0 comments/  150517 views/  9 favorites

Sister-In-Law

By: danlbone



I usually wake up very early -- sometimes as early as 3AM. I am the kind of person who, once awake, has to get out of bed. Then, several hours later, I find my eyelids drooping and end up taking a nap. Fortunately, I am self-employed and work from home, so this is not a conflict. The morning I am writing about was no exception. Up at 4AM, coffee, reading and internet until 6, then back to bed. 

The sun was bright coming through the window. I rubbed my eyes and decided to get up again on that Saturday morning. We had stayed up rather late the night before anyway, entertaining my wife's brother and sister, who had been our guests for the previous three days. The last I had heard, they were all going to some kind of a seasonal festival in a nearby community that morning. After I had returned to bed, I remembered hearing the commotion of them leaving. 'Ah!' I thought, 'I have the house to myself.'

I rolled out and padded naked to the kitchen. There was still some coffee in the pot. I was standing there sipping the coffee and gazing out the window at the back yard. I was considering some nude sunbathing when I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey! Is it your birthday?" I whirled around in surprise. My wife's sister had entered silently and was standing just inside the kitchen doorway. She had on a short terry robe and a broad grin.

"Huh?" I responded intelligently. Then I got it: I was naked, so, "birthday" = "birthday suit". Pretty funny. Okay. Ha-ha. I smiled sheepishly. "Busted!" I said. "Actually every day is my birthday if I don't have to go anywhere, or if we don't have house guests."

"Hey, it's okay with me," she said, crossing to refill her own coffee cup. Paul and I go naked at home, too." Then she asked, "Is the coffee okay? I didn't know how much you usually put in." Okay, if we were going to just ignore my nudity, I could go with that.

"Oh, sure. I thought Mary had made it." It tasted like my wife's coffee.

"No. Those two soaked the first pot up before they left." That reminded me.

"I thought you were all going to the craft fair today."

"I begged off. I can't stand that country craft crap," she said. Then she was standing next to me and leaning against the counter. I turned back to look out the window again. Mary and Paul are ten years apart in age. I am five years older than my wife, which makes me about the same age as Paul's wife, Jill. She is an attractive woman. Just over five feet tall, slender and taut. She is a runner, so she has that thin and wiry kind of runner's body. Her tits are very small. As she stood there next to me -- almost touching -- I caught a scent from her. Not perfume, soap or body odor. Or, if it was a natural aroma, it was a pleasant one. I was just about to excuse myself to go put a robe on when she said, "So. If it's your birthday, that must mean you have to get a birthday spanking, eh?"

I looked down at her, smiling and frowning at the same time. She was grinning again. She reached behind me and slapped my bare ass sharply. The swat was loud in the kitchen. I jumped and I'm sure my eyes bugged out. I moved out of her reach.

My thoughts rolled over and over. My wife has a spanking fetish. It always leads to extremely erotic sex when I spank her. I've even let her try spanking me, but it doesn't usually turn me on as much as her. Now I found myself wondering if the fetish ran in her family. I pictured Jill spread over her husband's knee and yelping as he delivered a sound paddling. My cock twitched.

I raised an eyebrow at Jill and said in my best villainous voice, "Don't start something you can't finish, Shorty!" Well, being a runner made her a competitor. She rose to the challenge. She swatted me again and spun out of range when I reached for her.

The coffee cups were left on the counter as I stalked her across the kitchen. She backed away, jerking her arm when I made a grab for it. But moving backwards in an unfamiliar room isn't the best defense. She bumped her hip against one of the chairs around the table. When she glanced to see what she'd hit, I pounced. I wrapped her in a bear hug and tossed her over my shoulder. I carried her into the living room, with her wriggling, shrieking, and pounding her fist on my back all the way. She was, however, almost out of control with her laughing and shrieking.

I flopped her onto the couch. In the struggle, the sash of her robe had loosened and her robe was almost completely open. She was, as I had thought, as naked as I was under it. Before she could escape again, I gripped one side of her robe and lifted. It had the effect of rolling her out of the garment and leaving her on her belly on the cushions. I quickly restrained her with a hand on her back.

I wasted no time returning the swats she had given me in the kitchen, with interest. She continued to struggle and called me names that would have made a sailor blush! She had almost worked her way off the couch in her struggles. I picked her up again, one arm under her stomach (just below the molehills that were her tits) and the other wrapped around her thighs. Turning, I sat down and deposited her across my lap. I was aware that my cock had hardened and was poking her belly. She could not have missed the phenomenon either. I also felt the heat radiating from her crotch. My hand on her back still held her from escaping. When I started to spank her in earnest, she tried to put a hand between her butt and my hand. I simply gripped it and held it under mine on her back. To assure my position, I moved one leg out from under her and threw it over her legs. Having thus effectively "hog-tied" her, I took the opportunity to rest a bit. The move also plastered my hard cock snugly against her hip and thigh.

I caught that scent again, now that she was laying naked across my lap. This time, however, it was mixed with a different aroma. I recognized this one: Woman. I knew then that she wasn't just playing any more. Nor was I. I had every intention of giving her what she had really been asking for when she began this scenario. But first I wanted to give her a good spanking as a warm up.

"So, Shorty," I said to her, "You think you're so tough?" My hand slapped across her ass and she jumped. 

"YEOWCH! You COCKSUCKER!!" she shrieked. She sounded like a comic book!

"Ooh! Such nasty talk from those pretty lips! You kiss your mother with that mouth?" I swatted her again.

I gave her a couple more and she squealed. She wasn't so much trying to get away now, but she was writhing against my thigh and dick. I pushed her farther over my lap, until I felt her sparse pubic hair on my leg. She immediately pushed down, grinding herself against me. Then she moaned.

I swatted her several more times. I released her hand and she placed it under her with the other one. She arched her back and I spanked her five times on each cheek. She groaned and ground her cunt into my leg. My dick was still imprisoned under her and throbbed for release. I pushed her legs apart and slipped a finger down along her wet slit. I brought the finger to my lips and tasted her sweetness. I had to fuck her!

I lowered her onto her back on the floor. I followed, moving her left leg out away from the right and leaning forward. I inhaled her musk before I opened my mouth and began to eat her. She twisted her fingers in my hair and brought her knees to her chest, giving me total access to her tender flesh. I licked, sucked and bit her, being careful not to leave marks. She was going to have to try explain her red ass to Paul as it was. She tightened up and exploded with her first orgasm. I slowed my tongue down and waited, just keeping her going a little as the strongest waves washed over her. I wasn't ready to let her go just yet, however. She calmed down enough for the next level. I returned to licking her. I plunged my tongue as deeply into her as I could. She began the climb to another climax.

Before she reached it, however, I slipped two fingers inside her and moved my my mouth down an inch to tongue her ass. It drove her wild. I rubbed the ball of my thumb around her clit as I ate her ass the same way I had her cunt. The next orgasm came surprisingly quickly. It seemed stronger than the first. She was wailing all the way through it.

When she again caught her breath, she opened her eyes. They held that satisfied gleam I always love to see in a naked woman's eyes, knowing I am the author of her pleasure. I slid up her body and brought my aching cock to her heat. I took her hands, raising them above her head on the carpet. I moved my hips to rub my cock head along her oozing slit. Then I tipped my hips to begin to enter her. "Ooh!" she whispered, "No hands! I love that!" This is a trick I had learned made most women happy if they noticed it. It doesn't always work, but this time it did.

I pushed forward steadily until I was fully penetrating her cunt. I released her hands and she wrapped her arms and legs around me. She covered my mouth with hers and plunged her tongue in hard. She was hungry! We humped and fucked in that position a while. Then she rolled us over and rode me like a cowgirl on a bucking horse. It was my turn to moan and buck under her. She grasped my nipples and twisted them hard. That was the last straw. I began to spurt deep inside her juicy pussy. She started moving her hips rapidly back and forth, increasing the friction between our parts. It was the best orgasm I had had in a long time.

She told me later that she had another climax when I did, though I didn't notice it at the time. After a few minutes, she flopped off to the side and we lay there without speaking a while longer.

As a treat, she sat up and bent to clean our juices from my softening cock. But only for a few minutes. We stood up and walked down the hall to the bathroom hand in hand. We showered and dressed. I fixed us some eggs while she sat at the table drinking coffee.

"You are spectacular, Dan," she said calmly. I looked over my shoulder at her and smiled. I gave her a little bow. 

"Thank you, Ma'am," I clowned in my terrible imitation of a southern accent.

"This was the first time I've been with anybody but Paul since we got together, you know. That was also the first time ever...I mean, when you stuck your tongue in my ass. Nobody's ever done that before to me, even Paul. God, it made me cum so hard!"

"Really? Well, I love it. I like my ass eaten, too. But it's something people have to develop a 'taste' for, you know?"

We suddenly were discussing her sex life with my brother. I didn't really want to hear about it, but I guess I deserved it. They hadn't been having sex all that much lately, she said. In fact it had been several weeks since she'd gotten laid. "I guess that might be the reason I responded so strongly to you -- that, and your talents, of course," she grinned.

So, I fell into the role of sex therapist. I asked about whether they were adventurous, what positions, when (during the day or week) they had sex, all that. It sounded like they had just fallen into a rut. But it also sounded like, except for spanking her sometimes ("Not nearly often enough," she said with a laugh.), Paul was kind of a dud. All I could do was suggest she try to liven things up with videos, or toys. I told her to plan out a scenario and try it on him.

"The only thing about that," I cautioned her, "is that you have to be prepared for rejection if he doesn't get into it." I knew what that felt like -- from both sides. "The thing is, if you love each other, you'll be able to absorb the disappointment. Just understand that two people aren't always on the same wave length, sexually. Ride it out. If the relationship is strong enough, it'll all work out."

I zipped the handle of the toaster down and glanced at her again. She was leaning on her elbows and staring into the depths of coffee in her cup. 'Uh-oh,' I thought, 'That doesn't look good.' I managed to change the subject and we discussed her work as a graphic artist while we ate.

She made some phone calls and I read the newspaper. An hour or so later, Mary and Paul came home. Two days later, I shook Paul's hand and hugged Jill as they left to return home. Six months after that, Paul called to tell us that he and Jill were splitting up. The next day, the phone rang. It was Jill. I told her that Mary was at the grocery store.

"Good. I really just wanted to talk to you, Dan," she said. "I guess Paul's already given you guys the bad news."

"Yeah, last night. We were really sorry to hear it. I guess my advice didn't work, eh?"

"Actually, it did some good. No, it wasn't our sex life that drove us apart. Paul's been having an affair with one of his students. I caught them in bed together." Paul had told Mary about that already. She had lost her temper at him, since she and Jill had gotten so close over the years. It eased some of the residual guilt I'd felt about fucking Jill.

"The reason I wanted to talk to you was to let you know that our...well, what we did made it possible for me to handle it without going totally ballistic. I couldn't really give him all the crap he deserved, because I had been unfaithful, too." We talked a while longer. When I asked what she would do now, she said she was thinking about going back to school and finishing her degree. "Maybe I can find myself a hot young professor that likes to be spanked," she laughed.

