15 comments/ 72724 views/ 66 favorites My Two Wives By: MzDeviancy My stories tend toward the nonconsent/taboo side, but I want to be clear that I'm in no way suggesting that the acts in my stories are okay. Forced sex is a fantasy I enjoy and I write for other similarly minded people. Real rape is ugly and sad, and if it's something you're considering acting out you should seek help. * This is part one of a two-part story. Second part will hopefully be posted sometime this century. As for the politics in this story, they're not intended to be taken seriously. I wouldn't try to change anyone's political persuasions through porn, so please just take the porn for what it is. Enjoy. *** It was five years ago that I came out to my parents. Oh, I'm not gay. It might actually have been easier if I was. No, five years ago, I told my die-hard Democrat family that I was now a Republican. The expression on their faces will be perfectly preserved in my mind forever. They couldn't have looked more horrified if I'd announced that I was going to open a sweatshop and staff it with South East Asian orphans. In their minds, that's pretty much the equivalent of being Republican. It doesn't matter to them that the Republican Party addresses real issues like the totally unsustainable size of government, one of the many liberal policies that's sent us spiralling down into deficit—but I digress. The only one who didn't seem to view my announcement as catastrophic was my younger sister. She pretty much thought it was hilarious, and has treated it like a joke ever since. Like Christmas four years ago, when I opened my present from Naomi and discovered she'd very thoughtfully gotten me The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama. My wife, Becky, a staunch Republican and not my sister's biggest fan, was not amused. Becky was even less amused by my offering Naomi a place to stay two years ago when she lost her job and couldn't pay rent on her dorm room. The fact that Naomi's still living with us? Let's just say it hasn't contributed to marital harmony. But beyond the fact that Naomi's my sister, she's the only one in my family who doesn't try to make me feel bad about my political beliefs. She jokes around, but she never truly tries to make me feel like shit on the bottom of a shoe, the way my parents and older brother do every time I talk to them. And for that, my sister would always have a place in my home. The night I think of as the beginning of this story started like many, many others: with Becky bitching at me about Naomi as we got ready for bed. "Noah, it's been two years. Two. Years!" Becky said, as if emphasizing the words in that don't-you-get-it-idiot tone was going to finally get through to me. I strove for patience. "She's gonna be finished school in another year, and she chips in where she can, buying groceries and babysitting for us. You want me to throw her out on the street? It's only another year, Becky." "Yes," she hissed, the s escaping like steam from between her clenched teeth. "Another year. I want my house back. And we need that room-" "For what?" I interrupted. "We don't need her room for anything. And I'm not kicking her out just so we can have a room we don't need." Becky was quiet for a moment. "Maybe we do need it." "For what?" I repeated, exasperated. She looked up at me, and I saw the hesitancy in her eyes. "What is it?"I asked. One of her hands caught a shirt tail and twisted it, a nervous habit I don't think she'd ever realized she had. "It's just...I know we said we were going to wait until Zach was a bit older, but..." "You're not...a baby?" I could feel the dopey smile spreading across my face. She smiled back unsurely. "You're really happy?" I grabbed her up in a hug and pressed kisses all over her face until she shrieked with laughter and pushed me away. "Okay, okay! You're happy!" I dropped onto the bed and tugged her into my lap. My hand found its way to her tummy and spread possessively over it. "When did you find out?" I asked. Her expression grew reticent again. "Three days ago," she replied, but rushed to add, "I just wanted to wait to tell you over a nice dinner, or at least on a night when we weren't fighting. But you've been working, and we've been arguing every night about your sister-" I felt a prick of irritation at that 'we'; she was the one who brought it up all the damn time. I brushed it off though and focused on the good news. "All right, all right. It doesn't matter. What matters is we're gonna have another baby. I can't wait to see you all round again." My voice turned husky and Becky flushed a little. I'm not some pervert who watches preggo porn, but there's just something about a woman, round and full with my child, and eventually milk for my child...well, it arouses something very primal in me, let's just say. My hand had begun sensuously rubbing my wife's tummy at these thoughts. I nuzzled her neck. "You really like it when I'm all swollen? I feel like a penguin...waddling around..." she gasped as I sucked her sensitive earlobe. "A very sexy penguin," I murmured, nipping her ear. My hand moved down and found the hem of her nightgown. I tugged it up until her lean thighs were bared to me. My fingers settled between her legs, running over the lightly furred lips of her puss. I kissed and licked and nipped her neck; my wife has a very sensitive neck, and I didn't have to look down to know her nipples were pebbled into tight little buds. "Are you going to...drink my...milk again?" she panted. My cock twitched at her words. Her breasts, already full for her diminuitive stature, would swell like ripe melons when she was nursing. She'd nursed our son Zach for six months, and I had many fond memories of milk leaking from her engorged nipples, dribbling down her breasts, which were swollen and taut from the milk inside her. "You like when I drink your milk?" I murmured against her neck. I could smell her scent, and knew she was already wet for me. "Yesssssss..." she moaned as I sank two fingers inside her. "Then I'll drink it every day," I promised. My fingers made wet squelching noises as I lazily thrust them into her weeping pussy. "I'll suck on your milky tits while I fuck you." "Oh God!" Her hips pumped against my hand, and my cock began to twitch insistently against her bottom. Tonight I couldn't wait. I picked her up and arranged her so she was straddling me, pulled down my boxers to free my cock, and positioned her over it. I hissed out a long breath as she sank down on me, enveloping me in the sweet, hot wetness of her cunt. I yanked down the straps of her nightgown until her tits, jiggling with each bounce of her hips, were bared to my gaze. I didn't tease her with gentle kisses all over them; I no longer had the restraint. I latched onto a nipple and sucked rhythmically, imagining the milk that would come out in a few months time. As I sucked, her pussy began to clench in time to my pulls. I imagined that sweet liquid flowing over my tongue and her clenching me like this. My hands found her hips and began pulling her down in a more vigorous rythm. Becky was keening. Her hands gripped my hair almost painfully as she rode me, and I knew she was close. I reached between our bodies and found her little nub, which was peeking out from its hood in search of contact. I rubbed my thumb over her