At Gunpoint

byHarveyMarcus©

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further! Stop Reading This Now!!

This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.

If you enjoyed this story, please let me know!

Copyright © 2001, HarveyMarcus. All Rights Reserved.


* * * * * *

I won't bore you with the details of the circumstances under which I met and courted my wife. You only need to know that I first met her family a few days before our wedding. It was then that I met her sister, Tammy. Tammy was the kind of woman who would give every man in her vicinity an instant erection. She was pretty and sexy and bright and perky and all those things men didn't see in their existing female partners. I too was struck by Tammy but she would have nothing to do with me. After the ceremony, she hugged and kissed her sister, my new bride. She pretended to kiss my cheek but instead kissed the air. I didn't even to get to feel her ample breasts against my fully clothed body with a sister-in-lawly hug. Instead, she held my shoulders to keep me at a distance.

Soon after the wedding, just after my wife and I had set up a small apartment, my employer made some significant changes to the business. One was moving the whole company to another city. Soon my wife and I were on the other side of the country. With a raise and a bonus and a moving package, we could afford a small house with a spare bedroom that my wife insisted on, for guests who would never appear. With decreasing frequency, I would fantasize about Tammy, holding her, kissing her - you get the idea. She was always good as masterbation material. She saved me a few bucks every month instead of Playboy or Penthouse.

A couple of years after the wedding, when I was about at the point where Tammy was more illusion and less a real person, she called. Business was bringing her to our vicinity. All at once, the reality of Tammy snapped back. My wife, anxious to use our guest bedroom, insisted that Tammy stay with us. I tempered my outward enthusiasm. I was instantly hopeful that I'd get a chance glimpse at Tammy with less than all of her clothes on. Daydreams of Tammy coming out of the shower in a towel or to breakfast in a negligee filled my head and stiffened my manhood.

Tammy arrived at our home a few days later in an upscale rental car. Tammy was obviously doing very well for herself. I guessed she was putting her career ahead of any social commitments or relationships. My wife greeted her with a warm hug. I got a look of disdain. Tammy would be in town a few days, almost completely occupied by work. Tammy's business took her away from the house early in the morning and kept her away until late at night. My wife was frustrated that her sister was visiting but that she wasn't available to spend time with. I was just frustrated. My wife insisted we all have dinner together on Tammy's last evening in town. That would be the only chance for me to spend any time with her as well.

The night before the dinner outing I spent some time with my best buddy at our local watering hole. After a couple of beers, I spilled my guts and the bowl of pretzels that were on the table. I told him of my lust for my wife's sister, her proximity, the way she treated me since the wedding and her imminent departure. I hadn't even seen her less than fully clothed. "I don't think she'd pay attention to me if there was a gun pointed at her head," I mused. We finished our beers and I went home. Tammy was already asleep, another opportunity missed.

The next evening was our big night out. I locked up the house and drove us to the restaurant, with Tammy in the back seat. Over drinks and dinner, Tammy concentrated on her sister. It was as if I wasn't even there, ignored by both of them. They chatted like the two sisters they were, catching up on family and friends, memories and plans. I had been corect in y earlier assumption. Tammy was very successful at work and had ambitiously climbed the ladder of success. She still hadn't gotten involved in a steady relationship.

"No wonder," I thought, "if she treats other men like she treats me."

I drive us all home and parked the car. We sauntered into the house, weary from a long day, the drinks and a heavy meal. I hung up my wife's coat and held out my hand for Tammy's. She went to the hall closet to perform the task herself. We were all startled when a man in a ski mask jumped out of the kitchen waving a pistol.

"Okay, all of you, get in the living room," he demanded.

I wasn't about to argue with the nasty looking black gun he waved at us. My wife and Tammy also follwed his directions. He escorted us to the living room. The gunman dragged two chairs from the dining room table and faced them back to back.

"Tie him up on that chair," he snarled.

