A Visit to My Sister's Pt. 02

"I don't think I can do a fast..." Janet began saying.

I interrupted her. "Shut up," I said, "Let's dance."

The couples on the dance floor were a mixed match, ranging from young women showing off their pierced belly buttons and tattoos to couples in their sixties having a good time on their monthly night out.

Janet had a way of moving that invited me to keep my eyes on her. Her jacket was unbuttoned and I could see her breasts gently swaying under her blouse. Her lush hips twisted in time with the beat. As we danced, her eyes would close for a few moments, then open, then look into mine.

The song ended and the band went into a slow swing-era ballad. The girls with the pierced belly buttons and their boyfriends all seemed to disappear from the dance floor. At first, I held Janet at a distance, our only contact being my right hand lightly touching her waist and my left hand holding hers. I felt comfortable dancing with her, as if we'd done it many times before, and as the song progressed; I realized that I'd unconsciously pulled her closer to me. I could feel the gentle contact of her breasts against my chest. Our thighs occasionally brushed against each other's as we moved around the dance floor.

I turned my head and peered toward the far corner of the bar. Roy was sitting there, wine in hand, looking in our direction.

"So Roy doesn't like to dance?" I asked, my mouth just a few inches from her ear.

"We danced, years ago," Janet replied, "after we got married, but I think he just lost interest in it."

"His loss," I said, "you're a very good dancer. What's he thinking now?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's watching us dancing. How do you think he feels about it? Is he jealous?"

"No, I don't think he gets jealous, because..."

"Because what?" I asked.

"Because there's nothing to be jealous of. I mean, because we don't have a...," she paused, "we don't have a relationship to be jealous about. Even though we work together, we never talk about anything personal. We don't do anything fun together. We haven't...," again, she paused.

"Haven't what?"

"We haven't, you know...made love... in at least five or six months. I just don't think he's interested in me anymore."

She looked up into my eyes. I saw a small tear beginning to form in the corner of her eye. I wiped it away with the back of my hand.

"Hey, no more tears," I said, "Remember - Hot damn! We're having a hell of a good time tonight!"

I smiled and she smiled back at me.

Sometimes in life we have to make decisions based on incomplete knowledge. We're given messages, but the messages aren't always entirely clear. At that instant, I think I was given such a message. It was a subtle movement on Janet's part. As we danced, one finger of her right hand lightly stroked up and down against the palm of my left hand. Her left arm, held lightly around my shoulder, slowly pulled me closer until I could feel her full, soft breasts pushing harder into my chest. She lowered her head slightly, until her face was nuzzled tight against my neck and shoulder. And then her hips made a slow, almost imperceptible forward motion until our lower bodies contacted each other, not tightly or firmly or roughly, just a gently contact between our pelvises as we danced.

I knew her actions were a message. Whether done consciously or not, I wasn't sure. And the message wasn't entirely clear. Maybe I'd regret it later, but I made a decision based on this incomplete knowledge.

Her body felt so perfect, moving slowly against mine, as if we'd been dancing together for years. I was disappointed when the song ended. We separated and turned to head back to our seats. The group started another slow ballad, and Nancy tapped me on my shoulder.

"Just one more?" she asked, "I really like to dance."

I nodded. But this time it was different. This time I'd made my decision. Instead of taking her right hand in my left, I put my left arm around waist leaving nowhere for her arms to go but around my shoulders. I put my right arm around her waist and pulled her toward me. Our bodies came together. A soft moan escaped Janet's mouth.

We began to sway to the music. Her body felt so good and soft and natural, and I became aware that my cock was slowly beginning to respond. I could feel it pushing against my pants, and I knew in turn it was pushing against Janet. I didn't care. I couldn't stop it even if I'd wanted to. And I didn't want to.

As we moved around the dance floor, my right hand slid lower on Janet's back, until I began to feel the gentle outward swell of her hips. I held my hand there for a few moments. Then my hand slipped lower until it gently rested against her asscheek. Janet moaned softly, and I pulled her tighter to me. Her breath was hot and moist against my neck, her perfume sweet, sexy and inviting.

With my right hand, I gently stroked her ass, caressing it, then firmer, holding her ass in my hand, kneading and molding it like clay. I could feel the material of her skirt sliding over the silky texture of the pantyhose underneath. With every step we took, I could feel my cock brushing against her.

