by Michael K. Smith
I was married at twenty-one, a few months before college graduation. Everyone -- especially my parents -- said it was a foolish thing to do, but after twenty years of marriage it seems we've beaten the odds. I'll admit to a self-destructive streak in the early days, though. . . .
Marie's parents were card-carrying rednecks, for one thing, and her older brother was a holier-than-everyone Bible-thumper. After the first few months, I went to great lengths to avoid them. They lived about two hours away and when my wife went home for visits, which was four or five times a year, she went by herself. There was also a younger sister, Michelle, who seemed like a nice enough kid, but she was only fourteen at the time of our marriage and I didn't pay much attention to her.
After two years of reasonable success in the real world, I decided I was going to need a graduate degree in order to compete, so I went back to school on the side. It took me two full years and a summer of part-time classes, but I did okay. However, with Marie and myself both working full-time, plus my schoolwork, our social life was pretty thin for awhile.
Toward the end of that time, my sister-in-law, now nineteen, got fed up with her parents (good for her, I thought), dropped out of the junior college, and fled to the city to find out whether she could make it on her own. We invited her to stay with us for a few weeks while she got herself organized, and she was grateful for the use of our sofa-bed.
It was really kind of nice having Michelle around. I was twenty-six but working so hard I sometimes felt forty. My sister-in-law had turned out tall and slender, with long, natural-blonde hair -- very pretty and unremittingly cheerful. She lightened the household considerably.
My mother-in-law had, of course, called several times to whine to my wife about her other daughter's defection and Marie, dutiful daughter that she was, drove up Friday night of the second week to try to placate her. After four years of marriage, I'd gotten used to not sleeping by myself and I woke up earlier than I had intended Saturday morning.
I thought about rolling over and closing my eyes again but I immediately began making mental lists of all the things I had to do, so I gave up, climbed out of bed, and located the bathroom by dead reckoning. Then I pulled on a pair of ragged cutoffs and wandered out to the living room shirtless and barefoot.
Michelle was sprawled face-down on the fold-out sofa, half under the covers. She mumbled something and half-opened one eye.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," I said softly as I headed for the coffeemaker.
"S'okay, . . ." she murmured. "'Morning. . . ." Then she flexed her shoulders backward and groaned.
"Are you okay?" I poured in the water and hunted for the plug end of the cord.
"Yeah, I guess. I'm just not used to this bed. My back's stiff." I stood in the entrance to the little kitchen and watched with amusement as she kicked off the covers and grasped her ankles, trying to arch her back. I could hear muffled crackling sounds. She groaned again.
"Would you like me to work the cricks out of your shoulders?" I asked tentatively.
"God, would you?" Michelle turned her head on the pillow and smiled. "That would be great, really." She settled herself expectantly as I walked over to the bed. One of my old tee shirts that she'd borrowed as sleeping gear rode high on her smooth-looking thighs, but she didn't seem shy about it. I'd simply made a friendly offer but now I was wondering what my real motives were.
I sat beside her and swept the long, fine hair up over her shoulders and out of the way. I'd learned basic muscle massage as a teenager working at the YMCA, so I had some idea what I was doing. Her shoulders felt slender and a bit bony under my fingers. I separated the stiff muscle layers and worked inward toward her neck; Michelle made little pleasure sounds and bent her head forward as I got up into her hairline. I'd already noticed the lack of bra straps beneath the tee shirt.
When I grasped the narrow points of her shoulders, she extended her arms behind her back so I could lift up and stretch her shoulderblades. Her profile from above and behind -- arms constrained behind her back, head drooping forward with hair scattered across her pillow, the presence of her small breasts made more obvious by the taut cotton of her shirt -- sent uneasy ideas flashing through my mind and caused a stirring in the front of my shorts.
Before I could reconsider what I was doing, I got up and moved around to the head of the bed. I reached down at both sides of her waist and took hold of the hem of the shirt, gathering it upward and exposing a very attractive backside partly concealed by purple bikini panties.
