Chapter 1

Posted: October 22, 2006 - 06:39:59 pm

As vacations go, this one was not as lame as my parents' usual choices. Two weeks in Orlando and Central Florida are way better than last year when we went to Washington DC to tour museums and government buildings — ugh, can you say boring? At least that was what I was thinking, until we arrived at the Disney Dolphin Resort about four in the afternoon. Things went down hill at the registration desk. Once started, events spiraled out of control like the proverbial runaway train.

Before I start narrating my bizarre tale, I need to introduce the players in this little melodrama. You know what they say, "you can't tell the teams without a score card." My name is Britney Wagner; my younger brother's name is Brian. My parents' names are Barry and Bonnie. My mother thought it would be oh so cute if we all had first names starting with the same letter; personally, I think she has way too much time on her hands. I'm two months away from being seventeen, while Brian just turned fifteen. Mom is in her late thirties and dad is in his early forties.

If you just saw my mother and father standing next to each other, you would swear that there was no way they could be together. That's because my mom is gorgeous and has a terrific figure. She is also elegant, graceful and poised. Mom was second runner up in the Miss Iowa pageant in 1985 while a sophomore at Iowa State (Go Cyclones!). Mom is third generation Swedish; her maiden name was Gustafson. She was raised on a farm about forty miles from Ames, Iowa (our hometown).

Daddy was a doctoral candidate at Iowa State still living at home with his parents when he met mom. Both my Grammy and Grampy Wagner were German émigrés who taught mathematics at State. Mom met daddy at some school function and for her it was thunderstruck love at first sight. According to family legend as espoused by mom, daddy was completely oblivious to her and it drove her nuts. Guys were falling all over themselves for her attention, while the guy she was bonkers about completely ignored her as she practically threw herself at him. Mom said that daddy had a horde of women after him, but he was unmindful of them all. Finally, she just marched up to him and informed him that he was taking her to dinner and a movie and she wouldn't take no for an answer. Mom enlisted Grammy Wagner to the cause as soon as dad introduced them and two weeks after they met, they were living in a graduate student apartment. They have been together ever since. If that's not crazy love, then it doesn't exist.

Mom doesn't have a job outside the house, but she is the busiest, most organized person I know anyway. Of course she has to be organized because of my father. I mean I love my daddy and he is a very sweet guy, but I swear to God, he is the biggest nerd who ever lived. He is tall and slim and basically nice looking, but if it was a crime to be a geek, he'd get the electric chair for sure.

I have a million stories about Daddy and his nerdiness. Sometimes my friends think I make them up just to get a laugh... until he does something in front of them. Want an example? Okay, last month he broke his glasses, so he dug a pair of old ones out of the junk drawer in the kitchen. They were like from the fifties, the kind Clark Kent wears so no one knows he's Superman (there must be some really unobservant people in Metropolis.) Anyway, the glasses had a paper clip holding the leg to the frame. The paperclip dangled down next to his temple like some sort of weird earring. He wore them like that for a week until mom could get him in to the optometrist for a new pair. If mom hadn't made him the appointment and driven him there to be fitted, he'd still be wearing the broken pair. My mother spends as much time taking care of him as she did with Brian and me when we were babies. Even with my mother's formidable organizational skills, daddy is always teetering on the brink of some major catastrophe.

Daddy is a mathematician (what, you were expecting anything less?). His specialty is theoretical physics; he works for some big research project funded by the government. The best I can understand what he does, is that he uses mathematics to prove things that no one cares about anyway. You know what I mean, the 'if a tree falls in the forest' kind of thing. I once asked daddy what time it was and he gave me a thirty-minute lecture on the 'Theory of Relativity.' I was seven at the time and just wanted to know if it was time for 'Barney and Friends ' on the Cartoon Network. My dad's world revolves around the binary star system composed of my mother and absurdly complex mathematics. Despite everything, my mom loves my dad to the point of obsession. I always hoped I'd find love like that one day, only I hope it is with someone normal.

The other member of my family is my perverted little brother Brian. Don't get me wrong, I love my brother, but for the last six months, I haven't liked him very much. Six months ago is when he hit full on puberty. One night he went to bed, my sweet loving little bro, and the next morning he woke up as some sort of raving sex fiend. I think he spends his every waking hour trying to figure out how to see me naked — or worse. So you can see why I became agitated when I found out I would have to share a room with Brian. Not just any room either, but a room with only one bed.

"Mom, why don't you and I share a room and Dad and Brian can stay in the other, it'll be fun." I suggested, giving her my most sincere smile.

Mom gave me one of her patented 'are you insane' looks.

