Within a day or two, my fate was fixed; seemingly Mom and Dad had simply made up their minds, without further consulting me, that Chrissy and I would be attending prom as a couple. Mom and Chrissy were planning to go shopping for a dress that weekend. On Friday morning I gave in to the inevitable and went to the table near the school entrance to buy a pair of prom tickets. It wasn’t as simple as I’d imagined. There was a permission slip, which surprised me – I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had to get my parents to sign something for school. Worse, there was a “guest form” that had to be filled out if your date wasn’t from the school. That posed a problem: I couldn’t very well put Chrissy’s full name on the form, especially as our family name was fairly distinctive. Furthermore, the form had to be signed by the non-student’s parents. I took the forms home and consulted Mom, pointing out that I didn’t really want anyone at school knowing that Chrissy was my sister. Mom laughed and said, “Don’t worry about it.” She filled in: “Attendee’s name: Chrissy Baboulis.” Baboulis was Mom’s maiden name. Then she signed the form, again using her maiden name, dated it, and handed it back. “Problem solved.” Dad signed my form, using our family name, and wrote a check for the two tickets. He commented: “I’m glad you’re doing this, son. You’ll have a lot of fun. We’ll head down to Jock’s soon to fit you for a tux, OK?” Jock’s was a formal wear company in town. The packet I’d picked up at school had an advertisement for tux rental from a place that, I guess, the school hand contracted with for a discount in exchange for advertising, but Dad was adamant: “No, we’ll definitely go to Jock’s. He’ll take care of you.” Dad owned various fancy outfits; it went along with being a musician, I guess. “Renting a tux is silly, anyway. We can buy something that looks really good on you for not that much more, and you’ll be able to use it all your life. You’re pretty much done growing, I hope — or I won’t be able to afford to feed you anymore.” That was another tired old joke of his.
Dad called first thing next morning and made an appointment. I heard him on the phone: “Hey, Jock, how’s it hangin’? … …Yeah, no, can you believe it, it’s my son Alex. You remember him? All grown up now, big tall fellow. Can’t hardly believe it, but he’s got his prom coming up!” There was a pause. “Yep, I can imagine. Well, could you fit us in maybe next weekend?” “Great, great! Look, I’m thinking, maybe we’ll just buy it. Alex’s off to college in the fall” – “yeah, seriously, he’s a smart kid. I’m sure he’ll have formal events from time to time. Keep something good in stock for us, will ya?” In the meantime, Mom and Chrissy went on Saturday morning to pick out a dress, and came back late in the evening loaded down with shopping bags, looking conspiratorial. They’d apparently made a day of it, having lunch out and everything. I’d never seen them look so much like a mother and daughter you might read about in a book; they’d clearly had a fun day together. They made a funny-looking pair though, Chrissy shortish and round in all the right places, Mom tall and thin with angular features. Later that evening, I asked Chrissy to show the dress to me and she looked scandalized. “You’re not allowed to see it until the night of, Alex! Besides, I don’t have it yet, obviously. It needs to get altered. We’re picking it up in two weeks.” Oh. I didn’t know how that worked.
