When we moved in Harry, the silly fool, carried me over the threshold as though I was a blushing bride! Mind you, I really did feel like a blushing bride, especially when he plonked a big smackeroo of a kiss on my lips. He put me down gave me a pat on my bum and told me to make a cup of tea! Honestly! He might have the cheek of the devil, but I've never been so happy, George and Dad have just become bad memories. My one worry is that Harry might decide to get married again. He says not; in fact he's been quite vehement about it. But really, he's a very attractive man, though I do say so myself. I've seen women looking at him. I've looked at him! If he wasn't my brother, I'd be after him quick enough. I do get such naughty thoughts about him, especially when I see him in the mornings and evenings stripped to the waist or padding about in his undies. I know he goes out with women occasionally and I get awfully jealous when I think of what they might be getting up to. Its naughty, I know, but I just can't help it.
Over the next couple of weeks, Harry and Carol settled into their new abode. Washing, scrubbing, painting, sanding, papering, digging the garden, mowing the lawn, putting in new plants. It was all go. The bungalow intensified their not-so-covert intimacy. Now that their was nobody else to consider except themselves, they became more careless on purpose as well as by accident. Carol took to discarding her bra around the house and garden producing a state of almost constant arousal in her brother. For his part, Harry showed off his muscles and his hairy chest in an artless, but increasingly premeditated display. Out went Carol's frumpy old nighties, in came scanty and transparent baby-dolls. Breakfast very quickly became turn-on time for Harry, his eyes continually straying to her oh-so-visible breasts. It was the evening of their first Saturday in the new house that Carol first displayed her new line in lingerie. It had been a hard day's work for them both and at eleven thirty Carol appeared before Harry slumped in an arm chair in the lounge in her dressing gown. “How about this, then?” she said letting the dressing gown slip to the floor and exhibiting the baby-doll. Harry sat bolt upright, mouth agape in surprise.
He gulped. “T T Terrific!” he stuttered. Carol spun round, the diaphanous garment leaving nothing to the imagination.
Next morning at the breakfast table, Harry couldn't take his eyes off her charms. He had to cross his legs to hide the tent in his pyjama shorts. Carol noticed and was pleased. She couldn't admit to herself that this was the exact reaction that she'd intended from the person she'd intended, but all the same, she was pleased. She'd noticed Harry's surprised gaze when he shuffled into the kitchen and sat down. She poured his coffee, put down the percolator, and emphasised her assets by smoothing down her nightie. Between the pleasantries, she noticed with satisfaction the growing bulge in his shorts. She sat up straight and stretched her arms and beamed at him as he stared and crossed his legs.
The bathroom became an 'accidental' exhibition arena. Both of them barging in on the other, getting an eyeful and apologising before retiring.
On Friday we took the evening off from decorating to go dancing as usual. Well, I don't know what I could have been thinking of! Harry was in the shower and the bathroom was full of steam. I'd already run a bath for myself for when Harry finished. I went in, I don't think Harry heard me what with the noise of the spray and his singing, and I took my wrap off and got into the bath. I was lying, water up to my neck, eyes closed and half asleep when Harry came out of the shower. The first I knew of it was when he said, 'Hello Princess, having a nice soak?' Well I sat bolt upright with shock. Spluttered, blushed and realised I'd given Harry a good view of my breasts. In fact, I couldn't say for the life of me how long he'd been standing there looking at me. Presumably, he'd seen the lot! Not that I really mind when I think about it, its just the fact that I totally forgot myself.
I mean, living with Harry is like being married really. Except there's no sex, mind you, even when I was married to George there wasn't much of that anyway. I mean the real difference is the separate bedrooms. Of course the fact that I'm happy now really does make it different. When I think about it, I don't really know why I should have been so shocked. Harry must have seen most it before. As I said, its like being married. I have to say that I'd seen, or rather had brief glimpses of Harry in the all-together before. There was the occasion, a couple of months ago, I told you at the time, when Harry did his back in. He could hardly move, poor darling. I gave his back a good massage and rub down. I saw most of what he'd got that night, well I mean, you would, wouldn't you?! Well, if you wouldn't, I certainly did and I don't care what you think dear diary. I enjoyed the view! I mean, I'd always thought that Harry was in good nick for a man approaching forty, but I never quite realised how good!. Hard, his muscles I mean! Really! There was hardly an ounce of fat anywhere.
