And Sister Makes Three

The two girls more or less panned the first video, Jenna leading the charge, this time making more direct critical remarks about her husband. At least the actresses could do a realistic job of faking an orgasm, which was more than she often could bring herself to do. Cathy took this all in, but commented little in return. Jenna had been snuggled close to Cathy during the video, claiming she just couldn't get warm, despite the hot shower she had taken. It was an innocent enough explanation, but served the purpose of getting Jenna close.

Then came the lesbian segment. Jenna offered to turn the TV off if this was offensive for Cathy, but Cathy declined, stating they might as well get their money's worth. The first sign Jenna noticed of Cathy's sexual excitement was an increase in her breathing rate and barely noticeable shifts in her body position. But when the first woman had her orgasm with the other between her legs, Cathy began shaking. Jenna was puzzled at first, then it dawned on her that Cathy was crying. She put her arm around her and asked what was the matter. Cathy's dam burst. She told Jenna how sad it was to see two women so happy when her sex life was mostly a big zero. When gently plied for more information, Cathy admitted that she hardly ever had an orgasm, somehow it just didn't happen for her. For years, she had just accepted it as her fate, but tonight it finally hurt too much.

Jenna's time had come. She had never thought it would be this easy to make an opening; she had not been sure how to begin. With the video still walking the actresses through their lesbian journey, Jenna began to fully embrace Cathy—albeit from the rear—then moved over so Cathy could lie on her back. Jenna now could fully hug her, placing her near leg over Cathy's as she did, first wiping away her tears with her fingers, then gently planting kisses on each eyelid, all the while uttering words of comfort to Cathy. For her part, Cathy returned the hug. Eventually, Jenna widened her kisses to my wife's ears, her cheeks, then her neck and throat. Cathy continued to hold on to her as though Jenna, the wife of a preacher, might be the key to her salvation.

Finally, Jenna's kisses went lower to kiss the tops of Cathy's breasts, breasts highlighted by nipples making small tents against her nightgown. Cathy did not resist. Jenna then raised her head level with Cathy's, looked her earnestly in the eye and asked her in a whispered voice if she could make love to her.

Cathy stiffened and averted her gaze. Jenna kissed her again on her eyelids, then raised one of her hands to cup Cathy's tit. Rather than repeating the question, she rephrased her question with just a single word: "Cathy?"

Cathy reached for the hand which was now gently massaging her tit to push it aside. "We can't do this," was her response. "We just can't." But her voice lacked conviction.

"Let me try this, Cathy. We can always stop. I just want you to be happy. I promise I will never say a word to anyone. This is just you and me. I know how you must feel. I never cum with Frank either.... Let me do this for you."

Jenna's hand had been rubbing Cathy's side from hip to near her breast as she spoke, now she cupped Cathy's tit again, beginning this time to knead the nipple. When Cathy made no protest, Jenna lowered one side of the nightgown exposing her right breast. She replaced her hand with her mouth, tonguing the area around the nipple before taking it into her mouth.

After a minute of making mouth-love to one tit while she fondled the other, Jenna planted kissed anew on Cathy's face before concentrating them on her mouth. Jenna eventually tried opening Cathy's mouth with a probing tongue. With apparent hesitation, Cathy parted her lips and was soon a willing participant on a French kissing frenzy. Meanwhile, Jenna had worked her hand to Cathy's mound, her hand on top on her panties. Cathy stiffened, yet sighed at the contact and kissed her sister-in-law with more passion. It was obvious to Jenna that her companion was wet. She raised her hand to slip it inside the barrier of her Cathy's underwear. When Cathy felt another woman's touch on her bare pussy, she whimpered into Jenna's now wildly kissing lips. After lightly running her fingers over Cathy's outer pussy lips, she began to work Cathy's panties off her hips.

"Jenna, please stop. This isn't right." But she raised her hips to make it easier for her panties to be pulled down. Jenna sat up to complete the removal. When Cathy had been exposed, Jenna simply admired her pussy, mostly hidden by her lush bush. Predictably, Cathy attempted to cover her crotch with her hands.

"Please don't do that, Cathy. You are so beautiful."

