30 comments/ 147695 views/ 33 favorites Trust Her with Your Kid? Ch. 01 By: ISawYourMommy At the request of a reader who was kind enough to offer both feedback and a plot suggestion, I have this to say: "Dave's coming on Sunday," Brent announced from behind the Saturday edition of the Tribune. "Oh? Any why's that?" Christine questioned, placing her coffee mug on the kitchen table. Her long, slender fingers picked at a cinnamon scone. "Well, I just think he needs to get out of my parents' hair for a while. You know how upset Mom is that he's taking the year off." "Not a wise move on his part." "Mom and Dad don't think so. They aren't real thrilled that he's bartending, either. Apparently, he works three or four nights a week at one of the bars in Highwood. When he's not working, he gets drunk. Either way, he sleeps all day." Christine chuckled. Brent's little brother was the black sheep of the family. The youngest of four boys, he had been arrested a number of times during his high school years for possession of alcohol and other minor offenses. Though his older siblings had all attended college – two obtained post-graduate degrees – and were doing quite well for themselves, Dave had opted not to go to college immediately, deciding instead to take a year off to "find himself." "So how long's he going to be staying with us?" she asked, rising from the table and depositing her mug and plate in the kitchen sink of their Gold Coast condominium. Her tight little bottom was hidden by a pair of gray cotton shorts with her husband's fraternity letters emblazoned the cheeks. Brent watched as she shuffled away from him, amazed that the shorts weren't in tatters after seven or eight years of use. "Just through the end of the Thanksgiving weekend." "I thought you were leaving town Sunday." "It's been changed to Monday now. I'll be back Tuesday night, though, Wednesday morning at the latest." "You want me to look after him for a few days?" "Yeah." He dropped the paper from in front of his face. "Come on. It's just two days. I leave early Monday, and I'll be back Tuesday." "No, it's no problem. No problem at all. The office is closed next week anyway. He can run errands and go grocery shopping with me. All that fun stuff." Brent laughed. "Yeah. I bet he'll really like that." * * * It was just after noon and a ray of light streamed in through a gap in the bedroom's blinds. Christine stretched her arms over her head, her knuckles knocking against the bed's headboard. She rolled to her side and glanced at the bedside clock, her heavy breasts rolling along her rib cage. Seeing the time, she slowly sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Her clean, white tennis shoes rested on the floor in front of the nightstand, a bobby sock stuffed into each. The tan pedal-pusher pants were folded neatly on a chair in the corner of the room, her white oxford, bra and thong stacked atop them. "Whatcha doin'?" "I gotta go." She grabbed her cell phone from atop the nightstand and checked the recent-calls list. "So soon?" "Yeah. I have some errands to run, some calls to make." "And calls to return?" She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder, her piercing blue eyes showing amusement. "Yeah, and return." "Was that Brent?" "Mm-hm," she responded, rising from the bed and padding across the carpeted floor to the chair, her tan-lined breasts bobbing on her chest. She grabbed the cotton panties from atop the stack of clothing and pulled them over her lithe legs, adjusting them to conceal the blonde wisps of hair at the apex of her vagina. "Call him from here." Christine rolled her eyes as she fastened the 34C bra behind her back, swollen nipples tenting the fabric. "Think he knows?" "Knows what?" "About us." She sighed heavily. "There is no 'us,' Andre. There's me and there's that," she said, pointing her chin at the sticky, lifeless cock that rested along his thigh. She pulled the khaki pants up her shapely thighs and over her tight bottom. "That's all." A few minutes later, she slipped from the condominium and called the elevator. The wait and the following ascent seemed interminable, but it afforded her the opportunity to reflect. She had been sleeping with Andre for several weeks. Actually, "sleeping" is too mild a word. She had been fucking him. That's all it was, pure and simple. While he may have wanted more – a relationship – he wasn't going to get it. Christine was in it for the sex and nothing else. From past experience, she knew she would soon tire of him. That's how it had gone with the previous adventures outside