101 Days of Lockdown

WE ARE A HUNDRED AND one days into a weird sort of totalitarian lockdown. A hundred and one days without going out, seeing friends, going to school (never thought I’d miss that) or going to the shops. A hundred and one painfully long, boring days unable to do anything remotely normal, all because someone actively chose to scran a bat and introduce the world to novel coronavirus.

Thanks for that.

Well, that’s if you choose to believe that bullshit anyway. The only certainty about this whole weird alternative world we’ve found ourselves in is that however it started it has fucked it for the rest of us. We have to wear masks. We wash our hands a hundred times a day. I use hand sanitizer like my life depends on it. There’s a daily death report on the 5 o’clock news each night that we’re all absolutely glued to watching, to the point that it has become a rote part of daily life. A ‘new normal’ in a weird new world that George Orwell wrote about back in 1948 with an almost frightening degree of accuracy. Big Brother was indeed watching, albeit it he donned a ridiculous hairstyle and struggled to string a sentence together most of the time. Now this all could have come about because of a dodgy bat from an illegal food market in Wuhan, but it could also have been because some bright spark decided to experiment with strains of deadly diseases in a ‘secret’ biological facility, and one of them managed to infect themselves and it got out. If it were to come out that China (Chyyyna, if you’re a thumb with hair that managed to get elected President) had been secretly testing on the SARS virus all along I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

It’s 2020 after all…

The other certainty that’s become extremely apparent in all of this is that my stepsister, Tia, seems hell bent on making my life a living hell throughout lockdown…

Well at least it gives her something to do, I suppose.

Tia is fifteen. She has dark purple hair and she is in that ‘discovering herself’ phase. She is a couple of years younger than me and we’d never seen eye to eye at all. We don’t like each other. She’d come into mylifeyears before when my Dad married her Mum. He moved in to their house and I chose to live with Mum. I saw Dad on the weekends but rarely stayed. But, since the lockdown I have been uprooted because Mum is high-risk and is self-isolating, and so I came to live with Dad temporarily, which automatically puts me on the back foot. I’m stuck in a small three bedroom terraced house with the world’s strictest parents and a step-sister who hates me. This is her back yard. Naturally, a fifteen-year-old only child and a seventeen-year-old only child now forced to live together was never going to be easy. For the most part we ignore each other. Any argument I lose anyway so I find it best to stay out of the way. She screams even if she is at fault. Dad shouts at me irrespective just so that he can keep the peace with Julie. I’m a quick learner. Any fault is my fault in this place. We don’t get on so I keep to myself and stay out of her way… life is easier that way.

—–

IT’S MONDAY AND I’M up early even though there’s fuck all for me to do, but I don’t get to use the bathroom for nearly ninety minutes because Tia is in there doing some sort of ‘beauty regime’ which is code for God knows what, and whenever I even think about knocking on the door to see how long she’ll be I get screeched at. It’s a warm and sticky morning and I’m woken by the sun peeking in through my blinds as if to tell me that I’d slept too long and that I need to get up. After all, I have a busy day of doing not very much ahead of me! At this point I’d probably spend the next half an hour stroking my rock-hard teenage wood that was currently pitching a tent in my shorts but I’m bursting for the toilet so it kills the mood.

The news today is about the ongoing lockdown and if they’re going to extend it. Infection cases are still on the rise even though everyone is meant to be under a ‘stay at home’ order and the consensus from the administration was that a further extension was needed in order to get the R number down and decrease the rate of infection. I try and make sense of it but I get bored of the stats and endless commentary so I switch off.

I head to the bathroom door and try and listen to what Tia is doing in there, but it’s just a mass of phone noise and the occasional buzz from either a razor or an applicator or whatever else she’s up to. I’m busting to use the bathroom but telling her that would only make her slow down so I stay quiet and I just wait on the fringes until I can’t take it anymore. Part of me just wants to burst in there but it’s not worth the inevitable backlash.

Eventually she surfaces, and I hear the door unlocking from the inside so I spring to attention and race to the door before anyone else can “just nip in” and take up another chunk of time I don’t have. Tia opens it in a world of her own and is taken aback at my presence, jumping startled and a weird shrill sort of noise escapes her lips. She’s only in her underwear and for a minute I’m taken aback too and we’re just sort of eying each other up.

She’s wearing a cute little white number and I’m in awe at how she looks. Her hair is tied into a tight, slick ponytail that bobs at the back of her head so her face is fully on show, her eyes sparkle with something but it’s masked behind the shock and panic. She’s wearing a white-laced bralette from Oh Polly!, which leaves nothing to the imagination. Her abs are defined and on show and she’s got a slender, lithe physique and a really voluptuous, tidy body. She’s a hardbody allright. She’s wearing a silky white thong with lace at the sides and it clings to her frame. The thong is tight against her and I can see the outline of her labia through the material. Her legs are a golden brown from the fake tan regime she does, and they seem to go on forever.

Fuck knows what she has doing in there but I can imagine and right now I am doing.

Through the lace’s bralette I can see her puffy nipples and her areolas and I feel myself stirring a bit in my pants. My morning wood is very much back. I’m topless because I’ve just got up and not yet showered and I’m wearing some baggy sweats, which is good because looking at her makes me growin my pants.

She regains some sort of composure and stammers, and she catches me eying her up. Her eyes are unreadable but from her expression mine really are not. She can read me like a book.

“Why are you staring at me, perv?”

That brings it back down to reality and I snap out of this trace.

“Don’t flatter yourself you selfish cunt,” I spit out, even taking myself aback at the venom in my tongue, and she’s visibly surprised at my vicious reaction. “You’re not the only one who lives here.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re not even fit anyway,” I lie as she barges past me, covering herself a little too late and she slams her bedroom door behind her.

I go into the bathroom and close the door; a normal conversation to start the day.

“Fuck.”

It’s a warm morning anyway and now I’m sweating. I drop my pants and take a look at the erect cock that springs out. It’s just over seven inches, and pretty thick. It aches upon release and for a minute I just look at it trying to compose myself. She looked pretty fucking hot. I’m a little confused mentally because she’s my younger stepsister, but seeing her like that stirred things inside me. I was not expecting that. I try and compose myself and attempt to use the toilet but I fail miserably.

“Fuck,” I say again.

I play back what I’ve just seen and my cock swells to capacity. I’m sat on the toilet, thinking about my stepsister, nursing a throbbing hard on. It’s something I never thought would happen but here we are, we’re rolling with it. It’s intense being stuck within these four walls 24/7. No privacy. No escape. Gone are the days when I could go to the park and ogle at girls in their summer dresses and short skirts. My Dad is always walking into my room whenever he feels like it so trying to wank off in this environment is such a challenge that even when I do get the chance the moment is gone as there’s always that thing in the back of my mind telling me I’m going to get caught. People are always around. I’m seventeen. I need to release. And being stuck around the same three faces everyday is killing me. Tia and I never speak. I’ve never given her any consideration until now, but seeing her stood there in her underwear, the tightness of her body and the way her ass and cunt are packed into those panties… I find myself masturbating, my cock groaning out in appreciation at this uninterrupted ritual. I cum quickly and I cum hard. I have to stifle a groan because it comes so overwhelmingly I involuntarily start moaning out into the room.