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Message-ID: <49049asstr$1093860602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 29 Aug 2004 16:35:22 -0500
From: "Bernard Sagon" <bernard-sagon@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} (New) Amanda, My Sibling - 13 of 15  - Chap. 9 (no sex)
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Date: Mon, 30 Aug 2004 06:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

AMANDA, MY SIBLING - Chapter 9 (no sex).
By Bernard Sagon
Copyright (c) 2004 - all rights reserved.

================================================================
This is Chapter 9 of the sequel to my earlier story
"Sis On Tape".  Once more, this chapter contains no real
sex.  For those of you who fear that a trend is developing,
don't worry.  There is sex in the epilogue to follow.
As always, any comments and criticism from those readers
interested enough to write will be greatly appreciated.
Please send any comments to the newsgroup or directly
to bernard_sagon@hotmail.com - I will attempt to answer
all E-mail within a reasonable time frame.  Comments
posted to the newsgroups alt.sex.stories or
alt.sex.stories.d will be answered within the newsgroup
they are posted to.
================================================================
If you are unfamiliar with "Sis On Tape", the prequel to
this story, I highly recommend that you read it first.
Although "Amanda, My Sibling" has been written to stand on
its own merits (such as they are), this story and its
characters will be more understandable if you are familiar
with the earlier work.  I am reposting that story to the
newsgroups for your convenience.
================================================================
Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction and
contains sexually explicit adult material.  If you are not
an adult, do not wish to view such material, or if such
material is prohibited in your locality, you should exit
at this time.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
================================================================
This is a copyrighted work of fiction and the author
retains all rights to this story.  This story may be
freely copied and/or distributed for non-commercial use
or by archival services with this notice and any
applicable headers and footers attached, as required by
law.  This story may not be reproduced in any form for
profit without the express written permission of the
author.
================================================================
This story consists of a prologue, nine chapters, and an
epilogue.
================================================================


Chapter 9:

At long last the reception was over and it was time for
the bride and groom to leave for the honeymoon.  Their
car had been decorated in the traditional manner, with
streamers along the sides and strings of metal cans tied
to the rear bumper.  A large "Just Married" banner across
the trunk was the final touch.  Paul held the door for
his new wife as she slid into the passenger seat, barely
fitting due to her wedding gown.  Then, closing the
door, he went to his side of the car and got in.  At the
insistence of a number of people surrounding the car,
he leaned across to my sister.  In response, she leaned
toward him.  They kissed each other as flashbulbs exploded
around them.  Finally, after almost five minutes of posing
for the cameras, the happy couple was allowed to start the
car and drive off, the cans clattering down the street as
they went.

As soon as Amanda and her new husband left, I could see
my mother and father separate from the crowd of guests
and head toward Paul's parents.  They then all headed
toward where the limos had been parked.  This time it
would be their turn to ride the Rolls-Royce back to the
house to join the newlyweds, who would be changing cloths
and picking up their luggage before leaving on their
honeymoon.  They would be catching a nice cruise ship for
a ten day trip through the Panama canal and cruising the
Caribbean, although, knowing my sister, they would be
lucky if they saw even one half the scheduled ports of
call.  After all, it WOULD be their honeymoon.

I was right behind the parents' limo in my own car.  The
family wanted to spend a bit of time unwinding with the
bride and groom before they had to leave.  We arrived
back at our home just ahead of the happy couple, who we
knew had pulled their car over into a parking lot where
Paul would have to strip it of the streamers and tin
cans.  He and Amanda arrived while I was still getting
out of my own car, followed by the best man's car
containing him and the maid-of-honor.  We all enter
the house.

Everyone headed off to his or her assigned tasks.  Paul
went to change out of his tuxedo in my parent's bedroom.
Amanda and Mom headed up the stairs to my sister's
bedroom, where her wedding gown would be removed and
prepared for storage.  The best man, assisted by my
father, began transferring the mound of luggage that had
been staged in the living room to the bride and groom's
limo.  The pile was huge, particularly when you considered
that Paul and Amanda would probably be spending most of
the next ten days naked in each other's arms.  I just
hoped they had reserved a big stateroom.  They were going
to need the space.  And only God knew how they expected to
bring everything back with them on the airplane they would
be returning on.