her marriage. Every few months, she would meet a handsome man in this place or that – a club; on the El; Treasure Island; wherever – and strike up a scorching month or so of raunchy sex. And then she would get bored. Fidelity had never been her strong suit. In five years of marriage, she couldn't recall a period of six months where the only cock to be buried in her snug vagina was her husband's. Two or three months maybe, but no more than that. She had yet to get caught, at least since she had recited her wedding vows. When she and Brent were still in college but still in the early stages of their relationship, she had attended a fraternity party; as the night wound down, she found herself in a senior's bunk. He had not been overly discrete about the tryst and, the rumor mill being what it was, word had made its way back to Brent. Bitter fights followed, but they had managed to patch up their broken relationship and, for the most part, moved on. But from then on, Christine walked on egg shells around Brent when it came to other men. If they were at a party and someone was hitting on her, she made it very clear that she was spoken for. And though she had made some great male friends in college, she didn't keep in contact with any of them for fear that Brent would suspect of her having an affair. She took such great pains to ease his fears that her own – of Brent actually suspecting her – bordered on paranoia. Hence her preference for random assignations with otherwise strangers. The pinging of the elevator announcing her arrival on the eighteenth floor pulled her from her contemplation and she exited the car. * * * The weekend passed. Sunday afternoon, Christine was reclining on the couch, comfortable in sweats and a baggy tee shirt, her flaxen hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Brent was at the health club working out and she passed the afternoon reading the New York Times, a Lifetime Channel movie playing in the background. "Look who I found," Brent called out when he returned late in the afternoon, dropping his gym bag at the door. Christine lowered the paper to see Brent enter the living room, Dave behind him with a large duffel bag slung across his shoulder. "Hey, Chris," he greeted her. "Hey there, yourself, sweetie," she responded with a bright smile, folding the newspaper and getting up to give him a hug. "It's so good to see you." Dave dropped his bag as she approached and gave her a big bear hug, lifting her off her dainty feet and almost squeezing the breath from her lungs. "It's been too long," he said, releasing his older brother's wife. "Yeah, no kidding." Christine gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. "And you live so close, too. Why don't we ever see you?" "I'm a busy man. The ladies take up all of my time," he responded lightheartedly. She just rolled her eyes. "Whatever." "Why don't we go up to O'Brien's for dinner in a little bit?" Brent said, joining the conversation. "Sounds good to me," Dave agreed, looking to Christine for her nod of approval. When he got it, he bent and retrieved his bag from the floor. "Well, I think I'll put this in the guest room and then we can go." In the guest room, he zipped open the duffel and pulled a pair of pants and button-down shirt from it, hanging them in the closet to prevent them from wrinkling further. Dave really liked Christine. She was a real sweetheart in his view. She got along great with his family, easing into the roles of daughter and sister-in-law with little effort. And she never ignored him, either, the way his other brother's wives had. Every time he saw her, she asked how classes were going and, now that he had graduated high school, how his job was treating him. He thought it interesting, the relationships he had with his brothers and their wives. He got along great with Jimmy and Steve, but hated their arrogant wives. By contrast, he wasn't that fond of Brent (for the same arrogance), but his wife was fantastic. He also lusted after the woman. She had a fantastic little body and the prettiest cheerleader face. She always dressed well – not flashy, but in hip yet conservative style. When she gave him hugs, his cock would stir, her large breasts molding themselves to his muscular chest, the citrus scent of her shampoo invading his nose. Dave put his shaving kit in the guest bathroom and readjusted his cock before joining Brent and Christine in the living room. * * * "Mornin'." "Mornin' to you, kid," Christine countered, raising her eyes from the Monday morning Tribune to see Dave shuffle into kitchen, his shorts and tee shirt creased from a night of sleeping in them. "Brent gone already?" he asked, retrieving a glass from the cabinet and a bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator. He eyed her as he poured his drink. 