5 comments/ 25547 views/ 15 favorites Recycled Lingerie Ch. 01 By: PanesOfGlasss I'm a widower. I lost my loving wife, Joyce, almost fifteen months ago. I was devastated. She was only diagnosed three months before she died, and such a sudden loss weighed heavy on my heart. For a couple of months, I didn't do much beyond going to work and coming home to sit in an empty house before going to an empty bed. I even had trouble reading the Sunday paper because we used to read it together in the morning and then do the crossword puzzle over lunch. I'm 44, about six-foot-two and not bad looking, I guess. I've been with the same med-tech company for over two decades, and am now the director of the department that develops medical imaging software. After Joyce died, friends at work tried to get me to go out with them after work, but my heart wasn't in it, and they eventually they stopped asking. Some of the ladies who have known me for years have tried to get me to go out with them, even just casually with no romantic attachments. I know they feel sorry for me and just want to be company for a friend, but I have not been able to do it. Mercifully, some of the guys eventually spread the word that I was "Mr. Straight-Arrow," and was hopelessly still carrying a torch for Joyce. They remembered that when she was alive I would not stray an inch out of line. Even at conventions in Las Vegas and New Orleans I would not party with them after hours. Oh, sure, I would go the various hospitality suites to glad-hand potential customers and have a drink or two, but I would always excuse myself when the others wanted to hit the town afterwards. "Gotta call Joyce," is what they always expected me to say, and I always met their expectations. I knew they were heading for strip bars or dance clubs to look for women. They would say things like "pussy-whipped" or "henpecked" jokingly, but most of them knew I didn't go with them because there was only one woman in the world for me: Joyce. Most of them secretly wished they had our kind of love, I suspected. The truth was that we were in love beyond what any of them could imagine. We shared everything. She didn't particularly like golf before we were married, for instance, but she took it up so she could share it with me. Likewise, I had no interest in antiques, but her love of them led me to learn about them. Antique stores and auctions became a regular part of our travels. That was one of the secrets to our marriage. We learned to appreciate and participate in each others' interests and hobbies. Some of the areas of interest into which we initiated each other were far more personal and intimate, but the world knew nothing of that beyond our constant affection. It had been so long since my wife died that I finally had to snap out of it and take care of a number of issues, including my own state of mind. Except for what had to be done for probate, I had not yet gone through her papers or personal possessions for many months, and her closet space and dresser were still untouched. I was living by myself in a four bedroom house, and certainly didn't need to free up the space that her half of the closets or her office in one of the bedrooms represented, but it was time to do so. I thought about what I should do with her clothes. She had no family nearby when she died, and when her sister and cousins were here for the funeral, it was way too soon. With fortunate timing, her older sister, Mandy, had recently moved to a town nearby for a new position with her firm. Mandy is one of the most loving people I know. When Joyce became seriously ill, she used up a lot of her vacation time and came to live with us for well over a month just before she died. Joyce needed constant care, and Mandy's help was amazing. During that time, we got to know each fairly well . . . or so I thought. Mandy lives alone. She has never been married, but had several relationships with what Joyce and I thought to be really eligible bachelors. She doesn't think she is beautiful, but I always thought she really was. She is about 5'6" with a slim build that started getting just a little round at the edges when she was in her early forties, and she is now 45. She wears her dirty-blond hair fairly short in a wispy hairdo because it doesn't take much care, according to her. She has a heart-shaped face with a pert little nose and soft, round hazel eyes. She almost never wears much makeup, but when she does, she is exceptionally pretty. I wouldn't call her glamorous or a candidate for a centerfold. She looks more like the kind of woman that would play the best friend of the lead actress in a romantic movie. You know . . . the one that winds up with the lead actor's best friend. She told me that she even had a couple of guys propose to her over the years. I told her that I could understand why, as she is smart and funny, and she is wonderful company. What I could never understand was why she had turned her suitors down. "I guess I'm just too set in my ways," she said. "I like being free to go where I want to go and do what I want to do." I always thought there was more to it than that, but she's an adult. I was not going to tell her how to live her life. Now that she was no longer living far away, I decided to give her a call about Joyce's clothes. I had seen her a couple of times since she moved nearby to welcome her to the area and help her unpack a bit at her new condo, but I hadn't thought about the clothes until now. When I called her, she said she was busy but could come over the next weekend. I told her that the clothes had not been touched in over a year, and that another week wouldn't hurt. She said she would be over on Saturday after lunch. The following Saturday I heard her drive up. I greeted her at the door and gave her a hug and peck on the cheek. I asked her where she wanted to start. "I remember you have a cedar closet that opens into the master bedroom. Let's start there." We went upstairs to the cedar closet. As Mandy preceded me up the stairs, I noticed that she had put on just a little weight over the last year or so. I don't think I noticed it on my visits at her new condo since I had not been following her up stairs with her butt a couple of feet in front of me. She wasn't even close to fat, but her butt had rounded out nicely. She was wearing a soft pullover sweater and a pair of tan cotton slacks that were just tight enough that I could see her panty lines. I looked away after I caught myself staring at them. Mandy started looking through Joyce's coats. She tried several of them on, and most of them fit pretty well. She picked out half a dozen, and we carried them down to the living room, where I had some folded boxes already out for her. She picked up the tape gun and started putting a few boxes together. I had to go to the bathroom. On my way back I heard her yell, "Hey, do you have any more tape? I just ran out." "Look in the cabinet by the TV!" I yelled back. As I entered the living room again, I heard her say, "When did you get all this great scotch?" I remembered then that she loved single malt scotch, too. I told her, "Well, your sister liked wine, not hard liquor. We always tried to do things together. Since I knew we couldn't share scotch together, I mostly bought wine. I liked it, too, and sharing it made it 'our thing,' not 'my thing' or 'her thing.' I only had a bottle or two of scotch in the house, which is what the two of us shared when you were here caring for her last year. After she died, I decided to go back to mostly scotch." "Well this is what I have always wanted," she said, gleefully. "What, a cabinet full of scotch?" "No," she quipped, "A relative with a cabinet full of scotch! Can we taste some of these?" I said, "Sure. You're really the first person I've had over who could appreciate them. I haven't even considered dating again, and