"Let me move this out of the way," I suggested quietly and calmly. I was trying to sound disinterested but it was very difficult with the sudden tightness in my throat. She hesitated a long moment, then lifted her upper body; the tee shirt was gathered under her armpits a moment later. Then I simply kept on -- easing the sleeves off her folded elbows, slipping the neckhole over her head. At first, she kept her upper arms pressed against her sides, protecting her breasts from view.
My pulse speeded up at the sight of her long, lightly tanned body with its narrow ribcage and slender waist. She really didn't look nineteen. And I was encouraged by her silent lack of protest.
I justified having removed her shirt by industriously massaging her shoulders and back for a quarter of an hour and she relaxed again. Her eyes fluttered shut and she finally folded her hands under her cheek. Her smile and soft animal sounds of appreciation seemed to mean she was enjoying whatever it was that was happening to her.
By the time I'd finished working on Michelle's back, I was kneeling beside her legs, staring at the barely concealed cleft of her small, firm bottom. Her buttocks clenched and relaxed as if she could feel the warmth of my gaze. I slid my hands slowly up and down the backs of her legs, from her slender ankles to the tops of her thighs, just a thumb's breadth from her crotch. She shifted her legs slightly but didn't say a word as my hands wandered. I wondered what her response would be if I stopped being relatively harmless and made a serious effort at seduction. My erection was growing and stiffening and the adrenalin rush was making my hands shake and my mouth dry up.
I took a deep, silent breath, hooked my fingers carefully under the elastic, and slowly rolled those tiny panties off her lovely little ass. Michelle seemed to be ignoring me until I had a thin roll of purple cotton stretched across the lower boundary of her buttocks. It was caught between her thighs, and between her body and the sofa-bed; to go any further in removing her last bit of clothing, I would have to tug and jerk her panties down her legs, which would destroy any vestige of casual contact. It might break the spell and force my sister-in-law to acknowledge what was going on.
Then Michelle turned her head the other way, apparently determined to leave me entirely on my own. This is as far as she'll let me go, I thought. Well, I could still get a lot of pleasure from stroking and petting that slim young body.
But then she sighed lightly and shifted her hips in such a way that her rolled-up panties were released. She seemed to be pretending to have fallen asleep again; her nonchalant movement was meant to seem coincidental. She wasn't going to do anything to assist me in this game of chicken, but she was willing to be done to.
I slipped the small handful of material off her feet and sat back to let my eyes wander over her nakedness. I reached out -- oh, so gently -- and slowly stroked each of her cheeks, letting my thumb trail along the crevice between them. The tiniest of shivers traveled across her ass; she was reacting whether she wanted me to know it or not.
Now I had a choice: I could try to work my way between her thighs from behind, which would involve a lot of ungraceful pushing and prodding. Or, I could try to roll my young sister-in-law over on her back -- but if she chose not to cooperate, the whole adventure would end right there. Or, I could continue to work with what I had, take a minimum of chances, and see what developed. Being unwilling to lose what I'd already gained, I chickened out and went with the third option.
I could still improve the odds, though. My cutoffs were old and loose-fitting and I was able to stand, shuck off the shorts without moving the zipper, and kneel again on the bed in only a second or two. My cock was at full arousal now; it was probably just as well that Michelle had turned her head away or the sudden shock of seeing what she had wrought might have spoiled everything.
Again moving slowly and gently, I shifted over and straddled those pretty thighs, carefully laying my rigid cock along the crevice of her ass. Then I bent forward, running my tongue up her spine to her neck. Her shoulders trembled when my penis twitched between our bodies. She couldn't pretend to be asleep or uninvolved any longer.
My tongue reached the shell of her ear. I pushed the strands of hair away and whispered very softly, "Do you have any idea how pretty you are, Michelle? And how sexy?" My warm breath in her ear sent another little shiver down her neck and her shoulders hunched.
"What are you doing to me?" she replied shakily.