And that pretty much ended the conversation for the next ten minutes. Jenna kissed each of Cathy's inner knees, then began working her way to the promised land. Although Cathy still was covering her pussy with her hands, she allowed them to be gently pushed aside when Jenna's lips reached the point where upper leg met lower torso. Jenna tongued these spots, then maneuvered her tongue directly to Cathy's pussy hole, where she slowly stroked it in, then out of her cunt, savoring Cathy's generous secretions.

Cathy had ended all resistance. Rather, she had grasped Jenna's head, apparently in an attempt to make sure it stayed at the center of her pleasure.

Jenna later told me that from that moment, they were both lost to time. Personally, she was reveling in this chance to love another woman, with the dual opportunity and challenge of making another woman cum on her tongue. Cathy just kept whimpering, the groaning as she neared orgasm, alternating between grasping her tits and placing her hands on Jenna's head to keep her eating her pussy, who, by this time, had inserted two fingers in Cathy to add to her stimulation.

At the peak of her excitement, just before she reached orgasm, Cathy asked Jenna to use three fingers. Then Cathy went wild. My wife's exact words were "Oh, Christ. Oh, fuck. Eat my pussy. Make me cum. Fuck my cunt with your fingers" (this said between clenched teeth), then finally "I'm cummingggggggg."

Cathy had never used such language when we were making love. I marveled when Jenna quoted her words, words which had brought joy and such a sense of accomplishment to my sister. But rather than resting at this point, Jenna toyed with Cathy's cunt, slowly finger fucking her, softly kissing her labia, allowing Cathy to come down from the intensity of her cum. Then, when she sensed Cathy was beginning to relax, brought her to a second, then a third orgasm, each somewhat less strong than the former.

She gave Cathy a final lick and kiss on her pussy, then crawled upwards where Cathy eagerly met Jenna's open-mouthed kiss. Cathy began weeping.

"Oh, Jesus, Jenna. That was the best I have ever had. Promise me you won't ever tell anyone. If my kids found out what I just did, I would simply die. But it was soooo good. I love you, Jenna. I didn't find out exactly how much until tonight." More kissing, as Cathy's hand now went to Jenna's pajama-clad pussy. "Can I try? I've never done this before and I'm not exactly sure what I need to do. But I want to make love to you. I want to lick your pussy like you licked mine."

Jenna kissed her, and said she would love to feel Cathy loving her. She suggested that they just rest for a few minutes, during which time Cathy ministered to Jenna's tits. Jenna was amazed how Cathy seemed to need to suck as much in her mouth as possible, all the while finger-fucking Jenna sopping pussy. Then Jenna shed the rest of her pajamas, used her top to wipe her and Cathy's pussies. Swiveling her body on the bed, Jenna suggested they do each other. Lying side by side, the next fifteen minutes were followed by everything one woman could do to another with tongue, lips, and fingers. Jenna came first while urging Cathy to "suck my pussy," then she brought off Cathy, again finger-fucking her with three fingers as she reached climax, at the urging of Cathy's cry "fuck my cunt."

Both women were spent. They fell asleep nude in each other's arms.

When Jenna awakened, Cathy was still asleep. She showered, then returned to wake up Cathy with a kiss on her tit. Cathy sat up, and headed for the shower. When she emerged, Jenna was dressed. Cathy, wrapped in a towel, was rummaging through her suitcase in search of her clothes. Jenna rose from the chair where she had been reading, turned Cathy to face her and slowly loosened the towel. Cathy began to cover herself with her hands, then, realizing the absurdity of her actions, began laughing.

"I hope I did okay last night. I mean with you. I hope it was good for you. I'm sorry I asked you to do those things and that I used that language."

"You mean when you asked me to fuck you with my fingers? Trust me, I enjoyed doing it. And you seemed to have had quite a cum. Hope you enjoyed it."

"Oh, it was sensational," Cathy replied. "You'll never know just how good it was. But I shouldn't have spoken the way I did. I feel bad about that. That wasn't really me."

As Cathy began to dress, Jenna wanted to know what language she felt bad about. Cathy took a seat on the rumpled bed and in a quiet voice said she regretted using the words "pussy" and "cunt." Those were not a normal part of her vocabulary.

"Listen, Cathy. If I am talking to a doctor, I might use the word vagina or vulva. If I am at a coffee party, I would use the word bottom. But when I am making love, the only words that fit are pussy and cunt—not that I can use them with Frank. I may have a uterus but when I am fucking, the whole of me is a cunt. It's the only word that fits. So that's where I'm coming from, pardon the pun. How about you?"