clit, pressing with just the right amount of pressure, and soon her head dropped back and she let out a wail. Her cunt began milking me, and my cock, already eager to give up its seed, erupted inside her. I jerked her down on me hard, and pushed as deep as I could go to give up the last stream of cum. She collapsed against me and I held her, rubbing her back. She glanced over my shoulder, and apparently caught sight of the clock as she said, "Wow, that did not last long." I grinned against her shoulder. "Hey, every day can't be a marathon. Both of us were sprinters today." "I'm a girl. We're allowed to finish quickly," she pronounced. "Oh, really?" I flipped her onto her back and came down on top of her, and it was only a matter of seconds before her shrieks of laughter changed to husky moans. *** The next morning, things were deceptively calm. Becky and I got ready for work, and every time I passed her, my hand found its way to her tummy. Or some other part of her body. It was really nice to wake up not immediately on guard from the fight of the night before. Even arriving to the kitchen and finding Naomi sitting on a stool at the island eating Fruit Loops didn't break the mood. "Morning," Naomi called cheerfully. "Good morning," Becky replied, admittedly less enthusiastically than Naomi, but also in less of a why-are-you-still-in-my-house tone than she usually used with my sister. Zach gurgled happily from his playpen in the corner of the room. I bent down and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. He responded by grabbing my hair and giving it a hard yank, which I'm sure in his mind translated into love. Becky began fixing her usual breakfast: a large cup of coffee in a travel mug which she would drink on her way to the office. "Uh uh," I said, slicing a bagel and dropping it into the toaster. "You're eating more than that." "Noah..." she didn't bother finishing what would have undoubtedly been a speech about how she doesn't eat breakfast. We'd had this discussion enough times when she was pregnant with Zach. A slight smile tugged at her lips. "Fine, then. One bagel to go please." "With cream cheese," I added. "LIGHT cream cheese," I amended, seeing her frown. She kissed me lightly on the lips, and my hand found its way to her ass for a subtle squeeze. She pulled away, and I turned to find Naomi staring at us with her eyebrows arching toward her hairline. Since Becky started work half an hour earlier than I did and had to drop Zach off at daycare, she headed out the door first after a lingering kiss goodbye. As soon as she was gone, Naomi couldn't seem to hold it in any longer. "All right, what the hell is up with you two? Why does Nancy seem so happy?" I rolled my eyes at the nickname my sister had bestowed on my wife long ago; Nancy, as in Nancy Reagan. "We can't be in a good mood?" "Of course you can, you guys just never are," she commented as she rinsed out her bowl. We made it out to my car without further mention, and I -- silly me -- thought that we'd actually dropped the subject. "Heard you guys going at it last night." I'd long ago grown used to Naomi's totally inappropriate comments, so I just said, "So get some earplugs." "But then I wouldn't be able to hear what a stallion my brother is. And who'd have thought Nancy was such a dirty girl? If you guys ever run into financial problems, you can always set up a website. Naughtyconservatives.com or something." "You know, it would be a lot easier for me to convince Becky to let you stay for another year if you wouldn't be such a pain in the ass." "Hey! I never say any of this stuff to her. Okay, not ANYMORE," she amended at my look. "After I discovered my sister hates jokes, laughter and all manner of frivolity, I stopped even trying. I guess it's a good thing she's a tiger in the sack, huh?" she said with a wink. I turned to look at her sternly, about to tell her not to talk like that about my wife, but something in her face just made me lose it. I burst out laughing, and wound up having to pull over until I got it together. Naomi was giving me that arched-eyebrows look again. "I know I'm funny, but it wasn't THAT funny..." My face was still split in an idiotic grin. "I'm just happy." I pulled back onto the road. "You're just...what the hell is up with you?" I debated whether or not to tell her. I wasn't sure Becky would be happy with anyone knowing before we'd decided to make an 'official' announcement. But I also felt like I couldn't NOT tell Naomi. "We're having another baby. Becky's pregnant," I announced. "Becky's...oh my GOD!" Naomi flew across the car and tackled me in a bone-crushing hug. I had to pull over before I crashed. "I'm so happy for you guys! Oh God, I hope this one's a girl! Don't you hope this one's a girl? Then I'll have a little niece and a nephew." I grinned at her rambling. Few people were as openly expressive about their joy as my sister, and very few people would feel this happy about a woman they didn't even like bearing them another niece or nephew. If my sister, who'd been left virtually sterile by pelvic surgery when she was twelve, felt any bitterness or regret that Becky would have a second child while she'd never even have one of her own, then she buried it deep down. I wished Becky could see this aspect of my sister, but all Becky saw was a democrat who was taking up space in her house. As if my thoughts had brushed hers, my sister suddenly turned serious. "Listen, Noah, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, and your offer to let me finish school before moving out. I'm gonna start looking for a place to live, though, so you guys have the room for the baby." I shook my head. "The baby can stay in the same room as Zach for a year, Nomes. We're happy to-" "We?" she said dryly. "Okay, I'm happy to have you stay with us until you're done your school. And Becky will survive for a year. I'm not having my sister be some impoverished college student who has to go the food bank just to get by. Or live in some hellhole where you get mugged every day because you can't afford anything better." "It's really not a big deal, Noah. I can just-" "Naomi, you're staying. I love my wife, but I'm not about to let her boot my sister out into the street." That seemed to crack the usual Naomi, laissez-faire facade. She picked at the loose threads of her ripped jeans. "Don't you ever think that maybe your life would be better if I weren't here?" She looked up. "I hear you guys fighting all the time." I suppose it was stupid to feel surprised -- after all, if she could hear us having sex, obviously she'd be able to hear us fighting -- but I was surprised. It was Naomi, after all, and I'd always assumed if she could hear us, she'd have brought it up with her usual tactlessness. "You never said anything." "I guess I didn't want to rock the boat. I thought if things got bad enough, you'd ask me to leave. But you won't, will you? You're too good of a brother," she said, placing her hand on my arm. "But you need the room for the baby, and Becky's going to go apeshit if I'm still here by the time she delivers. I don't want you to ruin your life for me, Noah." I grabbed her hand. "Listen to me: you're my sister, and you're the only person in our family who doesn't make me feel miserable every time I'm around them. If Becky really, truly didn't understand