Perversions and Transgressions Ch. 04

"I'm very tired but don't know if I'll be able to sleep," she said. "It still feels weird being in this house."

"I know," Rebecca said. "I'm just glad that it was left to Aunt Rita and she can take care of it. I couldn't imagine having to deal with it, not on top of everything else."

"We could go to a hotel if you think you can sleep better," I said.

"No, that's okay," Denise said. "I can stay here. I'm fine." She looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back.

I'd like to say that the idea of slipping her the sleeping pills came from a purely altruistic place, wanting her to sleep after such a rough week. I'd like to be able to say that, but I know I can't. I thought about just telling her I had them and offering her one, but worried that she knew I even had them. What if I told her, she took one, and the next morning felt some after effect of them and was able to tell from then on when she'd taken them or that she'd taken them before without knowing? How would I explain to her that I had them?

I wanted her to sleep. I knew she would if she took a sleeping pill, but I couldn't give it to her knowingly. So I'd have to slip it to her as I had done several times before. Then she'd be able to sleep and she'd feel much better in the morning. If we had been alone, just the two of us, I'd be able to say truthfully that those would have been my entire intentions.

Truthfully though, I had noticed how Jordan was looking at her and I knew how he was feeling. I knew it was a good scenario for setting up what I wanted, what I desired. Just the thought of being able to set it up gave me that queasy arousal in my stomach and tingling in my crotch. I could try to plead that I had only the best intentions, but I'd be lying.

I excused myself to the bathroom, used the toilet, and washed my hands. While there I got two sleeping pills and mashed them into powder between the toothbrush holder and sink. I scraped the dust into the palm of my hand. I went to the kitchen, poured the dust into a wine cooler, and swirled it until I couldn't see any flakes of the pills. The liquid was a bright red and wouldn't show much anyway. I brought it into her when I sat back down.

"I don't think I could drink another," Denise said.

"I think it'd do you good," I replied. "Maybe it'll help you sleep. It always seems to."

"Yeah," she said and took it from me. "Just the one more though. I don't want to have a hangover. We still have things to do tomorrow."

"Yes we do," Rebecca said and sighed heavily.

"Try not to think about that right now," I said. "It's been a long day. It's been a long week. Try to relax tonight. Get some sleep. We'll take care of tomorrow when it gets here."

There wasn't much conversation after that. The two sisters were too tired and morose. Jordan was sulking but trying not to. Denise finished the wine cooler and laid her head on my knee.

"You look ready for bed," I said.

I stood up and helped her to her feet.

"You too," Jordan said to Rebecca and helped her up.

We each had one of the guest rooms which had previously been the childhood rooms of Denise and Rebecca. We weren't using their parents' bedroom for obvious reasons. I took Denise to her bedroom and led her to the bed.

"Do you want a nightgown or long shirt or something?" I asked her.

"I'm so tired. I don't even care," she said.

She fell back with her legs dangling off the bed.

"At least get into bed," I said.

I put her legs onto the bed and then pulled her to the center of the bed. I slid her shorts off, leaving her wearing only the tank top and panties. I pulled the bed covers from under her and then draped them over her. She kicked at the covers.

"Too hot?" I asked.

"Too heavy," she mumbled. She was already drifting to sleep.

I pulled the covers off of her and bunched them up beside her so she could cover up if she got cold. I closed the door halfway and then crept back into the living room. I sat down on the sofa and waited, thinking of what to do next, if there was anything to do.

Then, Jordan appeared and sat down on the big chair, obviously frustrated.

"Problems?" I asked.

"Nah," he said. "I'm just driving myself nuts. I guess I should be more understanding."

"You're being understanding. You're just letting your frustration get the best of you," I said.

"Yeah. I guess you're right," he said. "I'm being selfish. As much as I tell myself that it doesn't matter though. I'm horny and there's nothing I can do about it."

"You could always go get with somebody else," I said.

"I can't leave her here alone to just get laid," he said. He slouched in the chair and took a big gulp from his drink.

"Have to be the good husband, eh?" I said.