"I guess you're right. Last night, the only part of me that was alive was my (hesitation) cunt. Thank you for helping me discover that."

Jenna gave her a motherly kiss of approval, then suggested they get something to eat. They had a long day ahead of them, before a late check-out at 3 p.m. They did breakfast, grabbed a cab to the museum, and enjoyed the wing of the exposition they had reserved for that day. But after a snack at noon, Cathy shared the thoughts she had been having since they had passed through the turnstile.

"How about skipping the rest of this and heading back to the hotel? We still have three hours. To tell the truth, I've seen enough. And...I want to taste your pussy one more time."

Jenna smiled, took a last sip of her coffee, and said she had been thinking the same thing. In their hotel room, the two of them skipped the preliminaries and simply undressed. After exchanging kisses, Cathy began sucking Jenna's tits, then had her sit on the bed with her legs extending over the edge. She had a clear view of Jenna's pussy. Within seconds, Cathy was lapping like her life depended on it. Jenna just let it happen. Every few minutes, Cathy would pull her head back from Jenna's body, making a study of her now wet pussy, sometimes transfixed as she inserted her two fingers in her cunt, fucking in and out. Then it was back to licking her new-found lover. Mid-way to Jenna's building orgasm, they heard a rattle of keys, the door opened, and a cleaning lady walked in the room, pulling her cart behind her. Cathy looked up, her face covered with Jenna's juices, not knowing what to do. As the cleaner realized what she had interrupted, she froze, mumbled something, and almost tripped over her cart on the way out. For a moment, Cathy herself sat frozen. Her trance was broken by Jenna's laughter. "Boy, will she have a story to tell."

That broke the spell. Cathy too laughed, then finally returned to Jenna's pussy, only to be told that Jenna wanted to do her too. So they got in the same position they were in last night. Before beginning to ply her talents, Jenna asked Cathy if she would like her to eat her pussy and finger-fuck her cunt. Cathy said yes, only to be told by Jenna that she wanted to hear her say it.

Cathy paused, then repeated the words. "I want you to eat my pussy. I want you to finger-fuck my cunt. And I want you to do it while I fuck your cunt." Then she began to enjoy Jenna's riches again.

Following mutual orgasms and a quick wash, they hastily packed their clothing, checked out, and began the long journey home.

Jenna, of course, shared all details of their adventure with me. We never mentioned it to my mother or anyone else. Cathy seemed much more lighthearted following her adventures with my sister. The only difference I noted when we had sex was that Cathy much more receptive to my performing oral sex on her. She never relished sucking my cock and—as before—seldom did it.

But I was content. She was still a wonderful, somewhat doting mother to our kids; she was still my life's partner. And I sensed that even though she couldn't find sexual fulfillment with me, I was happy to have played some part in giving her a few brief moments of happiness, happiness which for her could apparently only be reached when having uninhibited sex with another woman.

Before I got a chance to spend time with my sister again, they had attended two other art shows, spending at least one night together each time far from town. I know their fun continued.

When next both Jenna and I spent a weekend at my mother's, the thought of any inhibition or hesitation on anyone's part evaporated. We accepted the fact that we were lovers and didn't give a flying fuck what rules the rest of the world chose to live by. Mom and Jenna met me at the door, each offering a glass of wine, each dressed in filmy nightgowns and robes. They had already made love, showered, and spent several hours lost in the enjoyment of each other's company.

I caught up on each of their lives while enjoying the wine and a light lunch, then announced I would be taking a shower to wash off the road dust. When I entered my mother's bedroom with only my towel for a wrap, the two of them were sprawled atop the bed, nightgowns carelessly, seductively pulled up to mid thigh. I got the message.

Dropping the towel, I too climbed on the bed and kissed each in turn. I wound up eating Jenna's pussy while my mother started sucking my cock. Both of her children came on schedule, Jenna hunching against my mouth, me in my mother's, even though she was never to swallow my cum. She would keep sucking my cock through my orgasm, but kept her lips somewhat loose so that my semen could escape. No doubt she did swallow some as she never would spit out what didn't ooze from her lips, but swallowing an entire load was something she seemed not to relish. In contrast, Jenna had no hesitation. From start to finish, she was more of a lip-locker, swallowing every bit of my pre-come as well as the jets of jism that her skills brought forth, usually continuing to slowly suck my cock until I was again flaccid.