"I have only spent two nights in the last twenty years without your father and have no plans to ever spend another away from him. Don't worry, you and I will have plenty of time to do girlie stuff while your dad and brother are off being daredevils," she said.

"But Mom, I'm seventeen, I should have my own room." I wheedled.

Her eyebrows shot up as soon as the whiney words were out of my mouth. Questioning my mother was rank insubordination of the worst kind; I knew the ice under my feet was getting thin.

"I'm not wasting money on an extra room, especially since we are going to be out doing something most of the time anyway. Besides, if I remember correctly, you are only sixteen; I should know that because I remember on the day you were born I spent twenty-six agonizing hours in labor with you."

I looked at Daddy for some support, but he nodded his agreement with mom. I usually had better luck with my father if mom wasn't around. But if mom answered first, he never contradicted her. There was a better chance of Vatican City Catholics ignoring Papal Decrees than dad disagreeing with mom.

"Sorry, Princess," Daddy said, "but your mom is right. Besides, it was hard enough getting two rooms this time of year, three would be almost impossible."

I wasn't the only one who was looking at daddy as he stood at the reception desk trying to register. Everyone in the lobby seemed mesmerized by his vacation outfit. Today was one of those days that daddy decided to dress himself. Mom usually dressed him because daddy was colorblind and severely stylistically challenged. The 'Queer Eye For The Straight Guy' cast would commit mass suicide if they had to try to make him over.

That day daddy was wearing plaid Bermuda shorts and a parrot covered Hawaiian shirt with the tail tucked in. Black socks pulled well up his blindingly white legs were slipped into a pair of Birkenstocks. Around his waist was a sturdy black leather belt with more attachments on it than Batman's utility belt. Dad had a Blackberry, two PDAs and a pager all clustered on his left hip. On his right, slung low as if it were Wyatt Earp's six gun, was his pride and joy, his six hundred and twenty three function, fifty place floating decimal, Texas Instrument TI 98-98 super scientific notation calculator.

Behind my parents, I saw my brother studiously trying to suppress a smile and appear disinterested in the proceedings.

"Fine," I said resignedly.

I have never said anything to my parents about Brian's obsession with me. Like I said, I loved my brother, and ninety-nine percent of the time, he was a great kid. At first, I even thought it was cute that I was his first big crush. I stopped thinking it was cute when on his fifteenth birthday, he said that we were destined to be each other's first, as in first sex partner.

The other thing that kept me quiet, was the 'Blood Oath of 98.' One day during the summer of 1998, when I was nine and he was seven and a half, we made a pact. The three clauses of the pact were that we would never take someone else's side against the other, that we would always protect each other, and that we would never, ever, tattle on the other. We each wrote a copy of the rules, pricked our little finger with a pin, and sealed the rules with our bloody fingerprint in a ceremony as solemn as the signing of the Declaration of Independence. We are both proud that we have never broken our pact.

I have to admit Brian was fierce in sticking to his oath. Once Jessica Riley's brother, Dennis, pushed me down on the way home from school. I skinned up my knee pretty good on the sidewalk. When I told Brian what happened, he rode his bike over to the Riley's, called Dennis outside and gave him a bloody nose. Now that doesn't sound like a big deal until you realize that Dennis was fourteen and already had a moustache, (come to think of it so did Jessica) while Brian was only ten and small for his age. Dennis recovered from his initial shock and beat Brian up. When Brian came home, mom and me cleaned our little hero up and fixed him his favorite supper.

As we rode the elevator up to our fifth floor rooms, I had time to reflect more on my predicament. What made everything so hard for me was Brian himself. Listen, the reason I wouldn't let Brian do at least some of the things he wanted, was because he was my brother. If we were not related, I might take him up on at least some of his offers, because he is probably the most handsome boy I've ever seen. Brian had these incredibly sexy hazel eyes and his hair was black like dad's. I was blue eyed and blonde like mom. He was not that tall yet, only about five-ten, but his slim, graceful swimmer's body made him appear taller. His skin was lightly tanned and his body was practically hairless. His strong jaw and manly nose kept him from looking effeminate.

To go with his good looks, Brian had tons of charm even though he was a quiet kid. He could also be funny as hell; he could make you laugh even when you were in a bad mood. He was very intelligent, although he was anything but studious. He paid school the minimum attention, concentrating instead on sports and in the last six months, girls. See, that's what really gets me about his fixation on me, because girls throw themselves at him all the time, so it isn't as if he's stuck with me or anything like that. And even though I know I'm considered cute (for a nerd), prettier girls come on to him all the time. Not just girls his own age either. Some of my friends that are seniors like me this year are gaga over him. Girls like my best friend Shelly Ribano, for instance.