Not having any tasks assigned for me to perform, I found
that Cindy and myself had been left to temporarily manage
for ourselves.  I intended to get myself that drink I had
been denied all day, and politely asked Cindy if she
would be interested in one too.

"Whisky on the rocks," she responded.  "Make it a double."

"O.K.," I responded, leading her toward the kitchen.
"Will Crown Royal be satisfactory?"

"I'll take anything," she replied, flashing me a very
pretty smile.  "You don't have to get fancy for me."

"Might as well drink the good stuff," I retorted.  "After
all, we don't have a wedding around here every day."

She laughed at my observation.  I mixed our drinks,
making myself a rum and Coke, and prepared hers, making
it closer to a triple than the requested double.
I gave her the glass, and picking up my own, started
sipping.  We discussed the events of the day.  Although,
as Amanda's best friend, she was a regular fixture around
the Carson household, I had not had that much of a chance
to talk to her one-on-one.  After all, I had only been
alone with her once that time at the mall, and had made
a point of not following her around as she had cruised
the various boutiques (I had always found myself bored
to death when I had accompanied Amanda on such outings).
Then of course we had no chance to talk while watching
a movie, so I wasn't sure what to expect from her.
I was pleased to discover that she was quite easy to talk
to.  Her observations were insightful, and her dry sense
of humor soon had me laughing quietly with her.
I decided to bring up the subject of our dance.

"I'd like to thank you for our dance together.  It was
one of the high points of my day."

Cindy blushed a light pink at my statement.  It was
obvious that she had discussed our dance some more
after Amanda had spoken with me.

She seemed a bit flustered in being caught out.  "I'm
sure you're overstating the case."

"No, I mean it," I replied, deciding not to bring up the
boner she had given me.  We both knew what had happened.
Instead, I continued, "You're a very good dancer, you
know."

"Thank you," she said, obviously pleased.  "You're not a
bad dancer yourself."

"If I'm not, you have Amanda to thank.  She taught me how
to dance back in high school before my first prom.  Guess
she didn't want me to make a fool out of myself."

"Really?" she responded, amused.

"Really.  My sister probably thought that it might reflect
badly on her if her brother had no social skills."

"Maybe," she agreed.  "I remember performing a similar
service for my younger brothers before their first proms."

"You probably did a better job of it," I suggested.  "At
least you know how to follow a man's lead.  My sister
never was very good at following someone else."

"I'm sure Amanda is a very good dancer."

"But not as good as you," I insisted.  "Anyway, thanks
for brightening up what was otherwise a rather boring day
for me."

"Oh?" Cindy replied, intrigued.  "Boring in what way?"

"In almost every way you can think of.  Weddings are
really designed for the participants and the parents of
the bride and groom - and I'm not too sure about the
participants part.  The rest of us just have to endure
the ritual."

Cindy frowned slightly.  "That's not exactly a very
romantic view of things."

"Guess I a bit of a cynic," I conceded.  "I don't see the
world in very romantic terms.  Weddings are a ritual
society uses to bestow it's blessing on the joining of
two households.  It was originally more like the merging
of two corporations than all the hearts and flowers stuff
you hear all the time.  Don't forget, once upon a time
the bride and groom didn't have much say about who they
were getting married to.  Most marriages were arraigned -
or at least they were among the socially elite."

"Well, I don't look at marriage like that," Cindy
declared.  "I guess I have a much more ideal view of
what a marriage should be than you."

"Actually, I think you're mistaken in that belief.  I have
an ideal view of what marriage should be - just like you
do.  I wasn't talking about marriage - I was talking about
the wedding - the ritual involved.  There is a difference
between the two."