I've always considered myself to be a good judge of people, but what happened next made me wonder. As we danced, Janet whispered something. She said it softly, her mouth against my neck, and I didn't understand her.

"What?" I whispered back.

She drew her head back slightly, "I said, Fuck him!" she whispered a little louder, "I said, Fuck him, and fuck everything about him. I have my own life to live and he's ruined enough of it. I hate him!"

That was it. Simple and straightforward. And there was nothing I could say, no response I could make that would either help or hurt, so I just held her close and we continued to dance.

"Tom," she said, looking up into my eyes, "Tom, I would...." She paused, unable to finish the sentence.

"Tell me."

She was blushing. She stared straight into my eyes. Her lips were slightly parted. I could feel her breasts moving against me and I realized she was breathing harder.

"I would...I would...make love to you if you wanted. If you had any desire at all for me."

"Any desire?" I asked incredulously. "Can't you feel me against you. I can't think of anything I'd rather do on earth than make love to you."

"And Tom," she continued, her voice still hardly more than a whisper, "I want him to know. I want him to see. I want to hurt him. I want to hurt him bad. Will you help me?"

*****

Life is a series of choices and at this moment, I considered mine. I should probably finish this dance, politely thank Janet for the nice evening, and leave. That would be the prudent course of action. If they had problems, I had no obligation to help solve them, and certainly no reason do anything that would make their problems worse. I made up my mind to leave.

I glanced across to the far corner of the bar. Roy had turned his chair to face the dance floor. He was watching us now as we danced. He was watching as my hand cupped his wife's ass. He was watching as our bodies molded themselves against each other. He was watching, showing no expression, doing nothing to stop it.

I realized then that I really didn't give a shit about their problems. I didn't give a shit about Roy's job offer and whether he took the job or not. After this conference, I probably wouldn't see either of them, ever again.

But I continued to caress Janet's ass with my hand, and felt my cock rub against her with each dance step we took, and felt her breasts brushing against my chest, and I knew then that all I cared about at the moment was my own selfish needs. My own desires. Janet had said it herself. "I have my own life to live." I had my own life to live, too. The choice was made for me. I couldn't leave. And I knew what had to happen by the end of the evening.

*****

"Yes," I whispered into her ear. "Yes, I'll help you."

"But I'm not sure how..."

"Do you trust me?" I asked. She nodded her head.

"Will you do whatever I say?"

"Yes," she whispered.

The song ended and we made our way back to our seats. Janet sat on the couch, and I sat down beside her. Roy shifted his chair to face us.

"You don't know what you're missing." I said to him, "Janet is a great dancer."

"I just never learned," he muttered.

"She's a great lady," I said, "You're a lucky guy."

His response was simple. "Yeah."

He took another sip of wine. For a moment, I had a strong desire to get up and punch him in the face. He was an unfeeling, arrogant asshole. But I quickly decided he wasn't worth the effort.

I continued, "Your wife is very attractive. If you're not careful someone will get her on the dance floor and not want to bring her back. You might end up going back to your room alone some night."

I turned to Janet. "I liked that. I liked dancing with you." She blushed. I reached up and lightly caressed her cheek with the back of my finger. "Don't blush. I mean it. Thank you."

I lifted my Scotch and looked from Janet to Roy. "I'd like to propose a toast," I said, "to health, wealth, and happiness. And not necessarily in that order. And, of course, to new friends."

Janet picked up her wine glass. "To new friends," she said, clicking the rim of her glass against mine.

Roy suddenly leaned forward in his chair. He stared at me with a serious look on his face.

"Look, why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why are you so intent on...on making a scene tonight?"

"I'm not making a scene," I answered, "your wife's been neglected. I'm giving her the attention she needs and deserves."

"You can play your little games all you want, but you won't drag me down to your filthy level," he said.

"My level? You mean the level of being a decent human being? The level of caring for the feelings of others? What level do you mean?"

"Your mind is in the gutter. You're making a fool of yourself in public, groping and pawing her like that. It was vulgar and disgusting. You may enjoy acting like an animal, but you can count me out. I have my standards."

"Maybe if you tried being a little vulgar and disgusting with her, you'd be upstairs in bed having the time of your life instead of being down here arguing with me."

He ignored my comment.