"Nothing you don't secretly want me to do, I think." I made my cock twitch. "And you're having quite an effect on me, too." I nibbled the edge of her ear and she trembled again. At the same time, my palms were easing around her ribs and under her body. Almost reflexively, she raised herself up a couple inches to allow me access, and suddenly her small, round breasts were warmly cupped in my hands. I caught her nipples between my fingers and her breathing stalled.
"Why don't you turn over and face me. . . ?" I suggested quietly.
"You -- you know why," she stammered.
"Because you'll want to . . . to put it in." Her voice was faint and a bit plaintive.
"Maybe you want me to, Michelle. We're lying here naked, aren't we? What is it you *really* want to happen?" I still had to get her to commit herself.
"I dunno -- I dunno. . . ."
I responded to her uncertainty by squeezing her tits enough to make her aware of how stiff her nipples had become. Then I raised my hips to free my cock, which immediately began to drill straight down toward her crotch. After a moment, she whimpered as her ass wiggled beneath me and her thighs parted just enough. I followed up my advantage, pushing down and forward until the tip of my penis reached the warm, moist entrance to her cunt. I couldn't actually enter her from that angle, but I rubbed myself back and forth against my target until a flush rose up her neck and across her cheek.
Michelle buried her face in the pillow and tried unsuccessfully to smother a ragged moan as her warm bottom began rising to meet my slow exploratory strokes. The whole experience of seduction felt wonderful . . . but I realized suddenly that if I continued humping her pretty little ass, my apparently inexperienced sister-in-law was likely to have an orgasm from that alone, and it would all be over.
I eased myself out and moved to the bed beside her, letting my vibrating erection brush her waist. And I immediately slid two fingers down into the warm spot my cock had just vacated. She didn't draw her legs together and I was able to stroke her moist lips and ease one fingertip just inside.
"You can't hide, sweetheart," I said softly. "Turn over here toward me. You know I'm not going to hurt you."
She gave a kind of frustrated sob and when she levered herself up on her elbows, her face only a few inches from mine, I saw the glitter of tears. "I never did this before," she said. I must have looked blank -- she was nineteen, after all -- because she added, "I've never been naked -- or in bed -- with a boy . . . a man. I've made out plenty of times, . . . but I'm a virgin." She blinked and chewed her lip.
That put a rather different complexion on things. I was willing to seduce a pretty young girl, even my sister-in-law, in the way of sport and from motives of purely physical lust. But depriving her of her virginity. . . . That seemed a much greater responsibility, even to me. During the few seconds it took me to mull this over, Michelle's eyes wandered over her shoulder. She focused on my engorged penis, jutting out like a bowsprit, and her eyes widened and her cheeks went red. She swallowed and turned over on her side, slowly and gracefully. Then she looked me straight in the eye, stretching her arm along her flank in a deliberately sexy pose. I took in the rigid pink nipples, the muscles fluttering on her flat stomach, the sparse blonde curls at the joining of her slender thighs. The invitation couldn't be much more obvious. I stroked her cheek; her chin lifted and her eyes drooped shut. I leaned forward and fastened my lips on a nipple, sucking it in and running my tongue across the tip. Her sharp intake of breath was loud in my ear and she steadied herself with her free hand on my shoulder -- the first time she had touched me that morning.
I nudged her over onto her back as I sucked at her marvelous tit and she went, slowly but willingly enough, I thought. I stroked her thick hair with one hand while the other slid down her stomach and caressed the silky mound above her pussy. Her thighs parted again, as if by magic, and I began a cautious exploration of her molten center. There was no hurry and I wanted my sister-in-law thoroughly aroused. I wanted an involved partner, a mutual seducer.
She jerked a little when I drew a fingertip across her emerging clit. "God! I can feel that all the way to my toes!" she said hoarsely. I traced the outline of her labia and carefully plumbed her depths, coming back to tease her protruding clit every few seconds. Her breathing became more and more ragged.
Tugging at her nipple, I finally let it pop out of my mouth and maneuvered myself down the length of her body. I parted her thighs and nuzzled the little patch of blonde hair, inhaling the heady fragrance that wafted up from her glowing cunt. Then my tongue went to work, separating those full pink lips and licking at the bright red bud I found there.