how important to me you are, if she really tried to make me throw you out, our marriage would be over, not because of you but because of what that would say about her." Naomi, for once, was rendered speechless. "But Becky and I are gonna work things out. We're just getting to used to the whole marriage thing. It's only been a couple of years. We'll get it figured out." "Are you sure? Because-" "Naomi," I said pleasantly. "Shut up." That settled the discussion for the day. The next week was great, and I thought I might actually be on my way to living up to my earlier words to Naomi. Becky was happy because I was happy and involved. She'd been really shocked and impressed the first time around with Zach how much I thought of the baby, buying parenting books, looking online at all the stuff we'd need to get, and making sure she ate right. My parents, free-love, hippy liberals that they were, were not big on stereotyped gender roles, so my siblings and I were raised to believe that a baby belongs to both parents and was not therefore just the woman's domain. I may have gone away from my roots on many beliefs, but some things we're raised with are too fundamental to shed from our personalities. This one resulted in me getting a lot of great sex, so that was also a plus. When Becky told me that she'd thought about what I'd said about the kids sharing a room for the year and decided she could live with that, I thought my life had finally achieved perfection. Little did I know how wrong things would soon go. My eyes snapped open to find the bedroom pitch black with no alarm clock shrieking. I glanced over at it; 3:06AM. I wondered what had woken me up, then I heard the sounds of violent retching coming from our bathroom. I found Becky, naked and hunched over the toilet in the dark, dry-heaving. So, of course I asked the stupid question that people always ask in these situations: "Are you okay?" "Do I-" -- heave -- "Seem like..." -- heave -- "I'm o-" -- HEAVE! -- "-Kay?!" "Sorry, stupid question," I said, rubbing her back. "Is there anything I can do?" She heaved several times, and when her head came up again I saw tears glistening on her cheeks in the dim light. "Just go back to bed. I guess it was unreasonable to expect two pregnancies without morning sickness." I stroked her sweat-soaked hair back from her forehead. "You okay now? Wanna come back to bed?" She nodded and rose slowly, took two steps then promptly turned back around and dropped in front of the porcelain altar to dry-heave some more. From that night on, she was sick all the time; if she wasn't actually vomiting, she still felt horrible. We got her Gravol to soothe her stomach, but half the time she couldn't keep the pill down and even when she did she would be just as sick. A month later, she was finally keeping stuff down for the mostpart, but she said she was still nauseous all the time. The slightest things, like standing up too quickly, could send her running for the bathroom. I might be a little more progressive and sensitive than the average guy, but I was still starting to get pretty sexually frustrated. We'd tried a few times -- five, not that I was counting -- but we'd get as far as a few pumps before she'd be off to the toilet again. Then of course I'd feel too bad to jerk off when she came back to bed miserable. I would have jerked off in the shower more, but when you have two women living with you, you don't get much hot water in the mornings. All this added up to a situation that could not possibly be any good for the penis. I started getting hard at weird times, like while driving in rush hour traffic, zoning out thinking about my wife being all round in a few months and dripping with milk in a couple more. I thought about my boss's receptionist -- not mine, since my receptionist was in her fifties and nearly spherical she was so hefty. I thought about many women, including my sister, my mother-in-law, my sister's friends, and random women on the street. But I never thought about my sister. I suppose what I'm trying to get across is that I wasn't a sicko, and I definitely didn't intend what happened. It was about a month into my wife's morning (read: perpetual) sickness that I was watching TV with Naomi one night while Becky slept upstairs. Zach had tuckered himself out in his playpen and was dozing lightly, thumb in his mouth. All was well until The Daily Show came on. I can take a joke, so I put up with her watching that liberal BS in my house, even though he completely vilifies Republicans for taking the steps necessary to protect our country, because hey, obviously we should allow our country to be blown up rather than have a few phones tapped or -- God forbid! - take away terrorists' rights -- but I digress. Stewart was starting in again about Bush, and I decided I'd had enough. "Change the channel." Naomi rolled her eyes. "Chill out, Noah. It's just a joke." "No, it's typical liberal demonizing of the Right and I'm not in the mood for it today." I eyeballed her, but her eyes were already glued back to the TV. My Two Wives I walked over and stood in front of her with my hand out. "Give me the remote." Her eyes narrowed. "No." "It's my house!" I said incredulously. "Yes, and I totally appreciate you letting me live here," she replied sweetly. "But I refuse to bow to a policy of censorship. Seems the Right is all about freedom of speech until someone uses it to say something about them. I'm trying to protect you from your own hypocrisy." I felt a burst of annoyance that only a little sister can induce. "Give it to me, or I'll take it." A competitive gleam entered her eye and she held the remote up between us. "Bring. It. On." I grabbed her wrist and tried to wrench the remote free, but I should have seen what was coming. She went for my leg and executed a single leg takedown. I suppose at this point I should mention that all three of us -- my brother, sister, and I -- had been pretty athletic in school, and both Naomi and I were on the wrestling team for years. This was no ordinary brother/sister sloppy wrestling match. She tried to pin me, scissoring her long legs out and dropping all her weight onto my upper body, but I threw myself into an arch. I drove myself up with my left foot and rolled into her, catching her arm and trying to flip her onto her back. She went to ground to avoid being flipped, locking her arms tight against her upper body. Jon Stewart brayed in the background, but I barely noticed as I focused on the time-honored tradition of kicking my little sister's ass. I was a twenty-seven year old tax attorney, but somehow I never quite got rid of the part of me that felt that every challenge offered by a sibling, particularly the younger one, must be answered. I would punish her audacity. I tried working a hand under her arm from the back but she kept her arms locked to her sides. Lightning- quick, I spun to gain a different angle and wedged a hand under her elbow from the front. I wrenched it up into chicken wing position -- which is very uncomfortable for the person whose arm is being held up behind their back -- and straddled her hips, plonking myself down on her ass to keep her pinned. "Give up?" I asked silkily. She responded with an angry grunt. She was trying to draw her feet up enough to push herself up and me off. I was sitting in total