Road Trip

Lauren had just turned thirty-four, nearly my age. A shapely and beautiful longhaired dishwater blond with bright blue eyes; she'd been married for five years in her twenties before going through the pangs of separation and divorce. We'd had an easy rapport when Karen first introduced me to her sister, and then on each of her many visits to the Boston area when she had stayed with us. We always seemed to pickup where we left off from her last visit.

Although they'd been born a couple of years apart, Lauren and Karen had been near look-alikes, a point that would probably make my stopover hard for me. Not only had they looked alike, they had identical bubbly personalities, used almost identical gestures, and talked and sounded the same. The two shared wardrobes back and forth, so Lauren often appeared in some dress or top I had seen Karen in only a few hours earlier, forcing me to do a double-take to be sure which sister had just walked in a room. When we'd gone to the beach, one couldn't miss that the two had been equally blessed with fabulous, shapely, and nearly identical bodies. Bodies that made men slow down and gawk as they walked by us ... and they were both with me!

Friday, the weather had improved. I ran, exercised, and meditated before making an uneventful trip to Burlington, Vermont. I stayed off the Interstate though part of the route ran parallel to one. For my troubles, I got to see a thousand antique shops and the kind of scenes that make New England a picture calendar favorite.

In Vermont, I stopped at a beautiful covered bridge over a wide stream. I let some more of Karen's ashes fly on the wind from the middle of the historic bridge, this time with a blessing of freedom. I thought of how Karen had been like a beautiful butterfly that had flown into my life for a short time and then disappeared.

Lauren lived ten miles from her parents just north of Shelburne. My route took me to her home first, although because of her job I couldn't be sure she'd be home. My heart skipped a beat as I rounded a curve on her street and saw her car in the driveway.

As I stopped and parked the Harley, I examined my feelings. Why had I felt that flutter in my stomach when I discovered her car? No doubt, I felt something special for Lauren. She had always been more than just a distant sister-in-law; and through Karen's last weeks she became a friend who had been constantly close and supportive through the pain and sorrow of her sister's long goodbye.

The Harley is not a quiet machine. No one could ever accuse a rider of sneaking up on him. Lauren came out the front door of her small house at a run as the bike shut down. She threw herself into my arms, and we hugged and kissed briefly.

She pulled away and looked me up and down, "Hey, who stole the Jim Mellon I used to know." She poked my abs, now hardened by thousands of sit-up and crunches. There was little 'give' there. "What did you do, just stop eating? You look great. What a physique too." She squeezed my biceps.

I mumbled something about diet and exercise.

"I'm so glad you're here – and on a Harley too, what a great surprise." Her mood changed suddenly, and her voice slowed, "I've missed you; because of what happened ... I feared you'd stay away forever. You're email yesterday was such a relief and a happy surprise." As she spoke, her sad eyes looked intently into mine. In that small instant, I could tell Lauren remained as wounded by Karen's death as I was. Then, her mood changed again and her sparkling personality returned.

I gathered some of my belongings from the stack of travel gear on the bike. I asked whether she minded that I used her washing machine and dryer. As I unpacked some wet things, she fawned over the motorcycle with appropriate praise for my restoration job. Her bubbly personality and questions carried me through that awkward phase I had feared with her: how would we start talking, what would our emotions be like when we saw each other, could I stand seeing someone that looked so much like Karen?

I did glance at Lauren often, refreshing my mind about the similarities of the sisters. I studied her, amazed at how the synapses in my brain registered a strange static of confusion between my memories of my late wife and now her sister talking and acting the same. Lauren caught me staring at her more than once, and I guessed she knew what was running through my head.

As we talked, Lauren often took my hand and then my arm, pushing against me as though she had been deprived of significant physical contact. "Mom and Dad want to see you too; I told them you were coming. They're coming by here any minute. You're going to stay here; as you know they don't have room in their small house. We want to take you to dinner." My protests and offer to host dinner were largely ignored.

We walked across the yard with our arms around each other. She still hugged me tightly, and clearly didn't want to let me out of her sight. I felt very welcome by this beauty.