Michelle's hands locked in my hair and squeezed in rhythm with the soft "ohhhh . . ." sounds I heard. When I sucked in the head of her clit and touched my teeth to it, she jerked and began frantically tugging at my head.
I was afraid I had frightened her, that she had finally reached her limit. But when I raised my head to reassure her, she murmured, "Do it. . . ." I paused and she repeated more firmly, "Do it! Put it in -- please! I won't tell Marie, I promise -- but you've gotta do it to me, *now*!" My cock grew even stiffer, if that was possible.
As I sat up, I cupped my hand over her pussy and squeezed lightly; she moaned and moved her head back and forth. Her eyes were shut tight and her hands now clutched the pillow behind her head. If I just climbed on and stuck it in, she'd stay hidden behind her eyelids the whole time -- which wasn't what I had in mind at all.
Michelle was a little startled when I slipped my hands under her shoulders and scooped her up. "Come up here on my lap," I said as I settled myself so she could get her legs around my waist. I helped her raise herself up with a hand under her ass from behind. It was a good thing she was so slender or we might not have managed it. "Keep your eyes on my face," I said. "Watch me as I watch you." And I eased her down onto my waiting cock.
I'd already discovered she had no hymen and I entered her easily enough, though it was a wonderfully snug fit. Her eyes widened as I filled her up and she clutched at my shoulders. I pulled her hips even closer and she began to pant, mouth open. The sexual flush covered her from breasts to hairline and at that moment she was absolutely beautiful, radiant with discovery. Holding her hips, I began thrusting in and out, just a little at first. Her arms went round my neck and I steered her into a long, hot kiss. My tongue pushed into her mouth as my penis pushed into her vagina. She shook with a combination of arousal, shock, and muscle tension, but she sucked on my probing tongue with newfound abandon. Then her lips were at my ear, whispering. "Ohhhh, . . . it's wonderful, . . . it feels so, so nice, . . . oh, . . . I never knew. . . ."
"Fuck me back, sweetheart. Work at it if you like it. . . ."
She dug her heels into the bed and pulled her groin hard against mine. "Oh, yes, . . . oh, fuck, ohhhh . . . uhhhhnnnn. . . ." She trailed off into a grunt of animal pleasure.
The penetration was great and the closeness of our bodies was terrific, but I couldn't move freely enough to bring this girl to the kind of climax she deserved. I bent my knees out of the way and tipped her over backward without quite losing genital contact. Michelle lifted her long legs, intending to hook them around my back, but I urged them on upward until her trim ankles were over my shoulders. I leaned forward, bending her in half, and pushed into her hard enough to make her gasp. We got into the rhythm and I plowed her furrow wide and deep.
As I increased speed, Michelle's face went scarlet and sweat droplets appeared on her forehead and coursed down her cheeks. She was beyond speech, gasping and grunting as she worked to get me even deeper inside her. Finally, her face tensed and she bared her teeth and closed her eyes tight. The rapid spasms in her enveloping cunt were like a velvet hand milking me and that was all it took. I went through a few heart-stopping spasms of my own as I shot fountains of semen into her depths.
Her legs fell loosely to the sides and she stared at me with a look of disbelief. As a parting gesture, I leaned forward to gain friction against her throbbing clit and thrust -- hard -- several times before I succumbed to limpness. Michelle twitched and jerked, and giggled a little in response. Then my erection was deflating and withdrawing of its own accord, and an expression of loss passed across her face -- and that meant a lot to me.
I lay on my side next to my exhausted and red-faced sister-in-law and stroked her hair out across the pillow as I caught my breath. She was still peering deep into my eyes, as if she couldn't believe what had just happened to her, so I leaned over and kissed her softly. She responded and blinked, and then sighed deeply.
"Wow . . ." she whispered. Talk about understatement. "Now what do we do?" That started me thinking fast. This whole thing had been very spur-of-the-moment and I certainly hadn't thought about "after." Naturally, I stalled.
"What do you want to happen, Michelle?"