"Well, I'm sure Mary would want me to tell you to keep in touch. You're still family to us." I told her sincerely.

"Hmm...okay. Do you think we could ever...I mean...maybe have some more fun?" she asked.

Actually I had been fantasizing about that very thing. While Mary didn't know about Jill and me, we had been discussing broadening our horizons by inviting another person to our bed. So far it was just a fantasy. Mary had said she wanted to keep it that way, so far. Part of the problem was finding the right person. Now that Jill was available it all might fall into place.

"Could be. Just keep in touch, okay? I mean that. Things are changing here for us, too. I can't go into it right now, but keep an open mind." I told her. We ended the call, just as I heard Mary's car in the driveway.

I told her Jill had called. when I told her I had told Jill to stay in touch, she hugged me and thanked me. "I'd hate to think we'd never see her again." she said.

In my mind I told myself, "All things are possible."

Sister-in-Law



"Simon annoys me so much sometimes," she said angrily. "I just want to give him a good spanking."

He grinned. "He'd probably enjoy it if you did."

She laughed, but then looked more serious. "Simon is not into anything like that," she said sadly.

"Obviously it runs in the family," he told her. "Jane's not interested in that sort of thing either."

"She doesn't like being spanked?" Carol asked.

"No, I didn't mean that, although she probably doesn't. I meant that she won't play any of those sort of games, like being dominant or anything."

Carol nodded. "They're all the same, that family. None of them are into anything out of the ordinary. It's such a pity. There's so many things I'd like to do."

There was silence. He wondered whether the same thought had just gone through her head as went through his. He looked at her, trying to read her thoughts.

They both spoke at exactly the same moment. "I don't suppose..."

They both stopped, waiting for the other to finish.

"Finish what you were going to say," she said.

"It's OK," he told her, "You first."

"It was silly," she said, looking away from him and clearly embarrassed. "It wasn't important."

"I don't mind if it's silly," he encouraged her. "You can say whatever you like."

She looked straight into his eyes, as though trying to see into his mind.

"I was only joking," she said. "I was just going to say that if my husband doesn't like it and your wife doesn't like it..."

"Yes?" he said, knowing exactly what she was trying to say but wanting her to say it first.

"And if I like it and you like it..." she continued, tailing off without actually saying it.

"I do," he confirmed. "At least, I think I would if I tried it, but I've never tried it."

"Haven't you?" she said in surprise. "I have. A long time ago, long before I was married. I still have all the stuff, although there is some of it I haven't ever used. He likes me to wear some of the clothes, but he's not in the slightest interested in the rest of it."

"What sort of stuff?" he asked, fascinated.

"Oh, lots of things," she said vaguely. She looked away from him again. "Do you want to see it?"

"It would be interesting." He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"It's all in the loft except for my clothes," she said. "I don't think I can get it all out now."

His disappointment was obvious, but she did not comment. "I don't suppose you would really like it if someone dominated you properly," she said. "If you haven't actually done it then you really don't know."

"It's an exciting idea," he confessed. She looked downwards briefly. He was not entirely sure what she looked at. He thought for a moment that she had looked at the front of his trousers to see if he was 'excited', but then he thought it was only his imagination. 'Wishful thinking,' he told himself.

"So you think you would like a woman causing you pain?" she asked. "You'd like to be tied up and helpless while some woman whips you and hurts you?"

"Is that what you used to do?" he asked in awe, without answering her question.

"I had one boyfriend who let me do that to him," she admitted. "And a lot more."

"Really? What else?"

She had turned a rosy pink. "I'm not telling you," she said firmly. "I'd be too embarrassed. Let's just say he was tied to the bed for a lot of the time we were together."

He laughed, a little nervously, and hoping she did not glance down again.

"You didn't answer my question," she said a little sharply. "Is that what you like?"

He now felt himself blushing. "I find it an exciting thought," he admitted. "I'm not too sure about being whipped or hurt too much."

"You'd just like a woman tying you up and controlling you?" she asked. "A bit of pain goes with that, you know. And if you are tied up, you don't have a lot of choice."

"Anyway," she continued briskly, "There's no time now. I have work to do. If you want to see the things I have in the loft then you'll need to come round when I have more time."

"OK," he said, suddenly feeling intensely disappointed. He prepared to leave.

"Tomorrow," she said suddenly. "Make it about ten o'clock. I'll have plenty of time then."

"All right," he agreed. "I'll be here.

*

He was more than a little nervous when he rang the front door bell at exactly ten o'clock.

For a moment he thought she was out, then the door opened and he was surprised to see that she was wearing her coat.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "I didn't realise you were going out. I should have phoned to confirm I was coming round."

"Don't be silly," she said. "Come in. Don't hang about on the doorstep."

She ushered him inside, and dropped her own coat on the floor just inside the door.

"I thought it better that no one else could see what I was wearing," she explained.

He gaped. She wore a tight one-piece outfit made from shiny black material. She had a wide leather belt around her waist, and knee-length black boots with high heels. The effect was startling, and immediately he felt his arousal growing. Hastily he turned away and adjusted his trousers, pretending there was something about to fall out of his pocket.

She laughed aloud. "There's no need to pretend," she said. "I know the effect this outfit has on most men, whether or not they like the dominant implications of it. Simon just loves it, although I wear it without the insert for him."

She indicated the area between her legs. He could see the rows of studs holding a removable patch in place. Like the rest of the outfit, it fitted her very tightly and clung to her body as though it was a part of her. The contours and even the details of every part of her were clearly visible, and the removable patch seemed to disappear right into her. He could not help staring.

"Behave yourself," she told him with mock severity. She picked up a riding crop from the little table in the hallway and waved it in his direction. "Or I'll have to whip you."

She laughed again as she said it, but there was something just a little threatening in her laughter.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "It's a very nice outfit. I didn't expect you to be wearing anything like that. It's just a bit of a shock, that's all."

She took no notice of his apology. "So, do you want to see all my stuff? I got it all down from the loft this morning. There was more than I thought. It's been a long time since I used any of it. I put it all in the bedroom. I haven't had time to sort it out properly."

"Yes, I'd like to see it," he said, trying to keep his voice normal.

"Come on then." She turned and started up the stairs. He followed, looking up at her and unable to keep his eyes off the tight, black material covering her rear and showing every movement of her muscles and her flesh as she walked. 

She had not turned round or looked at him, and she had nearly reached the top of the stairs when she spoke. "I'll have to give you a spanking if you keep looking at me like that."

"I wasn't," he protested.

She whirled round, so suddenly that he almost lost his balance and fell backward down the stairs.

"How weren't you looking at me?" she demanded.

He stuttered. "I... I..." There was no sensible answer he could think of.

"There's nothing you'd like better," she said, staring down at him, "Than to put your face right up between my legs right now, is there?"

"You're very exciting," he admitted. "I mean, your outfit is very exciting."

"Careful what you say," she warned him. "You could get yourself into serious trouble saying things like that to your sister."

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean..."

"Yes you did," she interrupted. "All men are the same. You see a woman wearing something unusual and you can't wait to try and get her to bed."

"Never mind," she went on. "We're here to have a look at some of my things from the loft, aren't we? Come on. Don't hang about on the stairs."

She turned and strode towards the bedroom. He followed rather sheepishly.

"Here we are," she said, waving her hand in a regal sweep that took in the whole room. "It's all here."

He gazed at her collection. "I thought you said you didn't have time to sort it properly?" he said.

It was all laid out. The bed had broad straps right around the mattress near the top and the bottom, and to these there were leather cuffs attached. In the corner of the room was a large frame with tie points all the way up its two crossing slats. Whips and paddles lay ready for use.

"I haven't sorted half of it yet," she said, kicking a large cardboard box. She bent down and removed a device from the box.

"I had forgotten I had this," she said thoughtfully. "I don't think I have ever used it."

"What is it?" he asked curiously.

"It's a ball crusher," she told him, waving it at him. "It goes round your balls and then I tighten it until you scream. Then I tighten it some more. Shall we try it?"

"No thanks," he said, backing away. "That's far too painful. I don't want my balls crushed!"

"I'm not at all sure you want to be dominated at all," she said. "It's all about pain and torture, isn't it? If you don't want the pain then you stay away from dominant women."

"No," he argued, "It's not like that. You can dominate without doing damage, and without causing absolute agony. You can tie your man to the bed so he can't move and then make love to him or whatever. You don't have to hurt him like that."

"I can't tie my man to the bed at all," she reminded him. "He won't do anything like that."

"Yes," he agreed, "You said."

"So..." she walked towards him waving the riding crop. "I'll tie you to the bed instead. That's what excites you and why you came here, isn't it? You had this fantasy that I might tie you up and dominate you."

He backed away. "I don't think so," he told her uncertainly. "I'm not letting you use your ball crusher on me!"

"I won't use that," she promised. "Let's just see what it would be like. I want to tie someone up and you want to be tied up. Let's try it, and see what happens."

"And I'll end up going home smelling of your perfume," he said, having just caught a strong whiff of scent from her. "That would not be good."

"You can have a shower afterwards," she suggested.

"It will be in my clothes and everywhere," he pointed out.

She stamped her foot impatiently. "Of course it won't. You're going to take your clothes off, aren't you? I can't dominate you properly with all your clothes on!"

"Oh..." It had not actually occurred to him she might want him to take his clothes off. At once he found himself excited by the prospect of being naked with her, even more excited than when he had first seen her in her outfit.

"THAT," she flicked the front of his trousers with the end of the crop, "Says it all. Get them off. Right now. THAT is being quite bad enough for a bit of punishment!"

Still he hesitated. Despite his desire for a dominant woman, he felt more than a little unsettled at the way she was controlling and telling him what to do.

She was standing right in front of him. She cupped her hand under one of her breasts, accentuating it even more than the tight, shiny material did already.

"You can't resist it, can you?" she told him. "Get your clothes off and you'll be able to feel me through my outfit. I promise you, this will be an experience of a lifetime."

Her hand was on the front of his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. He brushed her away, and she slapped his leg with the crop.

"Get them off," she insisted, raising the crop threateningly but with a smile and a glint in her eyes.

He took off his shirt.

"And the rest."

He turned his back on her as he removed his trousers and pants.

"Turn round," she instructed, aiming a stinging blow at his buttocks with the crop. He yelped.

She folded her arms and tapped her foot as he stood with his hands in front of him. She said nothing for nearly a minute, and he too stood in silence and deep embarrassment.

"I'm waiting," she said at last, "For you to take your hands away from in front of you. For every second you keep me waiting, I'm adding one minute of extra pain for you. And if we run out of time today, I'll find another occasion to cause you pain."

"This is a bit silly," he told her.

"No," she corrected him. "This is the game you wanted to play. It's the game of domination and submission. I dominate, you submit. I cause you pain, you suffer. I humiliate you, you undergo humiliation and embarrassment. Got it? Now put your hands on your head before I get really cross with you."

Hesitantly he raised his hands and put them on his head. 