"Yup," he said and laughed. He finished his drink and set the empty glass on a side table. "But a couple more of these and I might just go in and take her." He laughed again.

"Why not?" I asked and smiled.

"Shit. She'd kill me," he said.

"She's been drinking. She won't wake up," I said and winked, trying to play it off.

"No, she would," he said. "Trust me I've tried before."

We both laughed.

"What guy hasn't, right?" he said.

I rolled my eyes like I was trying to play it off.

"You're laying in bed next to your girl," he said. "Things start to stir so you snuggle up to her. Next thing you're wondering if you just do it if she'd wake up and get pissed."

"Or wake up and be happy," I added.

He nodded his head. "That too," he said. "I'll admit I have tried with her before, but she always wakes up and even if most of the time she's happy to wake up to it, the thought has crossed my mind what it would be like it she didn't wake up."

He looked at me carefully like he was gauging my reaction to what he said. I had to reduce my own smile to a smirk. Sometimes plans seem to come together too easily. Though most of our talk the past couple of days had been leading to those type of revelations anyway.

"I think most guys could admit to the same thoughts," I said. "There's something exciting about it."

"How about you?" he asked.

"How about me what?" I replied.

"Ever try anything like that with Denise?" he said.

I laughed and shook my head. "I don't talk about that stuff," I said.

"Come on. I've been talking about this stuff for the past couple of days, going on and on. You could tell me something."

"Well, I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. She's a very attractive woman," I said and watched as he nodded his head in agreement. "She's a very deep sleeper too. I'll admit to being aroused with her when she's been sleeping, but that's all I'm saying," I said, knowing he'd push for more.

"How far did you take it?" he asked.

"Well, let's just say that she's a very deep sleeper. Especially when she's tired as she often is from the tennis and everything she does," I led him on.

"And?" he asked.

"Well, that's personal. Let's just say that even if I had done something she wouldn't know and if she did find out she wouldn't mind at all," I said and laughed.

"Nice," he said and leaned back into his chair after leaning forward on his knees prying me for information.

"Anyway, none of that matters to me right now. Tonight she needs to sleep. She hasn't slept much at all this past week. With the bit of drinking tonight she'll sleep soundly tonight and I wouldn't want to disturb her. Not that it would anyway. There could be an earthquake and she wouldn't budge. I'm just not going to bother her with my wants when she needs to sleep."

"I understand that," he said, sighing heavily. "Think she'll sleep good tonight?"

"Oh, I know it," I said. "She was asleep before I left the room. A raving mad man could do all kinds of things to her and she wouldn't know. She didn't even notice when I took her shorts off."

I saw him stir when I said that and I stopped the grin from spreading across my lips.

"I'm just going to sleep out here tonight," I said. "She's in the middle of the bed and the bed is too small anyway."

I stretched out on the couch to emphasize that I was staying there that night.

"Think you'll be able to sleep out here?" he asked.

"Easily. I'm drained and this couch feels more comfortable than that old bed in there," I said. It was obvious by his questions that he was taking the bait.

"I guess I'll head to bed then, and let you sleep," he said.

"Good night," I said.

He left the room and went back to their bedroom. I got up and turned off all of the lights except a table lamp near the hallway to the bedrooms. I figured that bit of light would allow someone, namely Jordan, looking into the living room to see me well enough to see that I'm sleeping soundly, or rather pretending to sleep soundly. I took my pants and socks off, laid on the couch on my back, and put a pillow under my head so I was facing the hallway. If Jordan walked from one bedroom to the other I'd see him and he'd be able to see me. I settled in for a wait on the couch and closed my eyes.

Time moves slowly when you're pretending to sleep. I tried to lay still, breathe like I was sleeping, and listen intently, while opening my eyes to small slants occasionally watching for him. During that time I couldn't check the time in case he might be watching and see me move. So while laying there my mind kept wandering even as I listened, watched, and waited.

My thoughts did not go where they would go later, about how my own selfish desire, my perverse obsession, had led me to put my fiancée into a situation where she could be raped again, and at a moment when she was at her weakest, when her life was as miserable as it had been since I'd known her, that all of my attempts to be supportive and loving over the last week were meaningless once I had drugged her and then tempted her brother-in-law to rape her while she was passed out so that I could watch. No, at that moment my thoughts did not go there. In those moments I was only led by my obsession.