control though with one arm chicken-winged and my weight resting on what was more or less the centre of her body. She wasn't going anywhere, but typical Naomi, she refused to give up. Then she made an even bigger mistake: she put her other hand out to try to push up. I immediately had her other arm chicken-winged too. She growled and bucked her hips, trying to bend her knees enough to plant the balls of her feet. I was basking in my triumph when I had a sudden, horrific realization: I was hard. Her ass was rubbing against my balls as she twisted and wiggled, and my cock had responded as if this were just some girl with a nice ass rubbing it. She was still struggling though, as I had this horrible epiphany, and as if totally disconnected from my brain, my hips tilted and thrust so that I gave her ass a little hump. I released her arms and jumped up, backing away in shocked horror. She rolled over, and her face was completely flushed, her dark brown hair all over the place. She looked like she'd just been fucked. "Noah?" she said quizzically. "I..." I trailed off, words completely failing me. I continued backing away, and I could feel the horror written plainly across my face. Had she noticed? I saw her eyes flick down to my fly. I ran out of the room. *** 'Have to leave your room sometime,' I thought bracingly to myself. 'Can't hide in here forever.' I still hadn't decided on a gameplan. I had no idea whether I was going to sit Naomi down and give her the speech I'd been rehearsing in my head all night about my enforced celibacy of late, or if I was just going to act as if nothing had happened and proceed as usual. Becky was ready for work and staring at me impatiently. "You're going to be late, hon." I held up the two suits I'd been debating between. "Which one?" Her eyebrows scrunched. "You need my opinion on a suit?" Hearing it out loud made me realize how stupid it was. I was no metrosexual -- every morning, I simply chose one of the suits hanging in the closet, and paired it with a reasonably non-clashing shirt and tie. I was stalling. "You're right. Grey it is." She eyed the time restlessly while I dressed. "Noah, it's getting late. I've really gotta get going if I don't wanna hit the morning rush." I knew I should rush so I could make sure she ate a proper breakfast, but the bedroom door stood there like some monolith, facing me down. "Why don't you go ahead," I suggested. "Just make sure you have something to eat." "Okay, just make sure you're not late yourself."She bussed me hastily on the lips, and then was gone, leaving me to my inner turmoil. I dragged out the process of dressing, trying to decide on a course of action. I could hear the low murmurs of Becky and Naomi talking downstairs. A decision eluded me. I heard the door slam, indicating that Becky was gone. I decided to bite the bullet and just go downstairs, hoping that I'd know how to approach Naomi once I saw her. I stood awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her eat a bagel and sip her morning coffee. It wasn't that I'd never known she was good-looking; I'd always had an aesthetic appreciation of her looks. Her wavy hair was dark brown and had hung to her mid-back for as long as I could remember. She was tall for a girl, and lanky with just enough curve to her to give her a feminine shape. She had a line from the Torah tattooed at the base of her nape, which I supposed some guys might find sexy if they weren't aware that it was a scriptural quote. Her long legs were encased in tights and stretched in front of her, and she hunched over a newspaper, doing the Sudoku. She looked like she always did, and yet completely different. "Hey," I said awkwardly. "Hey yourself," she replied without looking up from her Sudoku. So, we were going to ignore it. I could definitely live with that. I poured myself a cup of coffee and made a bagel. She'd already finished eating by the time my bagel finished toasting and made her way to the dishwasher with her bowl and glass. She stopped and turned. "Noah, I'm going to be bending over to put my dishes away. I hope you can control your baser urges, but if you can't, maybe you should avert your eyes." My face felt like it had been engulfed in flame. She burst out laughing. Weirdly, that laughter helped me feel less humiliated. "You asshole," I muttered. She grinned. "So I guess wrestling's off our list of activities since you're a pervert now and all." "I'm not a pervert!" I could feel my color rising again. "So, I'm just irresistible then? I knew it." I snorted. "Hate to burst your delusional bubble, but the only reason I...that happened was because Becky and I haven't had sex in a month." "A month?" she said derisively. "Is that supposed to be a long time?" "It is when you -- fuck, nevermind." She perked up, sensing interesting information. "Tell me! 'It is when you' what?" "We shouldn't be having this conversation." She rolled her eyes. "You are such a tight ass now." "Yeah, not wanting to talk about sex with my sister -- wow, I'm such a weirdo!" "No, you just assault your sister with your boner." I gaped at her. "I'm adopted. I must be. No normal person like me could be related to someone who thinks that's funny." Naomi strolled around the breakfast bar and hopped up on the stool next to me, swivelling it to face me. "Tell me why you got a hard-on and I'll leave you alone." I stared at her doubtfully. "Probably," she amended. I gave up. "Fine," I snapped. "A month has been a long time because I haven't been able to jerk off." She blinked at me owlishly. "Becky gets sick when we try to have sex, so I can't exactly start jerking off while she's in the bathroom yakking. And there's never enough hot water to jerk off in the damn shower in the morning, because I live with two women. And I have Zach in the afternoon until Becky gets home." Her eyebrows had disappeared under her bangs. "So, you haven't cum in a month?" I knew I must be the shade of a tomato. "Once." "Once in a month..." she bit the inside of her cheek. "Well, that makes sense. Although I really did like the explanation where it was just that I was so hot." She flounced off, leaving me staring after her. *** The rest of the week passed relatively normally, although Naomi just couldn't resist a couple of opportunities to harass me. Like when we were putting away groceries and she held up the bag of deep purple plums and asked, "Now, what do these remind you of?" Then finally it was Saturday, and that night Becky and I were going to the party of a couple we'd gone to university with. Becky's sense of style was understated, but it always did it for me. Tonight she was wearing a semi-conservative little black dress which showed just a bit of thigh and revealed a hint of the upper swell of her breasts, which were nice and swollen from her pregnancy hormones. She had on black stilettos that were just shy of slutty. She looked like a high-class hooker, and I wanted to bang the hell out of her. "Could you do up my necklace, please?" she asked, holding up the ends of the delicate silver chain. "Sure." My voice came out a little husky. My fingers brushed her neck as I fastened the clasp on her necklace. I could see our reflection in the dresser mirror, and all I could think of was bending her forward and pushing inside her. My hands dropped to her hips, and I brushed kisses