She nodded. "Better. Now keep them there and don't move until I tell you."

She walked round him as if inspecting him. Without warning she raised the crop and brought it down hard onto his hardness. He squealed and immediately grabbed his genitals in both hands.

"I didn't tell you to take your hands off your head," she shouted at him. "Get them up. NOW."

Reluctantly he raise his hands to his head once more, knowing that she would slap him again with the crop and flinching in anticipation as she walked round him.

When it came it was harder then the last time. Again he brought his hands down as he howled with pain.

"Hands UP," she ordered. "How dare you defy me?"

He stood there, hands on his head and his hardness throbbing. Nervously he watched her circling him.

"It's no good," she decided. "You're not going to be able to do what you're told, are you?"

It did not need an answer. He knew it, and remained silent.

"On the bed," she ordered. "On your back."

She pushed him. He fell backwards onto the bed and in a moment she was on top of him, slapping him with the crop until he was positioned in the very centre of the bed. She gasped his wrists and one at a time she attached them to the leather cuffs on the wide band around the mattress. She did the same with his ankles, spreading his legs wide apart.

"You can't move now, can you?" she asked him. "You're mine to do with whatever I like. There will be no putting your hands round your cock now when I use my crop on it, will there?"

"Don't." he said. "Please don't."

"But you're finding exciting," she insisted. "Look at it."

She pushed his hardness backwards and forwards with the end of the crop. He groaned.

"You'd love me to play with it for you, wouldn't you?" she sneered at him. "There's almost nothing you'd like better than to feel my hands on it instead of my crop. How would you like that, eh? My hands caressing you, rubbing and squeezing?"

She watched the twitching of his hardness as she spoke, and saw the fear in his eyes when she mentioned her crop. She knew she could do anything she wanted to him, and that knowledge gave her a thrill she had not known for many years.

She sat on his chest, concentrating on the expression on his face. "So?" she asked. "Tell me. Do you want me to touch you, to play with you? Or is there something you want more than that?"

"Please..." he begged.

"What?" It was a game to her. She was determined to make him say it.

"Please..." he said again.

"Please what? You want me to hit you with my crop? You want me to play with you? Or you want something else? Tell me."

She slid herself a little further up his chest, her knees now either side of his head. He was staring straight between her thighs, into the dark area of her groin and straight at the removable patch held in place by the rows of press-studs.

"Please..." he said a third time.

"What?" She slid even further forward, until her thighs pressed on the sides of his face and the patch touched his chin.

He raised his head as much as he could, and planted a big kiss right between her legs.

She nodded in satisfaction. "Yes," she said. "I know that's what you want. The question is, how do you want it?"

"Take that patch off," he said eagerly. "Like you do for him. And..."

"And sit on your face until you suffocate," she interrupted. "I thought of that. Yes, I'd enjoy that."

"No!" he moaned. "Just do it. You know what I want."

She reached behind her and slapped his hardness with the crop. "I know what you want," she said. "But it's not quite what you're going to get."

He groaned. It was as much with frustration as it was with the discomfort that the slap with the crop had just caused him.

"You see," she said with a strange smile, "I don't need to take off the patch to do it."

"What?" He did not understand. 

"Look," she told him. "Look carefully."

He looked, but had no idea what she was talking about.

"Are you stupid?" she asked, slapping his face. "Or just blind? Can't you see? Can't you see the sheath, built into that patch, already in me."

Her outfit was so tight, and the patch between her legs so moulded to the contours of her body that he had not noticed. Now she mentioned it he could see it clearly.

"Right," she said. "Now you know, so I need to prepare you."

She jumped from him and rummaged through the cardboard box. She slipped a tight ring over his hardness, pressing it down to the base.

"That will help," she told him. "It will help keep your hardness the way I like it."

"I don't need that," he replied indignantly.

"You will," she said, "And this."

She produced a spray can and squirted a sticky liquid over his genitals. He gasped. It was cold, and within a few seconds he was tingling and itching.

"Aaagh," he groaned. "Get it off. It's awful. It's hurting me."

"No it's not," she said firmly. "It might irritate a bit, but once it soaks in properly it will keep you completely rigid no matter what. Believe me, you'll need it. Also, it provides a bit of lubrication, and you will certainly need that."

She waited for several minutes, watching him squirm and struggle against his bonds. The irritation was driving him crazy.

"Ready?" she asked.

She did not wait for an answer. Carefully pulling the sides of the sheath apart, she guided herself over his hardness and descended onto it until he was all the way inside her. She let go and sat upright on him.

At once he yelped and then squealed. "That HURTS. What is it? Why does it hurt? Get off me. umph...."

The last exclamation was cut off as she leaned forward and forced a gag into his mouth. She buckled straps around the back of his head to hold it in place.

"This is just a start," she told him. "However uncomfortable you find this, you have much worse to come when you come back."

He was shaking his head frantically. As soon as she let him go, he was quite determined that he would never let her put him in a position like this again.

She laughed softly. "Ah but you will come back," she said with total conviction. "You have no choice. You would not risk me telling your wife, would you? I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that she would never believe me, or that I would not dare because of what my husband would say."

She leaned back and rocked herself backward and forward a few times, gripping and squeezing as she moved. He squealed through his gag.

"Hush," she said softly. "The noise won't help. No one can hear it except me. The gag muffles it more than enough, and I won't stop until I finish. Screaming only makes it worse. You should try and enjoy it, because there is nothing you can do to stop me."

"As I was saying," she continued, "You will be back. If not, I'll tell your wife I caught you doing nasty things with some of my clothes when you were supposed to be fixing my computer, and that I lost my temper with you. I'll tell her that's how you got all the cuts and abrasions to your nasty little bits, so she will know it's true and that I'm not making it up. She only has to look at your poor little bits to know it's true."

She raised and lowered herself a few times on him. He squealed again.




Sister-in-Law



"You see?" she said with a satisfied smile. "It's a very special sheath, isn't it? And now you see why you need the ring and the spray to keep you hard. It's like very coarse sandpaper inside, isn't it? Every movement I make rubs and scrapes at you, and I can assure you that what you have experienced so far is nothing to what you will experience in the next half hour, because that's how long I expect it to take me to reach my climax."

He stared at her in total horror.

"Don't worry," she told him. "You're getting the domination you always wanted. Lie back and enjoy it. You have no choice."

As he squealed and thrashed against the cuffs holding him inescapably to the bed, she started the slow up-and-down rhythm that would become faster and faster as her excitement and arousal grew. She smiled in satisfaction.

It could not have worked out better. She had, at last, found what she had always wanted.



Sister-in-Law



This is true story about my sister Tiffany. She is soooo sexy, much hotter than my wife. Everytime I see her, I have to struggle not to stare at her and get a hard-on. She's tall and slim, classy in the same way as Audrey Hepburn, for whom she was named. Seeing her dressed up for work, her long sexy legs in panty hose always gives me an erection, but seeing her lounge around the couch in her aerobics tights and t-shirt without a bra is even better. Tiffany's fun loving and jokes around a lot, which is different from my wife, who is more typically Japanese in culture (their family is Japanese American). 

At my wedding, Tiffany gave the toast, and she had everybody roaring with laughter. Maybe because Tiffany was the little sister she learned to be such a teaser and joker. A year or so after I married into her family, when Tiffany realized I had the hots for her, she started egging me on. I knew she wasn't serious, and she kept it as a sort of private joke between the two of us, but after a while I wasn't so sure there wasn't something mutual. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, she's an Oriental hottie I've always dreamed about. And Tiffany has a boyfriend who is a great guy. But somehow whenever I was with Tiffany, there was a sexual tension in the air that I couldn't ignore. 

One time, I was at my mothers, and Tiffany was doing laundry. I came into the laundry room and was chatting with her, when she suddenly started taking off the clothes she was wearing and adding them into the wash. I was shocked, frozen as she slowly pulled her t-shirt over her head, unclipped her bra, pulled down her shorts, and finally in a slow teasing way, bent over and pulled her panties down her legs, wiggling her butt in my face as she did it. When she was done, she slowly put on her bathrobe, blew me a kiss and went back into the kitchen to chat with her mother, leaving me paralyzed. And with a huge erection. 

Another time, I was dropping something off at my mothers and discovered that Tiffany was napping in her bedroom. She was alone in the house, and so I stood watching her and slowly massaging my cock through my jeans. She suddenly awoke and before I could pull my hand away, she saw me and asked, "Do you want to jack off while watching me?" I immediately said yes, and she started taking her clothes off while I pulled my cock through the fly of my pants and masturbated. I had my camera phone with me, having planned to take some pictures of her asleep, and so now I got to take shots of her as she took her clothes off for me. 

"Do you like what you see?" she asked. I said that she was "so fucking hot" that I was about to come right away just looking at her. She had the most incredibly tight body, and her tits were just amazing--firm and supple. Even though I was three or four feet away from the bed as she stripped, I swear I caught an occasional whiff of the scent of her pussy as she moved. Tiffany said that she couldn't let me touch her, or else she would feel too guilty about fooling around with her sister's husband, but that it would be okay if I just looked at her. I was incredibly hard by now, and couldn't believe how horny she made me. I was tempted to just jump onto the bed and forcibly fuck her, but I didn't want to spoil our relationship. 

She teased me by saying how nice looking my cock was, and that she had always wondered what it looked like. After she pulled her black panties off, she got on her hands and knees and pretended to thrust her ass up and down as if I was fucking her doggy style. "Mmm, I can just imagine what it would be like to have your cock inside me." Tiffany even reached between her legs and slipped her index finger inside her own cunt, showing me how wet she was by holding her finger towards me. This was so hot that I began coming, spraying my sperm five or six feet onto the bed, with one strand hitting her left calf muscle and the rest on the bedspread. "Oh my god, you shoot come like a hose!" I shivered with the last few shudders of my spurting cock. 

Suddenly, we heard the garage door opening as her mom came home. As I quickly stuffed my cock back into my pants, Tiffany swiped my sticky come off her calf with her hands. She looked around quickly for something to wipe her hands with, then paused and just cleaned her fingers with her tongue, giving me a quick wink as she did it. My cock twitched with excitement. She smiled at me as she licked her lips. Throwing on her bathrobe, Tiffany walked out of the bedroom in front of me.  

I quickly sat on the living room couch and pretended to be watching TV. Later, as Tiffany chatted with her mother, I went back into the bedroom and stuffed her black panties into my pocket. When I got home, I put the panties in an airtight bag and hid them where my wife couldn't find them, along with some other underwear of other Asian girls I've fucked over the years. Since then, I've pulled hers out regularly and sniffed the crotch while thinking about Tiffany. There's still a lingering scent of her cunt soaked into them, and as soon as it hits my nostrils, my cock swells to maximum hardness. 

The next week, Tiffany came over for dinner with her boyfriend, and while in my kitchen when my wife's back was turned, Tiffany handed me an envelope. I quickly walked into my bathroom and opened it. There was a photo and a note. The photo was of Tiffany naked in her mother's bathroom, legs apart showing me her cunt. 