'No matter the time of day,' Dave thought, 'she always looks put together.' His eyes roamed up the gray wool pants she wore above mid-rise heels and across the cream-colored scoop neck sweater that draped snugly around her torso. "Yeah. He had an early flight." "Where'd he go?" he asked, joining her at the table twisting off the end of a croissant that sat before her. He popped it in his mouth with a mischievous grin. "Detroit. He'll be back tomorrow night." She watched him as he swallowed the stolen morsel. "There's another croissant on the counter if you want it, you know." "Nah. I'd rather eat yours." Christine smirked and folded the paper, sliding it away from her and leaning back in her chair. "So, Dave, tell me: how's everything going living with your parents?" "It's fine. I'd like to move out, but I'll wait until next year when I go off to school." "Any acceptance letters yet?" "Nah. I just sent in the first round of apps a month or so ago. Probably won't hear until after the New Year." "You should travel. Get out of Chicago. Get out of the Midwest." "Yeah. I've been thinking about that. About maybe heading out to Colorado for the ski season. One of my fraternity brothers moved out to Steamboat; said I should come out." "There's an idea. Be a ski bum. Enjoy your year off." She finished her cup of coffee, glanced at her watch, and rose from the table. "Okay, I've got a lot to do today. I better get going." "Not working?" "No, the office is closed this week. And anyway I need to get my Thanksgiving grocery shopping done and run some errands. Wanna go with me?" "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just lay around today." "That's fine. I'll be back in a few hours. What do you want for dinner tonight?" "Whatever. I don't care. I'll eat whatever you make." * * * Christine brought their plates to the table and they sat and ate their meal, catching up with each other's lives. Finishing his beer, Dave rose to get another, refilling her wine glass while she cleared the empty plates and put them in the dishwasher. Dave sat at the table as she finished cleaning up and rejoined him. "So, everything's good at home then?" she asked. "Yeah." He took a long pull from the Beck's bottle. "I mean, I'd rather have an apartment or live with my friends, but it's not a bad set-up for now. Plus, I'm really considering the Steamboat thing; like you said, I should enjoy this year." Christine nodded. "So why do you think Brent wanted you to stay here this week?" "I dunno. Maybe he just thought you might like the company, I guess." Christine nodded again, her flaxen, ponytailed hair bobbing behind her. "I'm not sure that's it." A quizzical look passed over his face. Christine pushed her chair back a little and turned to face him more directly. "What I think is this: he wants you here to keep an eye on me." Her manicured fingers twirled the wineglass atop the granite table, causing it to let out a faint squeak. Dave smirked at her. "Keep an eye on you? I doubt it." "I don't think he trusts me," she responded, leaning back in the chair and taking a swig of wine down her slender throat. Her large, soft breasts thrust forward with the movement, swelling her otherwise slim torso. "Trust you? Of course he trusts you. Why wouldn't he? You've been a good wife." "Well," she began, leaning forward. The scoop neck of her sweater billowed outward, affording Dave a glimpse of the bra-encased breasts hanging from her chest. "That's the problem: I've been a good wife." "Yeah? So?" "Well, I've been a good wife . . ." Christine rose from the chair, approached Dave, and kicked a leg over his, settling her firm bottom on his lap. The faint scent of her perfume wafted through his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. "I've been a good wife to many, many men," she completed in a sing-song voice, draping her tanned arms around her brother's neck, nuzzling her soft, wet lips against his ear. "Oh, Jesus," he gasped, squirming in his chair. "What are . . . you . . . doing?" Christine ground her crotch against his in response, leveraging her arms to pull him closer to her, squishing her breasts between their bodies. Almost involuntarily, Dave's hands went to her trim hips. His actions could be interpreted as an effort to push her away, to gain space between his thickening cock and her grinding