"And her," he said, nodding his head toward Janet, "she's not much better than you. Ever since we got married, it's been a struggle to keep her decent. But I succeeded."

"You've certainly succeeded in keeping her under your thumb. You've succeeded in stifling her ability to grow and develop into her own self. You've tried to make her just like you. But maybe that's not what she is. Maybe that's not what she wants."

"All you know about is satisfying your immediate desires," he said, his voice increasing in volume until it was almost a frantic whine. "You made a fool of yourself in public with her just to humiliate me. But it won't work. I'd like to see someone like you humiliate me. That would be the day! You may be able to paw at my wife like a teenager on the dance floor, but you'd never have the guts to try anything serious with her. You and her? Ha! I'd like to see that!" He shook is head in disgust and leaned back in the chair.

*****

At that moment, a thought entered my head and I suddenly I felt like the roof had opened and a bolt of lightning had struck me. It was too unbelievable to be true. Could it be possible? Was it conceivable? Was his subconscious brain playing tricks on him? Or did I simply have too vivid an imagination?

It was his words. His words had put the thought into my head. He may have meant something entirely different but his exact words were, "I'd like to see someone like you humiliate me." And more. He'd said, "You and her? I'd like to see that." I-would-like-to-see-that! I shook my head. I was imagining things.

Then I looked at him slumped back in his chair and immediately noticed a couple of things. His hands and arms were trembling ever so slightly, and down there, I could see it. The bulge in his pants. Not a huge bulge, but big enough to mean only one, unmistakable thing.

In my life, I've had plenty of arguments in bars, some of which had even come to blows. A couple of them were fights over women. And I knew one thing for certain - when you're angry; really angry, so angry that your hands and arms start trembling, two things happen to a man. First, his scrotum pulls tight up against his body. I'd read somewhere this was a product of evolution. On the Serengeti 500,000 years ago, it was nature's way of protecting dad's family jewels when the lion attacked. And secondly, that much fear or anger make a man's cock s shrink like a balloon that's been stuck with a pin. Men don't fight each other sporting hard-ons.

Roy wasn't trembling because he was angry or mad, he was trembling because he was turned on!

My mind had raced through all these thoughts in about half a millisecond, and it continued to work double-time. Did he see humiliation as a punishment for his feelings of guilt about ignoring his wife? Did he see me as a surrogate man to do to his wife what he didn't or couldn't do? I started to consider all the possibilities, but then I realized I didn't really care. I realized I didn't give a flying fuck about his problems, or the reasons behind them. So why waste time even thinking about it.

Now that I knew, what difference did it make? None. I took another sip of Scotch.

*****

"Roy, have you ever been unfaithful to Janet?"

"No, of course not," he said, frowning at me.

"Has she ever been unfaithful to you?"

"Of course not."

I turned to look at Janet. "Have you?"

Janet just shook her head no.

"Have you ever been tempted, Roy?"

"No, I'm married."

"Married men can be tempted. Haven't you ever been at the bank, or paid for your groceries at the checkout, and you look at the teller, or the cashier and you think what it would be like to be with her? You look at her, young and innocent, you look at the way her breasts swell out from under her blouse and you think what you could teach her, how much fun you could have together."

"No, my mind isn't always in the sewer like yours."

"Cuckold." I said the word and waited for their reaction.

Janet looked at me as if waiting for an explanation. Roy stared at me sullenly.

"You both know what it means. A man whose wife has cheated on him.

"How would it make you feel, Roy, if you knew you were a cuckold?"

"It wouldn't happen."

"How do you know? I think maybe, once or twice in the history of our species, it's happened to husbands who thought it wouldn't. So how do you know? No man can know."

"I know my wife."

"Do you?" I asked.

"Yes."

I turned to Janet. "Does he know you?"

Janet looked at me. I think she wasn't sure what to say, how to respond.

I repeated the question, "Does he know you?"

Janet looked at Roy, then back to me. She shook her head no.

"See Roy, we think we know, but we don't."

"You're sick," he said.

"Maybe so, Roy, but maybe that's what we all want. To be a little sick, instead of being perfect like you."

I looked at Janet. I looked into her eyes. "Are you with me? Do you still want to do it?" I said it in a whisper. She nodded her head.

"Roy, look at me," I said. He was still slouched back in his chair, a foul expression on his face.