Shelly is a babe and a half, with smoldering Mediterranean looks and a body that could have graced a lingerie model. Shelly told me that once when I wasn't home when she visited, Brian had her naked, giving him a female anatomy lesson in fewer than thirty minutes. Once he had her out of her clothes and into his bed, he had asked all sorts of questions about what felt good to a woman. As she told him, he practiced them on her until she was a quivering husk, but he never had intercourse with her. When she begged him to take her, he said he was saving himself for someone special. Shelly told me that was going to be one lucky girl. I didn't tell her Brian was talking about me.

The ping of the elevator chime announcing our floor snapped me out of my reverie. We found our rooms and put our clothes away when the bellman brought our bags up. I was hot and sweaty, so I called first dibs on the shower.

"Want me to wash your back?" Brian asked all innocent eyed.

I gave him my best mom imitation and said, "Don't be an ass, Brian, act your age for a change, or this will be a long unpleasant vacation."

He just shrugged as I gathered up a change of clothes and my toiletries. I took a nice hot shower, put on a cute short and top outfit, blow-dried my hair part way and put it in a ponytail, that's it: I was ready to go, all in twenty minutes. We Wagner women are low maintenance. I know the reason it doesn't take me long to get ready was the luck of the genetic draw. Even though I wasn't beautiful like my mother, I had inherited her good complexion, and even features. My dad contributed a couple of inches to my height, in the form of long legs and he even contributed my long dark eyelashes. Of course from daddy I also received my nearsightedness, big feet and next thing to skinny body. Shelly is always after me to spend more time on my appearance and to lose my glasses in favor of contacts, but I really don't see the need. After all, I was the president of the National Honor Society at my high school and number one in my class, not captain of the cheerleading squad or shoo in for prom queen like Shelly.

I came out of the bathroom to find Brian lying on the bed in his boxer briefs. My brother had some kind of nice body, but he was wasting his little peacock display on me.

"The bathroom is all yours, Brian, we need to be ready to go out for supper in twenty minutes," I said coolly.

Brian jumped up off the bed and walked past me, his package prominently displayed in the tight underwear. I tried not to look at it as he brushed past me, but I have to admit, I sneaked a peek at the fist-sized bulge. Shelly hadn't been lying when she said he was hung. Brian sauntered into the bathroom without closing the door and pulled down his underwear with his back to me. I stared at his hard muscled ass a second, then turned away, focusing my attention on the television show he'd been watching.

We went to dinner at an all you can eat Chinese buffet restaurant, mostly for daddy's benefit. For a skinny dude, he packed away food like a three hundred pound stevedore. He must have the metabolism of a hummingbird to eat like that and not gain weight. Mom says it's because his brain is so active, it needs the calories, but mom would find a way to brag on daddy if he passed gas in church. Sometimes I thought her adoration of him bordered on the bizarre, yet he felt the same way about her. I was alternately proud and embarrassed by the hokey way they still mooned over each other after being married twenty years.

We discussed plans for the next two weeks; mom had an itinerary planned that would keep us hopping. She and daddy had gone all out, with three-day family passes to Universal and Disney and all day passes to Sea World and Wet and Wild. She also had days set aside for the Kennedy Space Center and multiple visits to the beach. The money for our vacation, as well as for mom's new Expedition, came from daddy's gambling hobby. My father seldom remembers what day of the week it is, but he can remember a string of numbers fifty digits long. In addition, he can calculate odds and discern patterns in seemingly random series of numbers faster and better than a computer.

He put himself through college playing cards, and did well enough in Vegas when he was younger, to get himself on the banned list in every casino in the world for card counting. When our state instituted a lottery a few years ago, daddy started studying the results of the weekly drawings and then buying tickets with numbers he selects through some sort of formula he devised. About once a month, he buys ten tickets and almost always hits three or four numbers on at least one of the tickets. Three times he has hit five numbers, the last time was three months ago when he won fifty thousand dollars. It's just a matter of time before he hits the big one. The state lottery commission is negotiating to hire him as a consultant, because of the frightening consistency of his winning. The commission wants him on the payroll, because lottery employees are ineligible to play.

So anyway, we decided to rotate between parks for three days and hit the beach on the fourth. If we had bad weather, we would hit some of the smaller indoor attractions that dotted International Drive in Orlando, or do some shopping at one of the outlet malls. Once we had our plan, we headed back to the hotel; it was almost eight in the evening, and we were all too tired from the trip to do much else. Brian and I did visit the arcade at the hotel for an hour, and checked out the pool before we decided to call it a night.