vagina. But that would be the wrong interpretation. "Brent wants you here," she breathed into his ear, her hot breath sending chills up his spine, "so you can spy on me." "But why would . . ." he grunted before Christine took his earlobe between her teeth and bit down gently. "You're not going to do that, though, are you?" she asked in a whisper, her firm breasts pressing against him, her hardening nipples evident. Dave merely shook his head. "You're not going to tell him anything, right?" she inquired, her voice still a whisper at his ear. Another shake of the head. Christine released an arm from behind his neck and brought it between them, tweaking one of her brother's nipples between long, manicured nails. "Ugh," he groaned, Christine's slender fingers descending across his ripped stomach and cupping his twitching cock through his cotton shorts. She raised herself from his lap and pressed a manicured hand against his heaving chest, urging him to push away from the table. The chair squeaked across the hardwood floor and Christine grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head. Dave looked up at his sister through hooded eyes, shocked but burning with lust at her behavior. She smiled back at him, the girl-next-door appearance and the radiant smile sharply incongruent with her depraved conduct. She bent at the waist, her little bottom bumping against the table and causing the wine to slosh around in her glass, a few drops escaping to land on the placemat. "I cheated on him. Years ago." Her baby blue eyes, sparkling now, remained locked on his as she bent further, her full lips puckering as they descended on one of his exposed nipples. "I bet he thinks I've done it again." "Oh, fuck," he groaned as Christine's lips locked around the darkened flesh, sucking it between her teeth, nibbling lightly. One hand held her steady against his chest as the other closed around the pliant tube hidden beneath his athletic shorts. She rubbed him gently at first, her thin fingers coaxing more blood into his cock. She felt the heat of him through the fabric and her manipulation of the shaft increased, the friction removing any pliancy from it. Christine let his nipple pop from her lips and she leaned into him. "I wanna suck my brother's fat cock," she hissed into his ear. "Wanna let me?" The question was rhetorical and without waiting for an answer, she knelt between Dave's widespread legs and yanked at his shorts. Putting his hands on the seat, he raised his ass up and Christine pulled the shorts and boxers down his thighs and over his knees, helping him pull a socked foot from them. His cock sprang up when released, slapping against his taut stomach before standing erect, swaying back and forth. The cock's movement reminded her of a display erected on the plaza outside her office building, a series of tall, steel rods that swayed with the blowing of the wind, clanging against each other, making music. Christine wrapped her slender fingers around the shaft, her manicured nails barely touching each other as she slowly tugged the overheated flesh. Blood coursed through the veins that criss-crossed the shaft, the pulsing flesh pounding against the palm of her hand. She dipped her head and her pink tongue snaked out, swiping across the crown of Dave's cock. "Oh my," he breathed, his eyes wide. "Oh my is right," she muttered, her attention focused on the cock before her. She squeezed her hand up its length, squeezing tighter as her elegant fingers covered the head, and a droplet of pre-cum appeared. She used a manicured finger to retrieve it and slid her fist back down, a trail of semen glistening along the underside of his shaft. She looked up at Dave to find his eyes screwed shut. She spit a wad of saliva, aiming for his cock. His eyes flew open at the sound and with the sensation of the warm spit sliding down the taut flesh of his shaft. He looked into Christine's smoldering eyes; her smile was lust-filled as her clenching fist again ascended the length of his cock and back down. She bent forward, her lips parted, and her warm mouth engulfed as much of his length as she could manage. "Oh, gawd," he groaned, his eyes slamming shut as his cockhead bumped against the back of his brother's wife's throat. Christine gagged at the saliva-inducing intrusion. Spit poured from her mouth and dripped down his inflamed flesh. She pulled her sloppy lips up the shaft, leaving just the head in her mouth, and jerked at Dave's cock. Involuntarily, his hands dropped to his sides, bracing himself on the chair's seat as his hips bucked