When I accepted her offer of a glass of wine, she chided me as not being a beer drinker. She said, "Aren't all Harley men beer men ... you're breaking my stereotype of the typical motorcycle rider. You must be an exception." She threw her head back and laughed at her taunt just the way her sister would have done. My heart pinged at the remembrance.

Her laughter and mood were contagious, and I soon found myself telling small stories about things I'd seen or done since we'd last been together. She made me feel not only better, but also upbeat, and ... happy – genuinely happy about being with an attractive female for the first time in months. I told her so.

"Well," she said amid a blush, "you make me happy too." She looked at me again, "I mean you are one hunky guy now. Look at you: sandy hair, square jaw, dark eyes, and a body out of a GQ magazine underwear ad. You are one fabulous looking guy. I bet you're really proud of what you've done with yourself, plus I know you have the nicest personality of any man I've ever known." Lauren blushed again at her admission.

After a long pause while she studied me, she got serious for a couple of minutes and zoomed in on the gorilla in the room. Tears came to her eyes for an instant. "Jim, I've tried to find meaning in Karen's death – spiritual meaning. Maybe she came into our lives for her short life to teach us about love or the value of life, or came to earth to make you and me happy, ... or maybe even to be sure you and I met. I'm not too subtle about this I guess, but I'm glad you're here, that we're both single, and that we know each other as well as we do." She gave a little sob and whispered through her tears, "Oh, God, Jim, I miss her so." Lauren moved around her kitchen counter to me, and put her arms around me in an intense hug. I hugged back, and we both choked back some more tears. Gradually, we got ahold of ourselves.

I found myself surprised at her feelings for me, and wanted to expand our discussion; however, we were interrupted by a couple of toots from a car horn in the driveway. Lauren cheered instantly but had to wipe her eyes, "Mom and Dad are here." She turned from our hug with excitement in her voice although she probably saw them everyday.

We both went outside, Lauren leading the way pulling on my arm as the older couple got out of their car. As we got close, she let go and kissed her parents, and then turned them to me. We hugged amid their genuine curiosity and questions about my new 'thin and muscular' appearance, the motorcycle, and my roundabout trip up to see them. We stood in the driveway and talked until Lauren herded us into her living room for more talk, wine, and hors d'oeuvres.

I surprised myself at how easily I handled the mention of Karen's name, and the tacit acknowledgement of her death. I thought Lauren's presence and look-alike presence had something to do with that. I felt Karen's sister, and parents had accepted what had happened to my wife much better than I had. I again caught myself studying their reaction whenever her name came up in the discussion, particularly as I described my dispersing her ashes in the ocean and my plan to do so across forty-eight states – an act they approved of with nodding heads and encouragement. Maybe they loved me, and saw the positive effect it would have on me over time.

Eventually, I took a few minutes to freshen up and put on my only clean dry shirt before we went out to dinner. Over dinner, I regaled the trio with my reconstruction of the motorcycle as well as my intent on my grand road trip to the west coast. Lauren's father, Hal, got all misty eyed about wishing he'd done something like this in his youth. Martha reminded him that she would travel anytime he would and by any means, a point that sort of ended that part of the discussion temporarily; she'd called his bluff. He looked surprised, and I could see an inner glow of imagination take over for a few seconds. After dinner, Hal and Martha dropped Lauren and me back at Lauren's house. I'd see them tomorrow evening, having now committed to staying another night.

Lauren and I took her dog Max for a walk as dusk spread over the area, and the chilly night air reappeared. We walked with our arms tightly around each other, sometimes talking and sometimes comfortable in our silence. Max knew the route so ran ahead with great excitement, going from smell to smell as we trailed behind holding on to each other in a loving way.

As we got back to Lauren's house, she maneuvered herself to a step above me on her front steps. Slightly above me, she turned back into me, put her arms around my neck, and gave me a kiss so hot that it could melt steel. I kissed back, my mind a sudden jumble of thoughts about Karen, Lauren, timing, wondering what people might think, guilt, lust, love, and a hundred other emotions. Even the kisses like this that Anna had given me flitted through my head.

I think we stood on her steps for at least ten minutes as our mouths and tongues explored each other. No words were spoken. We moaned little sounds of encouragement too, and as we did some of the confusion I felt seemed to die away. This seemed so right.

