Tequila Ch. 02

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*

They stood outside of the Pack A Sack liquor store, both dressed to attract attention. But they made sure to stand just outside of the range of the two cameras that faced the front of the liquor store. They made sure they were not within sight of Jack, the grizzled old man that managed the store.

Angelle Redding had on her bright red bikini top and a short wraparound skirt. She wore five inch heeled sandals on her pretty little feet, toenails painted almost as brightly as her bikini top.

She'd applied a light coating of baby oil to her golden brown skin before leaving Trisha Nash's house, making her skin shine. Her 32DD breasts strained the skimpy bikini top, and the nubs of her nipples were just visible underneath the thin material.

She and Trisha Nash stood in front of the Pack A Sack, hoping to get someone to buy them at least a fifth of Guadalupe Victoria Tequila. That loser, Bobby What's-His-Name was supposed to get them two fifths of the expensive tequila. Trisha had cooed and purred and leaned forward, letting Bobby see her lacy bra that barely contained her 36DD breasts.

Bobby What's-His-Name had even showed up, bottle in hand. But Bobby also had some cute red head with him and the red head had demanded that they pay her for the half-gallon of tequila. Since they didn't have the money, Bobby and the red head had walked, taking the Guadalupe Victoria Tequila with them.

The party goers had a bucket of Lime flavored Kool-Aid, just waiting for the premium tequila, waiting to make the perfect faux Margarita.

After Bobby and his friend left, and left them with no tequila, everyone had scrounged together fourteen bucks. Then the group voted to send Angelle and Trisha to the store.

"Heeey," Trisha sang out as a creepy looking old man stepped onto the small walkway.

"Yeah?" the man asked, smiling.

Angelle shuddered; the man's smile revealed a few gaps where his teeth should have been. Trisha thrust her chest out and the man's eyes went to her 36DD breasts in the tight white bikini top.

"Listen, my friends and I? We're having us a party," Trisha cooed to the man.

Trisha felt excited as she practically prostituted herself. She wore her bikini top, a bikini her father had insisted that she throw out; it was two sizes too small and a pair of cut off denim shorts. The snap of the denim shorts hung loose; the slot having torn a few years back. The crotch dug into her pussy, creating a camel-toe, and the rear displayed her buttocks, the fringes and frays of denim material not covering anything.

Trisha knew her nipples were rock hard, poking out the front of her skimpy bikini top. She was sure the crotch of her denim shorts was dark with her excitement; she'd almost had an orgasm as she pulled the scrap of cloth up her sleek tanned legs.

The man reeked of stale cigarettes and cheap booze and his eyes were bloodshot. His body odor was a bit of a turn-off, until Trisha though of just how nasty she was being, flirting with this old drunk.

Trisha thrust her chest at the man, hoping he'd be willing to get them the bottle of tequila. Her stomach knotted in her excitement.

"I uh, I don't think so, Honey," the man suddenly said, face paling.

Trisha looked at Angelle, face wrinkled in confusion. Why had the man suddenly scampered away?

"Daddy would be so proud of his little angel, Hmm?" Trisha heard at the same time she'd smelled Fernando's Lagerfeld cologne.

"Oh shit," Angelle squeaked, looking over her shoulder.

"Angelle!" Trisha cried out as her friend sprinted for her car.

"What? Just what in God's name are you doing out here? Dressed like that?" Fernando demanded.

"I, I, I, we um, we want some um some tequila," Trisha stammered, all excitement gone.

"Look at me," Fernando demanded.

Trisha tried to pull her eyes up from the highly polished belt buckle of his police uniform. She tried to glance up, over his well-muscled chest and bulging arms to his handsome face, his warm brown eyes. But she blushed a hot blush and couldn't look up.

"Let me guess," Fernando snapped. "Dad and Stacy go to Houston for the convention and you decided its Par-Tay time, hmm?"

"I, I, yeah," Trisha quietly admitted.

"Wait here. Wait right here," Fernando ordered, pulling Trisha to stand facing the store's security camera.

Trisha had found it titillating; how shameful it was, standing and displaying her flesh in the hopes of getting some alcohol. But now, after being caught by her half-brother, her face flamed brightly in shame.

Her mother and father had almost separated, had even spoken of divorce when Franklin Nash had confessed to having a son. Fernando Miguel Artiguez had been born May 18, 1997; one day and one year after the marriage of Franklin and Stacy Nash.