That weekend, we spent hours working on various odd jobs which had been put off. But we also spent hours in the bedroom, making sure that all three of us got in our share of sucking, fucking, cumming. It is amazing how relaxing it can be when one keep's no secrets—except for the outside world.

The morning following my arrival, Mom again had several errands to run. It was then, when we were alone, that Jenna broke the bombshell about Cathy. Jenna was convinced that Cathy would be open to experimenting with a black guy. I was incredulous at the news, even though not totally surprised. Jenna reported that Cathy—far from being non-orgasmic—never failed to cum when the two of them were together. I had been right about my wife's draw that lesbian sex seemed to have on her and was thrilled that she was finally getting some sexual satisfaction. But Jenna had always been intrigued by the fact that Cathy called for three—and once all four—fingers being used on her during their lovemaking. Jenna also commented on her proclivity to watch interracial sex scenes, the bigger the black cock the more she seemed to get turned on. Conclusion: although my normal-sized cock provided stimulation enough for sister and mother, it just wasn't doing the trick for my wife. Cathy needed to be filled in order to reach orgasm. Solution: see if Cathy would be receptive to trying black, a topic Jenna was only willing to broach if it had my blessing. I was, of course, aware of the raptness with which my wife had viewed interracial sex scenes, even though she had always denied that the thought of having a roll in the hay with a well-endowed black man held any appeal for her. Now my sister was presenting me with a difficult choice. Did I really want Cathy to be fulfilled? To give my approval for her getting fucked by a black man?

On the surface, it wasn't a hard decision to make. If Cathy needed a huge cock to reach another level of happiness, that was fine with me, so long as discretion would be the watchword. The problem was how to approach the problem. It was my turn to express my incredulity at Jenna's suggestion.

"Okay. Assume it's okay with me. After all, I'm fucking you and mom, not exactly something they advocate in Sunday school. But how the hell do you propose to bring this one off? You can't exactly put an ad in the local newspaper. And what about future complications? Getting fucked by a guy once or twice is one thing. But I don't think a long-term relationship is something either she or I can handle. We might not be card-carrying Catholics or anything, but we did live in a small town. If anyone even dreamt that this sort of thing is going on, it wouldn't do much for her reputation. This isn't known as a liberally-minded area."

This time, it was Jenna who had done some advance planning. A young unmarried intern had been temporarily assigned to her office, an intern whose tenure would soon be coming to an end, following which he would return to his home base in Philadelphia, half way across the country. He was personable, good looking, well-spoken, suave, meticulously clean, and intelligent (and probably horny as hell)—and he was reported by the office guys who worked out with him to have a cock they could only dream of. The females at the office had, of course, gotten wind of his endowment. Jenna had several times been in attendance when he had joined the office staff for an after-work drink, sessions which inevitable deteriorated into bouts of sexual bantering and innuendo. The guys had never failed to get in a thinly-veiled remark about cock size, and how Gene (his name) took the trophy in that category. Even the older, respectably-married women seemed intrigued, even though they blushed each time.

Jenna had taken the liberty (read chance) to confront him in private, even though she realized she was taking a huge risk. Gene had been summoned to her office for a budget brainstorming session. As he entered the room, she quietly locked the door behind him. Taking her seat, she studied Gene for minute, then took a deep breath. Rather than beating around the bush, she took the direct approach. She asked him if he was interested in "getting a little white pussy"—her exact words. Not herself, she clarified, but someone she knew that was interested in experimenting. Gene hemmed and hawed, but finally admitted he was interested in what she had to say. She, for her part, asked him flat out about the size of his cock. He told her he was about seven and a half inches. Thick, she asked. Very, he answered.

"Okay, sounds like we might be able to work something out—if you are telling the truth. So show me the proof."

"You want me to pull out my cock right here in your office?" Gene couldn't believe they were even having this conversation, let alone what was being asked of him.

"Look," Jenna told him. "My friend doesn't just want a black cock. She wants a big black cock. If you want to be a player, you have to show me the proof now. If you aren't interested, you can just leave, and this conversation never took place." She pulled a picture of Cathy from her purse to give Gene evidence of what was being offered.