"God, I don't know!" She was becoming nervous. "I just had my ticket punched, didn't I? Are we lovers now? And what happens if. . . ?" She stopped and bit her lip.
The pregnancy thing. Yeah -- pretty stupid of me. Marie was on the Pill and there were no condoms in the house even if I'd thought to use one. Well, no point in sweating that right now. I stroked her cheek and smiled reassuringly.
"Sweetheart, don't worry unless there's something to worry about, okay? The odds are against it, though." I paused and got my mind in order. "Yes, I guess we are lovers . . . for this morning. But this morning won't happen again, Michelle. Don't get me wrong -- I'm not at all sorry it happened. Making love with you is astonishing!" She gave me a melting look that made my tongue tingle. This wasn't some bimbo I'd just fucked and I felt suddenly and surprisingly protective toward her. "But letting this develop into an affair would be a bad idea. It would spoil everything." Michelle nodded slowly in agreement.
I touched her cheek again. "We just made love -- but you're not *in* love with me, you know that as well as I do. I guess I was just the right guy in the right place and time. Someone you know, someone you could trust not to hurt you. And I'm pleased I was your first. But don't let yourself think you're suddenly *in* love. It's not the same thing." I gave her my best intimate smile. "I think I'm always going to be a little sweet on you, Michelle. But I really am in love with Marie." She kept watching me, didn't even blink. "I guess that sounds hypocritical, doesn't it? Especially lying here in bed with another woman, but--"
She turned on her side to face me and touched a finger to my lips. "I know what you're trying to say. I do, really. If I thought we were going to be sneaking off to motels or something, I'd feel really bad. I'd feel really guilty. But I feel so good, now that I-- now that we've fucked--" (she pronounced it carefully and only blushed a little) "--I guess there's no room for guilt. I like staying here with you guys, too, and I don't want to have to worry about what might happen every time I'm alone with you. I mean, what *I* might do," she giggled as I was about to protest. "If we can agree not to fuck ever again, it'll all be okay, won't it? And I'll be able to remember later how nice it was, doing it with you. I'm glad it *was* you. . . ."
What a sweetheart. I scooted closer and kissed her again, long and lingeringly. Not passionately, really, not at first, though my arm slipped around her waist and I hugged her close. She cuddled back, bending her knee and stroking my leg with the sole of her foot. It was her fingers twined in the hair at the back of my head, teasing and tugging -- that was what did it. My cock woke up more quickly than my mind did, rising and twitching toward her damp crotch. She felt its prodding, of course, and leaned against me as she hummed a little in her throat.
From her waist, my hand moved to stroke the silky curves of that pretty ass. Her fingers slipped down to tentatively grasp my erection. It twitched again in her warm hand and when our kiss tapered off she looked down to watch as her caress explored its renewed rigidity. It was delicious torture -- and she knew it, too, because she shot me a knowing glance and squeezed playfully. God, I wanted her, almost worse than the first time!
I did an abrupt end-for-end flip so Michelle could get better acquainted with my penis, up close and personal. I didn't expect her to suck my cock and I didn't suggest it -- but the girl kept surprising me. After stroking it a few times, she scrunched down and wrapped her hot little tongue around its head. My toes curled at the exquisite sensations and it was my turn to moan uncontrollably.
Her hips twisted at my urging and I fastened my lips to her bottom, kissing and licking and nibbling her sweet flesh. It must have tickled because she shivered, sending tiny seismic waves across her ass. It was beautiful to watch.
When she sucked my cock into her mouth and lightly squeezed my balls with her free hand, I knew I had to return the favor. I turned her back on her side and nudged her thighs apart; she cooperated willingly and I wondered just what-all she had done with her boyfriends, short of fucking them.