Well that's bye-the-bye dear diary, back to Friday. It must have been a couple of minutes before I realised that Harry wasn't going to leave. He stood there, towelling himself. Then I couldn't believe it when he just calmly began to dry his hair with the towel, giving me a full frontal. I couldn't take my eyes off his cock. It looked huge. I stared wide eyed. I remembered that first night we went dancing together and the bulge in his trousers. I understood. My dearest, darling brother had been well blessed by nature. I suddenly thought, how could Pam give that up? I mean, well, it made George's look like a little pink chippolata! I giggled. Then I suddenly snapped out of it, “Harry!” I said. “What is it Princess?” he said from under the towel. “You're shameless!” I said. “Aren't we just.” he said. I spluttered and choked, but of course he was right, and in a way I was grateful, what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander! Oh, dear diary, I really have become a shameless hussy. Anyway, to continue, Harry put the towel on the rail and calmly began to shave. “We've neither of us got anything we have seen before, Princess.” he said. “Neither of us has got anything to be ashamed of and I must say it was a very pleasant surprise to see you in the bath when I came out of the shower.” I was speechless, I'd never quite realised that Harry looked at me in that sort of way. But then he'd been aroused when we danced. But, until that moment, I'd never given his reactions much though, to tell the truth. Of course, looking back, he always been distinctly aroused when we danced together.
“You're a very lewd and cheeky man!” I said. “Yes” was his reply. So that was that, Harry wasn't going to leave, so I decided to show - or rather pretend would be a better word - him I could be just as brazen as he was and started to wash myself. Really, It was the only way I could stop myself from staring at his cock, to give myself something to do, to keep calm. Hah! Even then it wasn't too successful, especially when I realised - shocked again - that it had grown. It looked bigger than ever! Mind you, dear diary, brother Harry was no better, he just couldn't keep his eyes off me. No wonder his cock had grown! Then he cleaned his teeth and his cock wobbled about all over the place. I just couldn't help giggling. He quickly realised what I found so funny, started to laugh and then choked on the tooth paste foam! He brushed his hair and sat on the edge of the bath. “Shall I wash your back Princess?” he asked. The surprises weren't going to stop. There was nothing more in the world at that moment that I wanted, so I whispered “OK” and knelt in the bath with my back to him. I have to say that the touch of his hands covered in soap was silky smooth and all my naughty thoughts got very much naughtier. One day, dear diary, I might tell you about some of my naughty thoughts.
If Carol was disturbed and excited by their growing intimacy, no less was brother Harry.
The bathroom episode needed all my control to remain cool. My god! But didn't the Princess look a toothsome dish lying in the bath! Took my time drying my hair. Had to stop myself from staring. Then, when she washed her breasts, what a sight! They glistened with soap suds, so round and heavy and perfect. My god, they made even me get lyrical! They wobbled and swayed. I don't know how Percy didn't stand to attention there and then! Then Princess had a fit of the giggles when I brushed my teeth. Nonplussed for a moment. Then the penny dropped. Old Percy was doing a jig! God, but it stuck me as funny. Nearly choked on the bloody toothpaste! God alone knows what made me soap her back. I was mesmerised. Carol just knelt still as a statue while I took my time. Then Percy stood up! And how! I haven't had such an erection since I don't-know-when! Dancing as usual, not as usual. I couldn't get the image of her in the bath out of my mind. Percy just wouldn't lie down! I was conscious of, embarrassed about and tongue-tied all the time by the best damned stiffy I’d had in ages. Just like some pimply adolescent again! Carol noticed it. How could she not!. It seemed to be in contact with her all the time! And was it my imagination. Or did my Princess hold me closer or firmer than usual? Breasts squashed against my chest, our loins pressed together more than usual. I'm sure. The old imagination was working overtime tonight. My Princess was flushed most of the time. Not just the exertion I'm sure. Pretty as a picture! Lovely frock. I told her so. Lots of décolletage! The cleavage did nothing for my peace of mind! Nipples seemed to be a lot more prominent than usual. Does she have the same sort of thoughts?! Turned on just like me?! Tremendously exciting! But, it cannot be. I keep telling myself, it cannot be. I must continue to do so. God knows what complications might arise. Like playing with fire. Must confine my activities, if not my thoughts, to Migde Watson and Helen Macdonald.
They went to the cinema together, enjoying a meal first and then savouring the close association in the dark. It only seemed natural one evening when Carol lay her head on his shoulder and her put his arm around her. It became established and when she took the next step by lay her hand on his thigh neither of them pretended to notice. Then one night on the way to the cinema Harry said thoughtfully, “What would we be doing if we weren’t who we are?”