violently into Christine's face. His jerking jammed his shaft against the back of her throat again, causing her to gag further. Her nose crashed into his pubic hair, compressing the cartilage against his pubic bone. She placed her left hand on his stomach to hold him steady, her long cherry nails fanning out across his flesh before curling in, digging into him. Christine pulled her head back, popping the saliva-covered cock from her mouth, her right hand brutally tugging at the shaft. "Cum in my mouth, brother," she demanded, her lips slamming back over the head of his cock almost before the wicked words had tumbled across them. Dave's cock slipped into her throat and his pubic hair tickled her upper lip. She held him steady there, her soft lips clamped tightly around the base of his cock and her right hand cradling his balls, massaging the heavy sac. She wagged her head back and forth, like a dog tearing at a bone. She released her grip on his balls and slid her hand beneath them, the soft flesh of the sac dragging along the inside of her forearm. The pad of her index finger brushed against Dave's perineum before withdrawing, a long nail scraping back across the highly sensitive flesh. "Oohh, ffuucckk!" he grunted, his head lolling back and forth. Dave's cock lurched in her mouth and a torrent of cum shot through his shaft before splashing against her tonsils, coating them in pearlescent fluid that slid down to her stomach. Trust Her with Your Kid? Ch. 01 Dave's hips continued to jerk, albeit less violently, as a second and then a third stream of sperm ejected into his sister's sucking mouth. When his cock ceased twitching, he settled his nineteen-year-old ass against the chair and released his grip on the seat bottom, his breath ragged. Christine let the flaccid cock fall from her lips; a rope of saliva mixed with sperm maintained contact between her lips and the head of Dave's cock. It snapped and fell to the front of her sweater, darkening the cream-colored fabric. "Now you see why Brent doesn't trust me," she shamelessly declared. Dave's eyes slid open to find Christine, manicured hands on his knees, pushing herself up, a wicked smile parting her shiny lips. A drop of his cum fell from her chin and splattered on his bare knee. On her feet, Christine turned and retrieved her wineglass from the table, taking a drink as she walked into the kitchen. She swished the liquid around in her mouth and spit it into the sink. She returned to the dining room a moment later. "Be right back," she said, leaning into him, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. She patted his shoulder and whispered into his ear, "And get that cock hard again." Christine turned and walked away from him. He watched her as she sauntered down the hallway toward her bedroom, her little bottom, still clad in gray wool pants, swinging provocatively. Her mid-rise heels cracked against the hardwood planks. In her absence, Dave remained seated but looked around the condominium, his left hand tugging at his thick but temporarily soft shaft. 'Jesus,' he thought to himself. 'What the fuck am I doing?' As much as he had lusted after Christine over the years, there was no question in his mind that this was inexcusable. His brother had left him here this morning to keep his wife company, yet twelve hours later Dave's cock was buried in her throat, pumping her stomach full of cum. And apparently it wasn't over yet. The barely audible sound of Christine's bare feet along the floor turned his attention toward the darkened hallway. At first, there was little more than a hint of her shapely form, shown only by a faint light that emanated from her bedroom. But as she made her way closer to the mouth of the hallway, the living room and dining room lights illuminated her. Dave sucked in his breath and blood rushed to his cock as she strode across the living room toward the open dining room, her eyes locked on his shaft, a slight smirk forming across her wet lips. In her bedroom, Christine had removed her clothes. All of them. Advancing on him, Dave soaked up her exquisite beauty. The toned muscles in her legs undulated with every step. The blonde tuft of her trimmed pubic mound glistened with slight moisture that had collected on the downy hairs. Above a taut and toned tummy, her full, soft breasts bounced, the soft creamy flesh surrounded by a crisp tan line. Her swollen nipples were encircled by crinkled areolas a slightly darker hue than the surrounding flesh. Without breaking stride, Christine circled the table and threw a tanned leg across his