Michelle's pubic hair, what little there was of it, was damp and matted and tasted wonderfully of sex. She trembled again when I sucked on her mound and combed the hair between my teeth. Then I was sucking at her tender labia, darting my tongue all around the edges of her cunt, pushing my nose into her steaming depths. Any reservations I had about tasting my own fluids in her were overcome by a desire to grab a ladder and climb up inside her. She reacted by trying to push her crotch even farther into my mouth and by tugging at my testicles. I dawned on me finally that if we kept this up I was going to waste my last opportunity with Michelle by coming in her mouth or across her breasts. Not a bad thing ordinarily, but far inferior to a galloping fuck. I was squeezing and massaging her buttocks and I decided that what I really wanted was to feel that gorgeous little butt pressed into my groin as I entered her from behind.
Pulling my head reluctantly from between her thighs, I asked hoarsely, "One more time?"
My cock left her mouth with a soft *pop* and she groaned, "God, yes! Oh, please. . . !"
I got up on my knees and pushed her gently onto her stomach and then moved around between her legs. I held her hips and she quickly pulled her knees under and raised her ass for me. I guess I knew even at the time that part of the appeal that rear-entry has always had for me is the symbolically vulnerable position it puts the woman in. But my sister-in-law's best physical feature was her perfectly smooth, tightly muscled little butt. I wanted to study the way it moved when I got into her cunt again.
I stroked the warmth between her legs, fingers tracing the paths my tongue had blazed earlier. Michelle hunched and then arched her back and I heard a soft, yearning "ohhhh . . ." escape her lips. My fingertips drifted up the soft dividing line and paused at her asshole; I pressed lightly against the rubbery ring and she tensed and hissed in between her teeth. I knew she wasn't ready for a wiggling forefinger in her rectum, but I was tempted.
Then I was sweeping the entrance to her cunt with the head of my cock and she trembled again and whispered, "Put it in -- ahhh . . . -- do it, do it, please!" And I was inside her, clasped by that hot, electric passage. She wiggled her bottom side to side as I pushed in deep and I could feel the unconscious flexing of her vaginal muscles.
As narrow as my sister-in-law was through the hips, her waist was even more slender and my view of the back side of her young body from above was truly beautiful and truly sexy. Even the way her slightly bony pelvis protruded at the sides was arousing, in a waifish way. I continued to run my hands over her thighs and to squeeze and pinch her butt as I thrust in and out. The force of my plunges rocked her on her elbows and knees; she clutched at the sheet to keep her balance, but from the way her ass was banging back to meet my movements, I knew she was getting off on this little control fantasy as much as I was. Still, I didn't let myself get carried away. Part of me wanted to wrap a double handful of that luxurious blonde hair around my fists, like drawing in the reins on a pony, but that might have frightened her. I'd never had my penis in a girl's rectum, either (my one attempt with Marie had been a washout), and I ached to fuck this lovely young girl's ass . . . but I knew that wasn't even a possibility. But my cock seemed happy -- joyful, even -- with the present arrangement.
After the first few minutes, Michelle couldn't maintain her posture and had to let her knees slide out from under her, but I stayed buried in her as we settled. I spread out my knees on either side of hers and urged her legs together. Our snug fit became even tighter and I was almost able to imagine that I *was* fucking her in the ass.
I took up the rhythm again and was delighted when she humped back at me, her muscular bottom thrusting vigorously up against my groin. Her fingers spread out beside her head and then balled into fists. I covered her hands with mine and stretched them out far to her sides, like a crucifix. It increased the illusion of control and her body writhed as I pumped.
As we climbed the mountain, her respiration increased and her grunts rose in pitch to squeals. I was nibbling at her neck and nipping her shoulders and she shivered and shuddered as I grazed. I stuck my tongue in her ear and exhaled warmly and heavily; Michelle hunched her shoulders and wiggled even more. When I came a moment later, I was gasping like a pearl diver rising to the surface. That sound in her ear helped push her over the edge as well . . . and the fact that I bit down on her earlobe a little harder than I had intended. She squeaked and jerked -- and then the rest of her shivered and trembled for thirty seconds.
We lay like the dead for awhile, hardly moving as we gulped air. I managed to get up on my elbows to relieve the weight on her, but I stayed inside her as long as my exhausted cock would cooperate. I kissed her shoulder and she purred contentedly, apparently in no hurry to move either.