along the curve between her neck and her shoulder. "You look so good," I murmured, my fingers tightening on her hips. Her hand came up to cradle my head to her neck. "You look good, too." "You smell good, too." I inhaled the warm scent of her blonde hair, which she'd pulled up from her nape, allowing just a few curls to trail down. I tugged the skirt of her dress up above her hips, revealing black bikini-cut panties. "Noah," she said, my name coming out like a moan. "Hmmm?" I nuzzled her neck as my finger burrowed between her legs. She spun in my arms. "We really have to go." I couldn't help the disappointed groan that escaped me. "But," she said, slipping her hand between us and trailing it down along my stomach, "I'd really like to continue this when we get home." I grinned. "I'll hold you to that." We said goodbye to Naomi on our way out, who also had plans tonight, but for later. Since Naomi was going out and planning to spend the night at her friend's place, Becky and I had made arrangements to drop Zach with our neighbor for the night. We kissed him goodbye and left him in the capable hands of Mrs. Radinsky, a sixty year old Ukrainian woman who had enough grandkids to start her own soccer team. The party was fun for me for all of half an hour. I wanted to go home and have sex. Becky, on the other hand, had an endless stream of girlfriends she had to catch up with. Some of whom I specifically remember that she hated when we actually went to school with them. Apparently talking with them now was more important than having sex with me, though. I was frustrated, but I knew there was no point in rushing her. I sat down with our host, Sheldon, and started drinking. More of our old crowd came along and soon we were drinking like we had back in the day, discussing sports, women, and politics in increasingly drunken and obnoxious tones. At a quarter past two in the morning, Becky ended up being the one to drag me home. She was driving -- for obvious reasons -- while I was alternating between entertaining her with my singing and trying to feel her up. Becky, to her credit, endured this with patience and even amusement. We got home to a dark house, and Becky hauled me upstairs. She unbuttoned my shirt, and that was all the encouragement I needed. I grabbed her and kissed her, mauling her with my hands. My cock went from soft to rock hard in an instant, I was that ready to pick up where we'd left off earlier. Suddenly I noticed that she wasn't returning my kiss. She was also shoving against my chest. I released her, and she bolted for the bathroom. I could hear her puking through the open door. "You-" -- heave -- "reek like-" -- heave! -- "whiskey!" HEAVE! "Sorry," I mumbled drunkenly. "I'll go sleep on the couch." Her only response was violent retching. I grabbed a blanket and pillow from the hall closet and went down to the couch to set up my bed for the night. Part of me hoped that she'd come downstairs in a few minutes, stomach empty, and tell me that she was feeling great now and ready for sex. Half an hour later, I climbed the stairs to our room and knocked softly. I opened the door to find her lying there, sound asleep under the covers. I needed to jerk off, I decided, so I grabbed a porn and some lube from my stash and went back downstairs. I popped it into to the machine and settled on the couch. I muted the sound; the images were enough. Hell, at this point, I really didn't even need the porn at all, I was so horny. The porn was two girls on one guy; nothing too exotic, but good enough. I was lubed up and stroking hard, just about to cum when the front door opened. Reflexes honed from years of covert jerks as a teenager resurfaced, and I pulled the blanket over myself lightning-quick. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the damn remote. "Hello?" Naomi called softly. I was still searching for the remote, wanting to shut off the movie before I responded. But the flickering light from the TV screen drew her to the den, and I looked up to find her in the doorway. "Well, well...I see it's movie night." I finally found the remote and hit "Stop". The screen went blue. "Put it back on. I wanna see." She walked toward me, swaying heavily from side to side, and I realized she was tanked. "Go to bed, Naomi." She grabbed for the remote and I held it away. She reached again, flopping onto me and giggling drunkenly. "You always thought you were so smart, hiding your porn. But guess what?" she said in singsong voice, leaning toward me. "I knew you weren't watching marine life documentaries," she whispered conspiratorially. "Congratulations, Sherlock Holmes. Go away." I was still drunk, and getting testy. I wanted to cum. Was that so much to ask for? In my own damn house, no less. Her eyes lit with inebriated realization. "Were you jerking off?" She whipped the blanket off before I could even imagine that the thought would enter her head. My cock lay there against my belly, still hard, glistening with lubricant in the blue light from the TV screen. I yanked my boxers up, but the ridge of my cock tented them obscenely. I reached for the blanket, but she held it away tauntingly. "You can have this back if you put the movie back on." "You're drunk, Naomi," I said through gritted teeth. "Yup. And horny." "Well, go be horny somewhere else." "I tried. I thought I was getting laid tonight, but turns out he was interested in Liz. So, now Liz is getting laid, and I don't even get to watch some porn," she said sadly. I'd seen her drunk, but I'd absolutely never seen her like this. "I'm not drunk enough to be having this conversation," I muttered. "I'll grab you another drink," she said perkily. I started to call after her that I didn't want another drink, but I changed my mind. If I couldn't jerk off, maybe I could drink myself into oblivion. She returned with two glasses of Crown Royale. Not shot glasses or tumblers -- full size water glasses filled with liquor. I stared blankly for a moment before accepting my drink. "Uh, thanks." She sat on the other end of the couch and took a healthy swig of her drink, downing an eighth of the glass. "Your liver's gonna be fried in another year if you keep drinking like that." "Okay, DAD," she said with a grin. I glowered and chugged a bit of my drink in response. "So, how was the party?" she asked. "Fine," I replied. "We stayed a bit longer than I expected, so I ended up having a few too many with the guys." Having said this, I took another slug of my drink. Naomi matched me with a gulp of her drink. "Was Nancy pissed?" "Nah, she doesn't really get mad about stuff like that. Thinks it's just boys being boys. But she sure didn't care for the smell when I tried to kiss her after we got home." "No sex again?" Naomi asked sympathetically. "Would I be down here watching porn otherwise?" I asked peevishly. I took another couple of gulps of amber liquid in quick succession. A warmth was starting to spread through my chest, signalling that my buzz was returning back to its optimal level. "Hmmm," she murmured, sipping her own drink. Without warning, she snatched the remote from my side and pressed 'Play'. "For fuck's sake, Naomi..." "Go to bed if you don't wanna watch." I considered it briefly, but I would need to shower and brush my teeth in order to lie down next to Becky without making her puke again, and I just