Once in our room, I grabbed my sleep shirt and headed to the bathroom to change. I usually slept in the soft cotton knee-length shirts and my panties, but with Brian sharing the room, I opted to wear my bra also. My breasts are only medium sized, but they are very perky and my nipples are prominent. I didn't want to give Brian a trill or temptation he didn't need. When I came out of the bedroom, Brian was just slipping into bed, wearing nothing but his briefs.

"Is that all you wear to bed?" I asked peevishly.

He propped himself up on his pillows and gave me a mischievous smile. "No, I usually sleep naked. Is that what you want?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Junior, now roll over so I can get in bed," I replied.

Brian looked disappointed, but dutifully rolled over onto his side, facing away from me. I pulled back the covers and put one of the four pillows that were on the bed up against his back. Then I pulled the sheet back up and lay on top of it, but under the comforter.

When Brian turned back over, he frowned at being trapped under the covers.

"You are a wretchedly evil woman, Sis," he grumbled.

"You don't know the half of it. You better stay on your side of the bed, or you'll be singing in the girls choir," I threatened.

He mumbled a few expletives, but I rolled over so my back was to him, and pretended I didn't hear him. I was asleep in seconds.

We were up by seven and had just finished having breakfast at one of the restaurants located on the grounds of the Dolphin, when the sky opened up. It was what the locals call a 'Florida frog-strangler, ' complete with pyrotechnic lightning and booming thunder; it was one hell of a thunderstorm. Brian and I were really looking forward to spending the day at one of the Disney theme parks, but there was no way that was gonna happen with this storm. Mom saw the disappointment in our faces and excused herself from the table. She returned a moment later, carrying a handful of tourism brochures she'd found in the lobby.

"Cheer up, we have plenty of time for Disney later. Maybe we can find some interesting sort of indoor activity to do around Orlando," mom said, as she began to leaf through the stack of brochures.

Brian was pointedly looking at me when he said, "Indoor activities are sometimes the best kind, Mom, especially if you are with the ones you love."

Mom looked at my brother adoringly and patted his cheek. I don't know how he did it, but Brian was the one person in the world who could put one over on my mother. The little shit could do no wrong in her eyes. When he looked at me again, I flipped him the finger, pretending to scratch my nose.

After going through most of the pile without finding anything that appealed to all of us, mom finally found something that sounded interesting. The Orlando Ripley's Believe-It-Or-Not museum, located on nearby International Drive, sounded like a good choice.

Dad and Brian were enthusiastic about visiting the Ripley museum, but I was still bummed out about not getting to spend the day at Disney.

"Oh c'mon, Britney, you'll have a fun time at Ripley's!" Mom tried to encourage.

I reluctantly agreed, figuring that at least the museum would be more fun than being stuck in the hotel room all day with my perverted brother.

Boy, that Ripley museum is an exotically bizarre place, and not just because of all the weird stuff on the inside. Even the building itself is weird, built to look as if it is sinking into the ground. After we entered the museum, mom and dad wandered off together while me and Brian went in the opposite direction. Brian and I ended up in a section of the museum that contained all sorts of strange stuff from Africa. Now here is where things get truly freaky.

I was trying to ignore Brian's comments as he looked at a display of shrunken heads when I noticed a bunch of women gathered around a pair of carved wooden folk art statues tucked into a corner of the room. The women were mostly in their twenties and thirties, but a few older women were interspersed in the crowd. They all seemed to be jockeying for position, crowding and pushing each other good naturedly, in an effort to get as close as possible to the statues. I couldn't understand what the big deal was, so I strolled over for a closer look.

The statues stood about five feet tall. One was male and the other a female; both were anatomically correct. They appeared to be carved out of some kind of dark-colored wood. A placard on a brass easel identified them as African fertility idols that Mr. Ripley had found in Cameroon.

Okay, so here comes the weird part. While I'm standing there, this one woman wearing a short skirt starts to wrap her arms and one leg around the male idol. She spreads her legs wide, and actually hikes her skirt up, so she's got nothing but her panties between her and the male idol's big penis. I watched in shock as she started rubbing herself against that wooden shaft!

None of the other women crowded around the idol acted the least bit surprised by this woman's strange behavior. She did her bump-and-grind for a minute or so, and then walked away with a satisfied smile on her face. As soon as she moved from her spot, another woman took her place, but this one just knelt before the idol, rubbing her hands up and down the length of the penis.

This really stirred my curiosity. What was going on with these women, and why on Earth were they rubbing themselves against this idol? I couldn't stand it any longer; on impulse, I joined in the circle around the statue. When I finally wriggled my way to the front, I reached out and touched the male idol on his smoothly polished chest.
Joe J & Wet Dream-Girl
Chapter 2