!!
I opened the message, wondering whose life was fucked. Not surprisingly, it was Tory, my younger sister, who was in her second year of college. I wasn’t overly concerned; according to our parents, “too emotional” was Tory’s most accurate descriptor, whereas mine was “too stoic”. Much as I loved my baby sister, she did tend towards the dramatic.
Two minutes later: PING!please call me ASAP!
In a mtg. 20 min., I sent back.
PING!ty
The meeting concluded, I checked my e-mail to see if, in the past hour, any urgent fires had been lit that I needed to address. Seeing nothing, I called my sister. Tory must’ve been sitting on her phone, as quickly as she answered.
“Johnny…” I could hear that my baby sister was crying.
“T-bird, what’s going on? Why so sad, sweetie?”
“I’m not just sad, I’m pissed!” she spat. “Fucking Jackson! Fucking college guys! Fucking men!”
I waited her out. When Tory got revved up, she needed to vent before getting to the heart of the matter.
“Fucking college! Fucking life!”
I waited some more. Tory sobbed a couple of times, then I heard a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to pull herself together.
Tory sniffed. “Jackson dumped me!”
“Aww, I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m not trying to make you feel worse, but I did tell you four months ago that dude was a fucking idiot.”
What do you call that sound that’s half-sob, half-laugh? Well, Tory did that. “You were right! The fucker!”
“Tell me what happened, T.”
“There’s not much to tell,” she sniffed. “He sent me a text. Six months together, and he dumps me with a fucking text!”
“Did he tell you why?”
“No. Just that he doesn’t want to see me anymore. He’s blocked me on all his social media. I tried to call him, but that goes straight to voicemail – the fucker.”
“So Jackson is an idiot and a coward, but you gotta admire his tech-savvy ways, huh?”
Just a single sharp bark of a laugh, but no sob. I hoped that was progress.
We agreed Tory would come to my apartment after I got off work and we’d talk more over dinner.
Arriving home, I did a half-hour on the elliptical in my building’s gym, ordered too much Thai food for delivery, grabbed a quick shower, and was getting dressed when I heard
PING!Here.
entry door 8375. My door’s open.
Tory swept through the door a few minutes later, made a beeline my way, and threw herself against me, her head on my chest as she sobbed. I wrapped my arms around her, one hand on her lower back, the other on the back of her head, smoothing her hair as I murmured soothing shushing sounds.
Eventually, one long sniffle and Tory’s hands went to my chest, pushing herself back as she looked up at me. Reaching behind myself without looking, I grabbed a napkin from the table and wiped a runner of snot from my baby sister’s pretty face. Well, her usually pretty face. Right now, her eyes were red from an afternoon of crying, her makeup was smeared, and oh man! was that more snot dried onto her face?
Sometimes, it wasn’t easy being a big brother.
“Come with me, sweetie,” I said, leading her by the hand to my bathroom. I sat her down, wet a washcloth with warm water, and gently cleaned her face as best I could. Tory sat silently, anxiously wringing her hands while she submitted to my ministrations. I wondered if people ever outgrew their childhood roles. Four years older than Tory’s 19, I’d been the one to take care of my only sibling while our parents worked.
“Well, look at you!” I pronounced, my hand on my sister’s chin as I assessed my work, “there’s my pretty girl.” Tory managed a weak smile. She looked a helluva lot better than she had a few minutes ago. Only time would take care of the redness and swelling around her eyes, but at least she wasn’t a snotty mess anymore.
“Thank you, Johnny,” Tory said gratefully, then sighed. “I’m sorry I’m such a train wreck.”
“Ohh, sweetie, you’re not a train wreck. You’re 19. That’s about the age when you find out life can really suck sometimes. I wish there were a way you could grow up without that lesson, but it just doesn’t happen that way.”
My doorbell buzzed.
“That’s dinner.”
“Thai?” Tory asked hopefully.
“Of course, sweetie,” I smiled. “Nothing cures sorrow like spicy Asian food.”
“And wine?” she hinted.
“Two glasses, no more.”
“Awww,” she complained.
“Hey, you came to your brother, so you get your brother’s help. If all you want is to get stupid drunk, you can head back to your sorority house right now. I’m sure they’ll be happy to get you all kinds of fucked up, then point you in the direction of the next hot idiot fratboy.”
Tory shook her head. “I don’t want to go back, Johnny. I’m not sure I ever want to go back.”
Tory had followed in my footsteps, attending my alma mater. I’d graduated the year before she started her freshman year, and had found a reasonably good starter job in the same city, over 1,100 miles from where we’d grown up. I wasn’t financially set, but I had my own apartment, while a lot of my contemporaries were sharing living expenses, and, in my opinion, trying to extend the drunken haze of college life. Even though my sister lived just a few miles from me, we hadn’t seen much of each other – between school and her sorority activities, she kept a pretty busy schedule.
“Wow,” I said as we grabbed plates and glasses. “This guy really did a number on your head, didn’t he?”
“He couldn’t have fucked me up worse if he’d planned it. Red or white?”
“The meat’s chicken. Should be a Riesling in the fridge,” I said. Tory uncorked the wine as I unpacked the food.
“Did you get Pad Thai?” she asked hopefully.
I nodded. “And Drunken Noodle, Basil Fried Rice, Mango Curry, and spring rolls.”
“That’s a lot of food!” Tory exclaimed. “Are there more sisters I don’t know about coming by for food therapy?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t know what you’d feel like tonight; plus I never met leftover Thai food I didn’t like.”
As we ate, we caught up, talking about her classes, my work, and movies – anything but the reason she was there.
Midway through her second glass of wine, Tory was relaxed enough to get down to it.
Tory told me that Jackson (why do parents give their kids last names as first names, anyway?) hadn’t given any indication that anything was wrong between them. He hadn’t seemed any different to her, hadn’t been unusually absent or anything. I could tell she was trying to find fault within herself.