Your cock is beautiful – 41

“Probably getting a jump on next month’s homework.” I muttered.

“She really wanted to come out.” she continued, “She said she-“

“Why didn’t Derek come?” I asked, interrupting her.

Couldn’t risk her spilling anything in this state, not with Lissie still in the car.

“Oh… Derek… Derek did something…” she said uncertainly.

“He just didn’t feel like it.” Lissie said from the other side of Stella, “He only comes out half the time anyway. On a side note; how drunk is your sister right now?”

I laughed, and Stella giggled. She’d had more to drink than I thought she would, and I was glad it apparently was something worth commenting on, so probably not normal.

I wanted to say something to Lissie, maybe to thank her for being cool with me, but I caught myself. What, was I thanking her for not hating me? Compared to Mia it was a relief, but hardly worth thanking her for.

I sighed and shook my head, wishing I’d drank more so my restless and anxiety filled thoughts would simmer down. I really wasn’t used to all this. But it was getting easier.

Before long we were home, and I paid our fare before getting out to help Stella out of the car.

“Good seeing you tonight, man.” shouted Lissie as we left.

“You too.” I shouted back, shutting the door.

It was around 3 AM, later than Stella normally came back. I hoped so, anyway. She didn’t need that much help walking, but she still leaned heavily on my shoulder as we got to the house.

She started rambling again as soon as we got in, but was sober enough to stay quiet.

“I’m soooo glad you came out tonight.” she half-whispered, “I was so nervous ’bout it. I prob’ly drank too much.”

She giggled lightly, and I laughed with her.

“Yeah, I’d say you did.” I said.

“You had fun, right?” she asked, “We should do this again, we should do this again!”

“Yeah, why not?” I said.

I turned around to lock the door, and she walked off towards the stairs. I locked the door and followed her up, making sure everything looked presentable.

She was sitting in the hallway between our two rooms, resting against the wall.

“Mia really wanted to come.” she sighed, looking up at me. “She wanted to drink with you and stuff… she just has all this stuff she has to do. That girl works too hard.”

“No argument here.” I said, offering her my hand.

She took it, and I pulled her back onto her feet and pointed her towards her room.

“She needs more fun.” she continued, “More fun with you.”

“Come on, we can talk about it tomorrow.” I said.

“Yeah, yeah…” she agreed, “Tomorrow, tomorrow…”

She staggered into her dark room and flung herself on to her bed. She just lay there for a second, then started to awkwardly kick her shoes off, while trying to get her t-shirt off at the same time.

I laughed at her drunken, uncoordinated struggle.

“Night Stella.” I said, turning away.

“Buyee little brother.” she sighed, still wriggling out of her clothes.

I closed the door to her room and wandered back to mine.

In bed, my thoughts were stirring again, but it felt like there was nothing to worry about for once. For the first time in years, there was no dark cloud looming over me. I was pleasantly drunk, my sister was my friend, Mia was my secret lover, people at school seemed to actually like me…

At that moment, everything was good.

==

The next morning I was surprised to find Stella and my parents all in the kitchen. We usually didn’t have much of a plan on Sunday, we would just get up whenever we wanted. It was rare for all four of us to be just waking at the same time.

Stella was obviously having a tough time. I found her standing at the kitchen sink with her head in her hands, our parents eating breakfast at the table.

“How’s she doing?” I asked them, assuming they knew where we’d been last night

My mom smiled at me.

“Well, she-“

“I’m dying.” Stella croaked, interrupting her.

Mom laughed.

“She’s dying.” she repeated with a smile.

I laughed and sat down, pouring myself out a bowl of cereal.

“You don’t seem too bad to wear, son.” Dad said over his newspaper.

“Yeah, I’m not too bad. Slight headache.” I said.

“Good,” he said.

It might have seemed strange to some people that our parents were so comfortable with our drinking so much at 18, but as far as I knew it had been months since Stella had had a hangover this bad, and she’d known even at the time she was drinking too much.

“It’s good you learn your limits with alcohol now.” Dad went on.

“I know.” I said, “Better now than when we’re hundreds of miles away in college, right?”

“Exactly.” He said, “When I first got to college, I had a friend who’d never had a drink before in his life. First time he went to a party, he went crazy, actually had to go to hospital for alcohol poisoning! Had no idea how to pace himself, ended up slamming down glasses of spirits like they were water!”

He’d told this story at least a dozen times, around the time Stella first got curious about drinking.

“Yeah… there’s no chance that friend was actually you, right Dad?” I asked.

He spluttered, taking a sip of coffee, and looked up at me surprised.

“Well… uh…” he said guiltily, then after a few seconds seemed to accept he’d been found out.

He smiled.

“A similar thing might have happened to me.” he said, winking.

Mom and I laughed, and Stella groaned from the sink, disturbed by the noise.

“Oh, go on up and shower.” Mom said, “It’ll refresh you a bit, make you feel better.”

“Yeah…” Stella said blankly, walking past the table and out to the hall.

“She’ll probably be fine.” Dad said, turning back to his newspaper.

Now that I was older and could look at it more objectively, the way our parents raised us was actually kind of genius. We had a safe environment to make all the mistakes we wanted, and they’d only help us if we really needed it. And thanks to them teaching us how to do everything from rewire a plug, to clean and bandage an open wound, we usually didn’t need it.

It was a weird mix of careful, planned education and preparation on the one hand, and then a total “hands off” style that seemed almost neglectful on the other. But it worked.

“Oh, I got our reservation booked yesterday.” Dad said to Mom.

“Good.” she said.

She sighed wistfully.

“Remember when our dates used to be so full of surprise and romance?”

“You hated half of my surprises, why risk it?” Dad said with a smile.

Mom laughed with him, before turning to me.

“So…” she said.

She stopped and awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Have… you got any plans for next Thursday?” Mom asked, failing to seem casual.

They both stared at me, expectantly.

“Other than school?” I asked.