My wife and Tammy were about to go looking for rope when he amended his demand. He didn't want them out of his sight, for obvious reasons.

"You'll need to use something that's already here. I know, use your pantyhose," he finished.

They were startled by his request but were too afraid to argue. My wife went first, reaching up to remove her pantyhose. The gunman checked out my wife's legs as her skirt was raised by her movements.

"You too, sister," he snapped at Tammy.

He didn't know how right he was - Tammy was my wife's sister. Tammy cautiously lifted her skirt. It was just like one of my fantasies, where Tammy performed a strip tease just for me. I was shocked when, just like my fantasy, Tammy wasn't wearing pantyhose. She was wearing individual stockings with a garter belt. Despite the danger, I couldn't help but get an erection. Maybe this robbery was going to be worth it. I got a good look at her long, shapely legs almost all the way up to her panties. The man with the gun gave me second thoughts about jumping up from my chair and pushing my face in between Tammy's thighs. The fact that my wife had tied my hands behind me in the chair facing the gunman also helped keep me in my seat. Tammy used her two stockings to tie my legs to the front legs of one dining room chair. Kneeling on the ground, she couldn't help but see the bulge in my trousers. She scowled and my erection began to soften, despite my view down her blouse.

"Sit there," the gunman directed my wife to the chair behind me.

"Now tie her up," the gunman demanded of Tammy.

"With what?" Tammy inquired, almost in defiance of our uninvited guest.

Tammy had been hostile and distant from most men in her life. The guy with the gun seemed to be no exception.

"Use your blouse," he replied to Tammy's question.

She hesitated and he raised his gun directly at her. Tammy was still borderline defiant as the gunman moved his aim to my wife's head. Tammy was shocked and scared at his threat to her sister. Her hands went to the buttons of her blouse. She couldn't hide from both the gunman and me so we both got equally good views of her ample chest, encased in a frilly white blouse.

"Tear it into pieces," the gunman gave more explicit directions to Tammy.

With little effort the material separated into two sleeves and the remainder. Tammy used one sleeve to bind my wife's hands behind her back and the chair. She secured my wife's legs to the chair with the remainder and the other sleeve.

"You're a really foxy chick," the gunman paid Tammy a compliment.

She was unimpressed.

"He seems to think so too," added the intruder.

Tammy looked over at my lap. My erection had grown even bigger after getting a look at my sister-in-law without her blouse. I wondered how far this would go. I didn't have to wait long to find out.

"Let's see some more, huh? Drop your skirt, lady," the gunman said waving the gun in my wife's direction, "or your lady friend gets it."

"Oh please, Tammy, do what he says. Whatever he says. For me," pleaded my wife in fear for her life.

Tammy unbuttoned and unzipped the skirt. Gravity took it down her shapely legs to a puddle around her ankles. The view was too good to be true. Tammy's panties were frilly to match her bra and garter belt. Her pubic hair and mound were visible, sexier than I had ever imagined.

"Oh my, he seems to be in great discomfort. Why don't you unzip his pants and give him some relief," the gunman said.

Tammy looked at the gunman, his pistol and her sister's head.

"Tammy, do it," my wife shouted.

Tammy approached me and with finger tips only unbuckled my belt, and unhooked and unzipped my trousers. I raised up slightly from the chair so she could pull my pants down to my calves. She hooked her fingers in the sides of my jockey shorts and pulled them down to my knees. My erection popped out, pointing up at the woman who I had lusted after for all of those years. Tammy was surprised. I didn't know if she was turned on or grossed out at the turn of events.

"Give him a little lick," the gunman demanded.

"Like hell I will," Tammy snapped back.

"Please, Tammy, I think it's gross too, but what choice do we have?" my wife chimed in.

That much was true. My wife never went down on me. She found it dirty. The thought of Tammy's full lips on my prick go me even hotter. Tammy kneeled down in front of me, cleavage fully visible and gave my penis a small lick. It jumped.