my poker buddies only drink beer. Pick one out to start with." She picked out a bottle of 18 year old Glenkinchie. "Let's start here with a Lowland distillery. We'll get to the peatier Islay and Highland stuff later. I want to be able to taste the lighter stuff first." I said, "It sounds like you want the full tour of Scotland! I don't think we should have full shots of each one, or we'll never make it to Speyside." While she was admiring the bottle, I grabbed a couple of pear-shaped whisky tasting glasses and a pitcher of filtered cold water from the 'fridge. I poured about half an ounce in each glass, and said, "Taste it like that." She swirled the whisky, watched how it clung to the sides of the glass, and then held the glass to her nose. She tasted a sip and swirled it around in her mouth. "That's really light," she said. "It's triple-distilled, Lowland style, not double-distilled like the other regions do it. Makes it lighter." I told her to hold out her glass, and I added just a splash of water. "Now swirl it and see how the aroma changes," I said. She swished it around and sniffed it again. "Wow, there's a lot more notes there now." She took another taste and said that there was a noticeable difference. I really enjoyed looking at her face as she tasted the scotch and smiled appreciatively as she evaluated the flavor before and after the water was added. I really liked her, and it was nice to have a woman sharing a happy moment with me after all this time. We finished the glass, and then poured another . . . and another . . . and another. Lingering over each glass, we talked about how our lives were turning out. Her career was where she had hoped it would be, and the move to my area represented a significant promotion. Her job was challenging, and she enjoyed going to work every day. She was glad the opening came up in a city near me, as she liked the thought of having family nearby again. I told her that was sweet, and that it would be nice to have a female family member nearby. I said, "I'll enjoy having woman to talk to without the baggage that dating and the social scene entails." "Yeah. I'll . . . enjoy that too," she said back. "It's been a rough year for me, but I turned the corner and I'm now getting back to some semblance of normal. I haven't even casually seen any women, let alone dated yet. I don't really have any women friends outside of work." "I see you are still wearing your wedding ring," she said. "I wondered if you had started dating again, and I was going to suggest you take it off. It's really hard to pick up women while you are wearing one, you know," she said with a wink. "Tends to turn women off. I knew you took it pretty hard when Joyce died, but I didn't realize how deep the grief went. Wow! Over a year, and no dating." "Nope. Not even once." "You realize that's Victorian-Era-quality mourning? Textbook stuff! Even in the 1800s most people didn't mourn a whole year. You poor baby!" "Well, I just needed to deal with it in my own time. I realized lately that I can finally go through her stuff, and that's why I called you about some of Joyce's clothes. It is finally time to let them go. I would rather give them to family than to just donate them to charity." "Oh, yeah. The clothes!" she giggled. Holding up her sixth glass, she said, "I guess we got sidetracked." "Yeah," I replied, "I guess we did. Let's go back upstairs." We finished our current glasses, and I poured the next stop in the tour. We had gone from the Lowlands, thorough Islay and were now taking our first venture in the Highlands with an 18 yr old Highland Park. With the equivalent of about three or four full shots in me in the last hour, Mandy's ass looked a little sexier as we climbed the stairs, and her sweater really accented her breasts. "Nah," I thought to myself, "She's your sister. Never in a million years . . ." Back in the closet, Mandy started going through the dresses and skirts. She was amazed at the variety Joyce had accumulated, and she spent quite a while going through them. There were business clothes, summer dresses, evening gowns, a few sexy pencil numbers and more. "We liked to go to dinner at fancy restaurants, and would often go out dancing afterwards. We loved cruises, and would dress for dinner, even when it wasn't 'formal night' on the ship." Mandy asked, "Can I try on some of the outfits?" I said, "Of course! After all, I'm hoping you will take most of them." She gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. "I think I'll put on a fashion show." The softness of her sweater-covered breasts against my chest when she gave me the hug felt good, and I had to resist the urge to let my hands roam a bit over that sweater. She asked me to go to the bedroom. "I'll meet you there in a minute with the next 'tour stop of Scotland,' I replied. She handed me her glass and said, "Ooo, there's a good laddie," with what she had hoped was a Scots accent. I didn't have the heart to tell her that it sounded more like it came from Monty Python than Braveheart. Returning to the bedroom, I saw she had changed into a blue cocktail dress with a sequined bodice. "I love this," she said while running her hands over the fabric. I held out her glass, and she walked over to me in a mock-runway stride, took the glass and struck a pose. I said, "You look like a scotch ad from a Sixties copy of Esquire." She laughed. "I'll be back in a minute." With that, she disappeared back to the closet. She tried on several more outfits, modeling each one for me. I could tell she was having a great time, and the poses she struck each time got a little sexier as the afternoon (and the "stops around Scotland") wore on. When she came in wearing a red swing dress, she danced over to me and held out her hand. "Care to?" she asked. I said, "Sure." I grabbed the remote, clicked on the cable and chose an easy listening music channel. I took her hand, and we danced for a few minutes. Feeling her in my arms was electric. I had not held a woman like that in ages. The soft bodice, the flowing skirt that billowed out when I twirled her . . . absolutely heady! Still, this was my sister, I reminded myself again. I swung her around, and again to arm's length. I let go of her hand, and bowed slightly. "Thanks for the dance, M'lady." She blushed a little. I was pretty certain that she had enjoyed the dance as much as I had. She disappeared back into the cedar closet, but didn't come out in another outfit. I became worried that I had embarrassed her, maybe moving my hands a little too far when we danced. I went into the closet to apologize. She was standing in front of the drawers that were built into the end of the closet. My wife's lingerie chest. My heart stopped! I had forgotten all about it and what was in the bottom drawer, and I immediately started to blush. I knew what she had discovered. "Mmmandy," I stuttered, "I didn't mean for you . . . I had forgotten . . ." Before I could finish my sentence, Mandy turned around with several items in each hand. She was holding up erotic lingerie and a couple of sex toys. "I knew you and Joyce had a lifelong love affair, but this . . ." I started to speak, but she found the words to finish her sentence before I could get anything out. "this . . . this is amazing!" "You're not embarrassed?" I said. "You have to be kidding! Assuming that she actually wore this stuff for you and used those," pointing to the bottom drawer, "makes me think that my sister had a more passionate love affair with you than most women ever dream about. She and you must have shared more passion in her short years than most couples experience by their diamond anniversary! Embarrassed? No!" She stood up and hugged me. "I love you," she said, "for making my sister happy all those years." She pointed to the lingerie chest again. "I have only dreamed about finding someone with whom I