Stacy had been coolly civil to the then seventeen year old boy. Trisha had been smitten with a puppy love of the swarthy skinned, well-muscled young man. Whenever her half-brother came over, Trisha looked at his handsome face, his muscled body and felt her insides get weak.

Fernando came over to the Nash house infrequently. One time, Trisha asked, batting her eyes and leaning forward, brushing her chest against Fernando, why he did not come over more often.

"Patricia, I know when I'm not wanted," Fernando had smiled.

"Huh? Not wanted?" Trisha asked.

"Your mother doesn't want me here," Fernando smiled sadly. "She blames me for being born. But, hey, I'm not the one that was screwing his personal assistant, hmm?"

"Your mom was my dad's personal assistant?" Trisha had asked, shocked.

She understood the implications. Fernando had been conceived shortly after her parents' marriage. Apparently, her father had enjoyed the attention of another woman, even though he had just recently married. But until Fernando had explained that his mother had worked for her father, Trisha had thought the other woman was just some nameless, faceless one-night stand.

Fernando had smiled a cryptic smile and left the Nash house. On seeing her daughter watching her half-brother's retreating back, Stacy had snapped an angry comment at Trisha.

Yolanda Artiguez was still Franklin's PA, and had given birth to two daughters. Maria and Michelle were three years and five years younger than Fernando. But Franklin had yet to admit to having fathered them and Fernando would not be the one to enlighten Stacy, or Trisha of Maria's, or Michelle's existence. He did think it almost ironic; Michelle and Trisha had been born one day apart; Michelle being older than Trisha by one day.

Now, Trisha watched through the glass doors of the small liquor store. Her brother marched around the store, walked with a purpose. He carried a small plastic basket with him and stopped to put items into the basket.

"All right, come on," Fernando said, exiting the store.

Trisha followed docilely to the police cruiser. She did not argue as Fernando put her into the passenger seat.

"Where we going?" Trisha whispered as Fernando started the powerful car.

"Uh, your house? Get rid of your little partiers?" Fernando snapped.

Once home at the Nash house, Trisha stood off to the side as Fernando brusquely ordered any and all that did not live in the Nash house to leave immediately. Brandon Hollingsworth, Trisha's boyfriend tried to ingratiate himself to Fernando. The well-built blond assisted Fernando in gathering the reluctant guests together.

"Uh, you too, buddy," Fernando snapped when Brandon shut the door behind the last two guests.

"I uh, but, I'm," Brandon stammered, clearly shocked that he was being dismissed.

"Out," Fernando snapped.

"Coming?" Brandon asked Trisha as he stood in the small foyer of the home.

"No. She is not," Fernando snapped. "Start walking, kid."

Trisha nervously tugged at a strand of her long blonde hair as the two Alpha males faced each other. Finally, Brandon turned and left the house.

"You, go pack some clothes for the next few days, hmm?" Fernando demanded

He began to straighten up the mild disarray of the living room. Trisha dutifully went upstairs and packed a few items of clothing, her toothbrush, a few other things.

"Yes sir, out front of the Pack A Sack," Fernando was talking into his cell phone. "No sir, since it's obvious that she cannot be left on her own, I'm taking her to my place."

"Who you talking to?" Trisha wanted to ask, but the sinking feeling in her gut told her the answer.

"Yes sir, I've got the next two days off; pulled that all-nighter escorting Billy John Pennington," Fernando said. "So, I'll bring her back Monday morning and all can talk about how the rest of her spring break's going go."

Fernando hustled Trisha out of the house and into his cruiser again. She sat quietly, not asking where they were going as he drove.

She did look around when Fernando pulled up in front of a small, modest home in Oakleaf, Texas. The wooden structure was flanked by two other small, modest homes. The neighborhood was mainly wooden homes, with a brick home scattered here and there. All the homes were neat, none had grass growing wildly, and none had cars up on blocks.

Down the street, Trisha saw a group of teenaged boys playing basketball. Most of the boys were Latin; one boy was black, another was white, with vibrant carrot orange hair.

Fernando nodded to the group of boys and they respectfully acknowledged his greeting. He opened the rear of his cruiser and retrieved the bags from the Pack A Sack liquor store, then opened Trisha's door.

"Hey! Sergeant Artiguez! That your girlfriend?" one of the boys called out in Spanish.

"Yeah, not too ugly, is she?" Fernando replied in Spanish.

