In the United States of America, everyone who seeks to learn the Government’s secrets must fill a Standard Form 86 and submit to a deep background check. Your friends are interviewed, your family members quizzed about you, your past becomes a matter of National Security and is researched accordingly.
Form 86 takes hours to complete and leaves no stone unturned. Section 18 of the form asks about your family members. Names, citizenship status. how often you reach out to them, how you contact them, you name it, the form asks about it.
When the federal investigator knocked at the door and told me my stepbrother applied for a government job and he needs to talk to me about his application, I blushed. I know Eric very well. We have been stepsiblings for over 10 years now. He had casually mentioned to me somebody might come and ask. Be honest or lie, he didn’t say. He could not advise me on what to tell a federal investigator, he said. What he wrote on the form at the “Provide methods of contact” field, he also did not say.
I hesitated. If our versions didn’t match, there was no way to chalk it up to a misunderstanding. If he said he called me once a month to check in and I said the truth, that would instantly disqualify him. Or, if he said the truth and I lied and said I only saw him on major holidays.. well, same. I flipped a coin in my head and decided it would be the truth.
“So tell me how you met Eric, Miss Jacobs”
“Well, my dad married his mom when we were 19. My mom had died a while back, his dad discovered he was gay and moved to San Francisco. Our parents did what they could to raise us, and then when we were adult enough to understand, went out and found new love. So they met, fell in love, Eric and I didn’t try to murder each other, and they got married. We hung out as a trial run for a few hours on weekends, then overnights, then entire weekends, and then my dad and I moved into Eric’s mom’s house in Grand Junction. That is how I met Eric”
The investigator hesitated for a bit. I could tell he was looking for something. Something he could not tell. If Eric had said the truth, the investigator could not lead me to it. He had to get my unabridged unprompted version of the facts. I looked at him, as doe eyed as I could, “is there anything else I can help you with?”
The zealous government employee caught himself, regained his composure, and without skipping one more beat, just asked “How did things work out once you and Eric were stuck together, so to speak?”
I laughed. That was an odd way to phrase it. “We were not hostages, Mr. Furlong, we were free to leave at any time. But, I would say things took an interesting turn, you know?”
“How so?” he asked
I knew then there would be no further stopping, no more questions. It was now or never. I had to tell this man the truth. “Well”, I started, “this will be a bit long and a bit graphic, so please let me finish and then you can ask any questions you need, alright?”
He nodded. I could tell by his expression that he felt he was finally getting where he wanted to go. Deep inside I felt like I was doing the right thing. Eric must have told them I thought to myself.
When Eric first moved in, I had a bit of a substance problem, if you will. Or, if we’re not sugarcoating it, I was doing cocaine. No, my dad did not know. I hid it pretty well. We had money, my mother was rich, and some of it had gone in a trust fund to my name. I got enough out of it to fuel my habits without raising too much suspicion. Plus, to dad I was his precious little baby girl who did no wrong. So, there you go. I was into cocaine. Eric was not that kind of kid. At least not at first. He was polite, smart, but shy and not exactly smooth with the ladies. Having a pretty young girl around all the time, without any biological taboo, must have really played a number on him. More than once, I caught him rubbing one out on the toilet. I never snitched. I could just tell he liked me, and he fantasized. Never inappropriate, mind you.
The first couple of months, I tried to cool his jets a bit. Then, it became a bit of an inner joke between us. I knew. He knew I knew. We knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. But what’s some harmless teasing? He was too much of a straight edge kid to ever hit on me. I knew, or thought, I was safe. So, I wore skimpier clothes around the house, left the door cracked while getting dressed, giggled on the phone. One night I was playing with myself under the blankets, and I made sure to make just enough noise that he could hear it across the walls. That was the wildest thing I’d done. I was high as fuck, pardon my language officer. Oh yeah, the cocaine. That was the downfall if you will.
I thought Eric had gone out with his friends, and so I was on the phone with my crush, who also happened to be my dealer, I know the cliche uh.. and I was skiing. Skiing, that’s the term for doing a line of coke. Because it’s white powder, get it? And so, I was skiing and giggling on the phone, telling this dude, I can’t even remember his name now, but so I was telling him how good his snow was, and how I wanted to see him soon, and Eric walks in, sees me do the cocaine. He is naive, alright, but not that naive. So, he knew what I was doing. Like, he knew right away. I hung up the phone, he looked at me, his eyes bulging, huge. “You won’t tell anyone?” I asked him
So, he asked me all the bullshit questions. Why do it? How was I paying? Did dad know? Did I need help? Did I want out? And then he asked me if I had more. I thought he was going to try and save me, you know, so I instinctively grabbed the little bag, but he laughed. “I won’t tell if you share” he said. It was my turn to have big eyes. “Share? with you? This is cocaine Eric. Have you even had weed before?”
He said he hadn’t. He said he wanted to try it anyway. And he would tell on me unless I shared. “Well, if you want to fuck up your life who am I to stop you?” I said. And I put some more down on the table and showed him how to do it. And he did it. And we kept going until we were so fucking high. I can’t even tell you how high we were. It’s like we had finally bonded.
That’s when it all got messy. I know, right? Because doing cocaine with your stepbrother isn’t messy enough, right? I had just finished getting this kid into drugs, and he kissed me. Like straight up kissed me on the mouth. Even tried to sneak his tongue down my throat.
I recoiled. “What the fuck?” I screamed at him. Like two or three times, you know? Because this little kid had basically just tried to kiss his stepsister while they were spun as fuck. And so, he told me. He straight up told me he wanted me. Ever since we first met. He was in love with me. He told me about the times he rubbed one out to the thought of me. How he heard my moans that one night. And how he felt so strong, so confident. And he knew he had to make a move. Now or never I think he said.
“Yeah that’s what cocaine will do to you kid. Strong and confident. It’s the drugs. Look, you’re cute and all. But we can’t do this. Like what would happen if our parents found us making out? Did you think about it?”
“No. But you didn’t think about what would happen if they found us doing cocaine either, did you?”
Oh, Eric and his logic. Always trying to logic his way out of trouble. Always solving shit. To that, I had no retort. No, I had not thought about that. And the drugs made me horny too. So I told him that, alright, we could make out. Just this once. No sex. Just making out I told him. I put down firm boundaries. In hindsight, I feel silly. I think I told him he could touch my boobs over the shirt, but not my ass for some reason.
I could see the officer squirming a bit in his chair. Uncomfortable? Aroused? Both? Hard to tell.
“Mr. Furlong, maybe you need a break? I know I could use a glass of water. We have a while to go.”
He agreed, asked for the bathroom. As he walked down the hallway, I went to the kitchen and poured two glasses of water. I waited for his return.
*To be continued*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rjofq9/stepcest_drugs_section_18_part_1
pt 2?
!updateme