Buying a tux turned out to operate on similar principles. Next Saturday morning, Dad and I went down to Jock’s, a somewhat dusty, claustrophobic little store with seemingly endless racks of suits and jackets. I definitely did not feel in my element, but Dad and Jock joked around like old friends, which I guess they were; I thought I recognized him from a party at our house years ago. Jock sized me up, chatted a bit with Dad, and finally brought out an outfit. I took one look at it and was horrified; I couldn’t imagine wearing it; it seemed garish to me. I tried to moderate my reaction. “Couldn’t we… couldn’t it be maybe, a little more, I don’t know… less… conspicuous?” I cringed inwardly; I sounded like an idiot. But Jock seemed to understand where I was coming from. “Hmm, so, something a little more traditional perhaps. All right, just try this on anyway, Alex, so I can get a quick idea of how it fits. Then we’ll look at some other pieces.” I looked around for a dressing room, didn’t see one. “Where do I…?” Dad waved vaguely at a three-sided mirror on the far end of the shop. I was shocked. Surely I wasn’t supposed to just take off my clothes out in the open? But he and Jock were talking about Jock’s family, and paying little attention to me. Finally I just picked up the suit and took it over to the mirror. There was a chair and a small table and I took off my shoes then, looking over to make sure that I wasn’t committing a huge faux pas, slowly removed my jeans, hiding my lower half as best I could behind the table, pulled on the trousers, which were much too long and big around the waist, and then, trying to hold them up, fussed with the upper half of the outfit. I cleared my throat, and Jock came over, Dad right behind him. He didn’t seem too concerned that the trousers were comically oversized. “Hmm,” he said. “Let’s try something else.” What followed felt like an ordeal. I loathed getting undressed, even partially undressed, in front of people, even my dad; the table afforded some privacy, but not much. And there was one outfit after another, each of them feeling more ridiculous to me than the last, though Jock – and Dad – were enthusiastic about a few of them. I wasn’t sure if it was the outfits or me, but felt like I was wasting everyone’s time; I was about to apologize for wasting everyone’s time when Jock said, “Hmm. I have an idea.” He brought out a dark grey suit that, laid out on the table, didn’t seem very promising to me. After putting it on, I changed my opinion. I looked… distinguished, was the first word that came to mind. The suit wasn’t a tux in the classic sense, but it certainly wasn’t the sort of thing you’d wear to an office either. It made me look taller, I thought, gazing at myself in the mirror. It made me feel taller, and older. Even though I was still wearing a T-shirt under the jacket, I felt like this clothing somehow transformed me from a boy into a man. It gave me a feeling of confidence I’d almost never had before: I wasn’t fooling myself, I looked really good. Absurdly, I felt myself hardening a little as I admired my reflection, panicked, and fought desperately to keep myself from getting a full-on erection in front of Dad and Jock. They didn’t notice my discomfiture. Jock was smiling, and Dad looked… impressed. Finally, he spoke: “Alex, this one looks pretty good on you, you know? Chr…” He stopped himself abruptly, but I thought I knew approximately what he had been about to say. I nodded mutely. Jock chimed in: “I thought it might work.” Dad said, “All right, it’s settled. We’ll take it.” Jock whipped out a measuring tape and chalk and performed a seemingly endless series of operations, marking and taking a few notes, and then asked me try on a matching vest and some accessories. Finally, the “ordeal” was over, and Dad and Jock walked to the front of the store to finish the sale while I changed back into my jeans, leaving the suit respectfully arranged on the table. “It’ll be ready in a week,” promised Jock as we left. I was a bit exhausted but also excited by the prospect of wearing the suit in front of Chrissy. And the world.
“We’ll need to buy some shoes for you,” said Dad. “Let’s get lunch, first.” He was in a celebratory mood; he suggested a French restaurant nearby that, he said, specialized in steak frites, which I initially thought would be some kind of weird fried steak dish but turned out to be steak with French fries. It was a funny sort of place, big, bustling with customers, with a long line waiting. I was surprised when Dad went straight to the maître d’, said a few words, and we were seated within a few minutes, in a relatively quiet corner of the restaurant. Dad ordered a bottle of wine right away off the wine menu. Despite the apparent grandness of the place, the lunch seemed pretty informal – salad, then a plate of sliced-up steak with sauce, which the waiter served onto our plates, already loaded with fries. It was one of the best meals I’d ever eaten out. The waiter kept coming around and refilling our wine glasses, and my head was starting to spin a little by the time the waiter brought an unexpected second serving; I was happy to have more food to balance the wine we were drinking, probably more than I’d ever had at one time. We chatted about inconsequential things, Dad’s music, what I thought college would be like, our summer plans, Finland.