Carol thought for a moment and replied, “Well why don’t we pretend to be somebody else for the evening.”
“What, like we’re on a real date?” Harry said.
“Why not?” said Carol. “I mean, where’s the harm?”
“OK.” Said Harry, “I’m game.”
“Fair enough” Said Carol.
“I’ll be John.” Said Harry.
“And I’ll be Janet” laughed Carol.
At first it didn’t make much difference. But in the dark in the cinema, it began to make a big difference. As usual, Harry put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. As usual, Carol laid her hand on his thigh and rested her head on his shoulder. But not as usual, Harry began to stroke and rub her arm and Carol squeezed his thigh. And certainly not as usual, Harry blew softly on her ear and kissed it, letting his tongue slide slowly and naturally into her ear. Then beyond what was usual, Carol stoked the inside of his thigh and suddenly, time seemed to stop when she touched his erection. Harry had had an erection ever since he started to go out with Carol. Sister or no sister, the erection was a fact of life. Usually, it was just there. Some thing to be dealt with later. But this time it was bigger and more uncomfortable than usual. Carol stroked it gently, feeling it grow. She lifted her head to be kissed. They kissed, their mouths opening almost immediately and simultaneously and their tongues engaging. Harry felt his sap rising and his control slipping and he had to break off. Disengaging from their kiss and gently removing her hand from his cock he whispered, “Careful Sis.”
“No, careful Janet.” Carol admonished him.
“Quite right,” He whispered, “careful Janet or I’ll have an accident.”
It was later in the parked car off the main road that ‘Janet’ freed ‘John’s’ cock and took it in her mouth. The situation was too much for ‘John’. His member stiffened alarmingly and he felt the tightening of his scrotum prior to his climax. ‘Janet’ sensed the imminent climax and sucked long and deeply on ‘John’s’ cock while tickling his balls and teasing a finger into his anus. He came in a massive orgasm, his hips bucking like the proverbial bronco with each spasm of the climax until he subsided exhausted in the car seat. For ‘Janet’ the experience was no less momentous as she experienced her own orgasm.
Midge Watson was the chiropodist. She looked after his feet and he looked after her books. A woman of substantial figure, a round smiling face and brown curly hair streaked with grey. A tactile and demonstrative woman, Harry felt he only had to say the word and they would immediately make the two-backed beast. His feet never felt better. It was a sensual experience for Harry. His foot on Midge's lap, his heel resting by her loins and his toes occasionally brushing against her chest which strained a white medical coat which must have been at least a size or two too small.
It wasn't long after Harry moved in with Carol that relations were semented with Midge Watson. It was a wet, humid Wednesday afternoon in May. Harry had finished the books and Midge had shut up shop. Harry sat in the chiropodist's chair, hot and bothered. He'd taken his tie off, undone the top buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. Midge had disappeared upstairs to her flat to change her white coat for something more comfortable. He lay back in the chair and thought of Carol in the bath, her round full breasts floating on the top of the water and the tantalising glimpses of her thighs and loins under the soap suds. He closed his eyes and savoured the vision in his mind's eye. It took but a moment before he felt aroused and a couple of minutes before Midge Watson returned having changed into a loose terry-towel bath gown. She appeared in the doorway to the surgery and opened her mouth to speak when she took in the scene. Harry recumbent in the chair, eyes closed and a very noticeable bulge in his trousers that she hadn't seen very often before. She stood for a moment letting her imagination play before Harry sensed her presence and sat up with a start. “Oh there you are, Midge, I was just day-dreaming.”
“Evidently!” said Midge archly and pointedly looking at the bulge in Harry's trousers. “And not about your sister, I'll warrant!”
Harry blushed, “Er, um, no.” he stammered, thinking that many a word said in jest . . .
Midge sat down on her stool and placed one of Harry's feet on her lap. She massaged some cream onto the foot to soften the skin. “Anyone I know?” she asked archly, looking up.
Harry had recovered his composure, “Why, your good self, of course, Midge.”
It was her turn to blush, and the snipping of the clippers at his toenails faltered. “Get away with you! Don't be so silly!” she laughed nervously.
“What's so silly, you're a very attractive woman.” Harry teased. Dammed attractive he thought, even though she must be fifty if she's a day.
“Really, Harry,” she said looking up, “I'm fat and nearly fifty,” she lied.
“Makes no difference.” Harry replied. “You're a very attractive lady, I mean, there are many young women who'd give their eye-teeth for a figure like yours.”