I felt as though neither of us wanted to really say anything lest we break the mood and situation we'd both found ourselves in. The wrong word – any word – could have shattered the moment for us. I didn't want what I felt to end.

Eventually, Lauren pulled me to her front door. She had 'that' look in her eye. My test of our mutual sanity rested in her answer to one question; I asked, "What we're doing ... are you sure?"

Lauren turned to me and bit her lip with the sweetest expression on her face. She said, "Oh, Jim, yes, yes." She kissed me hard again but briefly, and stated, "I'vealways been sure about you; most definitely yes. Let me love you. Come and make love to me."

Standing in Lauren's living room, we could easily have been on display to anyone driving by had the lights been on. In the near darkness, we continued to kiss as we slowly undressed each other right in front of the large plate glass window looking out at the main street. Cars on the busy road continued by her house, oblivious to what we were doing.

I hoped Lauren felt the same way I did, but thinking that, I realized how confused and conflicted I felt. Lauren and Karen had often teased me, and once had joined me in bed one morning while Lauren visited. I'd been asleep, and the two of them had nestled in on either side of me and dozed for over an hour. The both wore a long t-shirt and undies. When I awoke, they attacked. Karen had teased me for months afterwards about 'having sisters' or a ménage-a-trois, although nothing of a sexual nature had transpired only wrestling and tickling.

The removal of each piece of clothing took time and had to be carefully choreographed to heighten the arousal Lauren and I already felt for each other. We continued to coo words of encouragement to one another. We treated the exposure of Lauren's taut breasts as an event to be celebrated with considerable touching with hands, mouth, lips, and tongue.

Minutes later, she returned the favor as she removed and discarded my briefs. I stood in disbelief at the talent she rendered on my erect cock. I found myself standing before her kneeling form, slightly pumping my hips, as she created sensations in me I'd never felt. I stroked her hair as she worked on me.

Karen had rarely practiced fellatio. She explained she didn't want to waste any of what I had by swallowing it, when there was a 'perfectly good pussy' only a very short distance away that really wanted my man juice. I had figured out she really didn't like the concept, and so I'd stopped asking her to go down on me.

I whispered to Lauren, "Please stop. I love what you're doing, but your mouth is not where I want to ... finish, at least right now."

I had another thought I started to share. "Lauren, I'm not prepared; I haven't ... made love for months. I've just taken care of myself. I may not ..."

Lauren pulled away from me, stood, and put a finger over my lips. She never lost eye contact as she smiled up at me with a sly grin. She said with a smirk, "I'm on the pill. You'll be fabulous. I feel the same way ... now act like a dominant male and fuck me." She squirmed away from me and led me down the corridor to her bedroom by pulling me along by my hard erection. After briefly kissing at the foot of her bed, we fell together never losing touch with the other as we joined and then made love.

We extended the aura of tenderness and caring we'd started in the living room. Slowly that is, until an urgency to complete swept over the two of us as we writhed our bodies into each other savoring the skin-to-skin contact and my deep penetration of her body. Our new movements were rapid and driven to our mutual climaxes that came only a couple of minutes later. We moaned into each other's mouths as our orgasms swept over us. My pleasure erupted so great it nearly blinded me like the light of a thousand suns. I had missed this feeling for many months.

We remained connected, me still hard and deep inside her, and we rolled on our sides. Kisses still rained from each of us, as our hands stroked the other's face and skin. Lauren's nipples were so erect they were like nuggets of gold, but filled with excitement and passion.

"Wow!" Lauren exclaimed.

"Wow!" I replied.

I cradled her head on my arm as we panted in sync with one another. I felt amazed by what had just happened: I'd just made love to someone other than my wife for the first time in over eight years, and she happened to be her sister. I also had rarely remained coupled after sex with Karen; when we were done, we were done. Laying with each other – touching and still embedded inside her – gave me a feeling I'd never had before, a feeling of love and spiritual connection.

Lauren stroked my chest lovingly with one hand. After a couple of minutes she asked softly, "Did you think of Karen? It's all right if you did. I did. I even tried to be her for you for a few minutes."