"Go ahead, keep on going," the gunman directed.

Tammy took the head of my penis in her mouth. She must have had some practice because her toungue's movement was not that of a novice. The feeling was deliciously erotic. I wanted to cum in her mouth but held back with the possibility the gunman would demand something more fulfilling. As she continued, her enthusiasm seemed to grow right along with my rigid dick. I had the impression Tammy was getting some pleasure out of our forced liaison.

"You make a beautiful couple," the gunman suggested. "Now, how about the bra and panties."

"No, please," Tammy whined. Gone was her defiance. The gunman had broken her spirit.

"Tammy, do what he says," my wife admonished with her back to the proceedings.

Tammy unhooked her bra and slid the straps off her shoulders. Her breasts didn't sag even a fraction of an inch. Despite the situation, her nipples stuck out as if at attention. I didn't think it was the cold. Something about this was turning her on as well. My premise was confirmed when she slid her panties to the ground. I could see and smell her wetness. Tammy was at least partially turned on too. Maybe her lack of companionship had created some pent-up demand for physical and sexual closeness. Or maybe the thought of getting fucked by a nice hard dick was too hard to ignore.

"Now go over and sit over the stud's lap," said the gunman.

Tammy walked over and sat down, sidesaddle, with my moist, erect penis against the outside of her thigh.

"No, straddle him," he directed.

She stood back up, turned to face me and sat down with her legs on the outsides of mine. My penis stood at an angle and rubbed aginst her smooth firm belly. Her breasts were almost within reach of my mouth. The gunman moved behind her and pushed her gently forward. I used the opportunity to place my mouth on one of her nipples. It was already hard but sucking on it made it harder. Tammy moaned ever so slightly. I moved my mouth toward her other breast. Tammy needed no further prodding. She held the back of the chair and leaned into my face, letting me give her other breast equal time. My hands were still tied so I was unable to caress and fondle her. She seemed to be getting pleasure despite my condition.

"It looks like you're both ready. Climb aboard, lady," the gunman said.

"I can't do it," Tammy said in her sister's direction, "I can't have sex with my sister's husband."

"It's all right, Tammy, I forgive you," my wife said in earnest.

Tammy stood, shaking, legs apart, took my hard-on in hand and positioned it at the entrance to her pussy. Slowly she sat back down, engulfing my erection in the wet and warm folds of her cunt. It was better than I ever imagined. Tammy squeezed my penis with strong muscles. Being inside was nice but I wanted to fuck. You know, in and out. Tammy must have had the itch because she began to move. Slowly at first. Then a little more. Soon she was pistoning my penis deep within her, her breasts bouncing gently on her chest. I used my tongue to flick at her nipples every chance I got. I would have grabbed her ass or stroked her thighs or something but I was still tied up. Tammy began to grunt and puff and make noises that came from deep down inside. I couldn't hold back, not that I was trying, and I spurted deep inside her. The semen gave us additional lubrication. Tammy continued to thrust herself against my now-fading erection until her cunt contracted and her body shook and I knew that she had her own orgasm.

"Oh my," said Tammy, completely exhausted.

She looked back over her shoulder. The intruder was gone. Shyly, Tammy rose from my lap. Cum leaked out of her cunt and onto my legs. She ran from the room and returned almost immediately in a bathrobe. She untied her sister first, and they hugged. I was left to sit there, naked and sticky, while they consoled each other. My wife came over a few minutes later, threw a towel over my privates, and untied my arms and legs. Then she gave me a resigned look and left the room.

Tammy left the next day without a word being spoken about our forced sexual intimacy. My wife didn't bring it up either.

Later that week I met my buddy at our favorite bar. I was anxious to tell my unbelievable story, especially given the outcome. I arrived first and waited at a booth. When he came over, before I could say a word, he pulled a ski mask and plastic toy pistol from his coat pocket.

An Original H M Tale

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