Finally, after we’d finished the last of our steak frites and chosen fancy confections from the dessert menu that the waiter brought unbidden, Dad paused for a little while, looking reflective, almost a little grave. “Look, …” he finally said, then fell silent. I waited. He took a deep breath, then sighed. “Alex. Let’s talk man to man a little, here.” I felt apprehensive all of a sudden; the elevated mood I’d been enjoying since we left Jock’s collapsed. “I want to talk to you about Chrissy.” I went numb. “Now, now don’t interrupt,” – he said, unnecessarily; I wouldn’t have been able to speak even if I’d wanted to – “I don’t want to butt into your lives. You’re both almost grown up now. And I think you’re both doing just fine. But, …” he paused. “Look. I’m not blind. I can see that there’s something going on between the two of you. I can see how you look at each other. No, no,” he put his hand up – I’d opened my mouth to say something, anything, to get him to stop talking – “I don’t want to know. It’s not my business. Like I said, you’re grown up now. I have three things to say, so hear me out, and then we’ll drop the subject. Ok. One. Chrissy has a pretty stable head on her shoulders. I trust her instincts. I can see she is very happy these days, and I know that you’re the one who’s making her happy. But you’ve got to understand that what you’re doing…” – he put up his hand again – “no, I do not want to know the details, but whatever it is you’re doing, it’s not an easy thing. You could end up hurting each other very badly. I want you to promise me that you will take care of her and when this thing ends, because it will end at some point, believe me, you will let each other down easily.” My face was burning and I couldn’t look my father in the eye, let alone utter the promise he’d requested. There was a short pause, then he went on: “I want to still have a son and a daughter when it’s over. I want you to still be brother and sister when it’s over. Understand?” I still couldn’t speak, but I nodded, staring at the table.
“All right. Two. There’s no way to say this without embarrassing you, so I’m just going to say it and then we can forget about it. You need to be using protection.” I gasped, involuntarily. “Mother Nature doesn’t care that she’s your sister. She can still get pregnant, and that would be a big, big problem. Do you need help getting protection?” How could he possibly bring that up, how could he possibly know that we were having sex? Chrissy was now on the pill, but I couldn’t possibly tell Dad that. I shook my head. “OK. Man to man, just tell me, do you have that under control?” I nodded. “OK. Fine. Forget I mentioned it.” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Third thing. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but the world doesn’t look kindly on this sort of thing. Please be careful. At the prom, and in general. Whatever you do, don’t let anyone find out. I know you’re going to the prom as a couple, not as brother and sister, but please think about what you’re doing and the impression you’re making. Don’t let the truth get out.” I nodded again. “OK, last thing. I don’t want your mother to find out. Please try not to be so obvious about it at home. She hasn’t figured it out yet, at least she hasn’t said anything to me, but… there are reasons I think this would be hard on her.” I gulped. “I’ll tell you the truth, Alex, I noticed, you’d almost have to be blind not to. I think she would notice too, but she… well, never mind, let’s just say that maybe she wants to be blind to it. Please, both of you, help her stay that way.”
My head was spinning, from the wine, from the unexpected turn of events. I figured Dad was wrong; Mom surely knew far more than he did about Chrissy and me. Why, she had all but given me permission, no, almost asked me to go to Chrissy and “make her happy” that first night. And what she had said about her siblings… But I had never dreamed that Dad had noticed anything. He always seemed so clueless, almost uninterested about anything going on at home; his head was elsewhere, thinking about music, or his instrument projects, or whatever. How had he noticed without my noticing that he had noticed? Had he intentionally suggested that I take Chrissy to the prom? My brain was churning with questions that I was powerless to ask. Finally, I managed to croak: “I love Chrissy.” It sounded instantly wrong and ridiculous, like the first time I told her that. But Dad smiled wanly. “I know, son. And Chrissy loves you. That’s obvious to anyone who cares to look.” He paused. “I don’t want to be all gloom and doom about it. The truth is, this same thing happened with someone… someone I know really well. I mean, brother and sisters getting together, the whole nine yards. And it worked out fine. They were together for a long time. Nothing terrible happened. Nothing terrible will happen with you two either, I just want you both to be careful, to keep your eyes open, keep your wits around you. Ahhh, I don’t have to tell you this. You’re a good kid, Alex, and Chrissy is too. Just… just take very, very good care of her, all right? Look out for each other. It’ll be fine.” I suddenly realized, to my horror, that my father was close to crying; his eyes were glistening with tears. I didn’t think it was even possible for my father to cry; my mind recoiled at the thought. I stammered, echoing Dad’s last words: “It’ll be fine, Dad. It’ll be fine.” “It’ll be fine,” he repeated. “You kids are going to have a great time at the prom, and then we’re going to have a great time this summer in Finland. Waiter… L’addition, s’il vous plait!
