Lock Siblings Ch. 01

School isn’t easy for me. Although I’m really smart, I just don’t get along with some of my classmates. The majority will leave me alone. It’s just this one clique who always thinks they’re better than me. Always badgering me about my clothing and my smart-ass attitude. I can’t help it if I’m smarter than them. But I don’t really flaunt it around.
My biggest rival and the leader of the future Whores of America is Ashley (Ash-face) Anderson. Biggest bitch of them all. The story of how we became enemies is really stupid. All I was doing was eating a chocolate bar in kindergarten and wouldn’t share. I’m selfish by nature, so of course I wasn’t going to share it. Especially with someone who tried to take it from me.
I find it interesting she can hold a grudge that long. She finds me boring. I suppose some people could call me plain. Fifteen years old, brown hair and eyes. I tan naturally a bit. Sometimes I just stay slightly pale. I’m a random person. Still have child-like features, mostly my face. I have a nice ass, though. Been told so. I’m not fat, not a pole either. Men and boys love to grab me. Especially my boobs. Probably my greatest asset. 38D. Very, very nice. I love it when my man plays rough with them.
My man… we’ll get to that in a bit, ‘kay?
My name is Joy Lock. I am currently walking home from a bad day at school. The bus driver had pulled over and kicked me off after I punched Ash-face straight in her snotty little face. That idiot started it, honestly. She was shouting things about me from three seats back. When she threw an empty bottle at the back of my head, that was the last straw. I got up. I walked back to her seat. I pulled her to me by the collar of her shirt and snapped at her. She slapped me. I punched her. I’m not a sissy and I don’t take shit from anybody. Someone pulls a stunt like that I’ll give them worse.
Which is how I got my happy self kicked off the unhappy bus. Oh well. I hate riding the bus anyway. You can smell all the boys that came straight from gym class. They are in dire need of some D.O. Freshmen, sophomores, juniors, seniors, all of them I tell you. Gosh, it is so awful. I hate riding the bus because of them, the noise, and the Awful Whore Ash-face.
To be honest, I really shouldn’t be making any “whore” related remarks. I am a whore myself. I love cock. Best thing on the whole planet. And not just any cock. My man’s cock. He gives it to me hard every day whenever we can and however we can. He fucks me so hard I can’t believe I make it out of bed the very next day. I’m his whore and his only. Wouldn’t dare go to anyone else. No one else would be good enough for me. That’s a fact.
I really need to call him. My cell phone is in my pocket, right were it’s been all day. I text him during class. I can’t help it. I need him. I just love the way he talks dirty to me during school. Well, texts dirty. On occasion I sneak to the bathroom and call him. Of course, this always calls for punishment when I get home. He says a good girl should always concentrate on her studies and hang out with friends at lunchtime (generally when I call him).
As it would turn out though, I don’t have to call. He pulls up along the sidewalk. Doesn’t roll the window down to tell me to get in. Just waits for me. I gulp. It’s obvious I’m in trouble. I soon as I get into the truck I know I should start apologizing. The school must’ve called. They usually do with suspension. Or so I hear. This is my first time. And it really, really sucks.
I get in. Right away I can tell he is not a happy camper. At thirty-two years old, Gabe Lock is easy to read. To me at least. To other people he’s like a mystery. Which, I suppose, is a good thing given our incestuous relationship. Gabe is my older brother. Seventeen years older than me. I wonder what the hell our parents were thinking when they decided to have me. Actually, I was an accident, so I guess they weren’t thinking. But it does make me wonder what the hell they were doing, if you know what I mean.
Gabe doesn’t even glance at me as I close the door to his black hummer. My brother has a thing about sturdy rides, especially hummers. We watch Zombieland enough times for me to get the hint.
“Bubby, I–” I go ahead and try to explain myself.
“Shut up,” Gabe cuts me off in a stern voice. I gulp again and sink lower into the seat, not caring that the seat belt is digging into my skin. It’s a pleasant feeling compared to what I’ll receive when we get home. That much is certain.
He leads the way in from the garage. He leads me across the house, past the living room and into the kitchen.