lap and sat down on him heavily, trapping his shaft between their respective pubic bones. "Ready to fuck your brother's wife?" she hissed, lifting her lithe body along his muscular one, the wet lips of her vagina smoothing up his shaft. She rotated her hips toward him and lowered herself again. Dave's twitching cock slid along the crevice formed by her flowered vagina and rubbed against her exposed clitoris, causing her to shudder. Dave was speechless but not motionless. His hands went to her pliant hips, gripping them lightly as she rocked her hips against him, the underside of his shaft gliding back and forth across her swollen clit. Christine arched her back, sending her firm breasts toward his face, a thick nipple prodding his lips apart. "Suck," she ordered, her bright eyes easing closed when he complied. "That's it," she responded, her voice softer, the words drawn out. Beneath her, Dave squirmed, eager to sink his shaft into her scorching vagina. His lips fastened onto a thick nipple at her command, and he swirled his tongue across the distended teat, manipulating it. One of Christine's hands gripped the back of his head, his short hair locked between her slender fingers as her nails dug into his scalp, pulling him closer to her torso, shoving her large breast into his mouth. Dave's grip on her rotating hips strengthened, holding her fast, and he arched his hips into her. The entire length of his shaft scraped along her agitated clit. "Oohh, ggaawwdd," she moaned, pulling him tighter against her breasts, throwing her head back, her ponytail almost reaching the small of her back. "Yyeesssssss!" Her little body shuddered atop her brother, and a thick mass of fluid flowed from her labia, saturating his cock before washing over his balls. "Oh, fuck," she moaned as her body settled, her mini-orgasm tingling in the depths of her pelvis, throbbing in her inflamed nipples. She released her grip on the back of Dave's head and took his face in both hands, kissing him hard on the lips. Her soft, wet tongue invaded his mouth, running along his teeth, and she pulled back. "I want you in me," she whispered, her eyes bored in on his. "I wanna be in you," Dave responded breathlessly. "I want you to fuck me," she returned, lifting her dripping vagina away from his shaft. "I want to fuck you so fuckin' bad." Christine reached between their heaving bodies and closed her elegant fingers around the thick shaft, bringing the head in line with her splayed labia. "I want you . . . to cum . . . deep . . . in my . . . cunt!" she moaned, sitting down on Dave's lap again, his thick, rubbery head shoving her lips aside and slicing into her in one fluid motion. "Oh fuck!" he groaned through gritted teeth, Christine's cunt seeming to melt around his pulsing shaft. She draped herself along his body, her arms locked behind his neck, and used her toned legs to lift herself off him. She raised herself until his shaft almost fell from her sopping cunt and then slammed herself back down, her burning clit crashing against his pelvic bone, his coarse pubic hair further agitating her little bud. "This . . . is sooo . . . fuckin' . . . awesome," she grunted in Dave's ear, spearing herself on his protruding shaft, holding herself there, grinding her sensitive clit between their bodies. He released her hips, imprints remaining where his gripping fingers had once been. His hands traveled up her rib cage and squeezed between their bodies, fingers searching for then finding her distended nipples. Her tongue busy at his ear, Dave pinched her burning nipples lightly, tugging them a little, and Christine gasped at the exquisite pressure on her tender flesh. "Yyeess," she hissed, squirming her cunt against Dave's nineteen-year-old cock. "Pinch them harder. Twist my nipples!" Dave's grip on her teats increased and he squeezed the flesh tighter. Atop him, Christine's movements became erratic as she jerked in his lap, assaulting his cock in an irregular rhythm. When he twisted her nipples outward then inward, her jerking stopped. Christine plastered her clit against his pelvic bone. Her little body went rigid and her breathing halted with a sharp intake. Her cunt squeezed around the thick tube stretching her walls. "Oh Fuck!" she screamed after a moment, her head tossed back. She jerked again. Just once: her cunt slackened and her body lifted, seemingly of its own volition, away from Dave before slamming back toward him again, his shaft piercing her saturated cunt. Then she was still but for a vibration that coursed through her muscles, contracting her cunt