I could barely look my father in the face out the rest of the afternoon, I felt so embarrassed, but after lunch, he seemed relaxed and unconcerned. We bought a pair of fancy but very comfortable shoes that he assured me would be a perfect complement to the suit – I was a bit shocked at the price but he said “Don’t worry, son, we can afford it. And these will last you a lifetime if you take care of them. I’ll show you how.” By the time we got home, it was late afternoon. Mom was in the kitchen with Chrissy, cooking together and giggling over something. I didn’t know what to make of this new domesticity. I wondered when Chrissy and Mom started spending so much time together; in the past I would have found Chrissy reading or watching TV on a Saturday afternoon, certainly not in the kitchen cooking with Mom – if Mom were even cooking at all. A tiny part of me felt jealous, or maybe even a little annoyed – why did we sometimes seem to be turning into a “normal,” TV-worthy family who ate together around the dinner table now, of all times, after so many years of benign neglect on the part of our parents? But when Chrissy came out of the kitchen and hugged me, I felt better right away. She started to sneak a kiss, but with my dad still there in the hall, putting away his things, I was feeling a little unnerved and just stroked her hair a couple of times, whispering “later.” That night, though, while we slept together as usual, I didn’t feel up to making love; I guess I was exhausted from the emotional stress of the day’s revelation. I didn’t say anything about it to Chrissy, just laughed that I could barely keep my eyes open, and we fell asleep happily in each other’s arms. Sunday morning, we made slow, languorous love, Chrissy lying on top of me with her head buried in my armpit, moving back and forth with the shaft of my penis not inside her, but pressed between her labia, her clitoris rubbing against the upper part with each movement. It went on forever, only the slow pace keeping me from exploding; when Chrissy began to speed up, I couldn’t help myself and moaned that I was coming. “Come, Alex, come,” she murmured, and I blew my load, my penis pulsating with an intense, but curiously localized sensation, as if my whole orgasm were concentrated at the head. When it was over both of our bellies were sticky with semen, but Chrissy lay there motionless with her head on my chest. “That was nice, Alex.” she said. “But you didn’t come!” I exclaimed. “It’s OK, it’s just nice to lie here with you.” We were quiet for an indeterminate while longer, listening to each other’s calm breathing, feeling each other’s heartbeats. Then I said “Chrissy, let me do you with my mouth.” She giggled and said “How should I sit?” A wild idea struck me and I blurted it out before I could lose my nerve. “I’ll stay lying here, just sit up on my face.” Chrissy was unfazed. She got up and positioned herself in a squatting position, so that her vulva was pressed against my mouth, her thighs, already wet with her juices, on my face, careful to avoid putting her full weight on me. “Am I too heavy?” she queried. I reassured her that she wasn’t, that in fact she could sit down if she wanted, and reveled in her delicious fragrance. She began to move back and forth, and I licked and licked, taking great delicious mouthfuls of her as she used her fingers to masturbate her clitoris, as usual. It felt like heaven; the sheer corporality of my lover, my sister, her slightly chubby belly hanging right above my eyes, her vulva and, as she moved in longer and longer strokes, more and more often her butt grinding themselves into my mouth, releasing their intoxicating flavors. After a few minutes, she leaned back, my tongue found its way into her anus, she sped up her masturbation and then came hard and fast, her butt clenching around my face, vaginal juices dripping onto my chin. There was no ejaculation – I’d noticed that inevitably required some penetration of her vagina – but she sighed in a deeply satisfied manner as she quickly got up off my face. “C’mon Alex, let’s take a shower.” We washed up and got ready to face the day.