"And the distinction is?"

"The wedding is a social acknowledgement of a social
union.  I don't think a wedding does anything else.  For
instance, do you really think anything was created in that
church today that didn't already exist?  Look at Amanda
and Paul.  Don't you think they were already one before
today?"

"Well, maybe.  I can see where you're coming from.
Still, the wedding made it all legal."

"Exactly," I agreed.  "A social acknowledgement took
place of a union that already existed.  I understand the
reasons for the ritual.  I just don't confuse the ritual -
the wedding - with marriage itself."

"Well, if you put it that way, I probably would have to
agree with you," Cindy conceded.  "Still, your view just
doesn't seem to leave much room for romance.  I would
want more for myself if and when my time to get married
comes around."

"Well, hold on to those dreams for romance.  I'm all for
it.  I just think the romance better be there BEFORE the
wedding occurs."

Our discussion was interrupted by the sounds coming from
the living room.  It quickly became obvious that my sister
and her husband had reappeared, as I could hear my father
directing them to stand closer together and smile while
he took pictures.  I knew that sooner or later I would be
roped into posing with the family.

"I suppose we'd better to getting back."

"I suppose so," Cindy agreed.

"Would you like another of those?" I inquired, pointing to
her now almost whiskyless glass.

"That would be nice, but make it a highball this time.
I don't usually drink it straight."  She laughed coyly,
"You wouldn't want to get me drunk, would you?"

I gave her a sideward glance at this last question.  God,
first Amanda and now Cindy acting like I might be trying
to put the moves on my sister's best friend.  But there
was nothing there - no indication that Cindy was flirting
with me.  Her inquiry had probably been an innocent one.
After all, there was no reason for her to flirt with me.
It wasn't like Cindy was unaware that she could get a
response out of me.  My hard-on when we had danced had
told her all she needed to know on that score.

I took her drink from her, refreshing it with Crown Royal
and then pouring ginger ale over the remaining ice.  Then
I freshened up my own rum and Coke.  I then escorted her
back into the living room.

My father was still photographing the newlyweds.  My
sister caught sight of the two of us returning from the
kitchen, her eyebrows rising.  I made a point of moving
away from Cindy before my sister started giving me that
look again.  Her mental matchmaking would have been
amusing if it weren't so annoying.  I wasn't interested
in sex with Cindy.  Why couldn't Amanda just accept that?
It wasn't like she was very approving of the idea anyway.

The next hour and a half was exactly the kind of nightmare
I had expected.  I did get roped in for several pictures
of the bride and groom with the whole family before it
became obvious that, not being a part of the wedding
party, I would be awkwardly out of place in whatever
additional photos were to be taken.  That was how I ended
up with the camera in my hands, taking pictures of the
others, allowing Dad to join the festivities, abet
reluctantly.  Still, he went along gamely for the sake
of his daughter's happiness and the fact that Mom would
probably have had a fit if he hadn't.

Finally, once the family togetherness thing had been done
(and overdone), including a second round of photographs
with Paul's family, the honeymoon couple was allowed to
make their escape.  This involved another round of hugs
and kisses, handshakes with the groom, and a number of
semi-ribald jokes about the bride and groom's expected
honeymoon activities from my mother of all people.
I wouldn't have thought that she had it in her.  I came
to the conclusion that there's just something decidedly
weird about hearing your own normally prim and proper
mom telling off-color jokes.

My sister joined in the spirit of the teasing.  "Well,
don't expect any postcards from us.  I don't plan on
spending my time doing anything so mundane as writing
home."

"Well, there's always photographs..." my mother quipped.

Even Amanda blushed at this, though Paul and his father
both laughed hardily.

"I don't think so" she responded.  "If I do need to
contact any of you, I'll find an Internet connection and
e-mail you or Kenneth."

My ears picked up at the mention of my name.

"Should I check my computer every day?"  I queried
sarcastically.  "I can't imagine anything you'd want to
interrupt your honeymoon for to tell me."