could share such intimate desires as the two of you did, and I'm a little jealous of what my sister had with you." She paused for a moment, and said tentatively, "and I'm a little bit excited, too. I'm sorry you have been so alone since she died. I wish there was a way I could comfort you." We stood there hugging for a while, and it felt good. I hugged her back as much as she hugged me. She was still wearing the swing dress, and I felt her fingers massaging my back while I started to do the same to her through the soft material. I was in a daze. I had gone from a carefree fashion show, to a brief dance, to total humiliation, and then to this warm, new sensation in a matter of minutes. Her left hand seemed to stray a bit low toward my butt. I slid my hands down, too, and felt the seams of her panties through the silky material of the skirt. She started to run her hand through the lingerie chest. She looked up into my eyes, then picked up something black and silky. "Am I embarrassed about finding this stuff? Not even a bit. In fact I want you to go back to the bedroom. I want to continue the fashion show." I was stunned. I went back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed for five minutes, not knowing what was happening or what I should expect to see next. My mind was racing with conflicting thoughts, and then through a fog I saw Mandy emerge from the cedar closet wearing a sexy black slip and black stockings. The slip had a slit up the side, and a lacey bodice. I could see something under the bodice, but I couldn't tell what it was. Mandy started moving to the music that was still playing. She slowly and sensually ran her hands over the silky fabric of the slip, first sliding over her hips, then her midriff. I was transfixed. She was enjoying the sensation that produced, I could tell. Her eyes closed, and she softly hummed to the music as her hands slowly made their way to her breasts. She caressed them, squeezed them and fondled them. Moving her hands on the soft lace of the bodice was driving me wild! The alcohol and the events of the moment had done their work on both of us. I didn't care any longer that she was Joyce's sister. I wanted her! Mandy opened her eyes and looked straight into my gaze. Her hands slid down to the slit in the slip, and pulled it open. She ran her hands up and down her thighs, and I could see that she was wearing Joyce's silk stockings with a garter belt. She gently caressed the white skin between the tops of the stockings and her panties. Her hands briefly moved over her crotch, and then she grabbed the hem of the slip and pulled it over her head. Underneath, she was wearing a push-up bra. It was dark red, and had a front closure. It had a little lace on the cups. My wife was a 30B, and the bra was just a bit snug, giving Mandy fantastic cleavage. She was wearing a pair of lacey lavender bikini briefs that weren't large enough to hide the fact that she didn't shave her pubic hair. It just looked neatly trimmed above the low, low waist of the briefs. I stood up as she walked to me. We both reached out and embraced passionately. When our lips met, it made the electric feeling I had when we danced seem like a tickle. Our mouths were locked in a hard kiss for more than a minute as our hands explored each other. She opened her mouth, and I opened mine. Our tongues touched tentatively for an instant, and then with abandon, her hands now behind my head pulling my mouth tighter against hers. She stepped back and ripped my shirt off, buttons flying, before unzipping my pants and letting them drop. She pushed me back on the bed, and pulled them off, along with my shoes and socks. She crawled over me, and whispered in my ear, "I never wanted you to know, but I have had such a crush on you since the first time Joyce brought you home. I couldn't betray my sister, so I bottled up my feelings for you all these years. Even after she died, I felt it would be wrong to let you know, but I don't care anymore." Recycled Lingerie Ch. 01 This revelation took me completely off guard. I found myself wanting to hear this. I was turned on beyond belief. She reached down to pull off my shorts as she said, "I want you. Now." Needless to say, when she pulled off my briefs, my cock was fully at attention. She stroked it, and it sent shivers through me. I reached out, and when I cupped her breasts, she threw her head back and moaned. "You have no idea how long I have waited to feel you doing that!" she said. I grabbed her and turned her over. Lying on her back, she was a sight! Her full hips felt as soft as they looked. I ran my hands all over them, and then up and down her legs. I ran my fingers over her breasts, and slid them inside the edges of the cups, probing for her nipples. I unhooked her bra. Her breasts were soft, but not saggy. I kissed her nipples. Her areolas were about the size of half dollars, and her nipples were small, but hard. I sucked on one and then the other. She moaned with every lick and nibble. "I love having them sucked. OHH. Put your teeth on it and give it a . . . yeah . . . like that. Now the other one. Oh, fuck does that feel good." I returned to kissing her on the mouth while my hands took their own trip from the "Highlands" to the "Lowlands." I caressed her thighs and her hips. I reached around and played with her supple butt. I tickled her thighs just above the tops of her stockings, just as I had just seen her do. I moved my hand slowly up toward her sex, but stopped just before contact, caressing all around her pussy. "Oh god, yes. Mmmmm. Oh ha . . . tickles . . . ahhh yeah . . . little higher YES!" Suddenly, she took my hand and placed it right on her pussy. "Oh god! Ohhh." I could feel her labia through the wet fabric of the panties. She pushed her pelvis into my hand, grinding it on my fingers. I sat up and reached for the waistband of her panties. I looked at her face. She mouthed the word, "Yes," unable to speak. I slowly, very slowly, pulled her panties down her legs, caressing her as I did. I kissed her silk-covered legs all the way down as I removed them. "Oh, yes. Slow . . . so good . . . silky touch . . . soft OH YEAH!" As soon as they were off her ankles, she spread her legs and I got a look at her beautiful, fur-covered pussy. Framed by the stockings and garter belt, it was incredibly erotic. Her waist was slender, but her hips were what my Yiddish-speaking poker buddy would call "zaftig." I climbed back up next to her and told her not to move a muscle. I started to trace my fingers all over her body. I licked her ear lobes as my fingers traced the shape of her breasts. Her nipples were next, and they received a couple of minutes of attention. I used my finger tips as well as the backs of my fingers. I let the fingernails slide and tickle over her breasts, teasing the nipples with scant touches. She moaned as I moved my hands over her. Sometimes she whispered, and sometimes she cried out. My fingers travelled south, and caressed her midriff as I continued to enjoy the silky texture of her skin. I had not touched a woman in so long, I was enjoying every square inch of her skin, and I wanted to linger over each one. After about fifteen minutes of these caresses, I moved toward her pussy. I played with her pubic hair for a while, enjoying the silky feel. As I first touched her there, she said, "Slowly. Take your time." "I intend to." I played with the soft fur for a couple of minutes, paying attention to the way the hair lay and curled. "The feel of your hair is so sensual. It's so, so soft. I see something else that looks soft." I moved down and traced the outline of her labia. "Your touch is so light . . . so light. Please, now. Touch my pussy!" I began to touch the labia softly, and I could tell the sensation was driving Mandy wild. I caressed the outside of her lips for a couple of minutes, too. "Oh . . . ahhh . . . God yeah." I slid one finger between them, and she shuddered. I lingered there, touching, probing. One finger in, then two. Sliding a finger up, I found her clit. She gasped. I began to give it small circular rubs, and I could feel her pulsating to every one. I whispered in her ear, "I don't suppose I could talk you into letting me put my tongue down there, could I?" All she could do was smile, shudder involuntarily at the thought and say something that sounded like, "Ngnyahhh!" I whispered, "I take that to mean 'yes.' I'll be right back after I got us another scotch." She made another sound similar to the first one, and grabbed my head with both hands. It seemed she didn't want another drink just yet. Her hands stayed on my head until I reached her pussy. I blew a little breath on her clit, which I was still rubbing. I pulled her labia apart, and I could feel her tense in anticipation. When my tongue touched her clit, she screamed, "YESSS!" I made the same lazy circles with my tongue that I had been making with my finger. I took a finger and inserted it into her pussy. She whimpered, "Tttwo." A second finger joined the first. Mandy was now thrusting her hips into my face and hand, and I alternately pushed my tongue hard into her clit and then gave it light licks and butterfly kisses. Mandy arched her back, and let loose. She screamed and bucked, and drove her pelvis harder and harder against my hand and mouth. She didn't exactly flood my face, but she was pretty juicy as she came. I continued to lick her until she pushed me away. "Nnno. Nnno more. Sssensssitive. Ppplease." She stuttered between contractions around my fingers. I pulled away, and she lay there panting. I lay next to her and stroked her hair. I told her not to say anything for a while, and we just cuddled. Finally, she said, "That was amazing! I've never met a man who could eat pussy that well! In spite of everything else, if one of my guys had done that to me, I might have married him." She stopped short, realizing what she had just said. I looked at her and said, "What 'everything else?'" She shook her head "no" and looked away from me. I held her and said, "There's nothing you can say that will turn me away. You said, 'In spite of everything else.' What does that mean? Trust me. Please." Mandy looked down and thought for a moment. She looked back up at me, a little fear in her eyes, and said, "I hope this doesn't turn you off or keep us from doing this again, but I'm bisexual." She kept her eyes down and said, "I never accepted a proposal from any of my men because I knew none of them would understand or want an open relationship where I had women too. I never told my parents, and I never told Joyce." She buried her head in my chest, waiting for an answer. "Mandy, I don't know how to tell you this, but . . ." "You hate me! It's okay. I understand. You think your sister is a dyke, and you wouldn't want to be seen with me in public." She sobbed. "No, Mandy. Look at me." She wouldn't raise her eyes to mine, so I put my hands on the sides of her head and gently turned her face towards me. "Mandy, you have seen all of the things that were in that lingerie chest. We used all of them. Yes, your cute little sister was into all of that, and she taught me to like every bit of it. I taught her a few things, too, and no fantasy was taboo as long as it was just the two of us in our own bedroom and we both agreed that we liked it." I paused and thought about what I had to say next. I took her hands in mine, and continued as softly calmly as I could. "Some of those fantasies were about her and another woman." I saw the shocked look on her face. "Yes. Joyce had lesbian fantasies. But they were only fantasies. She never had a woman, and I'm sure she never actually ever considered really doing it with another woman. But the thought of lesbian sex turned her on tremendously. She would cum like a freight train when I talked about a women sensuously taking her clothes off and making tender love to her while I watched. I would mentally walk her through each touch and stroke while I touched her in the same places. "I put massage oil on my hands to make them a little softer, and then I would blindfold her and tell her that my fingers were those of a woman. It drove her wild. Sometimes we would even do it while she was tied to the bed with those restraints you saw in the bottom drawer. Doing it with that soft chinchilla mitten on my hand was always a winner for her. And there was one more thing." Mandy sat up and looked at me with shock. "You mean there's something on top of that?" I looked her straight in the eye. "We didn't talk about women in the abstract. Sometimes I would tell her that it was one of her friends or co-workers doing it to her, or even someone we had met on a trip or cruise. And on a couple of occasions it was . . ." "Who?" asked Mandy. "Well, it was . . ." "Who?!?!" she now demanded. "It was you, Mandy. It was you." Mandy jerked back and put her hand to her mouth in surprise. I continued, "Yes, one of her fantasies was to have her older sister tie her up, slowly strip off her clothes, lick her and make her cum. And I loved every word of it when we acted it out. She couldn't tell you for the same reason that you couldn't share with her that you are bi. She thought it would repulse you and make you hate her." Mandy hugged me and started crying. I let her have a couple of minutes 'till she stopped and calmed down. "Uh, Mandy, I know this is an emotional time, but I think there's something you might want to finish. I'm about to get a case of blue balls here." She looked up at me, and quietly said, "Sorry." The next thing I knew I had the softest pair of lips I had ever felt kissing the head of my still-erect penis. For the next five minutes, I had a blowjob that was every bit as good as Joyce's, and that's saying a lot! I caught myself wondering at one point if it ran in the family. Then thought of my mother giving me one, almost broke the moment, and I had to look back down at Mandy's short hair flying to and fro as she serviced me to get that image out of my head. She broke off the tongue action, and swung her body over mine. I felt her hand guide my dick towards her pussy, and felt her rub its head back and forth across her labia a few times. She moved the head of my dick slowly in and out. Just the head. It felt really good. Then, she slowly sat on it, moved it all the way in and started to move up and down. She moved slowly at first, increasing the tempo as she rode me. She looked at me as if she was trying to decide on something. Finally, she smiled devilishly. She said, "OK, Mr. Fantasy. How does fucking me feel, Big Boy? Does that feel good? Like to watch my boobs as I fuck you? Or would you rather jack off while you watch me eat out another woman? Would you like me to slowly strip her clothes off while I rub my hands all over her? You want to watch me take her dress off and caress her body through a silky slip. "I'm going to slowly pull off the slip and feel her breasts. Watch me as I take off her bra and suck her nipples. I love to do that! I'll pull her panties down with my teeth as you watch, and then I'll throw her down on the bed. Your bed. Would you like to see me tie her to the posts, spread her legs and put my tongue in her slit? I'd love to put my lips on her clit and suck it. Is that what you'd like to see?" Five minutes of that was more than I could take. I came for at least half a minute. I was in such a spasm that I could hardly speak! "Uh . . . nnnnngggngn," was about all that came out as I strained. Finally, the sensation was too much, and I pulled her off me. To my amazement, she reached down and caught some of the cum that was dripping out of her pussy and licked her fingers! "I think the scotch added a little flavor there. I'll have to remember that!" she