didn't have the energy. The TV screen filled with the image of two blondes pleasuring a well-hung guy. They licked along his cock, took turns massaging his balls, and every so often met at the spongy end of his cock and kissed. My cock, which had been losing its fullness, quickly hardened again. I decided I would placate Naomi until she took her drunk self to bed, and then I could jerk off. "Turn on the sound," Naomi said. "No, Becky's sleeping." "So, turn it on low. Porn without sound sucks." It may have been the half a glass of Crown Royale, but that rang true to me. A little volume wouldn't hurt. I turned the volume on low, and the soft sounds of cock-sucking filled the room. Female moans soon followed, and the camera panned out to reveal that one girl was fingering the other. My hand automatically reached for my cock before I remembered my sister's presence. I shot a glance at her, and suddenly my tongue felt too thick for my mouth. Naomi was fingering herself. Her short skirt was rucked up around her hips, and the outline of her fingers was visible through her panties. Those fingers were moving frantically. I didn't know if I should say something. She was obviously hammered. I should just go back to watching the porn and pretend nothing was happening. In the end, I did neither; I just kept staring at her. Finally, she noticed my gaze. "I'm so horny," she said softly. "No kidding," I said hoarsely. "You can jerk off if you want, Noah." I stared at her in shock, gaze flitting between her face and the outline of her fingers in her panties, which hadn't stopped moving. My inebriated mind tried to examine the options as logically as it could. One, I could jerk off, with my sister in the room; I wasn't drunk enough to not know that would be extremely wrong. Two, I could get up and leave, go back upstairs to my wife. Who I made physically ill...Three, I could go to the bathroom and jerk off in the shower then go to bed. In the end, I took a long swallow of my drink, and did nothing. I returned my stare to the TV screen, but I was one-hundred percent focused on what was happening at the other end of the couch. Every so often, she'd make a small noise -- a whimper or a moan -- and my cock would throb painfully. I thought about getting myself off. A quick image flitted through my mind of me leaning over and replacing her fingers with my tongue, but I forced that from my mind. 'I should go,' I kept repeating to myself silently, but I remained paralyzed, locked in the pretense that nothing insanely wrong was going on. My Two Wives The torture went on seemingly forever, until finally I heard the unmistakable sounds of female in ecstasy from the other end of the couch. Her foot brushed my calf, flexing and releasing, until she'd wrung herself out. She rose and walked over till she stood right in front of me. I didn't know if she was going to say something or if she was expecting me to. In the end, she simply reached out and brushed my lips with her wet fingers, then left the room. I heard the door to her room close softly. I licked my lips, and tasted my sister's pussy juice for the first time. Five seconds later, I came explosively all over myself. *** If I'd been lost after I'd gotten hard against her ass, it was nothing compared to this. Becky had picked up Zach and taken him to church, and now I was alone in the house with my sister. Whose pussy juice I'd tasted the night before. What the hell do you say to your sister after that? I was in the kitchen, sipping my coffee pensively when Naomi strolled in. She looked like a train wreck, with her hair a mass of tangled waves, makeup smudged around her eyes, and the semi-crazed gleam in her eye of a coffee addict who'd yet to get her morning fix. Before, I would have looked at the picture she presented only in terms of the crazy hair and makeup smudges. I would have bugged her about looking like a homeless person. But I'd tasted her pussy juice. Now, I noticed the long legs revealed by the men's briefs she wore to sleep in. I noticed that her nipples were just a little bit hard, and that her breasts were just big enough to provide a nice handful. Her hair now reminded me of her head thrashing against the pillow as she brought herself to orgasm. I could never go back to thinking of her as a sexless being again. "Morning," she grumbled as poured herself a coffee. "...Morning," I replied. She took several sips, and I watched her eyes lose that glazed look. Suddenly they widened, and she turned to stare at me in horror. "Oh, fuck," she whispered. "Did I really...?" I looked away. "Yeah." She sat down heavily on one of the bar stools. "Wow." "Yeah." She looked at me sideways. "Are you...you know, weird about it?" I swallowed. "Well, I'm not exactly thinking it's all okay." "No, of course it's not OKAY," she rushed. "But we were both drunk. Maybe it doesn't have to be that big of a deal?" I stared at her blankly. "We're both just going through a bit of a dry spell," she continued desperately. "So, it's not really that unexpected that something like that would happen with alcohol added to the situation." I felt like she was rationalizing, but I wanted the awkwardness to be gone, I didn't want my sister to move out, and I definitely didn't want my wife to know. Her explanation seemed like a nice way to brush it all under the rug and never have to deal with it again. "Yeah, that's probably it. Let's just forget about it," I suggested. She smiled tepidly, and we had breakfast. We passed the entire ride to her school in silence. Later on, when Becky got home with Zach, we both talked to her but not to each other. That night as we were getting ready for bed, Becky asked if Naomi and I had had a fight or something. If I was going to tell her what had happened, this was the time. In the end, I just told her we'd had a little argument but that it was no big deal. I was sure -- or at least I hoped -- that Naomi and I could return to normal, but I didn't think Becky could if she knew the truth. For the next week, I tried my hardest to forget what had happened and go back to normal, but I'd catch Naomi giving me these inscrutable looks from under her eyelashes. They weren't blatantly sexual looks, but there was something...intense about them, and I couldn't help imagining that she was remembering what had happened on the couch. There was also an awkwardness between us now that had never before been present. Like on Tuesday night when we both reached for the salt and our fingers brushed; we both jerked our hands back, and we stared at each other in silence for I don't know how long -- a second, a fraction of a second, an eternity -- before I mumbled 'Go ahead'. We'd shared our space since Naomi had been born, but suddenly it was strange and uncomfortable. I would find myself watching her when she wasn't looking then avert my gaze if she looked at me. Until she caught me looking, though, I'd study the way her hair brushed the skin between her shoulder blades, the sway of her hips when she walked, the way she nibbled her lip as she did Sudoku. I was seeing her for the first time as other men saw her. *** "I can't believe you don't get how important this is to me!" Becky yelled. "You think it's not important to me? That I just enjoy fighting with you?" I yelled back. "You're an Atheist! Why would you care if our children are baptized?" "I've explained this already," I said exasperatedly. "If you want to expose our kids to your beliefs, that's one thing, but I don't want religion shoved down their necks." "That's your liberal upbringing talking-" "Yeah, maybe it is, but I don't think everything my parents did was wrong. I appreciate that they gave me a choice, and I want my kids to have the same." "And I want them to have the full experience of growing up in the Church! I want to raise them to feel God's love, so they don't turn away from it like you did." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "We settled this a long time ago, Becky," I said quietly. "I'm not going to apologize for my beliefs." "What beliefs? You don't even believe in God!" "I'm starting to wish I did, so I could pray for my wife's mood swings to be over!" "Well, maybe I'll take my mood swings to my parents' place!" she yelled. "You fight with your husband and go stay with your mother? Could you be any more of a WASP?" I asked derisively as I headed for the bedroom door. "You're a jerk!" she hurled at my back. "Maybe so. You know what else I am? An agnostic, not an atheist! It'd be nice if my own wife knew the damn difference!" I slammed the door and hurtled down the stairs. I swooped up my car keys and stormed out of the house. I definitely needed a break from my wife. Her mood swings had gotten insane. Coupled with the nausea, she was not my favorite person to be around. That might make me sound horrible, but I'm just being honest; you strap up any guy who's dealt with a pregnant, hormonal female to a lie detector, and you'll get the same answer. I drove around aimlessly for a while, cooling off. For two weeks now, her moods had been unpredictable at best. I never knew what was going to set her off. One day, I left a glass in the sink and got yelled at for not putting it in the dishwasher. A couple of days later, I made a show of putting my bowl in the dishwasher after using it only to get yelled at for not rinsing it out. The next day, I didn't rinse my dish out enough. This wasn't my wife. It was like Becky's evil twin had taken over our home. Or demonically possessed Becky. I didn't remember it being this bad with Zach. This whole pregnancy was just so much harder. I sighed, finally calming down. It wasn't her fault. I didn't understand how hormones could make someone insane, but I knew that this wasn't really Becky. She might have her faults, but she didn't randomly bring up issues as serious as the religious upbringing of our offspring just to have a fight. I stopped and grabbed some flowers then headed home. I arrived to an empty driveway. "Hey," Naomi called when I came in. "Hey, where's Becky?" "Took Zach to her parents'," she said sympathetically. I ground my teeth, then dialed Becky's cell. "Hi, Noah," she answered. She sounded much calmer. "Hey, where are you?" "On my way to my parents'. I'm going to spend the weekend there." "You don't sound mad anymore. Why don't you come home?" I ventured. "I'm not mad anymore. I just want a little break. I thought a weekend apart might do us some good, since you've got six more months of me being hormonal and crazy to go." That surprised a laugh out of me. "So, you're aware that you've been a little...uneven lately?" "Yes, I'm aware, Noah. And if you're feeling sorry for yourself, I wish you could try out these hormones for a bit and see how much fun you have not knowing when you're going to go Godzilla on people and when you're going to burst into tears," she said dryly. "Point taken. So, we're agreed pregnancy hormones suck?" "Definitely agreed." "You sure you want a weekend away from me? Your parents might not be as much fun to yell at..." "Ah, but variety will keep things spicy," she said wryly. I savored the knowledge that my wife was still in there somewhere. I grinned. "Okay, then. I love you." "I love you, too." I hung up, feeling much better. "Well, that was pretty anti-climactic. All is well with Nancy and the Republican spawn?" Naomi asked from the couch. "All is well. She's gonna spend the weekend at her parents'." Naomi looked up from her textbook. "But she's not mad?" "No, she's just trying to disperse her wrath among more recipients so that no one person takes too much abuse and ends up tossing her out a window." "Good thing. You know she yelled at me the other day for moving her shampoo?" "Only six more months to go..." "Oh gee, is that all?" Naomi asked dryly. I grinned, and then the moment of familiar comraderie passed and we were just staring at each other. I cleared my throat. "So, uh, any plans for tonight?" "Just studying," she replied, holding up the textbook. "You?" "I think I'll call the boys up, go out for a change." "Cool." I stood for a moment, fishing for something to say. I gave up, and turned to go upstairs. "Noah." "Yeah?" I turned back to her. She stared at her highlighter, seeming focused on the lid as she flicked it off then press it back down with her thumb. "Things are really weird, now." "Yeah. But it'll get better. Just needs a while to go back to normal." I had no basis for this theory; I was just hoping like hell it was true. "It doesn't feel like it'll get better." She looked up and met my eyes, and I lost all awareness of my surroundings. The look in her eyes mirrored what I myself had been struggling with lately: shame, guilt and a powerful need that simply refused to fade. Nothing happened to snap me out of it, but I guess in a moment like that you have to either act to maintain the intensity, or gravity naturally brings your mind plummeting back to reality. I laughed awkwardly. "It's no big deal. It's just like any other drunken stupid thing that happens. We'll forget about it." "You really think so?"she asked. Her eyes flicked down to my crotch. "Yeah!" My voice was unnecessarily loud. "I'm gonna go get some work done." I fled the room and hid myself in my office for the rest of the afternoon. I left just before five with a cursory farewell to Naomi. Still on the couch, still wearing nothing but a tank top and men's briefs. It was good to have a night with the guys. For a few hours, I managed to forget that my wife was temporarily bipolar, and my sister and I had some disturbing sexual tension happening. Of course, I was careful to cut myself off after two beers, since last weekend had established that alcohol was a disastrous addition to the Noah and Naomi equation. Midnight rolled around, and this is where the guys divided into two groups: those who had to get home to their wives and kids, and those who didn't. Even though on this particular night, I didn't have to get home to Becky and Zach, I figured I'd better pack it in since the remaining guys were starting to drink a bit harder. Call me a slave to peer pressure, but I just didn't want to take my chances with hanging out while trying not to drink. Naomi was in the kitchen when I got home, and the smell of popcorn floated through the house. She was still wearing the little tank top and briefs. "Hey, how was your night out?" she asked. "Good. How was studying?" "Good." We stood there silently. I tried to keep my eyes trained north of her neck. "Okay, then. I'm gonna head upstairs. Night." "Night." I climbed the stairs to my office wondering if she was right -- maybe it wasn't going to get any better. Maybe the relationship we'd had was gone forever. It was a depressing thought. I meant to do some work, but I found myself on Facebook. Browsing through the updated statuses of my friends, I came across Naomi's. 