Amanda responded in exactly the same sarcastic tone I had
used.  "Well, check once in a while anyway."  She locked
eyes with me just momentarily.  "You never know what
I might have to say."

Was my sister trying to send me a message?  Despite the
fact that she had spoken to me in front of everyone else,
including her new husband and both sets of parents, I was
certain she had.  After all, we had a history that none
of the others was aware of.  I was sure she had let me
know that she had left or would leave a missive for me
in my secret e-mail box.  I'd have to look for it when
I was assured of privacy.

In the meantime, I had to settle for giving her a very
brotherly kiss on the cheek goodbye.  She returned it in
the same manner, giving me a soft hug.

"You take care of yourself now," I told her, sincerely.
"I want you both to be happy - I really do."

Amanda blushed.  "Thank you.  We intend to do just that."

"And don't worry about your things," I continued - teasing
her, acting like the brother our parents were more used
to.  "I won't move into your room until after you get
back from your honeymoon and get your stuff out of there."

That brought a smile to her face.  "Well, that's a load off
my mind.  I had been afraid I might come back to find you
wearing my cloths."

It was my turn to blush at her response.  Mom gave both
of us an exasperated, disapproving look, while Dad tried
hard not to laugh out loud.

All the words having been said, all the hugs and kisses
exchanged, we accompanied the newlyweds to the Rolls-Royce
Silver Cloud, the only limo from the wedding party that
remained.  It would wisk them away to the pier where they
would embark on the cruse ship.  We all waved at them one
last time as the driver pulled away from the curb,
watching as the car moved away, becoming smaller and
smaller until, turning right at the end of the street,
it disappeared from view.

"Thank God!" my mother sighed.  "I can stop worrying now."

"Oh?" Cindy responded, raising an eyebrow.  "I thought it
was a beautiful wedding, Mrs. Carson."

"And so it was," my mother agreed.  "But there were so
many things that could have gone wrong.  I've been on
pins and needles all day."

"Well, now you can relax, Dear," my father said.  "You've
sent our daughter off in style.  I'm sure she'll remember
this day the rest of her life."

****************************************************************

The rest of the day was an anti-climax.  I offered to
drive Cindy home, but arrangements had already been made
for the Best Man to perform that duty.  It was just as
well.  Amanda probably wouldn't have approved or would
have made more of the offer than was there.  After Cindy
and Paul's brother had left, followed by the return of
Paul's parents to their hotel, we had a bit of a light
supper - salad and deli finger sandwiches, but no one
was really very hungry, all of us having eaten at the
reception only a few hours earlier.  We viewed a bit of
TV, but it was soon apparent that no one was really
interested in watching.

Mom and Dad were soon begging off from the movie that was
being shown, claiming weariness after having been up since
six in the morning.  I wasn't buying it for a second.
There is just something about weddings that affects other
married couples.  She probably didn't think that I had
noticed, but Mom had been flirting with my father for a
least the last hour.  I was sure that sleep was the last
thing my parents had on their minds.  They departed for
their bedroom.  The sound of the lock on their bedroom
door being engaged only confirmed my suspicions.

I decided to go to bed myself.  I had no desire to hear
whatever sounds might make it through that locked door.
Like most children, I found it uncomfortable to think
of my parents having sex with each other.  On an
intellectual level, I was happy that they still enjoyed
that part of their lives, but emotionally, I just didn't
want to dwell on the mechanics of what they were going
to be doing.  Somehow thinking of them doing the exact
same thing my sister and I had done every chance we could
find just didn't seem proper.

I climbed the stairs and retired to my bedroom.  I had
planned on waiting until my parents were out of the house
before checking out my private e-mail, but now that my
parents were "busy", it was unlikely that my privacy
would be invaded anytime soon.  I gave them ten minutes
to get started, then booted up my computer and was soon
typing my user name and password into the site that held
my internet e-mail inbox.  I had read my sister's signals
correctly.  E-mail from Amanda was waiting for me.
I double-clicked on it and read my sister's words that
appeared in the window that opened:


     To whom it may concern:

     Try the key in you desk drawer.