The boys laughed; Trisha Nash was a beautiful blonde, with an angelic face and a juicy body. The outfit she wore showed off her 36DD breasts, her 28 inch waist and her 34 inch hips. The denim shorts slung low, exposing her hips, her bare midriff showed off a pierced navel, a heart pendant swiveled and twirled from her belly button.

Her tanned legs looked long and sleek, thanks to the five inch heels on her small feet. But even with the heels on, Trisha was still at shoulder height to her tall, muscled brother.

"Car," Fernando called out and the youths got out of the street to allow the car to pass.

Trisha had never been to Fernando's home. When he had put in a bid on the home, he had invited Trisha, his half-sister to come see it. Stacy had, quite vehemently forbidden Trisha from going with Fernando to look at the home.

Trisha had heard her mom and dad talking about the home. Dad had wanted to chip in a little, help his son purchase the home. Stacy had, once again, threatened divorce if Franklin put one penny into the purchase of the home.

Entering the home, Trisha saw a sparse, clean living room. There was a small couch, two small recliners and a wall mounted television.

Past the small living room, they stepped into a den. To the left was a long couch, flanked by two large overstuffed recliners. There was a fireplace on the far wall, and a large television was mounted above the fireplace.

To the right was a small kitchen. The den and kitchen were separated by a long kitchen table. The table had eight chairs around it.

The living room of the home had looked Spartan, had looked stilted, uncomfortable. This area of the house looked lived-in. This section of the house was warm, inviting.

The kitchen was clean, with white appliances. Fernando walked to the kitchen and put the bags onto the counter. He turned and smiled as Trisha looked around his modest home.

"So, this tequila? What you was going make with that?" Fernando asked, pulling a fifth of Guadalupe Victoria from the bag.

"I, we had some Kool-Aid; we were going make margaritas," Trisha admitted.

"Kool-Aid? KOOL-AID?" Fernando hooted. "You don't make, good God, whatever."

Trisha watched as Fernando quickly mixed some ingredients together. Then, he pulled two large glasses from the cabinet to his left.

"This. THIS is a margarita," Fernando said, pouring a measured amount into a glass.

He held out the glass to her and Trisha approached. Just as she reached for it, he pulled the glass back.

"Uh, going pay me for this," he said.

"What?" Trisha squeaked. "Pay..."

"One kiss," Fernando said.

"Oh. Okay," Trisha smiled and stepped up.

She placed her moist lips to his lips. She could feel his five o'clock shadow rasp slightly against her soft skin. She felt his hand go around her waist, felt him pull her against his hard, muscular body.

From the time of their first meeting, Trisha's attraction to her older brother had been apparent. She and Fernando had always been warm toward one another, a fact that Stacy did not accept graciously.

Thomas and Doris Nash, Trisha's grandparents also didn't like their granddaughter's obvious attraction to her half-brother. Doris even called Fernando a 'wet-back' and implied that Fernando's mother had tricked Franklin, her darling son into impregnating her so that she could stay in this country.

"Shouldn't be kissing him; never know what diseases they brought up with them," Doris hissed at Trisha.

It hurt Trisha; her mother and her beloved grandparents' rejection of her half-brother. But when Trisha and Fernando kissed, it was always a lip to cheek kiss. When they'd hugged, it had always been a quick hug, the kind you would give to your brother or sister.

"And here you go," Fernando said, handing Trisha the glass.

She staggered back slightly when his powerful arm no longer held her tight against him. She accepted the cold glass and took a small step back.

"Um, oh, wow!" Trisha said, tasting the margarita.

"Almost as good as Kool-Aid margaritas?" Fernando teased, now unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

"Mm, almost," she teased, taking a hefty gulp of her drink.

"Be right back; need get out of this uniform," Fernando said. "Here, let me take your bag to the bedroom."

Trisha continued to sip her drink, walking idly around his large den and dining area. Through the rear window, she saw a wooden privacy fence surrounding the back yard. She saw a small in-ground swimming pool and thought that the swimming pool at the house she and her dad and mom shared could swallow up three of Fernando's small swimming pools.

"Ready for another?" Fernando asked, returning.

Trisha hurriedly gulped the last of her drink and held out the glass to Fernando. He smiled and took it from her.

He had changed from uniform to a pair of nylon shorts and a wife beater tank top. She watched the muscles in his back and arms as he poured her the second drink.

"Going cost you," Fernando smiled.

Trisha smiled and stepped up. She pressed her lips to his. Her small hands rubbed along his abdomen, his muscled chest.

Fernando put his one free hand around Trisha's slim waist. He trailed the hand up and down, rubbing her bare back, causing little shivers up and down Trisha's flesh.