I thought of the past three times I had seen a man have sex with Denise while she was passed out. In all three cases alcohol had been involved. That shouldn't have been a surprise. Alcohol always reduces inhibitions and causes people to do things they want to do but normally wouldn't. Alcohol is probably the most powerful tool in my arsenal for setting up these situations.

Then, I thought about the men involved. I wouldn't describe any of them as bad men. I'm sure others would think of them as bad for doing what they did to her. But without knowledge of those events I don't think most people would consider them to be bad. All of them are intelligent and seemingly normal men. Randall, my fellow medical student, would be the only one I think someone might even consider might do something like that, his character being more uncouth and boisterous than the others.

So what is it about these men that led them to do what they did? I pondered that question. I examined each of them, thinking about their personalities, characters, and values. I compared the previous three men to Jordan. I wondered why I thought Jordan might possibly be tempted to do this as the others had. The only answer I came up with was that any man could be tempted to do something he himself might think he'd never do if the situation is right. This could probably be expanded and generalized. Maybe everybody would do something they normally wouldn't if they thought they wouldn't get caught and could get away with it. Perhaps we're all only civil and moral because we're being watched and judged.

Then does that mean I enjoy being the one watching these men doing something they'd never do if they knew I was watching? Do I enjoy watching them do something immoral and criminal? Is this the reason I find it so stimulating? Or is it just part of the reason and the main reason is the perverse thrill of watching Denise being fucked and used by another man?

My thoughts were broken when I heard footsteps in the hallway. The hair on my arms stood on end and I had to contain a shiver. I knew it was him and I knew my plan was working. I started breathing deep and heavy and relaxed my body to look like I was sleeping.

I heard a door close, suspecting it was the bathroom door, which was confirmed when I heard someone using the toilet, obviously Jordan since it was the sound of a man urinating. I was surprised when I heard the toilet flush and the sink running as he washed his hands. He wasn't trying to be quiet. Perhaps he wasn't creeping his way to her bed. I sighed heavily, thinking that my plan wasn't going to work.

I heard the bathroom door open and then footsteps partway into the living room.

"Sorry if I woke you flushing the toilet," Jordan said.

I lay still, wondering if he knew I was awake, but laying still like I was sleeping.

"I didn't wake you then?" he said even louder.

I still didn't respond, just continued breathing deeply.

"I guess you really are tired and won't be waking up," he said.

I didn't hear him move for a bit and I continued faking sleep, not moving, just breathing heavy, exhaling through my nose to make a soft snoring sound. I thought maybe he was being cautious, making noise by using the bathroom and talking to me to me make sure I really was sleeping deeply. I made sure to reassure him that I was.

Finally I heard him move away from the doorway and take quiet footsteps down the hallway. He was being quieter than he had been earlier and was moving away from Rebecca's bedroom and towards Denise's bedroom. I felt my stomach clench as I knew that he was going to do it. I lay there, continuing my act and breathing the same, in case he was still listening for me or happened to come back for some reason.

I listened intently and didn't hear anything for awhile. I imagined that he was standing in her bedroom doorway watching her. I had left the bedroom curtains open and the streetlight was shining in so he'd be able to see her well once his eyes adjusted. Then, I heard him saying her name softly. He was calling out to her, seeing if she was indeed asleep. She would be. She'd be out cold until morning.

I wanted to get up right then to see what was happening but knew it'd be better to wait, to give him time, let him get involved in what he was doing, then when I went to watch he wouldn't notice me, he'd be too involved in what he was doing to notice anything else. I listened intently and heard him a couple more times, saying her name, then nothing for a while.

After enough time had passed I sat up quietly, walked to the hallway, and peered down to her bedroom. The door was halfway open like I had left it. I figured he had slipped in and not touched the door. Imagining what was happening in the room made my skin shiver. I walked quietly towards the door peering into the room as I approached. I stayed close to the wall where he wouldn't see me if he looked out. I stood flat against the wall and then leaned forward to peer into the room until I could see him.