around her husband's brother's fat cock. "Uugghh!" and her body quaked again, lifting off the battering cock twice. Juice from her cunt flowed from between her stretched lips, pouring along Dave's shaft and matting his pubic hair. It dripped beneath his balls and over his perineum, tickling his asshole. He clenched his ass cheeks and arched his hips, slamming into Christine's hole with force. "Uuuugggghhhh!" came the guttural groan from deep within her throat. She fell back, catching herself against the table behind her, Dave's trembling rod still lodged in her unfaithful cunt. Christine adjusted herself, getting her little feet behind his ass on the chair and lifting herself to her elbows while Dave maintained an even thrusting into her stretched cunt. "There you go . . . you little bastard . . . keep fucking me." Christine's face twisted into a mask of lust, any semblance of decency long gone. "How long . . . have you . . . wanted this?" she teased her teenaged brother. "So . . . long," came his grunted response. Christine rotated her hips around on his Dave's lap, his thick cock pulling at her tender cunt lips. "I bet you have . . . you dirty little fucker." She twisted her body to the right, bracing herself on one elbow. Her left hand strayed down her contracting stomach muscles and over the small patch of pubic hair that sat above her otherwise bald cunt. Her manicured fingers found her throbbing clit, massaging it in tight circles as Dave looked on, she doing all the work. "I've seen . . . how you look . . . at me . . ." Her fingers danced across her clit, dropping to the junction of her cunt lips and Dave's cock to gather lubricant. "Bet you never thought . . . I'd be riding . . . your thick cock . . . didya?" With Dave shaking his head, Christine increased the pressure of her fingers against her clit, increased the speed at which they smoothed across the scalding little bud. The red lacquer adorning her nails was a blur. "Still think . . . I'm a good . . . little . . . wife?" she gasped, pushing herself off the table and moving her body over his, her full tits compressing against Dave's sweaty chest. "Mm-hm," he moaned, his brain unable to construct full sentences. "That's right," she mumbled, her wet lips closing on Dave's, her pink tongue sinking into his mouth. "I'm a great wife . . . as long as . . . you're not . . . my husband." Dave groaned into her, his cock twitching inside her tightly gripping cunt, her fluids running down his shaft and coating his balls. "Uuhhgg . . . so fuckin' nasty," he breathed. "You think . . . I'm nasty . . . brother . . .?" "Oh fuck yeah," he grunted. "You're right . . . that's why . . . your stupid brother . . . wanted you here . . . to see if I'm . . . cheating . . . on him." "Are . . . you?" he questioned, his malfunctioning brain not allowing him to realize the absurdity of the question. "Where's . . . your cock?" she inquired needlessly, twisting her hips, forcing Dave's cock to bore into her, stretch her cunt lips wide. "In your . . . pussy." "In whose pussy?" she taunted, suddenly bringing her hips to a halt, her brother's thick cock buried in her to its root. "In your pussy," he breathed, his confusion apparent. "In your BROTHER's pussy," she emphasized before resuming her cuntal assault. "Oh, gawd." "Fucking it . . . fucking your brother's wife's cunt . . . right here . . . in his dining room . . ." Dave's head thrashed from side to side. ". . . at the table . . . where he eats . . . his dinner . . . every night . . . dinner that his . . . faithful little wifey . . . cooks . . . for him." "You're not . . . so faithful." Dave barely managed to expel the words from his throat. "Fuck . . . no . . . I'm . . .not!" Christine grunted, impaling her elastic hole on his trembling rod with each word before leaning forward and up. She cupped one of her tits in her left hand and raised it to his mouth, her thick nipple grazing his cheek. "You nasty little whore!" he sneered before sucking the distended nipple between his lips, biting the tender flesh. "Fuck yeah . . . I'm a nasty . . . little slut . . . . That's what . . . all my fuck buddies . . . call me." Her tit still shoved in his face, Dave's eyes widened at her revelation. "That's . . . right," she moaned. "All my little . . . fuck-me friends . . . like the guy . . . on the eighth floor . . . or strangers from the Jungle Jewel . . . or your cousin Sean." "Oh, ggaawwdd!" Dave groaned, his balls contracting. "They all call me whore . . . or slut . . . white trash cunt . . . cum dumpster." "You are . . . such a . . . filthy . . . cunt!" he mumbled through the hot flesh of Christine's left tit molding itself to the contours of his face. "You gonna . . . cum . . . in me . . . brother? . . . Gonna get . . . your brother's wife . . . pregnant?" The thought of it – the wantonness of being impregnated by your husband's kid brother – brought Christine to the edge. When her hips next fell, when Dave's thick shaft scraped along the upper wall of her cunt, her muscles contracted in full-blown orgasm. She threw her head back, ripping her raw nipple from between his clenching teeth. Viscous juice gushed from her hole around the invading shaft, saturating his groin and the chair on which he sat, before her cunt muscles squeezed tight, sealing her juices in her hole. Dave's cock heaved in the depths of his brother's wife's hole when her cunt tightened around him. He ground his teeth together and his hands gripped the edges of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. His toes curled inward and his knees locked. His hips jerked, bucking his cock deeper into Christine's sloppy cunt. "Oh, gawd, yes! Cum in me!" she howled, her head back up and her face buried in Dave's neck. Thick sperm coursed through his shaft, pulsing his taut flesh within her hole. Buried eight inches deep, the head of his cock opened up and released a violent surge of cum that splattered against Christine's cuntal walls. "I can feel . . . your cock . . . shooting in me . . . Yessss! . . . your cum . . . is so . . . fuckin' hot! Dave continued to jerk beneath her. His cock continued to flood her sloppy hole with scalding sperm. As her cunt muscles relaxed and contracted and relaxed again, cum mixed with her own fluids slid from between then, dripping down the length of his shaft. "Swim, you little fuckers . . . swim!" Christine cried, her adulterous body crashing against his in exhaustion. * * * Later that evening, on the plasma television mounted on the wall opposite the bed, Horatio Caine pondered why bank robbers would pause in the middle of a robbery to rape a bank customer. Beneath covers pulled up to their chins, Christine and her husband's little brother laid in bed, her slender fingers slowly tugging at his thick cock, keeping it engorged. As Horatio went about answering his own question, the phone on Christine's nightstand rang. Her left hand still gripping Dave's bloated shaft, she reached for it with her right. She read the Caller ID and a wanton smile spread across her otherwise angelic face. She hit the "send" button to answer the call and said, "Hi, Mary. How are you?" Beside her, Dave stiffened upon hearing his mom's name. "Just fine, Christine," she responded as Christine slithered beneath the covers, taking Dave's cock in her unfaithful mouth. She felt him shudder with the debauchery of what she was doing. "I was just calling to check in on Dave," Mary informed. "Oh, he's fine. We're just watching a little TV," she responded after popping the shaft from her mouth. 'In the bed I share with your son,' she added to herself, 'with his cock buried in your daughter's throat.' Christine burrowed further under the covers and lapped her tongue at his balls. "He's not causing you any trouble, is he?" she heard from the earpiece while above her, Dave gasped. She pulled herself from beneath the sheets and straddled Mary's son, her husband's little brother. "Not at all, Mom." She leaned her trim chest forward, shoving one of her soft tits in Dave's face. "He's been great, really," she chirped, her eyes easing shut as Dave's teeth clamped down on a sore but still distended nipple. "All right. Say, what time do you want us to come down on Thursday for Thanksgiving?" "Any time . . . you want," she grunted as Dave's cock pushed into her, forcing her loosened cunt lips to make way for the thick shaft. "Christine?" Beneath her, Dave thrashed his head back and forth. The thought of fucking his brother's wife while she was on this phone with his mom caused his brain to sizzle, the cum to boil in his balls. "Mm-hm?" Christine was fearful of responding verbally with her clit smashed between their grinding pelvic bones. "You know, I was asking all those questions about Dave. It's not that we don't trust you and Brent, we just worry about him." "I know, Mom." Christine paused when she felt Dave's cock erupt deep in her cunt, scalding sperm splashing against the steamy walls of her unprotected cunt. "But no need to worry," she continued through gritted teeth, trying to stave off her own impending orgasm until she hung up the phone. "He's behaving very well. Trust me."