The note said: "Loved the taste of your come on my fingers. I put a little of your sperm inside me after you left that day, and it helped me come three times while Mom was watching tv in the living room. I'd love for you to spray me with your come again sometime soon..." It was signed "Your sis, Tiffany." I stared at the photo in amazement and jacked off three times in a row just looking at it and the other photos I had of her. The next day at work, I had an idea. I had brought her photos with me to the office that day because I wanted to be able to take a coffee break and jack off to them whenever I got too horny thinking about her. 

Well, I decided to follow up on Tiffany's suggestion for me to spray come on her sometime soon. I waited until nobody was in the photocopy room and made a pile of blown up color photocopies of Tiffany's picture. Then, later on that night when my wife was in bed, I got our video camera and filmed myself jacking off onto her picture. I put the picture of Tiffany on the kitchen table and filmed myself masturbating. It was tough at first because I had to hold the camera in my right hand while jacking off left handed. I wish the real thing had been there, but even her photo with her fingers shoved obscenely up her snatch were enough to get me off almost immediately. To know that she had taken the photo right after I left that day, and with her mom in the next room, made me incredibly horny. 

It wasn't long before I shot onto the photocopied image of her. I groaned her name as I came, chanting "Tiffany you slut" again and again. Even though I had already come four times that day looking at her pictures, this last orgasm still had quite a bit of come, and I imagined myself being able to actually shoot it onto her real stomach and breasts instead of onto a photo. I made a VHS tape (this was several years ago, before you could burn DVDs at home), put it in a manila envelope and slipped it to her the next time I saw her. 

Later that night, she called our house and chatted with my wife for a while. I sat in such nervous anticipation that I could barely think. Tiffany asked to talk with me and after my wife passed me the phone, Tiffany told me she had watched the video over and over again until she was sore from rubbing herself. I told her I was happy to hear that, and that I wish I had been there. My wife just smiled at me, suspecting nothing and most likely happy because I got along with her sister. I felt guilty, because I knew that one of her ex-boyfriends had clashed with Tiffany and the conflict had caused a lot of problems. She had been hoping that I would get along well with Tiff, as she called her, because they had always been close, so sneaking around behind her back seemed horrible. But I just couldn't help myself. 

The next day, a FedEx envelope came to my office and inside was another photo and note. In this photo, Tiffany was in the bathroom in her own apartment, and I gasped when I saw what she was doing this time. Standing over her toilet, the polaroid showed her standing and peeing a long stream downwards. The note said, "You make me so horny I just had to relieve myself. I'm soooo wet for you..." I couldn't work after seeing such an image. I immediately photocopied the picture and blew it up. Later that night, after my wife had gone to sleep, I snuck downstairs to the kitchen and videotaped myself jacking off onto this new picture. 

The idea that I was watching my sister urinate, being privy to such a private, intimate act, blew me away. It had taken almost a year of dating before my own wife even let me into the bathroom while she was relieving herself. I had to admit that I associated my wife being so prudish to her being Asian, but to see her sister acting so slutty I was blown away. I fantasized about licking Tiffany clean after she had finished pissing, not stopping with my tongue until she had come again and again. 

As I sprayed come onto her picture, I knew that this virtual sex through polaroids and videotapes was exciting for now, but there was no way I could restrain myself forever. Sure enough, after she watched this tape of me coming on her, and after reading my note about how I would lick her clean after she finished pissing, the next note from Tiffany just had an address of an Econolodge motel near where her mother lived, and the name she would be checked in under the next afternoon. I made sure the next morning that I would have the afternoon clear. 

When I showed up to the Econo-Lodge, I was almost delirious with excitement. Tiffany was already in the room, waiting for me. We kissed desperately, clawing at each other's clothes and panting breathlessly. We immediately began fucking, with no foreplay, and Tiffany was so wet her juices literally splashed onto my thighs when I entered her. She came twice before I shot my load inside her, and I was so horny my erection didn't even soften. I kept fucking her, doggy style this time, with her face smashed into the pillow. The headboard of the bed kept banging into the wall to the rhythm of my thrusts, and we fucked violently until we were both dripping with sweat. Tiffany's pussy leaked like a fountain. She was so wet that her cunt juices coated her inner thighs all the way to her knees. Every time I pumped my cock into her pussy, a loud liquid slapping sound filled the room. 

Tiffany took me into her mouth before I came again, and I slammed hard into her throat, shooting deep into her mouth. After I ate Tiffany to another three orgasms, sucking my own sperm out of her snatch, we fucked once more, slowly this time, face to face and kissing tenderly. When she came, tears started coming out of her eyes. The next day, we had a picnic lunch in a secluded spot I knew from early dates with her sister. This was actually the place where I had sex with my wife for the first time, which made it all the more horrible and perverted, but also incredibly exciting.

After feeding each other some food, Tiffany gave me a blowjob at the same spot where my wife had first sucked me off. I had to admit that Tiffany was better at giving head. She swallowed my cock all the way to the root, so that her nose was nestled in my pubic hair. And instead of using her hand to do most of the jacking off, Tiffany really used her mouth and lips, pumping her head up and down my shaft like the most experienced hooker. I did her doggy style right on the picnic blanket, out in the open so that anyone coming by could have seen us. Such a risk made me almost delirious with desire. 

Tiffany was like a drug, I just couldn't get enough of her. That night, I was afraid that my wife would be able to smell Tiffany's ripe pussy scent all over me, since I hadn't been able to take a shower after our picnic. But she seemed clueless. For about six months after that, Tiffany and I had sex regularly at least once or twice a month. I loved taking pictures of her naked, especially when she was sucking my cock. Often, we videotaped the action, and Tiffany kept the whole collection in a strong box at her apartment. I have one tape hidden at my house, of us fucking in her parents' bed, but I was constantly afraid that my wife was going to accidently find it one day and all hell would break loose. 

Maybe that's why I actually kept it there, to keep the excitement and fear going. One time, when my wife and her mother went to the drug store down the hill, Tiffany and I were left alone in her mom's living room watching TV. We knew they would only be gone for 15 minutes at the most, but we had to take advantage of the opportunity. She pulled her shorts and panties to the side, I unzipped my fly and she straddled me on the couch and we fucked all the way until we heard the car pull back into the driveway. I had already spent the previous five minutes trying to hold off coming, at one point pinching her ass to stop her from moving because one more slight movement would have taken me over the edge. 

When the garage door started to open I couldn't help groaning as I shot endless streams of come into her cunt. She came for the third time as my cock rammed upwards again and again. I barely had time to shove my still engorged and very slimy cock back into my pants before my wife and mother came in. As for Tiffany, she had to excuse herself and change into jogging pants about five minutes later because she noticed a wet spot spreading in her crotch as my sperm leaked out into her underwear, soaking through her shorts. She caught my eye and pointed at the stain as she got up, making sure that her sister and mom weren't looking at the same time. 

We met regularly at the same motel, with both of us finding some excuse to come from work so we could fuck. Eventually, though, Tiffany felt so guilty about doing all of this behind her sister's back that she said we had to stop, but the sex was just so good that we didn't stop for another two months, when she finally announced that she and her boyfriend were getting engaged. They moved away for his work, and I kept thinking that she had a hand in that because she knew we were never going to stop and we were certain to get caught someday. Maybe it's because what we were doing was so dangerous and perverted that made us so horny we couldn't control ourselves. I don't know. We've never fucked again after that, and even though I had hoped we would have a last go in the months before she got married, we never did. I know what we did was sick and unforgivable, but I loved the feeling of slipping into the warm paradise of Tiffany's wet cunt.



Sister-In-Law



Today was the big day, the day of 'The Move'. A day that Mark never expected to happen this soon, let alone at all. Today, was the move of his Mother-In-Law!

In itself not the most exciting, glamorous or stimulating of events, however, he had already committed to helping many months before. When the wheels of solicitors and estate agents were turning ever more slowly, or so it appeared from the outside looking in.

On the plus side, the Sun had turned out in full force, its bright beams of light flooding down warmly. The other plus being the sister, always easy on the eye with a dress sense to match; typically baggy blue jeans that barely clung to her hips, always planning their route back to the floor from where they'd been raised earlier that day. More than willing and eager to drop below the panty line offering up a glimpse of white cotton. 

It always seemed to be white cotton whenever he'd sneak a glance, surely her whole wardrobe didn't consist of plain white cotton? It seemed to be at opposites to her bright bubbly personality, a sharp contrast if you will to this outgoing, chirpy young woman.

The top almost always seemed to be a short sleeved t-shirt, usually splashed with colour as if highlighting the fact that white cotton didn't quite have it all its own way.

As their car pulled up to what was going to be the new house after today, he could see that she'd already arrived. She sauntered over to the car, waving her greeting whilst mouthing "Hi" to us.

A quick check from Mark appeared to confirm that today's attire was pretty standard fair, not about to set any records or attract huge flocks of new fans, but enough to satisfy a well trained observer such as he.

"Heya, how's it going?" she asked as Mark and his wife stepped out of the car, pushing the doors to gently so as not to alert the new neighbours to their presence, as if fearing that upon hearing the noise they would shamble and shuffle over. Imagining arms laden with gifts of fruit and jams and what not, welcoming another new soul into 'The Neighbourhood'.

He mumbled his well worn and typical line of "Good thanks, you?" as the two sisters hugged their greetings, arms wrapping high around the shoulder line and squeezing, before pulling back enough to afford a quick peck on the cheek.

"Do we have much to do?" he asked, popping the boot of the car so he could reach the tools he had promised to bring along. Hefting the bag onto his left shoulder before pushing the boot shut.

"Well the removal people have been and gone," came the warm reply. "Everything's been put in the living room, so we can clear out the bedrooms before moving the beds and clothing in."

"Let's get to it then," Mark beamed. "No time to waste."

He walked past her on the way to the back door, catching a slight waft of her perfume; light and flowery today, a very pleasant aroma he thought inhaling deeply, savouring the moment.

Mark pushed open the back door which led through into a small hallway. Glancing around he could see that the living room and kitchen were off to the left, the bedrooms to the right. The magnolia painted walls seemed almost a must these days, you simply had to use this colour if you were selling up and moving on.

His body seeming to make a bee-line towards the right, the subconscious for some reason either knew better, or had its own hidden agenda. One that he would hopefully be advised on later.

"If you head off to the right," came the voice from behind. "We can start in the bedrooms if you like?"

What is about words and lines that can be interpreted multiple ways? More to the point, why is it when these phrases are uttered we always pick the more exciting, yet ultimately less likely version to run through in our heads?

Mark of course had already made the association, to be honest the racing thoughts running loops around his mind were a couple of laps ahead. Without any conscious effort or will his mind had already leapt from being in a bedroom he'd never seen before today, to kneeling in front of his sister, hands having already made the commitment to un-pop the buttons on the jeans, proceeding to help them in their preordained quest to end up as a denim puddle around her feet.

Inhaling deeply again he imagined a vague scent of musky aroma, sending a frisson of excitement through his groin, his cock leaping at the thought, pulse starting to race as his heart pumped blood to all those areas it considered were most in need.