'In for the evening, studying. Bleh.' I clicked on her profile, and surfed through her pictures. Even as I chastised myself for being a pervert, I clicked on every photo of her wearing something revealing or posed seductively. There were a ton of pictures from her trip to the Dominican Republic. God. She always wore a one-piece swimsuit to cover the scar from her surgery, but it was cut low on top and high in the hips. She had a body like a thoroughbred. I heard a cough downstairs, and my shame mechanism activated. I exited Facebook and opened up a work document. Around midnight, I was lying in bed, contemplating the wrongness of jerking off to thoughts of my sister in her bathing suit, when I heard a soft knock at my door. I seriously considered ignoring it. I didn't want to talk anymore about how things were weird between us; that wouldn't fix things, and it denied me the pretense that there was no danger that I'd lost the best family relationship I had. I sighed. "Come in." "Hey," she said softly. "What is it?" "I wanted to talk to you." "Yeah, I gathered that." She hesitated, then came and sat on the edge of the bed. "I wanna suggest an idea, and it might sound crazy, but I think it could make things cool between us again." "What?" I asked cautiously. "I think we should try to have sex." I sat bolt upright. "What the fuck, Naomi!" "Not actually have sex, Noah! Hear me out!" she said hastily. "What did I do to deserve this?" I stared at the ceiling in bafflement. "Listen, I've been studying psych all night, and I remembered a class where we discussed adult consensual incest. It's often the result of prolonged separation which prevents the Westermarck Effect from taking place. But we grew up together and never had sexual issues before this, so obviously the Westermarck Effect did occur for us. We're just experiencing some temporary...blockage of the effect because of the whole drunken episode, so we just need a catalyst to put the Westermarck Effect back in place." She paused expectantly. I remained silent. "Well?" she demanded. "I have no idea what you're talking about." "Oh, right. The Westermarck Effect is where family members who spend a large amount of time together under the age of six basically lose the ability to see each other as potential mates. One of nature's little miracles. And I'm sure that we experienced this effect, because I never had these thoughts about you before..." she seemed to catch herself. "Did you think about me sexually before?" "Who says I'm thinking about you sexually now?" I snapped. I could barely make out her features in the dark, but the skepticism came across loud and clear. "Noah, I'm not an idiot. And I'm not delusional. I see the way you've been looking at me." I returned to staring at the ceiling and wishing for a comet to strike the Earth. Or at least my bedroom. "I'm telling you, it's just some weird pause of the Westermarck," she continues. "We just need a catalyst to bring the effect back into play." "And that catalyst is...us having sex?" "Trying to have sex," she corrected. "My theory is that one real kiss will be too much. It will bring out all the icky feelings that sexual contact with your sibling evokes when there's no alcohol present, and the Westermarck will fall back into place, and I can stop having these thoughts and everything can go back to normal." I wanted to ask about the thoughts, but I realized that that would be counterproductive. "I don't really feel comfortable with this, Naomi." "Do you feel comfortable with the way things have been this last week?" "No, but what if it gets better on its own? We should give it a chance to get better." "It won't." "It mi-" "It WON'T," she said emphatically. For some reason, I believed her. Maybe because deep down, I had that same feeling. "So, we'd just kiss?" It sounded bizarre to my own ears. "Yeah." "Um, okay then, I guess." We both sat there. "I can see I'm going to have to be the grownup here," she said with a sigh, scooting over to me. But for all her big talk, once we were close enough to carry out the deed, she made no move. I realized I wasn't going to be able to be a passive participant in this. I reached out and found her nape, awkwardly drawing her toward me. Our eyes stayed open as our faces approached, with me watching her eyes, and her watching my lips. I could feel her breath on my lips now. The air between us seemed to dance with electricity. The moment before our lips met, the thought popped into my head: 'This is your sister.' Then: 'Finally.' I brushed my lips against hers, once, twice, three times. Tingles erupted in the nerve endings in my lips, nerve endings I'd had only the dimmest awareness of before now. I pressed my lips to hers more firmly, tugging her closer. My other hand found its way to her waist, and I touched her side lightly as her lips moved under mine. With a soft sigh, her lips parted, and the last remaining thought of our little experiment fled. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and found her tongue waiting, eager to tangle with mine. Our tongues slid against each other, hot and hungry and desperate. My hand tightened on her waist and suddenly she was straddling my lap, with the covers acting as a barrier between us. The sounds of our heavy breathing filled my head. My cock was a steel ridge between us, and I wasn't sure whether it was the guidance of my hands at her waist or her own initiative, but she'd started grinding herself along my hard length. I ripped the comforter from between us and flipped her onto her back. Her long legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me against her as she brought her lips up to mine. Rational thought was trying to penetrate the haze surrounding my mind, but deep down, I didn't want to be rational or pull back. I ground my cock against her, and felt the dampness spread from the crotch of her briefs to my boxers. She was wet and needy, ready for me to get rid of the last barriers between us and be inside her. Fuck, I wanted that too... I jerked back, panting, but her legs still gripped me. I forcibly unlocked her legs from around my waist and jumped off the bed. I was angry, at her, at myself, at Becky; I just wanted my life to go back to normal. She stared back at me, wide-eyed. "Oops," she whispered. "So much for the Westermere Effect," I said acidly. She jumped up and fled the room. *** Not half an hour later, I'd heard the door slam; Naomi had gone out. I lay there restlessly turning the night's events over and over again in my mind. I'd feel overwhelmed by guilt and the desire to tell Becky one second, then completely determined the next to never let tell anyone about what had happened. The only thing I was sure about was that it was time for Naomi to move out. I could help her out financially until she could handle it on her own, but she had to go for the sake of my marriage. After tossing and turning for almost three hours, I finally drifted off to a restless sleep. I was woken by noise coming from downstairs, inebriated giggling and clumsy stumbling. I tried to shut my eyes and go back to sleep, and then I heard the low rumble of a man's voice.