That was the entire message she had sent me.  We NEVER put
anything in our private communications that we would worry
about an outsider reading.  After all, someone could hack
into an e-mail box.  It wasn't likely, but why take the
chance?  She must have had something very private to say
to me.

I knew enough to obey her instructions.  I slid open the
desk drawer and scanned its contents.  Most of it was the
usual junk, but my eye caught a glimpse of a small silver
key, about an inch long, in the front corner of the
drawer.  Recovering it from the clutter, I examined it
carefully.  It was nothing fancy, and seemed to have been
stamped out of a piece of metal rather than cut.
Not exactly a high security lock.  Of course, a key
implies a lock.  But what lock?  I had a pretty good
idea what lock this key would fit.

I left my room, heading toward my sister's bedroom.  My
parents would have wanted to know what I was doing there
if they had observed me, but I was certain they had better
things to do than wander around the house where they might
see or hear me.  Much better things.

I entered Amanda's room, the light from the hallway dimly
illuminating my surroundings.  There on her chest of
drawers was a black lacquered Japanese-design jewelry box.
That was my target.  I tried slipping the key I was
holding into the lock in the jewelry box's cover.

It didn't fit.

Damn, that wasn't supposed to happen.  That was not what
I had expected.  Now I had to find another lock for my
little key.  I flipped on the light, allowing myself a
better look of the room.  Locks... I was looking for
locks.

There only seemed to be two other locks in the room.
One was on the center drawer of the desk that Amanda used
as her computer desk.  The other was on the file drawer
on the side of that same desk.  I tried the center drawer
first.  It slid open easily, obviously unlocked.  That
left the file drawer.  I tried that one.  It didn't slide
open when I pulled on it.  That one was locked.

Placing the key my sister had left me into that lock,
I turned it and was rewarded by a soft click.  Sliding
the drawer open, I discovered why my sister had bypassed
her jewelry box.  The file folders had been pushed back to
create a space that was now occupied by a large shipping
envelope - one too large to have ever fit into her jewelry
box's undersized drawers.  It was one of the bubble-packing
lined ones, and had a blank unsealed envelope glued to its
front.  In the envelope was a sheet of paper with Amanda's
dainty, elegant handwriting clearly visible.

I removed the note from the envelope and examined the
letter.  This was the real message.  And I had been
right.  This message was personal - very personal.


     Dearest Brother,

     By the time you read this I will have embarked on my
     new life with my husband Paul.  We both knew that
     this day had to come.  What we had together was not
     meant to last.  It was beautiful while it did, but
     just like you once said that you wanted more for me
     than you could give, I also want more for you than
     I could have given you.

     I need to have you know that by letting me go, you
     have given me that "more" that I needed.  I am
     deeply in love with Paul.  I know that must sound
     hard to believe when you consider that you and I
     were balling each other silly for more than half the
     time I was dating him, but it's true. And he CAN
     give me the things I want - children, a home,
     stability in my life - the things that I need now.

     I want the same things for you too, Little Brother.
     You need to start going out with some of those coeds
     at that college you've been going to.  Maybe you
     should even bed a few of them, though knowing you
     like I do, I doubt if you need my permission on that
     score.  Celibacy is hardly a life-style you are
     likely to stick with.  But take a little advise from
     your older and hopefully wiser sister - look for
     someone that you can be friends with first.  Then, if
     you're lucky, you may find more than just someone to
     share your bed.  You may find someone to share your
     whole life.  That happened for me.  I'm hoping that
     it happens for you.

     Remember, I love you despite the fact that we are no
     longer lovers.  Even now, I have no regrets - I feel
     no guilt over what we did together.  You were there
     when I needed you.  When you had the power to really
     hurt me, you chose not to.  You freely surrendered
     the power you had over me.  You chose to show me
     that you loved me instead.