said with a wink. She smiled a devilish smile, and said, "The way you sounded when you told me about that lesbian fantasy, I figured it was yours every bit as much as it was hers. I was right, wasn't I?" I grabbed for my scotch and handed hers to her, then held up the glass for a toast, and said "You got my number! God, that was sexy!" We drank and talked for a while. Mandy asked if our fantasy life ever went beyond the bedroom. I said, "Do you mean did we ever do it anywhere else? Sure we did it whenever we travelled. Shipboard cabins, hotel rooms, once in a while in the car . . ." "No. What I mean is did you ever, ever act out anything with another person?" "No. I talked about it with Joyce to make sure we were always on the same page. She never wanted to make love to anyone but me. Period. And we never did. "The closest we ever came was when there was a woman at a party that Joyce thought was sexy. She told me to flirt with her, and we later used that in our role-playing for a while. The most I did was stroke her arm a few times while we talked, and I got her a little hot before Joyce, as we had pre-arranged, came over and told me to dance with her. The woman tried to corner me alone before we left, probably to give me her number, but I had Joyce stuck with me like glue the rest of the evening." "Okay. Joyce didn't want either of you to go outside the marriage. How about you?" "I can't say that there were times when I wondered what I would do if Joyce brought home another woman and made love to her in front of me. I don't think I would have fucked another woman, even with Joyce's permission, though I decided I might have enjoyed actually seeing her do a lesbian act for me." "Every man's fantasy, eh" "Yeah, I guess it is." "What is it about watching lesbians that turns men on so much?" mused Mandy. "I've thought about this, and I think it's because men are so visually-oriented. Watching sex turns them on, but a lot of men don't get turned on by seeing another naked man. Sex between two women solves that problem." "Makes sense. So men who watch straight couples fuck may be a little gay?" "Some, I guess. But others are a little more abstract. They put themselves in place of the male actor, and imagine that it's them doing the fucking or receiving the sucking. They fantasize that they are doing it to the woman, not the actor. It's a little like eye-hand coordination. They see a dick going into a pussy. Their own hand is providing stimulation at the same time, so it must be their dick going into the pussy. Think 'manually-operated virtual reality.'" "Very clinical and well thought out." "Yeah. It's either that or they are a little gay." Mandy and I cracked up. She held up her glass and said, "Touché!" We kissed for a while, and then Mandy and I put on robes and went downstairs. I cooked some dinner, and afterwards Mandy came to me and embraced me. We made love again. It was plain, no-toys, no-outfits, raw, naked sex on the rug in front of the fireplace. It was romantic. It was sensual. It was erotic. There was a lot of kissing and fondling. Our fingers seemed to have no boundaries whatsoever. It was gentle, and it was passionate. We took our time, learning what the other liked. There was no rush to make the other cum. It was a time to explore the other person and get to really be with each other. It was every bit as good as the first time. If it had been a scene in a 1950's movie, there would have been a lot of cutting to blowing curtains, licking flames in a fireplace, and crashing waves! Afterwards, Mandy asked, "Is it okay of I spend the night?" "Of course. I would like that very much." We went upstairs and climbed into bed together. I had the strangest feeling. It had been well over a year since another person had been under those covers, and now it was my wife's sister! We hadn't had a drink in hours. I had a meal under my belt and I was sobering up. The reality of what we had just done and what we had revealed was both frightening and exhilarating. Mandy had on one of the sexier nighties, and was cuddling next to me as I turned out the lights. She kissed me. "Whoever wakes up first gets to decide what to take out of the lingerie chest next," she whispered. With that, we went to sleep in each others' arms. The next morning, I gently kissed Mandy awake. She smiled and kissed me back, then realized that there was something very wrong. She jerked about to see what had happened. She couldn't move very far because her hands and feet were tied to the four posts of the bed with lamb's-wool-padded restraints at the end of leather straps. "Bet you wish you woke up first, eh?" I grinned lecherously. "Your lesbian sex talk yesterday about tying up another woman made me think of it." She looked a little excited, but mostly frightened. "Please, no pain. I'm not into that. Promise me. PROMISE ME! No pain! Let me go!" I put my finger to my lips and said, "Mandy, Joyce and I never intentionally hurt each other in all the time we were married. It did not appeal to either of us, and the thought of hurting someone I love is physically repulsive to me." I saw Mandy relax a bit. She said, "Whew. I don't do pain. It scares the shit out of me. When I realized that you tied me up, all I could think about was the leather whip I saw in the bottom drawer. I saw the handle, and I couldn't even touch it. I've done some kinky stuff in my life but that was the only thing in that chest that really creeped me out. I couldn't imagine my sister enjoying being whipped." "Oh, you mean this?" I said as I held up a leather object. She shuddered, started struggling against the restraints again. She cried, "No! You promised! No pain!" I immediately held the gadget out and showed it to her. It was about the size of a D-cell flashlight, and really did look a little like a whip handle, I realized. She relaxed slightly when she saw there was no whip, and nervously giggled a little when I snapped a rod with a one inch plastic ball at the end into the socket at the end of the device. She was still tense, though. "It's a vibrator, Mandy. Just a vibrator. It has interchangeable tips, and I had an upholstery shop cover it in kidskin. Got some weird looks, but they did it." I caressed her brow and kissed her until she was calm again. Rubbing the soft calfskin against her cheek, I said, "Feel this." She said, "Mmmm, soft. Wow, that's really a relief." And then with an impish smile, "More to the point, that looks like it's really going to give me some relief." I turned it on, and said, "Okay. Now feel this." I ran the ball across her stomach and down towards her thighs. She squirmed. She said, "Now that's what I'm looking for!" Without touching her with anything else, I ran the ball over her breasts, neck, stomach, legs and arms. I played it over her nipples, watching them respond. She giggled, squealed and purred as the ball hit various tickle spots and erogenous zones. I turned off the vibrator and held it to her mouth. "Suck on it." She gave me a wicked look, then gave it a tongue bath for a few seconds, put it into her mouth and sucked on it like a lollypop. "Hmmm? Where else can I put it?" I mused. "Oh, I know!" I turned it on and moved it to her pubic hair. "Eeeee," she said letting out a little squeal. I moved it around, getting closer and closer to her pussy. No more squeals. "Mmmmmmm," she purred. Finally, I touched it to her labia. She moaned softly, and caught her breath when it went inside the folds. "Ohhhhh . . . AHHH!" I put a little lube on it and stuck it into her now sopping vagina a few times. "Ughhhhh . . . Ahh . . . Yesss!" I saw her straining at the restraints, and I knew she wanted to put a finger on her clit while I was doing her pussy. I pulled the vibrator ball out and turned off the vibrator. Recycled Lingerie Ch. 01 "Wha . . . no . . . don't stop . . . oh." She gave me a yearning