A hand resting on his shoulder shook Mark from his delightful daydream, just as he was getting ready to press his face into the soft, warm white cotton, nostrils flared in anticipation of heaven.

"Hey, you still here?" she asked.

"Yep, yep...yes indeed," Mark coughed nervously. "Just taking it all in, working out where to start," he lied. Looking away and heading for the first bedroom to escape to, give his heart time to slow down, reduce the thudding sensation coursing through his body.

"If you start over there, remove the pictures and other hangings, I'll clean the skirting board."

She skipped off in the direction of the kitchen, seeking her bucket and sponge which had earlier been left by the sink in anticipation of her first task.

Mark slipped the tool bag from his left shoulder and lowered it slowly onto the carpet. The carpet was a pale blue, darker than the blue satiny walls of the bedroom, a nice contrast though. This carpet was staying it had been agreed, it was still plush enough that your feet sank into it ever so slightly as you walked over it. You could imagine standing there, looking down at your bare feet whilst you spread your toes wide, before scrunching them up tight feeling the wool slip and glide between your toes.

She was back already, standing in the doorway, bucket in one hand and dripping sponge in the other.

"Right," she said. "I'll start in this corner, hopefully I'll be out of your way." she grinned, before turning round and bending slowly at the waist to put the bucket on the floor. Short top raising sufficiently to already reveal an inch or 2 of white cotton panty. It was going to be a long afternoon he realised.

Mark considered that the easiest way of surviving the afternoon intact would be to start at the opposite wall, facing away from the inevitable distraction he had glimpsed earlier. This worked for about 5 minutes!

He'd forgotten how chatty she was, how naturally curious and seemingly genuinely interested in what he considered to be the mundane aspects his life.

"How's work?" she asked enquiringly.

He'd always felt it a little bit rude to talk to people with your back to them, so automatically turned in the direction of the voice. The sight that caught his eye was of her resting on her haunches, back to him with the occasional stretch and lean to rub the sponge along the grimy, formerly glossy white painted boards. A white that in its heyday probably matched her underwear.

The sight was mesmerising, making it difficult to tear his gaze away.

Whilst resting on her heels, the white cotton was plainly in view, about an inch. When she stretched up to reach the boards the knickers pulled down to release the first view of the crack dividing her golden tanned cheeks. He figured he could easily answer her questions whilst admiring the view, if she turned around he could simply carry this motion through to him turning and facing the wall, carrying on with the work of unscrewing the shelf units.

Mark had never known if it was the same for women. Assumed it was but never felt confident to broach the subject with his female friends. For a bloke, once your arousal state goes beyond a certain point, that's it until you choose do something about it. Once it's been triggered, you can kiss logical thought and reasoning goodbye.

From this point onwards every glimpse or glance has the potential to either maintain that pleasant plateau of semi arousal, or increase it. If you were hoping a mug of cocoa and a good night's sleep would wipe the slate clean, think again. Be prepared for more of the same the next day!

For the next 10 minutes he was able to stand, statue like as she continued to chat away without ever turning around. Crisp white cotton filling his vision. When she bent over, his eyes simply traced the line from the crack down the dividing line of her jeans to rest on her crotch. Where the denim had pulled up he could see where the fabric met the mound of her pussy. His thoughts now picking up their pace again.

If she carried on this motion, would the next lean forward leave the jeans in place so he could get the complete view of her knickers? Sufficient to see the lines on the cotton where the gusset began, see it stretched over her exquisite lips, by now imagined to be hot and wet in his fantasy.

How would it feel if he were able to rub his middle finger from the top where the crack of her arse was visible, slowly, following the line pressing gently on the cotton as it headed towards her entrance, by now wet with lust. Imagining how the closer he got, the warmer everything became until he felt it almost radiating, pulsating from her crotch.

The pinnacle being a gentle press of the cotton into her wet pussy, sensing the heavy build up of secretions beneath the fabric, resisting broaching that final barrier of surreptitiously sliding a finger under the taut elastic and stroking slow lazy circles in her hot juices. Savouring that most exquisite of sensations of hot wet pussy juice being rubbed over the slick plump red lips beneath.

"Hello? Planet Earth calling!"

Mark shook his head, trying to shake those last few thoughts from his groggy mind.

She was stood up facing him, tugging her jeans up gently as if realising what had been going on.

His face flushed automatically, turning a bright beetroot red. He knew he'd drifted off and was expecting a slap, being called a pervert before she stormed off to tell everyone about the kind of brother she had.

Mark didn't think he was erect, but he also didn't feel now was the time to check the accuracy of this assumption!.

He raised his head to look in her direction, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"I was just asking if you wanted a coffee or anything, but you were just staring into space!"

This whole sentence was stated through a sly knowing grin. If she'd effected a wink to add emphasis it wouldn't have felt out of place.

"Ummm....yeah, tea would be great thanks," he mumbled, looking away as if the need to get on with the work was of the utmost importance.

"Great," came the reply, before she turned around tugging her loose jeans up, pulling the denim tight over her backside highlighting the contour of her knickers, before jauntily heading off In the direction of the kitchen as Mark's gaze watched the VPL.

Mark leant heavily against the wall, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. His heart was still pounding, its beat pulsing in his head as if it were the walls that were beating. He knew that if he was going to survive the afternoon without suffering further humiliation he would have to work in another room, give his head a chance to clear.

He took the opportunity to lower his hand to his groin, the semi-erect state wasn't a complete surprise. He'd really gotten into the spirit of the daydream! He was hoping his own baggy jeans were loose enough that it wouldn't have been obvious. That he didn't own tight jeans any more an unforeseen blessing.

She appeared in the entrance of the door, 2 steaming mugs of tea held before her.

"Here," she said holding out the left mug. "I think this one is yours."

Mark took the mug, ensuring that he didn't accidentally touch her skin. Now wasn't the time to gauge her mood. He nodded his thanks.

"I'm going to finish up here and do some of the outside work," he said, knowing full well that her sole task for today required her to remain indoors.

"Be a shame to miss out on all this sun."

He grinned nervously as he sidled past her, ensuring again that he didn't accidentally brush against her, picking up his pace as he headed for the front door.

The rest of the afternoon was a welcome relief. Uneventful and certainly no opportunity to get himself into trouble! If he could get through the evening meal without setting a foot wrong, he could escape this episode reasonably intact. He would still have the vivid daydreams, which thankfully at present were neither taxed nor illegal.

The evening meal was a safe and comfortable affair, made more so given the close moment earlier. Mark had somehow managed to keep his wandering gaze in check, allowing the occasional glance and eye contact during conversation, but nothing to indicate he was being anything other than courteous, almost normal he pondered.

"I forgot!" came a shriek "I need to go back down the shops to get some cushions for the front room. Anyone else coming?"

Mark's wife had drawn up a list earlier of things required, so at least by the end we could 'tick' some things off. Mark shook his head as did S.I.L, leaving the others to head towards the car. Town was about a 20 minute drive away, take into consideration a bit of shopping and the best part of an hour could be gone.

Once the car engine sound had faded into the distance, Mark shifted in his seat intending to stand, having already pressed his hands into the sides of the chair, with the sole intention of pushing himself up.

"Not so fast," beamed S.I.L. "Stay put, I've got something I think you were looking for earlier."

His thoughts drifted back to the afternoon's events. He couldn't recall looking for something! He recalled even less mentioning he was looking for something.

He sat there bemused, looking her in the eye as she continued smiling, before turning and heading towards the hallway, swinging her pert backside around before exaggerating a slinky sway and most deliberate of walks out of the room.

"Back in a minute," she chirped.

By now he had no idea as to what she was going to do. He had already adopted his best 'rabbit in the headlights' impression when she first stood up.

He heard the bathroom door close, the bolt sliding across.

He sat in the chair, nervously kicking his heels against the chair legs. The wait felt like forever, sitting, pondering on this unknown 'thing' he'd been looking for, certainly unknown to him but apparently not to her. 

Kicking the chair was a welcome distraction, forcing his thoughts to focus albeit just a little. Up until the point the rasping sound of a bolt being pulled across jolted him from his semi hypnotic state.

Mark heard the door whisper open as it slid over the carpet. The soft padding footsteps indicating S.I.L was heading back in his direction.

She'd always seemed to prefer walking around in socks or bare footed. In this case it appeared to provide an extra degree of stealth, as before he knew it there she was standing in the doorway, both hands behind her back and a Cheshire cat like grin spreading across her face.

"Found it!" she exclaimed excitedly. Looking at him as if any second now, a rare but essential 'light bulb' moment would occur. He would finally be on her wavelength and recall the item in question.

"I need you to close your eyes," she said in a mocking serious tone. "Otherwise I can't hand this over."

"It's OK," Mark stammered. "I don't recall looking for something, so I don't mind if you keep it."

He couldn't make eye contact, simply looked in her general direction, wildly flitting his gaze to avoid focussing on anything in particular.

"Honestly," she said, taking a slow calculated step towards him. "I think you'll like it, and you were most definitely looking earlier."

She left the sentence incomplete, still the knowing smile seeming to increase his nervousness. She most certainly had him at her mercy, having some sway over his possible options.

Another step was taken. "Close your eyes," she said.

Mark gave in, surrendered. His ability to resist had been depleted. His last view was of her knowing grin, seemingly etched onto his eyelids once he closed his eyes.

"No peeking," she said forcefully, the soft padding of her feet stepping closer, closer. 

He could sense that she was stood behind him now.

"Lean back and relax," she purred.

Mark did his best to relax, took a couple of deep breaths before attempting to sink into the chair. He wanted to at least convey a sense of relaxation even though his heart had picked up the steady rhythm from earlier. His temples were pounding, sending flashes of colour across his closed eye vision.

He heard something drop onto the table in front of him. It wasn't heavy, not something that was solid. It made a faint plop sound.

"I've just put something in front of you," she whispered into his left ear. "It's not time to open your eyes yet though, but I'll let you use your hands to try and work out what it is."

She gently picked up his arms, guiding them towards the object she had dropped onto the table.

Not knowing how large the object was, Mark felt around for a little before closing in on some material. At first he thought it was a napkin from earlier, but he knew they'd been moved, placed in the basket for washing. Anyway, this material was warm, too warm to be a napkin.

He had the material gently clasped between his thumb and forefinger. Both hands rubbing it between them, trying to work out what it is. His mind was racing, he genuinely had no idea. He went to raise the material up before a hand rested on his left wrist.

"Nah uh," came the chiding voice. "Not yet."

His hands were gently pressed back down, forcing him to rely on what his fingers could feel. An underused sense up until now.

He started to increase the diameter of his circular rubbing. Whatever it was, it was still warm.

He could feel an edge, like a thin band of elastic. Both sides seemed to be the same. He followed this seam round slowly, still unsure of what he would find but driven to reveal the mystery before him..

He grazed a finger over something wet and warm on the material. He kept rubbing. It was quite wet he'd concluded as the material was wet on both sides. There was a slight stickiness to parts of it, though not unpleasant.