That Friday, my suit had arrived when I got home; I tried it on in front of the full-length mirror in my room, with the shoes we’d bought. I waited until Chrissy was off studying in the living room – I figured if I couldn’t see her dress, she’d have to be surprised too. I had to admit it – I looked amazing. I barely recognized myself; I mused that if I didn’t know it was my reflection, I might even find myself attracted to the guy in the mirror: just a tall, dark-haired, solid, fairly strong-looking fellow who looked like he might be a lot of fun to hug. Since I was little, I’d always know that I had the ability to be attracted to members of my own sex, although most of them didn’t do anything for me; there had been boys at school, though, whom I had crushes on, and even to this day, I sometimes peeked at certain classmates before or after gym class from the relative safety of the far end of the locker room where I was dressing. I had never felt any real consternation about being attracted to the occasional male body; by and large, it was girls that turned me on, and anyway, I’d never really picked up any signals that suggested I should be worried about being anything but straight; Mom and Dad were many things, but not narrow-minded. I felt a nice little tingle of excitement; people were going to look at me in that suit and be attracted to me. Maybe other girls, maybe even some guys. I wouldn’t even know, and I wouldn’t care, because I had Chrissy, but it was nice to think about it. I could feel my hardness coming on, just as it had in Jock’s store; this time, I let it come on, then stripped down to just my underwear and stood there admiring myself. I wasn’t as paunchy as I had been this time last year, I thought; sure, I had a bit of a roundedness to my belly, but nothing serious. My shoulders were broad and my chest, while almost hairless, looked like that of a man, not a boy. My legs and arms looked strong, with downy, not very heavy hair covering them . My penis was making an appealing tent in my tighty-whities; after a while, I took them off, revealing a solid erection surrounded by a patch of black, curly hair, above a not too big, not too small ball sack. “Not bad,” I whispered. “Chrissy’s right, people will look at us and like what they see. I took my penis and began stroking. Without really needing to visualize anything, just feeling stimulated and contented, I brought myself to a pleasant orgasm in front of the mirror, catching my cum in my left hand. Then I dressed myself in jeans and T-shirt again and went out to see what Chrissy was up to.
The remaining month of the school term rushed by. Finals came and went; I found them no more challenging than I had expected, and I knew I’d done very well. Without attracting particular attention as a star student, I had always gotten very good grades, especially in the subjects that engaged me most – English, history, and, most years, whatever science class was on the menu – but even in math and other miscellaneous subjects I was no slouch. Curiously, given my family background, my worst class by far in my high school career had been music appreciation, two years before; I thought I appreciated music plenty, but the teacher had seemed to have it out for me. Even he, though, could do no worse than to award me a B- by the end of the semester, and among all the A’s I didn’t think it had damaged my chances for college; I had gotten in to all four schools I applied for, choosing the one that gave me the best scholarship; happily, it was the one I had been hoping for, near enough that I would be able to commute from home, at least in the beginning; prestigious enough that I figured I’d be in good shape in four years with its name festooned in Latin on my degree. I wasn’t sure what I was going to major in; I’d figure it out when I got there. I’d never really thought of myself as a scholarly person, but I liked learning, and especially liked writing – I did especially well on essay and composition assignments, which burgeoned in number in our senior year, and had garnered a number of A and even A+ grades this year. So I was not entirely surprised when Ms. Pullman, the senior English teacher, drew me aside at the end of class the Monday after our final and quizzed me about my future plans. She nodded approvingly when I told her I was going to college here in town. “That was my own alma mater,” she said. “You’ll get an excellent education there. Alex, you’re a very quiet boy. I have to admit, I barely noticed you in the beginning of the year. You almost never say anything in class, but you’ve consistently turned in some of the best work I’ve seen, especially your essay on Vonnegut. And I spent the weekend grading the finals; I’m happy to say I gave you a perfect score, the only one in the class. It’s been a pleasure teaching you. I hope you will come out of your shell a bit in college; I think you have a lot to offer the world.” “Thanks, Ms. Pullman,” I muttered, embarrassed at the unexpected praise. “It’s been my pleasure,” she repeated. “Will I be seeing you at the senior prom?” Ms. Pullman had been involved in the event planning, I know, although I was fuzzy on exactly what role teachers played at a senior prom. “Yes, actually, I’m going with my… with my girlfriend. From another school.” “Oh, how nice!” said Ms. Pullman, looking a little surprised. There was short pause. “Well, bye Ms. Pullman. I’ll see you later!”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/mkb0iw/yes_we_did_get_caught_part_5_str8mfinc
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