I first met my half sister Jolene in the Autumn of 2008. I never knew my father had any other children, but I should have suspected it. In life the guy had been a world class philanderer. It was one of the reasons my mother had divorced him.
I lived in California and Jolene lived in Ohio. She had learned all she could about our dad from her mother and then she'd gone online and searched for more information. I was amazed by how much she managed to dig up. After discovering his death, she hadn't given up. She'd learned that he had a son out west. Like me, she hadn't been previously aware of a half-sib. She found my name in an obituary posted in my local newspaper's online archive. It didn't take too long for her to discover my various social networks after that. I woke up one morning to multiple friend adds from the same girl.
I thought she was cute. She was younger than me by a couple of years, but she was adorable in a lost puppy sort of way with her granny glasses and mismatched thrift store clothing. I approved the friend adds and in no time we were chatting our heads off over instant messenger programs.
What followed were long months of daily chats. Many lasting through the night. She and I both found ourselves laughing over tales of falling asleep in class because of our marathon IM chats. Jolene was neat. She was poorer than me and lived in a dirty little shoebox apartment with her mother (a tired old whore who worked at Walmart through the week and spent her weekends at the local bar letting lonely men buy her drinks), but she didn't come across as poor white trash. She was smart and funny. And she liked me. I could tell. I liked her back. We were falling for each other. And the knowledge didn't bother me.
Despite our being half siblings neither of us looked alike. Jolene looked like her mother must once have looked. Short and slender as a young willow with chestnut brown hair and big blue eyes. She wasn't exactly curvy but I thought I could imagine a pretty nice figure beneath her baggy clothing. I favored our father. I was tall and built broad through the chest and shoulders with a lean muscular physique. A swimmers physique. I wore my jet black hair long when I wasn't swimming at school. My eyes were dark green.
Through our conversations I had learned that Jolene had been molested as a child by one of her mother's boyfriends. The guy was now serving a long stretch in an Ohio prison, but the damage had been done. Jolene had been hurt psychologically and physically. She'd never be able to have children of her own and she had only ever had intimate relationships with other girls. She was afraid of most men.
"Does your mom know?" I asked her once.
"Hell no," she'd typed. "She considers homosexuality disgusting and immoral. Even though she still writes letters to the bastard that raped me."
"Are you serious?" I replied.
"Totally," she answered. "I found a whole stack of letters from him in a drawer while cleaning house one morning. He told her that he was drunk and never meant to hurt me. She forgave him. If he ever gets released, she wants to get together with him again."
"WTF?" I sent back, shaking my head.
Jolene's mother had never wanted a child. And she treated her like the burden she felt she was. Jolene was a slave. She did all the cleaning and all the cooking. Her mother heaped verbal abuse on her. Sometimes they had physical fights that Jolene never got the better of. She sent me pictures of herself sporting black eyes and bruises on her arms, legs and back. I wanted to report it all to someone. Jolene begged me not to.
I found myself becoming more and more protective of Jolene and not just because she was my sister. And she was becoming increasingly jealous of the girls I spoke of.
One night after a rare argument between us over my admitting to still not being over my ex girlfriend, we sat at our computers on instant messenger with webcams on. She was silently fuming on her end, arms crossed. It was the weekend and her mom had left her home alone without any food again.
"Your hungry," I typed. "You get moody when your hungry."
"I'm moody because your being a stupid idiot," she replied.
"I know," I admitted. "But I miss her."
"You can do better!"
I didn't reply. After a moment she started typing again.
"I love you," she told me. "I know it's not right. But I do. I can't help how I feel. And I hate seeing you crawling back to her. When you can have me."
I blinked at the text in front of me for a long moment. She started typing again.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I know. I'm gross. I'm fucked up in the head. I'm in love with my brother."
"No," I replied. "Your not sick or fucked up in the head. I love you too Jo. With all my heart."
She stared at me. "Really?"
I nodded. "I fell for you a while ago."
"Why didn't you say something???"
"I don't know," I shrugged. "I was scared you'd think I was just another guy trying to get into your pants. You've had enough bad experiences with guys."
"I could never put you in the same category as the others," she typed back. "Your the nicest, sweetest guy I've ever met. You've got such a big heart. You make me smile when I'm down. I can't describe how you make me feel."
"You do the same thing to me," I replied. She smiled.
"Be my boyfriend?" She typed, and mimed begging in front of her camera. I laughed.
"Only if you'll be my girlfriend," I replied.
She leaned forward and smooched my image on her laptop monitor.
"Soooo," she typed, moving back into frame. "Now that were both committed to this horribly disgusting incestuous affair. Wanna fool around sexy pants?"
I laughed out loud. "Girl, your crazy."
She shook her head. "I'm totally serious. I'm horny."
"And how exactly do you propose we do anything," I asked. "Were 2000 miles apart."
She threw a finger up in the air and mimed an "Aha!" expression, then began typing. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
I laughed again. "Seriously?"
"You say that a lot," she arched a eyebrow. "So want to?"
"It's cool with me," I said and stood up to walk to my bedroom door and lock it.
"You first," she said.
I tapped in "ok" and then "What do you want to see?"
"Everything," she leaned back in her chair.
I peeled off my shirt and tossed it on the floor, exposing my chest and abs. Next I unbottoned my jeans and pulled the zipper down.
"Go slow," she typed.
I nodded and kicked my shoes off, flipping them across the room. I slowly shrugged out of my jeans, exposing my muscular legs and calves and my underwear.
"A tidy whitey fella?," she typed. "No cute Hello Kitty boxers?"
I smirked and mouthed the word "dork". The jeans went into a pile with my shirt.
"Turn around," she told me. I slowly turned a couple of times.
"Mmmm," she typed. "I want to lick your muscles, lol."
I pointed at my underwear.
"Take em off," she commented.
I pulled them down and slung them onto the growing clothes pile. I let Jolene get a nice long look at my cock. I was well hung. Her eyes widened appreciately.
"Shit," she typed. "You'd probably split me in half."
"Neh," I typed. "We'd be fine."
"I want to see it hard," she told me. "Masturbate for me."
"I want to see you naked first," I said. "Give me something to jack too."
She smiled. "Loser. Ok. hang on."
I watched her vanish for what seemed a long time, then she returned. "Had to make sure the place is locked up. I don't want my mom walking in on us."
I leaned back in my chair, legs open exposing myself to the camera. She began undressing. She took her baggy wife beater off, exposing threadbare bra. She reached around her back with one hand and it popped off easily, exposing two small but perfect breasts with dark brown Hershey's kiss nipples. She pushed them together and winked at me. I smiled back and felt an immediate rush of blood into my groin. Next she peeled off her pants. She had on a pair of banana yellow panties. She mimicked me, turning around. She had a cute little ass.
"Ditch the panties," I typed.
"Someone's eager," she replied laughing. "Maybe I should make you suffer?"
"Don't be a brat," I sent. She stuck her tongue out.
I started slowly stroking my hardening cock. She took off her panties exposing a clean shaven pussy. She turned to let me get a look at her ass.
"Now," she sat down in her chair, legs wide. "Let's masturbate."
"I want to fuck you so bad," I told her.
"Come and see me then," she sent. I made up my mind that I would, as soon as I could.
We sat and masturbated together. My hand stroking my hard cock, her hand between her legs, two fingers plunged into her vagina. We stared at each others bodies and surrendered ourselves to our lust. I came first, explosively. She followed suit shortly thereafter, clenching her eyes shut and writhing in her chair. When she finished she smiled and showed me her soaking wet fingers.
It was only the beginning of our love affair.