     I was still so close to the edge back then, Little
     Brother.  You helped pull me back, even though you
     didn't know it at the time.  I'll never forget that.
     You helped me survive while I was getting my head
     back together.

     Now it's time for me to move on.  I am leaving you a
     few little mementoes of our times together.  In the
     attached envelope are the videotapes we made of each
     other.  You might want to watch them when you think
     of me and what we once had.  They're yours now.
     Hopefully, I won't need them again.  I plan on being
     too busy creating new memories with my new husband.
     Just take good care of them.  I don't have to tell
     you what would happen to both of us if anyone else
     were ever to see them.

     Take care of yourself, Little Brother.

     Your ever-loving big sister,
                                      Amanda


I slowly folded the sheet of paper; it's words still
burning in my mind.  It was so typically Amanda, from its
overblown praise of my actions when I had first given her
back the video tape of her balling her college professor
to the need to offer me her advice as the elder sibling.
Still, it did bring a lump to my throat.  We had possessed
something special - something that would always unite us.

Sliding the message back into its envelope, I slide the
desk drawer shut, turned out the room light, and returned
down the hall to my own bedroom, carrying the shipping
envelope and it's explosive videotapes with me.  I was
going to have to find a good hiding place for them.
It would not do to have either of my parents stumbling
across them.

I didn't have to open the shipping envelope.  I already
knew what its contents were - four 8mm videotapes - almost
eight hours of sex beginning with my sister doing her
college professor, continuing through my eighteenth
birthday when I had first taken Amanda's anal virginity,
and then through the numerous other times we had done it
for the camera.  And we had done for the camera quite a
few times, sometimes with me holding the camera while my
sister did me, but most often with the camera on a tripod
while we fucked each other silly.  Eight hours of videotape
is a LOT of sex.  Having these tapes to watch, I knew
boredom was one thing I was not going to have to worry
about.

Still, I needed to take some of my sister's advice.  The
end of our affair had impacted me a lot harder than it
had her.  After all, she had Paul as a lover and
companion, and I am sure they had been getting it on
regularly.  I had not been as lucky.  Not having made
any arrangements for the day when our sibling affair
would end, I had suddenly found myself alone.  I was
definitely going to have to find a girlfriend to fuck,
and sooner rather than later.  As it was, I had had to
depend on my five best friends for most of the sex
I had engaged in since Amanda and I had ceased doing
each other.  In fact, I had been laid only twice in the
five months leading up to my sister's wedding, both
times at college during parties off campus, and for
one of those times both I and the girl had been really
drunk.  I had had other opportunities, but my own
stupid pride in not using a girl just for sex had
prevented me from taking advantage of those situations.
Sometimes having standards can be such a bitch.

That had been one factor.  The other factor was the fact
that I was still living at home while going to the local
community college.  Now that Amanda had finished college
and my father would only be paying for one child's
education, I would be able to live on campus next semester.
Dad was of the opinion that doing so was part of the
college experience, and I was hardly about to argue with
him.  It would be nice to be on my own.  That, however,
was not going to happen until September.  Knowing that
I would be stuck living with my parents until then, I
figured that things would be pretty dry in the girlfriend
department for the summer.  Most of the girls I had known
from high school already had boyfriends, and the few that
were available would be looking for something classier
than the back seat of my shitbox Ford.

So here I was - girlfriendless, stuck at home, reduced to
jacking off to videotapes of what once-had-been.  I envied
my sister.  At least she was getting laid.  She was
married and had a life - a real life of her own.  That
was what I wanted.  That was what I needed.  I looked
forward to it.  Come September, I would find myself a
girlfriend and get back into the swing of things.

Come September...

It was going to be a long summer.

****************************************************************

End of Chapter 9 of "Amanda, My Sibling"

bernard_sagon@hotmail.com

Additional Bernard Sagon stories can be found at
storiesonline.net or the alt.sex.stories text
repository at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/

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