I hesitated a moment before answering, "Yes, but ... I know whom I'm with, and ... you know how much you two were alike." I felt a pang of guilt sweep over me – guilt about thinking of one woman while I made love to another, and guilt that the two women were sisters. I added in a whisper, "It's hard not to think of her and you at the same time." After a minute, I admitted, "I feel guilty too ... incestuous and unfaithful."

Lauren spoke softly, "No, you shouldn't feel that way. You know when she knew she was dying she made me promise to love you ... to make love to you ... like this. She wanted us to be together making love. Karen didn't say whether she meant forever, but she wanted exactly this to happen. She wanted me to love and comfort you. Anything beyond this is just wait and see." She kissed my nose.

I looked surprised and looked into Lauren's eyes. "Is this a duty ... something you had to do for her?"

"Oh, God no. I wanted you ... I've wanted you since you first showed up on our doorstep to date Karen. I felt gypped that she met you first and staked her claim. Remember all those triple dates when I tagged along; well, I carefully orchestrated those events so I could be with the two of you – with you. Karen and I talked about it on and off over the years, sometimes wishing that society didn't have the restrictions that made this wrong when she was alive. If it wouldn't have produced a scandal and repercussions in the family Karen and I would have shared you – intimacy, love, sex, living together, and everything. If we started over today, I know we would have shared you – if you'd been willing. We explicitly talked about it."

It took a minute to digest that point; I postponed commenting on the hypothetical situation of the three of us living together, or what that might have been like. The very thought made me harden inside Lauren. This was the 'male with two loving women' fantasy made more real for me.

I spoke about what Karen had told me too; "She told me I had to move on, to find other people in my life, and to even remarry and have a family life. She didn't want me grieving her loss, even for a minute. I had to make promises too. You're the first ... since she died ... I mean ... She only made me promise to come here and visit so that we could have some closure on her death. Now, I understand better some of the things she said, even before she got ill."

Lauren leaned in and kissed me, carefully keeping my cock inside her slippery pussy. She slid her erect nipples across my chest in a highly erotic way. My groin twitched at the stimulation, and so did she, in response.

I asked softly, "Can I make love to you again ... now?"

Lauren nodded, and her hand went to where my shaft still penetrated her body. She rubbed her clit and the edge of my cock simultaneously, clearly urging me to start pumping in and out of her pussy. Without allowing me to leave her body, she rolled us over so she was on top of me, and moaned in happiness over this new position. We lasted much longer this time, and we talked to each other as our hips moved into and away from each other's bodies. Sometimes we talked dirty and enticingly, and sometimes we spoke in more seductive ways.

Lauren used phrases like, "I like your cock deep in my cunt. Pump into me – faster, harder! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. I'm your cum slut. Fill me with your juice. Make me drip. I liked having your big cock in my mouth and throat. I'll blow you anytime and anywhere. Do you know I love the taste of your cum? I'll fuck you like this anytime and anywhere. Oh, God."

I returned the favor, watching her reaction to some of my phrases to be sure I didn't overstep any boundaries. Whenever I used a pejorative about her, she just responded with even dirtier words thereby encouraging me to be more daring with my words. "You are my slut ... my cum bucket. I like my cock in your mouth ... and even better in your warm, dripping cunt. I like that you have some hair around your cunt; it helped when I used my tongue to find your sodden pussy. I like pulling your clit into my mouth like you do with my cock. You love cocks ... this cock. Fuck me."

In a more serious and tender moment after we'd French kissed for several minutes Lauren said, "I love making love with you ... a lot. I want you to know you have a permanent home here with me and here in me." She laughed to soften her words and gestured to her full pussy as she spoke. "This weekend it's all right for you to think of Karen as often and as much as you like around me. I understand ... I may even understand better than you because she and I thought so much alike. If I'd died, I knew that she'd make love to my husband or boyfriend or lover, if they were willing; she'd know that's what I wanted. This time though, she told me explicitly. She had no doubts ... and I don't either; I wanted this ... for a long time. You've been my fantasy." Lauren jammed her cunt down against my groin with extra force as she finished those words.