When Fernando opened his mouth, Trisha slid her tongue into his mouth. They kissed gently for a few moments. Trisha did not stop to think about the fact that she was kissing her brother in the same way she normally kissed Brandon Hollingsworth, her boyfriend.

"Here you go," Fernando smiled, handing her the second drink.

He then drank his own drink. Trisha returned to the rear window, looking out into his nicely maintained back yard.

Again, she smelled his cologne and knew he was right behind her. His arms went around her waist. His hands, his strong hands gently rubbed her bare flesh.

"Ooh yes," Trisha hissed when she felt his lips at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

She took a gulp of her drink, then blinked. There was an instant pain just behind her eyeballs.

"Ooh, brain freeze," she giggled.

"Open your mouth, breathe in and out deeply," Fernando chuckled.

"Mm, oh," Trisha moaned as Fernando's hands came up and cupped her breasts.

She again gulped her drink, determined to finish it quickly. And again, she received a stab of pain for her efforts.

Finishing her drink, Trisha twisted around in Fernando's grasp and put her arms around his neck. They kissed, tongues tasting margarita on each other's mouths.

Her breasts mashed against his abdomen. Her crotch mashed against his upper thigh. Her arms went from around his neck to rubbing his muscled arms and chest.

His hands traced from her shoulders to her ribs, her back. His fingernails rasped against her bare flesh, causing her to shiver.

Then his fingers unknotted her skimpy bikini top and she moaned.

His air conditioner kicked in and Trisha felt the icy cold air blowing against her flesh. She shivered again as her breasts now rubbed against the ribbed material of his tank top. Her silver dollar sized areolae and thick nipples crinkled tightly, so tightly that they ached.

"Mm, oh Fernando," Trisha moaned as he simply shoved her denim shorts down and off of her hips.

The denim scrap slithered down her legs until they landed on his carpeted floor.

Trisha gasped out in pleasure as she found herself in Fernando's arms, cradled like an infant. She continued to kiss him as he carried her down a hallway.

When he put her onto his neatly made bed, Trisha hurriedly pulled the scrap of bikini off and flung it to the floor. She watched as he pulled the white tank top off, baring his rippling muscles. When he pushed his nylon shorts down and off, Trisha's eyes went wide.

Brandon Hollingsworth had been Trisha's first, and to date, her only lover. Brandon was nearly a foot taller than Trisha, had a wide, easy smile, a charm that was natural. He also had warm, soulful brown eyes that had made Trisha soon slightly on their first meeting.

Brandon Hollingsworth also packed six and a half inches of uncircumcised meat. Trisha knew how big her boyfriend was because, after smoking two joints, giggling and laughing, Trisha and Brandon had measured Brandon's erection.

Fernando's cock was large, red, angry looking. Trisha looked at the long, thick member, and the two large eggs underneath and shivered.

"Eight inches," Fernando said, thrusting his hips forward.

"Oh," Trisha squeaked.

Before she could think, Fernando was lying on top of her. His mouth was sucking kisses from her mouth. His tongue was inside of her mouth, coaxing her tongue into his mouth. His left hand gently toyed with her right breast, his right hand was entwined in her waist length blonde hair.

Trisha could feel his erect cock pressing against her upper thigh. His weight was pressing her into the mattress, but he was not crushing her. It was a welcome pressure, a welcome warmth.

"Ooh, mm," Trisha cooed as Fernando's mouth left hers and travelled down to her right breast.

"Ung!" she grunted when his right hand left her hair and began toying with her left breast.

"Ung, ooh," she moaned as his lips left her right breast and went to her left breast.

His left hand travelled from breast to her thatch of light brown pubic hair. It had bothered Trisha, the fact that her pubic hair was much darker than the blonde hairs on her head. She had even shaved her pubic hair off, hoping that the hairs would grow back in, lighter, blonde. But they did not. Her pubic hair grew in, just as dark as before.

"Mm, oh God yes," Trisha cried out as Fernando's fingers slid into her wet pussy.

Fernando fingered Trisha's pussy with two thick fingers while he sucked and licked and tugged on her large breasts. She writhed and moaned, pinned underneath him.

Just as she was about to crest, about to orgasm, Fernando's mouth left her breasts. His fingers ceased toying with her wet slit. Trisha's insides knotted up as Fernando's five o'clock shadow rasped over her large breasts, hard nipples, down over her soft belly to the scrub of dark pubic hair.