Mark had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't hear that S.I.L had moved from behind the chair. He only heard as she sat back down opposite.

"You can open your eyes if you like?" she said.

Mark opened his left eye first, slowly, still unsure of what he'd see. His brain was so addled from everything that had happened today, his senses dulled, that nothing registered until both eyes were wide. Glancing down slowly, he could see his fingers still slowly rubbing the gusset of a white cotton pair of knickers.

He'd not intended to use his 'rabbit in the headlights' impression twice in one day, but this time it was out of his control. He gulped hard, his breath catching. His brain was on autopilot as he struggled to stop his fingers from continuing their slow lazy circles over the wet fabric.

"To help you out," she announced gleefully, breaking the awkward silence. "Yes, they are the ones you were looking at earlier, and yes, you are rubbing your fingers in my juices!"

This last part amused her as she chuckled throatily.

This stopped him dead in his tracks. If his mind was racing earlier, everything now was in danger of coming off the tracks. Whilst he was struggling to process all the new information, his cock had ideas of its own as it started to stiffen. The blood pumping to engorge the muscles and bring it into a defiant erection, as if it somehow knew better.

"You seem a bit dazed," she said calmly. "Here, let me help."

She leant across the table, raising his arms and pressing the still warm wet gusset into his face. Even without inhaling deeply, the sweet musky scent of her arousal filled his senses, set every sexual need on high alert. His cock twitching more now as this additional sensation had been unleashed.




Sister-In-Law



With each inhale he surrendered a little more, the last few fragments of his resolve finally collapsing, as if she'd somehow established his Achilles heel years ago. Her smell was the most arousing scent he had ever encountered, his erection now pressing at an awkward angle into his jeans, almost begging for release.

"Well," she said whilst standing up. "You can keep those if you like?" pulling the hem of her jeans slightly down where she rested her thumbs.

"But I feel it only fair to warn you, that I now have no knickers on and am still decidedly wet. If you don't want me to soak my jeans as well before they come back, I suggest you follow me."

She stood up, holding eye contact all the time. She proceeded to undo the top button on her jeans. She turned around slowly, unhooking some more buttons. With her back to him, she started to walk slowly through the doorway.

She paused briefly, her head looking over her left shoulder as she pushed her jeans down over her backside, revealing her exquisite peach like buttocks. He could still only imagine how the real thing would smell, the fabric of her knickers having a faint undercurrent of washing powder, making the scent slightly sweet. How her juices would set his taste buds alight.

"Coming?" She enquired.



Sister-In-Law



Don't you just love it when a plan all comes together? It was a Saturday, the first day of a three day weekend. I'd sold the house and the closure had been a week prior. The reason I was still in the place was because I'd paid a hefty rental to stay there until the long weekend. 

The previous evening Suzanne had announced that she was off to spend the long weekend with her sister. If I didn't like it, tough luck. I had expected that to happen. Counted on it, actually. She'd packed her weekend bag and was gone. 

First thing Saturday three sets of people rolled up. The first was a locksmith, changing the locks for the new owners. I'd advised it and they'd agreed. The second was a man dropping of a ute that I'd hired for the day. The third, the removalists. We'd be able to get everything packed and moved without having Suzanne running all over the place, getting in everyone's way.

There were certain items I wanted packed separately and loaded onto the ute. I'd deliver those items myself as they had a different destination to everything else. These things were done first and loaded. I was ready to drop them off at any time. Then the removalists got to work and started loading everything else.

Handy guys, those. They knew exactly what they were doing and had everything loaded into their truck within a couple of hours. I followed them to my new address and watched as they reversed the process, putting everything away in the new house quickly and efficiently. It helped that I'd given them a layout of the house beforehand, clearly indicating where everything should go. 

Move completed, I paid off the removalists, parked my car in my nice new garage, and caught a taxi back to my old address. I was pleased to see a removalist van there, busy moving the new owner's things in. I wandered in to say hullo, shake hands, and wish him luck in his new house. Then it was out to the ute for the final delivery.

I pulled up at my sister's house. Chloe's garage was open and her car was over to one side, leaving plenty of room to unload a few boxes. I backed up to the garage, jumped out and started unloading said boxes. It didn't take long. There weren't that many of them. I'd nearly finished when Chloe came out of the house.

"Ah, what's going on, Adam?" she asked.

"Just putting a few things into your garage for storage for a short while. They shouldn't be there long. I knew you wouldn't mind. I'll be in and explain in a moment."

Chloe retreated back into the house. She'd looked a little bit ill at ease, seeing me there. That didn't really surprise me.

I finished stacking the last box, knocked on Chloe's back door and waltzed on in. She was standing in the kitchen, waiting for me, looking even more ill at ease. 

Funny thing about Chloe is she grows on you. She's really quite pretty in an understated way. Also, while she didn't have Suzanne's flamboyant, in-your-face sex appeal, she did have her own sex appeal. Like her prettiness, it wasn't immediately noticeable but it was there and it seemed to become more pronounced the more I saw of her.

"Ah, the boxes?" she asked.

"A few of Suzanne's things that she wants stored here," I told her, stretching the truth a trifle. "I'm sure she'll have them moved again very soon."

"Um, Suzanne's not here right now," Chloe told me. No kidding?

"She's, ah, gone shopping. I don't know how long she'll be gone."

Chloe was standing with her hands behind her back, twisting slightly from side to side. She hated lying to me, especially directly to my face, but she did a credible performance. She might not know it but she was also doing an incredible performance with the way her breasts were straining against the buttons of her blouse as she twisted back and forth.

"Gone to see her boyfriend, has she?" I asked sympathetically. "Don't worry. She'll turn up on Monday before she heads back to the house. That's unless you phone her and let her know she should head home."

Chloe's eyes popped wide with shock. She was so startled she didn't even notice that I eased the stress on the top button of her blouse by giving it a little flick, popping it open. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and I was quite pleased to see that the second button couldn't take the sudden strain put on it. It popped open, followed by the third, revealing a lot of cleavage, barely constrained in a lacy scrap of nothing that I suppose you could call a bra.

"What do you mean her boyfriend?" asked Chloe, looking guilty rather than shocked.

"You know. That guy she goes to see on those weekends that she claims she's visiting you. Haven't you even met the guy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chloe protested, blushing.

"I mean," I said, "that your sister has been cheating on me and that you not only know it but have aided and abetted her. She started cheating almost before the ink dried on the marriage certificate."

I reached over and stroked along that tempting cleavage.

"Don't worry," I said. "I don't blame you. You're her sister, so of course you had to take her part. But the charade is over now. We're getting divorced."

Chloe blinked and looked surprised. 

"She didn't tell me anything about that," she exclaimed.

"Possible because she doesn't know it yet," I said dryly. "The papers were filed yesterday evening. She'll probably be served tomorrow. Hopefully, at her boyfriend's place."

Chloe paled now. "She'll go spare," she said softly. "She'll take you for every penny she can get."

At that point she seemed to realise I was stroking her breast and hurriedly slapped my hand away. I grinned at her.

"She may have a little difficulty there," I pointed out. "She signed a pre-nup and I'm quite sure it will hold up in court."

"That won't stop her from cleaning out the house when you're not looking," Chloe pointed out.

I started stroking that enticing cleavage again.

"She's left it a bit late," I murmured. "I've already moved. Her clothes and jewellery are in those boxes in the garage. Our joint accounts have been closed down."

Chloe looked vaguely horrified. 

"Do you mean she's got nothing but her clothes and her car?"

"Ah, her clothes, anyway. She insisted that her car be in her name and it is. So is the financing. I do hope she can afford to make the payments because that's an expensive vehicle."

As well as horrified, Chloe was looking amused and trying to hide it. 

"She's going to want to kill you," she said. 

Then she slapped at my hand again.

"Will you stop doing that?" she demanded. 

This time she looked down and found that her blouse was gaping open. Her face lit up like a stop sign and hastily pulled the edges together.

"Don't do that," I said, reaching out and pushing her hands aside. "It's a waste of time since it's coming off anyway."

"What do you mean? I'm not taking my blouse off."

"You won't have to. I'll do it," I informed her, suiting actions to words. Reaching over I took the blouse and peeled it down her arms, popping the last button as I did so.

"Stop that. What do you think you're playing at?"

"Who's playing? I'm going to take off your clothes and then slowly ravish you until you're begging for mercy. You've been covering for Suzanne for a long time and now it's time to pay the price. I think I'm entitled to a little revenge and you're lovely little body will provide that."

"But you can't. You're married, remember?"

I had to laugh at that.

"What have we just been discussing, sweetheart? I've already filed for the divorce. As far as I'm concerned the marriage is over and I'm free to do what I like. And what I want to do, is you."

With that I gave a final tug on the blouse, pulling it off her arms and tossing it on the nearby table. Then I started undoing the button and zip on Chloe's skirt, while she wasted her energy slapping at my hands. Zip down, I caught her hands in one of mine and gave a little tug to the skirt. It slid down and pooled around her ankles, leaving her dressed in panties as flimsy as her bra.

She looked good. I already had an anticipation erection, but now it was hardening even more.

"Listen, you don't want me," protested Chloe. "I'm just a substitute for Suzanne. It's really her you want. I'm sure you can make it up with her."

"Please," I said with distaste. "Touching Suzanne sexually would make me sick to the stomach. And don't sell yourself short. You have to know that you're quite lovely and have your own sex appeal. If it wasn't you I wanted I wouldn't be here, taking you." 

With that I reached across and cupped her breast, squeezing it slightly and rubbing her nipple through the silk.

I tugged lightly on her bra. 

"Take these things off for me," I asked softly.

Chloe hesitated, looking at me. Then she swallowed nervously and reached around to unhook her bra. I was right about one thing. That little scrap of nothing didn't serve as a bra but purely as decoration. Chloe's breasts were firm and standing proud, a symphony in white and pink.

She didn't wait for me to tell her. She slipped her panties off, stepping out of them and standing before me nude, proud and nervous.

"You're not really going to do anything to me, are you?" she half whispered. "You're just scaring me."

I just smiled, unfastening my trousers.

I don't think Chloe really believed that I was going to take her until she saw my erection. Then she decided to run. Far too late. I caught her arm before she'd even taken that first step, pulling her hard up against me. Hand on her bottom I held her against me, my erection pressing hard against her.

"First things first," I murmured. "You've been helping Suzanne deceive all this time and I think you need a firm reminder that it's not nice to lie to people and help others cheat them."

Reaching over I dragged a chair away from the table, twisted it around and sat, reluctant though I was to relinquish the feel of Chloe pressing against me. Sitting I pulled her down and across my knee. She nestled there quite nicely, my erection pressing against her side, keeping her aware of it and what was going to happen.

Chloe managed to wail out a single, "No," before my hand came down hard upon her bottom. There followed a period of wriggling and protesting, apologies and excuses, and through it all my hand came down, warming up her backside. 

I paddled Chloe hard, letting her feel the weight of my displeasure. She was crying softly by the time I finished. I stood her on her feet, her bottom a shiny red, tears trickling down her face.