Finally, though, I rolled off to lie on my back, sweating. She found my hand and squeezed it. "I don't believe this," she said quietly. "How am I ever going to find someone of my own who can do this to me?"
That was very flattering but I laughed anyway. "Michelle, you won't have any trouble at all finding someone -- that's my prediction for the year." I interlaced my fingers with hers and we lay holding hands for awhile. Finally, I sighed and squeezed her hand. "Time for me to get up, I'm afraid." I couldn't stay in her bed forever, much as I might want to.
When I stood and stretched, Michelle bounced out right behind me. How did she recoup her energy so quickly? Well, she'd certainly lost her earlier shyness because she slipped her long arms around my neck and kissed me lightly while deliberately brushing her tits across her chest. I let my hands rest easily on her waist and didn't try to follow up on the kiss; our passions were temporarily sated and our embrace was one of easy affection. Then she rubbed noses with me Eskimo-style and smiled.
"I still don't quite believe we did all this. That *I* did it. But I'm glad I did. You can't stay a virgin forever and this was so much better than it would have been, giving in to one of the boys I dated. Everyone lives at home back there; you have to do it in a car or on a picnic table or someplace uncomfortable like that. And you have to hurry before someone catches you with your pants down. And it's such a small town that if you have sex with a guy, three days later *everybody* knows all about it. I guess that's the main reason I waited so long. I think I'm going to like living in the city. . . ."
She winked and bumped my hipbone with hers, and I grinned back. Her
smile went soft again as she added, "You're a terrific first lover, too.
I'm really lucky." We shared a last slow, soft kiss and then Michelle headed
for the bathroom. I pulled on my shorts and threw out the cold coffee.
Marie got back late Sunday, tired from all the driving and worn out by her mother. But she assured her sister that the Old Woman would get over it. She hit the sack early so I joined her and we put in a hour or so of cuddling and relaxed lovemaking before drifting off to sleep.
Michelle resumed her job-hunting on Monday and landed a spot as a bookkeeping
clerk before the week was out. Another week, and she'd found another girl
with an affordable apartment who needed a roommate. She also made sure
I knew she had started her period. There were hugs all around when we helped
her get moved in. My sister-in-law and I exchanged casual pats and shoulder-squeezes
and Marie was obviously pleased that we got along so well. Michelle and
I did not exchange significant glances or other gestures and I played fair
by not grabbing her ass (though I certainly enjoyed watching it). If Marie
suspected anything had occurred between us -- which I doubted -- she gave
no sign of it.
Two years later, Michelle married a young accountant she'd met at work
and set about having a family. They stayed in the area and after their
two girls started school, Michelle went back to work part-time . . . not
because they needed the money but because she had too much energy to be
"just" a housewife. She and I continued our warm and affectionate relationship
and her husband and I also discovered mutual interests, so about once a
month Michelle and Phil would come over for the evening, or we'd go over
there, or we'd all go out someplace together. Marie and I worked hard at
having kids of our own but we never managed it. Low sperm count, they said,
but I've never counted them. In retrospect, Michelle probably never had
to worry about getting pregnant by me. She's quite happy, however, to allow
me to lavish all the attention and avuncular adoration I like on my nieces.
Both girls are in high school now, breaking hearts by the dozen.
Michelle and Phil invited us to join them at Turnpike Stadium last Saturday (the Forty-Niners were in town on a road trip and the corporation of which Phil is now CFO owns a skybox) and we all went back to our place afterward for hot strudel. Naturally, the ice cream was gone and I announced that I was making a run to Tom Thumb for a gallon of French Vanilla. Michelle stopped me with my hand on the front doorknob and asked if I would mind some company on my errand of mercy. How could I mind?
As I was backing down the driveway, my sister-in-law shifted around in her seat, reached over, and tickled the back of my neck. That surprised me; we hugged frequently but this sort of intimate touch was different. I glanced over at her grin and said "What's gotten into you, kid?" "Well, today's an anniversary -- were you aware of that?"
