Coming Home_(4)

I shouldered my duffel and exited the plane into the crowded, bustling airport. I followed the signs to baggage claim, weaving in and out of the throng. Finally, I reached it and, above the crowd, spotted my dad.
“Jackson! Jacky boy,” he called, waving and smiling emphatically as he started toward me.
“Hi Dad,” I greeted, smiling and grabbing him in a hug.
“Jacky boy,” he said, hugging me back tightly. “I’ve missed you son,” he said, holding me out at arm’s length. Tears welled up in his eyes, quickly mirrored in mine as we saw each other for the first time in five years.
After another long embrace, we collected my bags, went to the car and started for home.
We chatted for a while, catching up with each other. He told me about things at his store, gossip about people in town and the ‘67 Camaro he bought. I told him a little about where I had been. Things I had seen.
We fell into a companionable silence, listening to the radio and looking at the scenery.
“Rachel and Alexis are excited you are coming home,” he said, referring to my stepmother and stepsister.
My dad had met and married Rachel and it was easy to see why. Twelve years younger than my dad, she proved to be a sweet and nurturing woman, who was also voluptuous and sexy. I had found myself looking down her low cut shirts at her massive tits or, at her big, round ass in her tight jeans many times.
Alexis, on the other hand, was seven years younger than me. She was a short, chubby girl with acne, frizzy hair and thick glasses that made her eyes look like eggs. She was a shy girl who dressed in baggy, unfashionable clothes. However, she was intelligent and could be funny when she relaxed.
They had moved in shortly before I had left for a college halfway across the country. I had come home briefly for holidays but, not very often or for long. After college, I had embarked on my career path, traveling the world.
“It will be nice to get to know them better,” I said honestly.
“I have no doubt,” My dad smiled pleased, reaching over and giving my shoulder a squeeze.
A little more than two hours after leaving the airport, we turned into the driveway of the big, two story farm house I called home.
“The place looks great Dad,” I said, taking note of the “woman’s touches” in evidence.
“Yeah, Rachel spruced it up good,” he said with quiet pride. He pulled up by the porch and parked. We climbed out of the car, stretching our cramped muscles.
Rachel, having heard the car, stepped out on the porch.
“Jackson! You made it,” she cried, waving and bouncing excitedly.
“Hi Rachel,” I returned, smiling at the warm greeting and watching her tits bounce in the front of her flowered dress.
She hurried down the steps and around the car, arms wide. I hugged her and let her kiss me on each cheek.
“Come inside,” she said, taking my arm and dragging me. “Alexis and I are making a big dinner for us tonight.”
Rachel chattered as we walked up the steps, across the porch and into the kitchen. The air was permeated with mouth watering smells.
“Alexis, Jackson is home,” She called up the stairs, seating me on a stool.
She went to the oven, talking excitedly. Footsteps descended the stairs behind me.
“Welcome home Jackson,” Alexis said quietly behind me. I turned, expecting to see the chubby, pimple faced girl I remembered. Instead, I was looking at a beautiful twenty year old woman.
Her blue-grey eyes, beautiful without her glasses, looked out of a smooth, pretty face. Rich brown curls fell to either side looking thick and soft. She had lost weight and gotten taller, transforming from a chubby girl into a curvy woman. She displayed her curves in tight, low rise jeans and a form fitting, low cut t-shirt.
“You look great,” I exclaimed, hoping it sounded more “brotherly” than it felt. In truth great wasn’t the word I wanted, hot, sexy, fuckable, those would have been closer.
“Thanks,” she said, blushing cutely and opening her arms for a hug. “Welcome home,” she said as I embraced her, trying not to enjoy the feeling of her in my arms or the press of her breasts against me.
“Here you go Jacky boy,” my dad said, coming in the door with my bags and dropping them on the floor.
“Thanks Dad,” I said, embarrassed that I hadn’t even seen him go back out. “No problem son.