look, but stopped when she saw me take the ball off and snap on a dildo with a clit stimulator. She smiled. She watched what I was doing intently. I put some lube on the dildo, shoved it slowly into her pussy and started going to work on her clit. The movement alone was driving Mandy wild, but when I turned on the vibrator again, she screamed. It wasn't words, just sounds. "AhhhhhHaaaYaaaaaaaOhhhhh." I worked her clit and vagina until she came in waves. I kept it in her until she begged me to stop. I took it out and turned it off. I stood there looking at her naked body for a while. Even in the morning without makeup I thought she was beautiful! After a moment, she said, "Aren't you going to untie me?" When I didn't answer, she started struggling against the straps. I could tell she was very uncomfortable about still being out of control. During sex play, it had been okay, but to lay there helpless while I stood over her was starting to humiliate her. I said, "Mandy, Stop!" The tone of my voice made her freeze for an instant. I told her to feel the restraints right where they met the leather straps. She had a puzzled look, but felt there. I told her to push the bump where the two components met. She did so, and the restraint cuffs came right off. "Quick release buckles under the leather coverings," I said. "Mandy, when I told you that Joyce and I never hurt each other, I meant it." I told her reassuringly, "I would never humiliate Joyce by leaving her tied up any longer than she wanted to be. I bought those so if she ever panicked, she could release herself instantly. The legs have them, too. She only used the release once, and that was because she had a leg cramp. She never panicked because she knew I had given her an instant out. She trusted me. I want you to trust me too. I'll never do anything to you unless you have an out, and I'll never . . . ever hurt you." Mandy released her legs, jumped up and kissed me passionately, and then suddenly let go and pushed me back. She held the restraints in front of her and shook them. She mockingly said, "You asshole! You could have told me!" and threw them at me. Then, smiling, she said "Yeah, I do trust you now, but you almost had to change the sheets. You used that damn thing on me before I had a chance to take a pee this morning. See you in a minute." She scampered off to the bathroom and shut the door. She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later wearing one of Joyce's terry robes. "I used Joyce's toothbrush. Hope you don't mind." I told her that I had not gone through Joyce's side of the vanity yet, just as I had not gone through her side of the cedar closet. She hugged me. "You still miss her so much, don't you?" I held her tightly, and started to tear up. "I do. I really do." She wiped my eyes with the sleeve of her robe, and said that she loved her sister, too. She said, "Do you know one of the things I love about you? I love the way you did love, and still love my dear sister. I love the way you two made each other happy. I love you deeply for it." She paused for a moment until I had composed myself. She looked up at me, and I thought she was going to say something else tender. Instead, she pushed me to arm's length. Playfully she said, "Ya know what else I love about you?" Before I could answer, she grabbed me by the arm and literally threw me on the bed. "I love the way you fuck!" she said with a wicked look on her face as she stepped out of the robe. She rubbed on my dick until it was hard again, and then sat on it once more. My wife had been exceptional in bed. No argument. But Mandy did things with her pussy in the next ten minutes that I would have never thought possible. I do believe that she could have sat with her pussy on a quarter and told me if it was heads or tails before picking it up with her labia! Her muscle control was unbelievable. She could really work my dick, give its head little pulses and squeeze the shaft. The fact that she just stared into my eyes without saying a word, squinting a little each time she did something new was even more erotic than her lesbian sex talk yesterday afternoon, if that was possible. Ten minutes of it, and I exploded so hard I thought I was going to give myself a rupture. She pulled off and lay next to me. She said, "It takes a lot of concentration to do that, but it's worth the effort, isn't it?" I asked, "Where on God's green earth did you learn to do that?" "Yoga classes," she replied offhandedly. I was flabbergasted. "They teach that in yoga class? Do housewives get to sit in a circle and learn that in group class or something? 'Pussy Mantra 101' or something?" "Well, no. They do teach a lot of muscle control in group classes. Pelvic floor exercises and the like. Exercises with ben wa balls, maybe. But what I just showed you is not for group class. "Live feedback is different. You see, someone just can tell you what to do and hope you are doing it right, but the best way to learn it is for your instructor to have a finger in your vagina while you practice in order to give you live feedback." "Yoga instructors are allowed to finger-fuck their students?" I asked incredulously. "Only if she is your lesbian lover on the side," she replied with a wink and a wicked smile. "We used to lay for an hour with a finger up each other. She would do a maneuver, and then have me practice until I could replicate it. We practiced a lot." She turned to look at me as if she were looking over a pair of glasses and repeated it with emphasis. "A lot!" "I get it, I get it. But why was a lesbian helping you to grab dicks better with your pussy? Wasn't that encouraging you to defect to the other team?" She shoved me playfully. "No, silly. She already knew I was bi, and we even shared a guy one time. Okay . . . she mostly did me while the poor guy just watched and jerked off . . . Oh, forget him. He's not important. "What is important is that she taught me this because it not only strengthens your core and gives you more inner control, but it helps in lesbian sex. When a woman uses a dildo on me, I can grab it tighter and get a lot more sensation. The effect is amazing. I met her years ago when I worked in New Orleans. We still get together when I visit there. She's one of the reasons I love that city so much. " I pointed to my penis. "Yeah, I like New Orleans, too, but your detailed recitation of your yoga lessons is having an amazing effect on something else right now." She smiled and said, "I was hoping for that. Now I know I can have you twice in under an hour, too. Hang onto it with both hands for a second just lay here." She disappeared into the cedar closet and came out a couple of minutes later wearing a soft-skirted pink swing dress. It had a tight bodice, and then flared to an A-line skirt. She lifted the hem to show me a red A-line slip. "Guess what I'm wearing under the slip?" she said as she straddled me. "Nothing!" And with that she guided my dick back up into her pussy. I had fooled around with Joyce (and other girls before her) fully clothed in parked cars, but I had never had a fully-clothed woman sit on my dick on my own bed. The sensation of the cool, silky slip riding up and down over my balls was incredible, and feeling Mandy's breasts through the dress and slip was very erotic. I ran my hands up and down her form, savoring every curve. I told her how beautiful she was over and over. "Feeling your nipples through the dress is like an erotic dream." "Honey, you have my permission to feel them whenever and wherever you want!" This time, Mandy went easy on her pussy tricks, and we lasted about twenty minutes with her on top fucking me for a while, then me on top fucking her with her reaching under the skirt and slip to finger her clit. The sound of her quickening breath and the feel of her vaginal constrictions coming to climax provided just