She stood there, looking at me, not saying a word when I ran my hands lightly over her breasts and then brought them down to rub her mons, dipping between her legs to cup her mound and squeeze lightly. 

Standing, I backed her up to the table until she was half leaning back on it, arms behind her to support her. Now I massaged her body, my hands running all over, paying particular attention to breasts and groin.

Bending slightly I kissed each nipple lightly, approving of the way they were standing proud. Hands dipping down and fingers busily intruding into secret places I could feel her warmth and dampness. Whether she liked it or not, she was ready for me.

I moved closer, my intent plain. Chloe's breath just stopped while she looked down at where I was approaching her body. A gentle touch and she shifted slightly, parting her legs that little bit more. My erection was brushing lightly against her lips, a little nudge and they parted, letting me enter. 

Chloe gave a little hiccup sort of sound as she started breathing again. Quite heavily now, as she watch me slowly entering her. Her passage slowly yielded to let me pass and then closed around me, holding me. Embedded fully within her, I couldn't really make up my mind. Was I conqueror or prisoner?

Mentally, I shrugged. Either way, did it matter? Right now she was mine. I started moving, giving myself a little pat on the back when Chloe moved with me. Maybe willing, maybe unwilling, but definitely participating. 

Hands caressing her breasts, I moved within her, while Chloe rocked in place, eagerly meeting each thrust with a movement of her own, welcoming me and taking me deep. My cock rasped against her tender flesh as I withdrew, slid smoothly back in as I drove forward again. We set a rhythm, moving together as one, performing the age old dance of man and woman.

The pleasure was exquisite, and I prolonged it as much as I could. I didn't want to finish it. I just wanted to stay there, taking this woman, never stopping. 

It wasn't to be, of course. Tensions were building inside both of us. We were both breathing hard, heating up, excitement pooling deep inside us. I had to move faster. I had no choice. I had to dominate this woman, take her, brand her with my flesh. Harder and faster, I was losing control, plunging into her like a wild thing.

Then I came, deep inside her, loosing my seed into her, letting them mix with her vital juices, hearing her scream as she claimed my gift to her.

Then I was just standing there, holding Chloe as she slumped against me, waiting for her to recover. How long we would have stayed like that I don't know, but Chloe finally roused when her phone started singing.

What is it with women and phones? If one goes off they drop everything to answer it. Chloe seemed to pale slightly as she saw who it was, but then pressed the accept button.

I guessed who it was from the tirade that came shrieking out of the speaker. Suzanne, and she sounded as though she was in a real snit. Chloe made some soothing noises and said she couldn't talk where she was. Hang up and she'd call back.

Chloe did manage to hang up and then gave me a look. To cover the ground quickly, Suzanne had just been served with the divorce papers. At her boyfriend's house. She was not impressed.

I grinned at Chloe.

"You might remember to tell her that her clothes are in your garage," I said. "Oh, and tell her that I've moved. I'd hate her to go and disturb the new owners."

With a friendly pat on her bottom, I departed.



Sister-in-Law



Brooklyn, c. 1988

The landline rings. You answer it. You're alone in the apartment. Your wife Karly is out. Probably with her jazz musician "friend" Jamal, the guy she's been cuckolding you with the past few months. It's the second guy she's openly "dated" in this, the eighth year of your common-law marriage. The first guy, a self-appointed art critic, was a pompous ass in his mid-fifties. The affair was short-lived. For his part the appeal of dating a part-time artist and lowly public school teacher half his age probably quickly wore off; as for Karly, she probably tired of an extramarital sex life that mostly consisted of limp-in-the-mouth blowjobs. He was in his fifties, afterall. Besides, she'd met Jamal by this time.

You immediately recognize the husky voice. It's Karly's older sister Susan. Older, but only by a year. They're the closest of the siblings in a big German family. Well, Polish. Susan is OK to look at and she has a great ass. But she's not cute like Karly. Susan is bigger-boned, thicker. Not fat, thick. And she has a husky voice. At one point she was studying to be a park ranger, as you recall. She's unmarried. She's a straight-talker. Sometimes she can be unbelievably blunt. You've always secretly wondered if Susan was lesbian. A closet lesbian at least. Still, she has a size bigger tits than Karly (not saying much) and she has that great ass...

"Um, Karly's not here," you immediately say. Why would Susan want to talk to you?

"No, I know. She was here. She just left."

Oh.

"Listen, Karly and I were having a heart-to-heart just now and she told me that sometimes during your guys' bedtalk..."

Bedtalk. That was a quaint little term I hadn't heard in a while...

"...you've confessed that sometimes you fantasize about, you know, fucking me. Well I was telling my sister...sometimes I have the same fantasy about you. Remember that time the three of us went to Rockaway was it? Brighton Beach? And you wore your little red Speedo? I got mileage out of that for months afterward."

Mileage?

"Anyway, I was wondering...this was actually Karly's idea, she's OK with it I mean, how would you like to get together sometime?"

Pause.

"You could come over here to my apartment in Queens. You remember where it is, right? Right off the G train?"

Silence.

"I could make dinner and we could drink some wine and...see where it goes. Would you like that?"

Stunned silence.

"Karly says you're a quick-cummer but that's OK...I cum pretty quickly myself. And she says you like kinky stuff. I like kinky stuff too, nothing too crazy but...Anyway, we can discuss all this when you come over..."

You are over six feet tall but at the moment you feel more like three-foot-two. Or the height of a toad, maybe that's a better analogy. Is there anything Karly didn't discuss with her sister?

"How about this Friday? You could come here straight from work if you want. You work somewhere in midtown, right? It's a short ride on the subway. I'll make dinner. You can pick up a bottle of wine if you want, Karly says you're sort of a wine snob so it might be better if you pick it out. Then if you end up spending the night I'll get up and make you breakfast Saturday morning..."

Translation: Maybe we can get another fuck in. Susan has read your mind:

"Karly says your favorite time to do it is in the morning and that way you wouldn't have to take the subway home late at night. But we'll see how it goes. Or we don't have to do it at all the first time. We can just sit. And chat."

Chat?

Speechless. You. Still. And what was that bit about you being a snob?

"For instance, I'm kind of dying to hear how you feel about Karly dating all these other guys right under your nose. I mean, It must be pretty difficult for you sometimes. Karly says you guys hardly ever fuck anymore and I'm not dating anybody at the moment so, it could really work out well for us." Pause. For breath. "What's this new guy's name? Ahmad? The black jazz musician?"

"Jamal," you say weakly, after the throat clear. Your silence at last broken. Now what?

"Amal, that's right. Did you know he's got a wife and two kids?"

Another throat clear. You've thought about slamming the phone down but that, you decided, would be cowardly. Of course, letting other men bang your wife is cowardly. Or exceedingly open-minded and progressive. Pick one.

"Um Susan, wow, listen...," you finally stammer. "I don't know what to say. Wow..." It's Sunday. This Friday is five days away. Five days to steel your nerves. Or back out. Besides, it's time to give your wife some pay-back, dammit! (This is the pep-talk you're giving yourself.) And what could be a bigger pay-back than fucking her sister? This is MacBeth-grade revenge, pal! Get drunk, fuck Susan (Think she'll let you fuck her up her beautiful ass? Maybe that's a discussion for a second date...), hold a woman in your arms again, especially one with a similar DNA to your wife's...This jerking off in the back row of a gay porn theater in midtown is getting old...

"Wow. OK," you finally say. "Sure. OK. That could be...fun."

"Great!"

"I get off around five on...," the day of the week having just gone poof! in your frazzled brain.

"So you should be here no later than six then. I'll make dinner," Susan repeated.

"OK. Right."

"See ya Friday then!"

"Right."

"Bye!"

Click.

You re-cradle the phone. Your hands are trembling. Have you ever heard a woman more excited? Or hornier? Well...a naïve Karly maybe. Back in the good old days when you first got together...

Christ! You need a beer. Six beers. Karly'll be home soon. What then? What will say to her? I just made a date with your sister? I'm going to fuck her Friday night? Wait. Didn't Susan say this was all Karly's idea. Well, no. But didn't she imply that Karly had given her blessing? Get him out of my hair, Sue. He's always horny, he's always bugging me for sex. You're single. You're horny. You need a man. Take him off my hands, will you? One night a week at least? He's nice-looking, don't you think? Go ahead. You have my blessing. Is it so much to ask?

You could hear your promiscuous wife now...

The phone rings. You jump. It's your sister again. Oh god, what now?

Throughout Susan's entire much-rehearsed (you assume) dissertation earlier, or proposition might be the better word, there had been a distinct quaver of nervousness to her voice. Nervousness. Excitement. Raging hormones. Nevertheless, she had plowed through her little speech like a sharp steel blade through soft spring soil.

Now here it was again. 

"Sorry. I forgot to mention," she added, as postscript. "I'm a vegetarian. I don't eat meat. I hope that's OK."

Yes, Susan, I know what a vegetarian is. In fact, I know you're one.

"That's fine," you say.

"You sure? Cause I could fix some eggs or something if you..."

Eggs. Sperm...

"Whatever you fix will be fine. Darling," you decide to add. A brilliant touch, even if you do say so yourself. Susan's turn to pause. And you can see, through the phone, the blushing smile breaking out all over her face. You can hear it in her voice. What a brilliant ploy!

"Oh. Great. OK." She giggles uncontrollably. "OK. See you Friday then!"

"See you!"

"Bye."

The voice at the other end lingers, but you hang up. Time for that first beer.

After the hummus and the veggie grape leaves, after the god-only-knows-what kind of casserole that tasted like warm cardboard, and after some kind of flourless wedge of "brownie" that required a steak knife to saw through...you're still hungry.

But that's OK. You have the high-calorie consolation that two bottles of wine can provide.

"This wine is really great!" Susan declares for about the fourth time. 

Good, not great. It's only a Beaujolais-Village afterall.

"You sure you don't want another brownie?"

"I'm fine."

In fact, you're starting to drift. Like a high cloud. A warm glow is starting to settle over you. Everything is going to be fine. Just fine.

You're sitting on the end cushion of Karly's ratty couch; she's sitting on the middle. Your body and her body are turned inward a little, toward each other. Knees practically touching. It's awkward. Karly's low-cut stretch blouse bares her modest cleavage. She's wearing a short skirt. Her bare thighs are crossed. She has bigger pores than Karly. Follicles, that is. She's wearing more makeup than you've ever seen her in. Her lipstick is red—redder than the wine. Although much of it now smears the rim of her cheap goblet. You wonder: have I ever seen Karly—Susan you mean, Susan!—in lipstick before? Maybe at that funeral that time?

Susan is speed-talking, nervous. You sip your wine. Another glass (or two) and you'll be ready to lean over and kiss her on the mouth. To silence her. Then you'll feel her little tits. Then you'll...

You marvel at how the spread of Susan's ass on that cushion is so much wider than Karly's. You marvel at it. Can't wait to see it. Pantied, then in the flesh. You can't wait to feel it, squeeze it. Kiss it. Lick her sweaty crack. Plunge your tongue in her...