"Roy, I'm going to make love to your wife tonight. No, I'm not going to make love to her, I'm going to fuck her. I'm going to make you a cuckold. She's going to be unfaithful to you tonight. We're going up to your room now. You have a choice, you can sit down here and imagine what we're doing, or you can come up with us. What will it be?"

Roy sunk deeper into his chair and frowned. He looked at Janet, then he looked at me. There was a long pause, then slowly, he leaned forward. Then he stood. He stood there, waiting to follow us to the room.

*****

Janet unlocked the door and we followed her inside. It was a typical hotel room. A double bed, a desk, a large floor to ceiling credenza with a pull-out TV.

I picked up the desk chair and put it beside the bed.

"Roy, sit here," I told him.

"Janet, I'd like to dance with you again. But let's find something more comfortable for you to wear." I opened the closet and picked out a red skirt and a plain white blouse. Socks and underwear were neatly stacked on shelves in the closet. I ruffled through Janet's stuff. Several pairs of white socks, three unopened packs of pantyhose, a bathing suit - one piece, of course. No thongs, no teddies, no sexy stockings or garter belts. Roy wouldn't have allowed it. I picked out a pair of plain white panties and handed the clothes to Janet.

"Go ahead and put these on," I told her. She was facing me, her back toward Roy.

"Janet," I said softly, "are you still with me on this? Now's your chance to get out."

There was a momentary hesitation, as if she wasn't sure. She turned to look at Roy, then back to me. Then she looked into my eyes and slowly nodded her head.

"Yes," she whispered, "I want to go through with it."

While Janet was in the bathroom, I turned on the radio on the night table, flipping from station to station until I found what I wanted - slow and easy music. Then I faced Roy.

"Roy," I asked, "Will you sit here without moving, or will I have to do something to make sure you don't move?"

He looked down at the floor without answering. I grabbed a tie from the closet.

"O.K., then, put your hands behind the chair," I told him.

"What? What are you...?"

"Just do it!"

I wrapped the tie around his wrists, then wrapped it two times around the vertical railing at the back of the chair and fastened it all together with a knot. I stood back and observed my work. Roy sat there, staring at the floor, his arms held behind him, still dressed in his black suit, white shirt, silk tie and wingtips. The bathroom door opened.

"You look beautiful," I told Janet as she stepped out. And I meant it. She looked down and blushed slightly. She'd put on eye shadow, a little bit of rouge, and lipstick. The difference was striking. Her face, normally pretty but plain, was now pretty and sexy. The eye shadow made her eyes seem to sparkle, and the bright red lipstick she'd put on made her lips fuller and more inviting, as if they were begging to be kissed.

The blouse was fitted a little tighter than the one she'd worn earlier, and without her jacket, it was now easier to imagine what was underneath. The full, round mounds of her breasts filled out the blouse nicely. Lower, her skirt hugged against her hips and helped highlight the curvy fullness of her ass.

Janet looked up and when she saw Roy tied to the chair, she let out a little gasp. I took her hand and lead her forward until we were standing in front of him.

"Janet, I want you to see what Roy thinks about all this. I want you to see what he thinks about becoming a cuckold. I want you to see the truth."

I reached down and began to unfasten Roy's belt.

"What the hell, what are you...?" he cried out, struggling against his bonds.

"Shut up!" I told him.

I unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper.

"Lift your hips," I commanded.

I grabbed the top of his pants and underwear, then with one motion, pulled them down to his knees, exposing, for all the world to see, his small but very, very hard cock, swollen and red, sticking straight up into the air. At it's tip, a drop of precum slowly formed.

Janet let out another gasp. I stood beside her and we looked at Roy. His face was red as he glared at us. I glanced at Janet. Obviously shocked by the entire situation, her expression was one of disbelief and confusion. But then, I saw her expression slowly change. At first, it was just a little upturn at the corners of her mouth. Then a little more, until it became a smile, then Janet brought her hands up, and covering her mouth, let out a little giggle. The little giggle soon became a laugh, and then her body started shaking with laughter as she stared at Roy, his hands tied behind the chair, sitting there with his suit coat still on, his tie neatly fastened at the collar of his formal white shirt and his pants around his knees exposing his little cock standing at attention. It was truly a ridiculous sight and I couldn't help chuckling myself. Roy's face became even redder.