the edge I needed to come then, too. Spent, we lay there talking for nearly an hour. She asked if there was a "what next," and I told her there certainly should be. We could work out the details over time, but she was welcome to come over any time. I just told her to check my schedule. "It would be impolite on poker night to tell my buddies, 'Deal me out of the next three hands, fellas. I have to go upstairs and fuck my wife's sister.'" She punched me on the arm and said, "What's wrong with that? It might get them so hot they forget their poker faces when you come back downstairs. Hey take every advantage you can get!" We both laughed, and then she stopped short and got a strange look on her face. "When was the last time you used that vibrator ball?" she asked. I thought about it, and said, "Quite a while ago, before Joyce got sick. I used it on her. It has been in the bottom drawer since." "Did you always wash all of the attachments?" "Once in a while, but I usually just wiped lube off it and let it dry. Why?" "I think we just acted out one of Joyce's lesbian fantasies . . . in a way." When I looked puzzled, she said, "When you had me lick it, I tasted something familiar. It was pussy juice. You just had me lick my own sister's dried pussy juice from the ball!" I must have turned beet red. "Mandy, I . . . I . . . Well I . . ." Mandy brushed her hand against my face. "It's all right. I know you didn't mean to do that. It was very faint, but I'll always have the satisfaction of knowing I tasted what my sister fantasized about having me taste. Thank you." She kissed my cheek and held me for a while. We decided it was time for brunch. She cleaned up and put on a pair of panties, hose and shoes. She quickly brushed her hair and put on a little makeup she found in Joyce's side of the vanity. I thought she looked stunning! I put on slacks and a sport coat, and I drove her to a hotel downtown for an elegant Sunday brunch. She turned a few heads as we entered the restaurant. When she sat down, I said, "Your short, slightly-tousled hair and soft breezy skirt give you a wonderfully carefree look that that I find particularly attractive." "Yeah, I know. I enjoy this look, and I especially have been enjoying the way you look at me." Over brunch, we discussed our options. There was no real danger in telling her mom that we were seeing each other. She had no other relatives for 1,700 miles, and her mom would just think that we had established a relationship as family. "I'll just tell Mom that you are looking after me, and that we had planned to take some trips together, as we have no one else. Mom already resigned herself that I'm going to be a 'spinster lady' 'cause I turned down every offer from some really hot prospects." I could tell my parents a similar story. "Mom will be proud that I'm helping my wife's sister with emotional support. She also came to the 'spinster' conclusion like your Mom did. She'll be happy that I'm at least being 'family' to you." My parents met Mandy a number of times, and they loved her, too. Mom was always trying to set her up with some guy or other so she wouldn't become a "spinster." I said, "We'll tell all the people we know around here that you're helping me with housework or coming over to use my pool, hot tub or sauna for the weekend or just plain visiting. Sisters and brothers are allowed to visit each other, after all. "By the way, do you want any of Joyce's clothes other than the coats you picked out?" "Oh, yeah. It's a treasure-trove of great stuff! I'm going to take some of the dresses, suits and casual wear." "I'm glad." She then leaned forward and motioned for me to do the same. She took my hands in hers. She whispered, "I'm leaving everything in that lingerie cabinet right where it is, though. I'm going to do a thorough inventory of it. It may take a few weekends." Then right into my ear, "Maybe even months," followed by a quick lobe lick and, "Maybe years." That sent a shiver through me. I replied, "Well, if you can't be thorough and accurate, what good is an inventory anyway. Take all the time you need. It may take longer than you think, too, as there may be some additions." She made a face, said, "Ooooh," and laughed. Since we were so close, I did something I had never done before in a public place. I let go of her hands and gently brushed my right hand across her left breast. I could feel that her nipple was hard. She still had on the dress over the slip with no bra. She took a breath and moved back a little. "Honey! People . . ." Before she could say anything else, I said, "'Anytime, anywhere,' remember?" "Well, this is a new you! But I'm a woman of my word." And with that, she moved closer again so that her breast was again in contact with my hand. I felt her nipple once more. I whispered, "I love you." "I love you, too." She gave me a little kiss, and then we sat back in our chairs. The brunch was fantastic. Joyce and I had eaten there a number of times. Omelets to order, pastries and savory dishes of all sorts, prime rib, seafood and deserts to die for. The fruit selection was wonderful, and Mandy got a number of items. I didn't know what was in store for me with a simple plate of fruit. Mandy started with a strawberry. She put it to her lips and sucked on it. She nibbled the tip and ran her tongue around the area she just bit off. She had my attention now. She raked her teeth over the sides of the berry to score it, and then she ran it in and out of her mouth a few times, savoring the juice. Finally, she slowly sucked the whole thing into her mouth and ate it. Next was a blackberry that she slowly ran around her lips like a lipstick, getting a little juice on her lips when the very ripe berry broke. She slowly licked the juice from her lips as seductively as she could, and then put the berry between her teeth. She closed her lips over the berry, and when she opened them, the berry was gone. Blueberries with whipped cream were next. She picked them up one at a time with the index and middle fingers of her right hand, much the way that Japanese Go players pick up the stones used in that game. She held out her tongue to receive each one, sensually releasing each berry onto it so she could eat them one by one. When she had finished the blueberries, she took those two fingers one at a time and put them into her mouth to remove the last vestiges of whipped cream. The final item was pears in brandy-cream sauce. She simply cut off small pieces and picked them up with her fork. She opened her mouth for each bite, placing the fork s far back in her mouth as she could get it, closing her teeth over the fork, and then slowly sliding the fork straight out through her teeth. It took everything I had to sit still and watch her. She had me at the blackberry, and I had quite a hard-on under the linen tablecloth. Not being able to do anything about it, I just sat there and enjoyed the show. When Mandy finished, she asked me, "How did you like my table manners?" I told her, "In the International Erotic Games, the Russian judges are pretty tough these days on the blueberry-pickup event, so I can only give you a nine-and-a-half." She laughed that soft laugh that seemed to melt my heart now. She leaned forward again. "I seduced my bank branch manager in Houston with that routine. I took her to dinner and ordered a fruit plate for dessert. She was fairly straight-laced and resistant to my charms for a femme, but she was gorgeous and I wanted her. By the time I finished my fruit plate, she was so limp I thought I was going to have to carry her back to the car. When I whispered that I would like to use her naked skin as a dish for a Midnight snack, she was mine." I whispered back to her, "I think you are a real dish, too, and I would love to play with my food from a dish like you. On a more personal note . . . if that's possible . . . your