You have an erection. Is it obvious? To Susan? You wonder if she's noticed. She's talking, talking. You go for it.

You lower your hand onto her bare thigh.

Susan smiles. She interrupts her latest uninhibited topic—about how though she's been spanked before, she's never been whipped—let alone whipped a man the way Karly whips you—doesn't it hurt? A LOT? Does it leave marks? Guess I'll find out soon enough!—to say, tucking a lock of dark hair behind a reddening ear: "That feels nice."

"Baby, you're driving me-"

The phone rings. Before you can even say "Let it!" Susan has jumped up, as if propelled by an errant couch spring. Is this evasion on her part, you wonder? Cold feet?

"Hello?"

Baby?

Immediately—even before Susan cups the phone and mouths at you the words "It's Karly"—you know who it is. WHAT DOES SHE WANT? Jealous? Is this sabotage on her part? Leave us alone, BITCH! I was already halfway to second base...

"No, we haven't done anything yet. We're just sitting here talking."

-

"You know. About stuff."

-

"We had dinner and now we're drinking some wine."

-

"No, he did. It's really good, too."

-

"I hope so."

-

"How can you tell?"

-

"You can? Just by feeling his balls? He lets you?"

-

"Oh. Well that's good for me, I guess."

-

"Look, don't ruin it for me, OK? Let it be a surprise."

-

"It's enough just to have a man inside me again, OK?"

-

"Why?"

-

(Susan cups the phone again. Looks at me. Stares. Wide-eyed.) "He does?"

-

"Is he (mutters something into the phone)?"

-

"Oh my god. Why does he do that? I don't understand."

-

"I will. I don't have any though."

-

"OK. If you say so."

-

"OK, I will. Thanks for the warning. Bye, sis. Bye."

Susan hangs up. Turns that same wide-eyed stare on you again. Cracks a smile. Tries to. Fails.

"Listen, your wife says I should make you wear a condom tonight."

"What!" jumping up.

"Yeah, she does. She's pretty insistent about it."

"WHY?"

"Ask her. I don't know. She was pretty vague. She just said, 'Make sure you make him wear a condom,' that's all."

"Karly's full of shit!"

"But why would my sister say something like that if it wasn't true?"

"To...yank our chain? Ruin our evening together?"

"You think wearing a condom is going to ruin our evening? I thought it was going really well."

"It was!"

"Besides," a smile at last creeping through, "watching a guy put a condom on is a big turn-on for me. It's like...Wow, this is really about to happen. Condoms make me wet."

"They do?"

Susan nodded. "Besides, I've been off the pill for a couple of months now, and you never know."

Oh.

"Plus Karly says you go to gay theaters sometimes."

"No I don't."

"She says you do. When she has company over, and you let her have the apartment for the evening...she says you go a gay theater in midtown because you like to watch guys fuck. You say it's hot."

"I..."

"So there's two good reasons we should use a condom tonight, darling."

Darling?

"And like I say I don't mind them, I really don't. I mean I like it when a guy cums in me, but..." Karly paused. "There's just one problem."

Yes?

"I don't have any here. Condoms. Haven't had a boyfriend in a while, so there hasn't the need for one." Karly beamed a smile. "But there's a bodega at the end of the block. You passed it on the way here. Do you mind?"

She had you at darling. No, she had you at "makes me wet."

Susan held the just-used, just-removed Trojan (I'd bought two at the bodega—two for two bucks) at eye level and marveled at the receptacle end's white bulge.

"Wow! Karly wasn't kidding when she said you'd have a big load for me."

Except, as it turned out, it wasn't for Susan it was for the prophylactic. On the other hand, one doesn't want to get one's sister pregnant now does one?

As in just about all post-coital opposite-sex moments like this Susan had a warm and fuzzy glow about her while I...I couldn't wait to get the hell out of her apartment. The sight of the ludicrous-looking stretched-out condom, and my semen filling it, disgusted me. On top of that was the embarrassing matter of how quickly it had come to this conclusion.

"Look," I said, "I'm sorry about cumming so soon."

"No, don't sweat it. It was great. Really."

"No it wasn't...," I muttered. Loser!

"Listen, I haven't been fucked by a man in eight months," Susan advised with typical bluntness. "It was wonderful. You were too horny, that's all. I bet in the morning it'll be a different—you're getting dressed?"

I nodded.

"You want another glass of wine."

"No, Susan, I really have to get going."

"WHY? I thought you were going to spend the night."

"Can't. I promised Karly," I lied.

"Karly didn't tell me anything about you not being able to spend the night."

"No, she wants us to take it slow."

"What slow?"

"At first. Our...relationship."

"What relationship? We're sex partners! At least I thought we were."

"We are. Will be. I'll come back next week. Next Friday. I promise. Maybe we could go out...Are there any vegetarian restaurants near...?" I almost gagged.

"Oh," a deflated Susan replied. "That might be nice." She sat there naked on bed's edge looking down between her thighs. Maybe at the pendant condom the fingers of her right hand still pinched. "Bummer," she declared.

"Yeah. Sorry. But you know how Karly is." (I'd pulled if off! My multi-layered lie!)

I think Susan expected a kiss on the mouth at her apartment door, but I wasn't in the mood. For one thing her lipstick was all smeary. I kissed her cheek. She insisted we hug. I kissed the top of her head.

"I'll see you next Friday then," I said, pulling away.

"OK if I call you?"

"Sure," I replied, with a roll of the eyes. To talk about what exactly?

"Say hello to Karly for me."

"I will."

I beat feet for the G train.

A half hour's wait for the next train, followed by a half hour's ride deep into Brooklyn, and it was a little past eleven by the time I reached our apartment building. As I climbed the last flight of stairs to the top floor I had a deep sense of foreboding. Were those very audible moans coming from the apartment below or...?

They were growing louder. I put my key in the lock. I heard a commotion in our bedroom, down to the right. The light came on. Then like a solo dancer emerging from the stage wings at the Met my wife came running on the balls of her feet. She was naked. Her hands were raised. Had they been raised higher than her little bouncing tits it would have been a surrender pose. She shouted in whisper:

"What are you doing here!"

"I...live here?"

"You're supposed to be spending the night at my sister's!"

"We...finished."

"Finished what? Jamal's here! He's spending the night! LEAVE!"

"Where am I supposed to go at this hour?" I pleaded.

"That's your problem! GO!"

The door slammed in my face. The light had been poor but...was that a drying semen drip on the inside of Karly's slender left thigh?

Now what?

As I walked back to the train station I began to formulate a plan. Which is to say, fabricate another lie. This is what I would say to Susan, when she met me at her apartment door with a look of pleasant surprise, cinching a robe around the thickish body I'd so recently fucked. And would fuck again come morning.

"I got halfway home and...I just had to turn back. I felt so bad about the way it ended tonight. Me walking out like that. Fuck Karly. I want to spend the night with you instead. I'm crazy about you."

Susan, eyes sparkling: "You are? Great! Come in. I was just about to pour myself a brandy. Would you like one?"

(I seriously doubt Susan kept a bottle of brandy in her apartment. Besides, I don't drink brandy. But it was a nice romantic touch, don't you think?)

An hour later Susan did indeed meet me at her door. Her eyes were not sparkling, however. In fact, her dark brows knitted a frown. She wore tight jeans and a pullover sweater. Her feet were bare. Casual.

"What are you doing back?" she asked. Her eyes were red.

"I...got halfway home and..."

Susan tucked hair behind an ear. Her eyes narrowed. "Karly's friend was with her wasn't he?"

"Hunh? No! I don't know! I never made it that far. I turned around and came back. To be with you. I...You have company," I observed.

The guy I could now see over Susan's right shoulder was lanky and had a shock of dark Elvis-like hair. Frankly, he struck me as a gas station attendant.

"Oh, yeah," Susan replied. "This is my friend Rob. Rob lives in the building. We hang out sometimes."

Rob, slumped on the couch, gave an awkward little wave. The apartment reeked of weed. Rob held a goblet of leftover Beaujolais in his hand. He was drinking my wine!

Susan glanced behind. "Well, I guess you could come in for a little bit, if you want. Have a drink with us."

"No. You're...I'm intruding. I...You guys..."

"OK then," Susan said, abruptly concluding the matter.

"Next Friday then?" my voice having risen an octave.

Susan leaned closer before closing the door. The second that had been closed in my face tonight. "We'll talk about it," she said. "I'll let you know. Goodnight!"

At least my sister was polite.

The only hotels that I knew about in New York were either in Manhattan or out at the airports. I couldn't afford the former and I sure as hell wasn't taking the A train out to the latter.

As I once again headed back to the train station an old adage popped into my head. Adage may not be the right word...

For the cost of one subway token, it was said, you could ride the trains all day and all night. You could ride them indefinitely. Theoretically, you could ride them till the end of time. (Or until the next motorman's strike.)

This was one option. I sank my hands in my pockets against the humid chill and discovered, in the right one, the second foil Trojan packet. This led me to a new, improved, truly inspired idea. That gay porn theater in midtown. Wasn't it open 24 hours?

I could settle into a cushy seat in the middle of the last row, ideally one that wasn't damp, close my eyes and ears to all the moaning and banal dialog and perhaps get a half-decent night's sleep. It was theoretically possible, right?

And in fact, an hour later, with my ass at seat's edge (I'd had to kick a wad of tissues forward to the next row) and my head resting on the seatback I'd just drifted off into a kind of cinematic half-consciousness when...

It felt like I was on a see-saw. Someone really big had landed in the seat next to me and I'd popped up (mixing metaphors) like a Jack-in-box. What the...?

The guy was breathing heavily. And he wasted no time, unbuckling and unzipping and pulling it out. He was already hard, and it stood straight up, twelve o'clock high in the flickering projector light. All he needed was an assist. A helping hand. He expected it.




Sister-in-Law



I sighed, inwardly. I was exhausted. I needed sleep. I'd never done anything like this before. But how difficult could it be? What, afterall, is the difference between stroking your own cock and stroking somebody else's? It's just a matter of...familiarity.

"Thanks," my new friend said, as I enclosed his big cock in my fist. His head rolled back. He began to moan with my stroking motion.

"Faster," he eventually said. I shifted position slightly and worked him harder. As I stroked him I couldn't help notice the guy two rows ahead and a few seats down looking over his shoulder, watching this "live" sex show. Would he want one next? Would the news spread around the theater? There's some young guy giving handjobs in the back row? Was I destined to spend a sleepless night wearing my right arm out pleasuring complete strangers? On a night that'd started so promising committing incest with my sister, was this my new fate?

More to the point, did this make me gay? Technically speaking?

And does fucking your sister really qualify as incest?

The guy stiffened and let out an urgent groan. He stilled my frantic hand. "I'm gonna cum," he blurted. About time, I thought. Wish I had this kind of stamina. He was out of breath. Another guy was sliding down our row, my way. Oh great. Next!

"I don't want to make a mess," my pleasure-partner panted. "You got a condom on you?"