My story starts many years ago. My name is Bobby and I was getting ready to turn sixteen that summer. My parents had just purchased a small motor home for our vacation that year. It was nice, but very confining. It was supposed to sleep six, but four people in it at one time, seemed very crowded to me.
It had a bunk above the passenger compartment that would sleep two people. They would be a little cramped, but two people could fit there. In the back of the motor home was a small room with a full size bed. That was where my parents would sleep.
I will tell you a little about my family before I move on to the events of our first vacation in the motor home. My father (Jim) worked the third shift in a local factory. He had worked there for as long as I could remember. He went to work at 11:00 p.m. and got off at 7:00 a.m. the next morning. My mother (Melanie) was a homemaker, and sold Avon on the side. My younger sister (Melissa) was fourteen years old that summer.
One night while my father was working. Two black men broke into our house, and then took turns raping my mother all night long. My sister was a result of that night. My mother and father had been trying to have another child, so my mother was not using any type of contraception at the time. My mother didn’t believe in abortion for any reason, and carried my sister full term. They hoped that the child my mother was carrying had been conceived before that night.
However, that would not end up being the case. And when Missy was born, although she was a black baby, my parents were not willing to put her up for adoption.
I would like to tell you that it had been easy growing up with a little black sister, but I’d be lying. I fought my way through most of my school life. Kids always made fun of her for having a white family. My sister felt very close to me, and looked up to me as her protector. Missy was a very pretty little girl. Although she was born black, and very dark skinned, she had the facial features more like a white child. The rest of her physical attributes were more characteristic of a black woman. She had long slender legs; flat little stomach and a nice round bubble butt like most black women seem to have.
I've always enjoyed family reunions, specifically when my older sister Jenny attended. See, we've been shameless lovers since she turned seventeen and I fifteen and lived in the same house. A couple of years later, she went to college and two years after that it was my turn to leave the nest. But we always 'got together' whenever we could, and the most time we got were during these frequent (thank god) family reunions.
The last time we were together, she surprised me by asking if I'd ever thought about mom in an unmotherly way.
Up until her question, I hadn't thought about it, but as soon as Jenny put that nasty thought in my mind, I started looking at mom in an entirely different manner. The next morning when our family gathered for breakfast, I couldn't help ogling mom.
What made things worse that morning was the fact that mom wore a robe that revealed more than enough of her abundant cleavage to give me a raging hard-on. During breakfest, she often caught me staring in her direction, and her look back seemed to say, 'I know what you want, are you crazy enough to do something about it?'