performance and banker story have me so aroused that I'm about to raise my side of the table off the floor. I'm gonna need a few minutes before I can stand up without looking like I'm smuggling prime rib bones out in my pants." She smiled that wicked smile. "Is there anything I can do to help?" I replied, "Thanks, but you have done quite enough already." Then I said, "Speaking of arousal, don't look to your left right now. There is a couple sitting there. Her back is to you and he is facing you. He watched your performance, and I think we may have to look for the for the AED, 'cause I think he may have a heart attack! "He was talking to his lady and watching you. His eyes looked like he was watching a ping-pong game: you-her-you-her-you-her. She must be wondering what the hell is wrong with him. He started sweating so much that he had to wipe his face with his napkin! I had almost as much fun watching him squirm as I had watching you eat that fruit. I'm not sure, but I think he came in his pants." Mandy couldn't resist. She turned to look at him, and when he caught her eye, she licked her lower lip slowly and winked. The poor guy turned the color of Mandy's strawberry, and gulped down almost a full glass of iced tea. She turned back to me. "Wow. Double the pleasure," she laughed again. I didn't know whether to feel sorry for the poor bastard or for his lady. I had a feeling that she was going to be the recipient of a lot of pent-up lust that afternoon. I asked the waiter for a couple of cappuccinos, and we sat and slowly drank them until my hard-on had diminished enough for me to stand up respectably. On the way back home, we addressed the 500 pound gorilla in the car. "What do you think about your female fiends now that we're going to be seeing each other?" "Oh, my two lesbian lovers? We'll need to work that out over time. One of them isn't into men, but might let you watch. The other is bi, like me. You might consider that, too. It might give me a thrill to see your dick in her while she eats me." That almost knocked the wind out of me. It wasn't just what she said, but how she said it. She ticked off "two lesbian lovers," an offer to put on a lesbian show and a threesome as calmly as if she were ordering Chinese takeout over the phone! It was hard to keep from crashing at that point, but I managed to keep the car on the road. I blurted out, "Mandy, I . . . I appreciate the offer, and I may even take you up on it someday. Joyce and I only talked about it. We never did it. If I ever work up the courage, there is no one I'd like to try it with more than you. I understand your needs and that's okay, but I need to take it a little slower on my end when it comes to your girlfriends. Is that okay for now?" "Yeah, Sweetie. It's fine. She gave me a peck on the cheek. "In fact I think it's sweet to find someone who would turn down a threesome with another woman just so he could enjoy me alone. "Tell you what: I'll be happy to give you details about my girlfriends' technique whenever you want when we make love. I like the fact that you only want one lover." "For Joyce and me, sex was always been more about love than just satisfying physical needs. We only loved each other, so there was no desire to get physical gratification with anyone else." Mandy said that was one of the most romantic things she had ever heard. Something dawned on me then. "You have been in the area for only a month, and you already have TWO lovers?" "Oh, three including you, and four including some jerk I had a single night with and who forgot to tell me he was married. I hope his balls have healed by now," she said as she flexed her right thumb and forefinger like a pincer. "I wonder what he told his wife . . . Yeah . . . Recycled Lingerie Ch. 01 "Well, I'm 45 years old, and have been dating men and women for almost 30 years. I manage more than 200 people at work, and have close to a six figure income. I don't have much trouble in that department, sweetie. Really, you just have to learn to work the circuit. You can learn it too, now that you are single and ready to date." She saw me blushing and thought for a minute. "Sorry, sweetie. I forgot I was talking with one of the most monogamous men on Earth. Forget the circuit. You have me. And you'll always have Joyce. I'm probably the one woman in the world who will never be jealous when you talk about her." She put her arm around my neck and her head on my shoulder. "And don't worry. From now on, you're the only man in my life. Man, that is." I patted her arm and said a little facetiously, "Thanks, dear, you don't know how much that reassures me." She gave me a little pinch. I said, "Seriously, Mandy, I'm happier right now than I ever hoped to be." She kissed me on the cheek. "I do love you!" - - - - - - - - All those years, I thought I had known Mandy. I met her when Joyce and I started dating and many times since during family visits. She lived with us for over a month when Joyce was sick. She was kind and loving, but was always a little bit reserved in the way she spoke. Today I understood the secret that caused the reservation. Now that her secret was out and I accepted her the way she was, she lost all sense of hesitation with me. She was comfortable saying whatever she wanted with a family member for the first time in her life. It must have been exhilarating for her to finally be free with me, and I was ecstatic that I had found someone so soon with whom I could also share freely. I knew we had things to work out, but then there were things Joyce and I had to work out, too. Some of the things in that bottom drawer were my idea, and some were hers. Some things got bought, and never made it to the bottom drawer. It was not always easy pushing boundaries, but wanting to do it together is what made our marriage so strong. At times it was scary, but it was always exciting. I had no doubt that what lay ahead was going to be every bit as scary and exciting as life with Joyce had been. Mandy's sexual orientation would be a challenge for me, I expected. But I was also sure that we had fallen in love. Love, as Joyce and I always said to each other, was about starting with two people who have "his" and "hers," and making everything "ours." I looked at the beautiful, mature woman sitting beside me. I was confident that the love between us was about to become legendary, and I was excited to find out what the next "what next?" was going to be. I gotta tell you, I really do miss my wife, but it's good to finally have family back in town. Especially one who will help keep the Earth green by recycling all of that lingerie! - - - - - - - - - Author's Note: This story goes well beyond what I have personally experienced, but its theme is based on real world observations. I have known several widowed men and women who subsequently fell in love with and married their wives' sister or husband's brother. This includes two members of my extended family. Messing around with a sister behind your wife's back is betrayal. Falling in love with her after your grief has diminished can be beautiful! Mandy and the narrator, who will be identified as Howard, or "Howie" in future episodes, are going to have some interesting adventures. A trip to New Orleans will be spectacular. Mandy is going to meet Alex and Peggy from my story Alex & I. She's going to help them solve a problem with a cousin. Howie, Mandy, Alex, Peggy and cousin Sara will form an unusual friendship. To learn about the unusual situation that Mandy will help resolve, read Peggy and I for the lead-in and background. Why three esses at the end of PanesOfGlasss? One of my favorite sounds when responding to a touch or caress is "yesss." It is a word and a sigh all in one. Why PanesOfGlasss? The world is our window, and we see our lovers differently through the light of each pane. Each moment brings hope of a new view.