Midge looked up, uncertain whether Harry was making fun of her. She tried to cover her confusion by changing feet. She decided it didn't matter. “That’s the nicest thing a man has said to me for a long time, Harry Price. Even if you didn't mean it.”
Harry sat forward, stroked her hair and said quietly, “Midge Watson, if I didn't mean it, I wouldn't have said it.” Midge reached up and held Harry's hand against her cheek. It felt big and hard, neither rough like a labourer's, nor soft like pencil pusher's; in fact, just right as far as Midge Watson was concerned.
“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, “You're so kind.” She brought his hand round and kissed his palm. Now Harry really felt a stirring in his loins. He held her face in his hands and leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. Midge hesitated, not quite believing what was happening, then opened her lips and invaded his mouth with her tongue and surged forward, pushing Harry back on the chair. Her kiss was furious, desperate; like someone dying of thirst, she consumed that first kiss as if it was water for a man dying of thirst. Her sexual urge, so long repressed, broke over the dam of her self control like a tidal wave. Harry found the only thing he could do was to swim with the tide, so to speak, and responded in like measure. Her hands were everywhere, frantic and wanton. The buttons on his shirt stood no chance, the were ripped off in one frenzied effort. Midge paused, disengaged from the bruising kiss, grabbed first the left arm and then the right arm of the chair and pulled them both from their tubular sockets and threw them on the floor with a clang. She let the wrap slip to the floor and sat astride Harry's loins and rejoined the kiss. Harry hardly had time to take in the sight of Midge Watson in her underclothes, her freckled skin, slim shoulders and her breasts trapped in a fearsome brassiere he'd only ever seen in a Littlewoods catalogue, before Midge started once more. Unhampered by the arms of the chair, Midge ground her sex against Harry's erection. Even though she was becoming short of breath, she continued with the kiss while brushing aside Harry's ineffectual efforts to undo her bra and did it herself. She sat up and slipped off the shoulder straps. Her breasts, released from their prison, surged forward and Harry could only marvel at their size. He lifted both hands to stroke them. Their nipples stiffened immediately and Midge sighed contentedly. She leant forward and offered one of her pendulous breasts to Harry who suckled eagerly on a teat which had become like a stiff thimble. Midge sighed deeply and cradled his head against her breast. She felt his hands roaming over her body, her back, her hips, flanks, her buttocks. It seemed ages to Midge before his hand wandered inside her knickers, Harry was in no hurry and was determined to tantalise. But once his hands were inside her knickers, she couldn't stop shivering with delight. She'd already had one orgasm just by rubbing herself against his erection and was impatient for another. Harry's hands found her fanny, wet and ready and his feathery touch against her clitoris began another paroxysm of lust and passion from her toes to the roots of her hair. Midge reached down and undid the belt on Harry's trousers. She desperately wanted to get his member in her hands but was afraid the spell might end if she got off his lap.
Suddenly, she felt Harry take a firm hold of her knickers and there was a tearing sound as he tore them in half. Midge felt exhilarated by the power. “Up.” said Harry breathily. She raised herself on her knees and he undid the zip on his trousers and between them, they pushed them off. Midge sat down on Harry's loins once more, only this time, with a feeling of reverence and awe. She held his erection in both hands and felt faint at the throbbing size of it. She raised herself once again and placed it between the lips of her fanny and sat down slowly, luxuriating in the feeling of being filled for the first time since she-couldn't-remember when. Midge swayed back and forth, from side to side. It felt marvellous, she wanted it to go on for ever. For Harry, it was a marvellous sensation, his erection encapsulated with Midge's hot slippery orifice. It had been too long, much too bloody long, he thought. Harry began to stroke and tease her clitoris, but found his hand trapped as Midge leaned forward and they rejoined their pneumatic kissing. Suddenly, Harry felt the chair descend and the back decline. Midge had released the mechanism and the it had suddenly become more of a casting couch than a chiropodist's chair. She sat astride his loins with both feet on the floor humped Harry's erection with a slow steady rhythm. For a long time, she swayed to and fro, from side to side, her whole being focused on Harry's prick embedded in her fanny. Harry lay on the chair, hardly able to move, his loins pressed into the seat, teasing and encouraging Midge in her efforts. The climax, when it came at last, built up steadily and surely. Harry struggled to participate, thrusting from below and hugging her close. Midge humped and ground her sex against his loins with fierce abandon that bordered on desperation. Their climaxes were both simultaneous and explosive, leaving them both limp and prostrate on the chair.