Tell him the truth

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Definitely," Ben nods. "I once had to help a certain someone bury a certain bodypart, and never told a soul."

"You... you did what?"

"Doesn't matter," Ben shrugs. "What's the secret?"

"It's... it's for Sarah. I'm sort of sleeping with her."

Ben bursts into laughter, almost doubling over as he is quickly brought to tears. He takes a few moments before, **** for breath, he steadies himself on the shelves and wipes the tears away from his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, that is funny. I always guessed Daniel would be the one into ****. You know, sickly child with a relationship way too close to his mother? Maybe his mother dies and he keeps her skeleton in the living room and talks to her? But jesus, I didn't think it would be you. That is funny!"

"You're not going to tell people, are you, Ben?"

"Fuck no, I'm no rat," Ben says. "Your secret dies with me. And hell, Sarah's pretty hot, I'd love to hit that. You do you, broseph, we're all into weird shit. Hell, I'd love to get with my cousin, she's a fantastic ass."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"Alright, cousin-fucker, let's finish getting you your shit," Ben chuckles.

Thanking Ben for his loyalty and trust with a smile, you continue shopping, with Ben continuously asking dumb questions like if you two are more likely to cum at the same time because you're siblings, or if you were turned on as a baby when breast-feeding, or if you plan to have troglodyte children with Sarah. With that, you head out to the lads, who are already guzzling cans of lager as they lean against a wall.

"S'up?" Lukas asks. "Want a can?"

"Sure, I could use one after that!" Ben chuckles, grabbing one and having a long chug. "Let's get back, it's getting late."

You head back with the lads, finding a plastic lunchbox squirreled away among your possessions and loading it with slices of cheese, bits of salami and other meats and a few crackers. Ben helps you out, chuckling at the thoughts of your taboo-breaking and trying very hard to restrain himself from asking weird questions while the lads are still around.

"Let's hope that moron can keep his word," you hope silently.

You toss in a bottle of Jack Daniel's into your bag alongside a few bottles of cider. Sarah's supplying her own intoxicant of choice, so you're good to go.

Slyly sending her a text as the sun begins to set and twilight's brilliant glow fills the air, you sling your backpack over your shoulder and head outside. Sarah's there, waiting for you and smiling.

"Hey," she says, half-embarrassed. "You ready to go, Jack?"

She's dressed in black jeans ripped intermittently along the leg, a black crop top showing off her smooth, soft skin over her flat belly and a brownish flannel jack with a furred hood. You look over her, noting how good her ass is stretched over those jeans.

"Yeah, let's head out," you smile.