Drooling and drama at dinner

After tying a plastic bag around her leaky cock, Emma took a seat at the table. She really wished condoms big enough for her existed - they'd be far more comfortable than tying what was essentially a garbage bag around her meat whenever she went out.

"You really should be wearing one of those in your room," her mother remarked, sitting across the table. "You wouldn't have to clean it nearly as often then."

"It's fine, mom," Emma reassured her. This was a conversation that they'd had somewhat regularly. "It's more comfortable without it, and I don't mind the extra cleaning." She kept it to herself that her dick was mostly dry when alone, only really turning into a precum faucet when watching porn or around her mother and sister.

Speaking of her sister, Sarah was sitting to Emma's left, very pointedly looking down in her plate. Unlike the rest of her family, her hair was straight and black, same as their father, long enough to drape over her shoulders. Her blue eyes, though, looked exactly like her mother's, while Emma's own green eyes came from her dad.

Emma wished her father was still around. He had died in an accident around the time Sarah entered high school. It was the most terrible experience Emma had gone through, bar none. The three of them had been emotional wrecks for months afterward - her mother especially, careening between vicious rage and heartbroken sobbing almost on a daily basis, which was especially frightening to the young girls.

Eventually though, things started stabilizing, though they were never the same again. Her mother got a job which required her to work late nights, which meant both Emma and Sarah saw her less. Those days were crushing lonely, as Sarah, who Emma had relied on in the immediate aftermath of their father's ****, had started becoming more distant and withdrawn from her sister. It was only last year when Angela had finally gotten a promotion that she'd be home more often.

She often wondered what had happened between her and Sarah, that had caused this divide. Even today, her relationship with her sister was strained. Sarah was never openly hostile with her, but she often avoided her and didn't make any attempt to talk with her beyond the bare minimum. In the back of her mind, the thought that Emma had done something to drive her away gnawed at her.

"Hey! Earth to Emma!" Sarah was snapping her fingers in front of Emma's face, causing her to start. "Wh-What?"

Sarah jerked her head towards Angela before returning her gaze disinterestedly to her plate. "Mom asked you something."

Angela was looking at her with a worried expression. "Are you alright, dear? You seem really out of it."

"Y-Yeah," Emma responded. "I was just . . . thinking."

She did not look any less worried. "About what?"

Realizing that her mother wasn't going to drop this, she drew her arms closer to herself and looked down at her plate. "I wish dad was here."

Their reactions were instantaneous. Sarah jerked upright and started at Emma intently. Her mother meanwhile, wore a carefully neutral face.

Emma knew she shouldn't have said anything. Her mother, even all these years later, closed herself off whenever her late husband was brought up, even in passing. She should've just made something up about some technical issue on her computer. Angela found that sort of thing unbearably dry, and would've certainly dropped the topic.

Her sister, though, was looking at her with a softer expression than Emma had seen directed towards her in years. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I wish he was here, too."

Except for the sounds of cutlery, the table was quiet, where earlier there had been a stream of conversation between Angela and Sarah. Now they just looked down in their plates and ate in silence.

Emma gazed at her sister with mixed emotions. While most of their interactions were cold and short, every so often they would share a moment which reminded her of the times when she and her sister were still close. Playing together, watching and laughing at stupid cartoons on the weekends. The way she had beaten up Emma's classmates when she heard that they were bullying her. The way she always hugged Emma as she cried. She missed those times.

Even though Emma craved the closeness they had shared in the past, the present was not entirely worse. At 20 years old, her sister was absolutely smoking hot. Her lithe figure and tight butt were to die for, though what Emma loved most were her boobs. At a D-cup, they were the smallest in the house (her mother's were a bit bigger), but oh god were they spectacular. They were a perfect teardrop, and stuck out arousingly on her otherwise trim frame. Not as much as Emma's did, but still. She was the subject of as many of Emma's fantasies as Angela was. Emma sighed softly as she gazed at her sister's tits, her dick pumping out more precum and filling the bag.

Emma started, again, when her mother pushed her chair back and put her empty plate away. She realized she had zoned out for quite some time, if the weight of the bag attached to her dick was any indication. Her sister, thankfully, seemed to not have noticed being ogled. In the past, whenever she did get caught, she usually received a disgusted look before Sarah vacated the table, throwing away whatever food was left uneaten.

Their mother left the dining room wordlessly, leaving the two alone, Emma strengthened her resolve, and asked, "Can we talk?"

Sarah looked up warily, meeting her sister's gaze. Emma half expected to her to brush her off as she had done in the past, but she waved her hand in a "go on" gesture.

Emma exhaled, not expecting to have gotten this far. All her anxious feelings whirled in her stomach, making her queasy. Now that she was here, she was struggling to put the words together. "Sarah, what happened? To us?"

Sarah's gaze hardened. Emma paused, before forcing herself to push forward. "W-We used to so close. But then dad d-died, and then e-everything-"

Emma's voice cut off, trembling. She was close to tears. It was the one thing she hated about herself above all else. More than she hated how asocial and lonely she was, more than she hated how she felt towards her family. She hated how easily she cried. She had wanted to talk to Sarah about this for so long, and now that she was here, she couldn't even fucking say what she wanted to.

She wished she was more like her sister. Sarah was always bristling with confidence, always one to charge at her problems head on. Though it had made the way their relationship had deteriorated, and the way Sarah avoided her, much worse. It was as if their relationship wasn't possible to salvage, or wasn't even worth salvaging.

No. This was her one chance. She couldn't let it slip through her fingers. "I-I know that things w-won't be the same as wh-when we were kids." Emma's voice was cracking. "I just . . . I just don't w-want you to h-hate me. I just want m-my s-sister back."

That was all Emma could take. Her eyes had filled with tears, blurring her vision. She knew that if she tried to say anything, the only thing that would come out was a sob. She rubbed her eyes furiously, frustrated at herself.

Sarah sighed, and looked at her with a strangely sad expression. "Emma, look. I don't hate you. And dad dying . . . it had nothing to do with it." She paused, her face tightening again. When she spoke again, her voice was stern. "But this . . . this has to stop. The way you keep ogling me and mom."

She stood up, staring intently at Emma, who looked down in shame. Her voice rose in intensity. "I'm not fucking blind. I see the way you stare at me. At mom. You want your sister back? Cut that shit out. For god's sake, we're your family. You're my sister! I don't want to look at you and see you eye-fucking me or mom every goddamn second we're together. Get a fucking grip on yourself, and then 'we'll talk'. Until then, I don't want to hear it."

She stormed out of the dining room, not waiting for any response. All of Emma's worst fears had been confirmed. She was responsible for this. She was the one who had driven this wedge between the two of them.

The damn burst, and all Emma could do was bury her face in her hands and sob.