Brad was heading to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving. Even though it was a seven hour drive, he tried to make it back home several times a year to visit for a few days, to see his mom and stepfather, and catch up with friends. He worked as a park ranger and lived in a remote outpost in a national forest, and although he loved the woods and the solitude and the peacefulness of the wilderness, it was good to get back to civilization every now and then. He usually was craving human interaction whenever he did.
Brad’s mother was Kate, a high school art teacher, and long-divorced from Brad’s father. Her husband, Brad’s step-father, was named Ethan, a tall rangy, athletic fellow who owned a large store that sold anything for the outdoor sportsman: gear for hunting, fishing, camping, hiking, canoeing, kayaking, climbing, you name it. Brad was close to his mom, it had just been the two of them for years when he was young, and he got along well with Ethan. In fact Ethan had been instrumental in Brad becoming so drawn to the extremes of the outdoors, which led to his majoring in forestry and environmental science in college, which led to his post as a park ranger. Brad enjoyed his visits back home, and his conversations with Ethan. They would trade stories. Brad had plenty about crazy park visitors, and Ethan had plenty more about his crazy customers.
But one of the more attractive things about visiting home, something that had grown gradually over several years, was something that at one time he would have thought to be unlikely, if not impossible. Whenever he came back to visit he found himself anxiously anticipating when he would see his stepsister Maggie.
Her given name was Margarita, but she’d been called Maggie her whole life. Maggie was six years older than Brad, and was entering her senior year of high school when their parents married and Kate and Brad moved in with them. With the age difference and the newness of their living arrangement, they didn’t bond or get to know each other very well. Then Maggie went off to college and Brad was once again an only child.
Brad was intimidated by Maggie in those early days. She was older, seemed so sophisticated, and he thought she was so beautiful in a primal, earthy, sultry way, and a complete contrast to himself. He was a sturdy blond-haired, blue-eyed All-American-college-boy type; she was tall and lean, with long black hair and matching eyes, high cheekbones, aquiline nose and rich, creamy skin the color of sugared cinnamon. She didn’t have much of an ass but the rest of her was fine, with wiry, toned muscles, slim waist, long, strong-looking legs and nice, smallish but firm titties sticking straight out.
Maggie’s mother Rosa was a full-blooded, dark-complected Raramuri from northern Mexico, which made Maggie half. Ethan was a big, strong white boy from New England on a long, solo road trip when he found his way into the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains and the Copper Canyon. Somehow they met, they clicked, and they fell in love. One thing led to another and Rosa became pregnant. Rosa and Ethan and Maggie lived in the mountains of northern Mexico for years before moving to the U.S. After Rosa passed away, Ethan and Maggie moved to the US.
Brad didn’t see Maggie much after she went off to college. She’d come home for summer vacations and holidays, but there was little interaction. In her junior year, Maggie met and got involved with the wrong guy. She became pregnant and they quickly married. When she miscarried she found herself without her child but still stuck with the wrong guy. She was depressed. Their marriage started off rocky, stayed that way, and got worse. Brad had met her husband, a slacker named Giles, several times at family functions but didn’t much care for him. He seemed aloof and self-absorbed, and after the first couple of years he and Maggie seemed to be separated more than they were together. But they hadn’t bothered to divorce.