I considered the possibilities. No birthdays that I should be expected to know. Not her wedding anniversary and certainly not mine. I shrugged, shook my head, and waited to be enlightened.
"It was twenty years ago today, . . ." she began crooning softly in my ear. ". . . And you really taught me how to play. . . ." She stuck her wet little tongue in my ear for a moment and I nearly ran up on the curb. I tried to stare at her cat-and-canary grin and watch the road at the same time. We hadn't ever discussed that morning of reckless passion, not once in twenty years. I replayed my memories occasionally but I'd kept my promise and we'd become the closest of friends -- but that was all. And neither of our spouses had ever had reason to question my relationship with Michelle. But neither had I been counting the years.
She must be right, though. I was a well-maintained forty-six and she was a trim and still very pretty thirty-nine. God, . . . she'd doubled in age since our encounter. How was that possible? Michelle was watching me work through my repertoire of facial expressions.
"About a year ago, I was reading through one of my old diaries," she said, "and I suddenly realized how many years it had been. I even marked it on my calendar, can you believe that? Twenty years since my first fuck. How are we going to celebrate such an auspicious occasion?" she added with a twinkle.
"I'll think of something," I smirked as I pulled into the supermarket parking lot. Michelle had a lot of fun while we wandered up and down the aisles, clinging to my arm and blowing in my ear and batting her eyes. I kept glancing around to see if anyone I knew was in the store, especially anyone who might know Marie by sight, but I lucked out. My sister-in-law's playfulness didn't embarrass me but I didn't want to have to explain the reason for it to anyone. On the drive back, I said, "You're right: We ought to do something to commemorate your deflowering. . . ."
We both thought silently about that for several blocks. Michelle finally asked, in a very cautious tone, "What did you have in mind, exactly?" I was turning the corner onto my block. "Well, . . . you can invite me over for a wild weekend. Just get rid of your husband and kiddies. We can demonstrate to each other what we've learned in two decades."
She tried to simulate shock but lost it in a fit of giggles. "And *you* can kiss my ass. . . !" I pulled into the driveway and paused with the garage door opener in my hand. "Frankly, my dear, I would be delighted." And I gave her a Rhett Butler sneer.
I expected a witty rejoinder but as the garage door went up, Michelle got up on her knees facing away from me and smiled. "I expect that could be arranged." I pulled into the garage rather hastily as she began pushing her pants down.
I set the brake and watched her in disbelief as the door closed and left us in dim shadows. Her slacks and her black satin panties were bunched around the top of her thighs and she'd gathered her shirttail up around her waist. Her lovely bottom was just as I remembered it -- smooth and firm and luscious. For a woman pushing forty who'd had two kids, she had a remarkably young ass.
I figured I only had a few seconds before Marie or Phil wondered why we hadn't arrived in the kitchen yet and came out to investigate. I stroked one silky cheek and murmured "Beautiful. . . ." Her bawdy grin became softer. I scooted closer and put my hands on her hips, then bent to plant a wet, lingering kiss beside the cleft dividing her butt. Michelle sighed a little. What she'd intended as a ribald joke had become a kind of reaffirmation.
Before she could move, however, I bent a little farther and fastened my mouth on the soft flesh near the bottom of her ass, sucking in hard and biting down just a little. Michelle smothered a squeal and tried to push me away but I hung on to her and increased the vacuum. When I finally let go and sat back, she shot me a venomous look before trying to peer down her own backside, but a smile kept trying to break through.
"You bastard! If you gave me a hickey. . . !"
"I certainly hope so," I replied with a broad smile.
"And how am I going to explain to Phil how I got a sucker-mark on my butt?!"
"Don't explain it. Let him wonder. Probably be good for him." I nodded sagely.
She snorted as she pulled up her pants. "Yeah -- and I love you, too. I guess I'll just have to cover my ass for a few days . . . so to speak."
Both our spouses gave us odd looks as Michelle and I entered the kitchen
with the gallon of French Vanilla, arm in arm and roaring with laughter.
--- END ---
Copyright 1993 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and posted elsewhere
personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights are reserved.