My eyes hadn't adjusted to the light level of the room so all I could see was his silhouette. He had crawled onto the bed and was leaning over her on his hands and knees. At first I couldn't see what he was doing but I could hear him talking in a loud whisper. He was talking to her and asking her if she could hear him. His face was right over hers so he was probably looking for some kind of response from her, but he wouldn't get any. It was daring that he was even on the bed then, but I figured he could still make an excuse if she did wake. Better she wake and see him in an uncomfortable position like kneeling on the bed than fucking her.

Then I noticed that he wasn't just looking at her. His hand was up her shirt and massaging her breast. Maybe he wasn't just seeing if she would wake. Maybe he was looking for a response to his touch, a sign of pleasure in her sleep. I couldn't be sure. The window was across the room, casting a dull light through the room, but the light from the living room created a diffuse band of light through the doorway that lay across the middle of the bed. Perhaps the extra light was why he left the door open as well.

He was kneeling to one side of her, between her body and me, his hand under her shirt gripping her breast, with his face only inches from hers. He kept saying things to her like "Can you feel that?" and "You're liking that aren't you?" which gave me a contemptuous grin. Was he the type of guy to say silly things like that when with a woman? I always wondered if there were guys who talked like the guys in porn movies and if so if they learned it from watching too much porn.

Either he really believed me when I said she wouldn't wake or had drank so much that he didn't feel the need to be careful. He seemed to be fondling her breast rather roughly, his hand clenching and unclenching underneath the shirt. Then he lowered his head and began kissing her neck. He kept talking as he kissed and sucked on her neck and upper chest though I couldn't hear what he was saying. He was shaking from the effort of holding himself on one arm while the other hand grabbed at her breasts under the shirt, moving from one breast to the other, pinching, tweaking, and stroking.

I moved into the doorway but noticed my shadow creeping across the bed and had to move back. I pressed myself against the wall beside the door so that half of my body was in the doorway, leaving a silhouette in the visible light coming through the doorway. I liked the way my shadow draped across the floor and up the side of the bed, visible only to me in the doorway like a part of me was present in the room with them.

He moved down the bed as he pushed her shirt up and started sucking on her left breast. He grabbed her breast and squeezed to push her nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. The mumbled words had stopped with his mouth and tongue too busy with her breast. He fondled the other breast before moving his mouth to it, licking and sucking, pulling the nipple between his lips then pulling as much of her breast into his mouth as he could. She made a soft sigh in her sleep and her head turned to the side.

He sat up and held a breast with each hand, cupping them, then squeezed softly, rubbing his thumbs over the nipples. He seemed to be watching her face, possibly waiting for another sigh, a sign that she felt it. He began talking to her again, telling her that she had great tits and had always wanted to touch them and suck on them. He began rubbing his hands up and down her breasts, seeming to get a bit rougher as he talked, probably turned on more by his own words.

I thought his talking would take away some of the eroticism for me, but I knew that it must be something that turned him on and found myself getting more turned on as he did, just as had happened the previous times, my own arousal growing with that of the men with Denise. I cupped my erection through my underwear and rubbed it underneath, feeling it jump with the light brush of my fingers.

Then, he slid his hands up to her shoulders and down her arms. He pushed her arms up so they lay beside her head, her hands over her head on the pillow. His hands slid back down slowly to her breasts and he began massaging them, softly pinching her nipples between thumb and forefinger. He seemed to be kneading them like dough, wrapping his hands around them as much as he could, cupping them, feeling their full weight, then closing his hands softly and lifting them up, tweaking her nipples, then relaxing his hands to release her breasts softly and then cupping them again.

He leaned over, putting his face between her breasts, and then pressed them to his cheeks. He seemed to licking the skin between her breasts as he rubbed them against his face. He moved his face from side to side, kissing each breast in turn, and then his kisses moving around her breasts. He seemed to be devouring her breasts, wanting to kiss, suck, lick, and touch every inch of her breasts. Her lips were parted and she sighed a few times but otherwise she lay limp, defenseless to his attentions to her body.