How I Met My Wife

"I released her nipple and raised my head and agreed: 'I sure didn't.' 'I guess it was going to sooner or later, even without this bed,' she replied, squeezing my cock. I moaned and made her moan, wondering if we could just masturbate each other for relief for the coming several weeks. 'Sooner or later,' she murmured and rolled towards me, her other thigh on mine, my hand squeezed between her thighs, as her arm embraced me, and her face touched mine, her mouth finding mine. If I could rub her pussy and she hold my cock, there was no reason why I couldn't kiss my sister, even the way she was wanting to.

In all our years together, had I really never been sexually curious about my sister; she, about me? We now were way past just being curious. Yeah, I asked myself if this was incest. Would oral sex be incest? My tongue would love to be in her pussy doing what my fingers were. Did Deb like to suck a cock, want to suck mine? That was almost as good as – sometimes better than – doing what was really incest. She retrieved her tongue and murmured again: 'Sooner or later,' then added, as though she had read my thoughts: 'We can do that too; I like to, but sooner or later we're going to. Sooner!'

"She rolled me back, for a few moments struggling to free her legs of her shorty bottom, then was lying on me, her legs straddling mine. She raised her shoulders and brushed her aroused nipples on my chest, then dropped down and started another kiss. My cock throbbed between us. She moaned and nodded, then chuckled softly and murmured with her lips on mine: 'And I was wondering why I was still taking the pill.'"

I couldn't resist saying something and grinned, remarking:

"Girls can be so subtle about telling that they want to go all the way."

"Um-hmm, and that it's safe to with them," Bob agreed, continuing:

"And I didn't have any rubbers with me. Why should I have; wasn't going to be able to meet another girl, traveling all summer with my sister."

"Didn't need to, it seems," I enjoined.

"No, I sure didn't, and she wouldn't have been as good. Where was I? Where were we?"

"Your cock throbbing, and her telling you could."

"Oh, yeah. Then she raised her hips and let him spring up. When she didn't reach down, I did, but she stopped me and rocked her pussy on him and said: 'That would be cheating. Then one of us would have started it; they have to find each other.' I liked that she apparently had also thought about incest, that if we were going to, then that neither of us should feel that the other one was more to blame. They did, pussy and cock. God, I was aroused when he slipped into her, and she was too, both of us moaning, groaning as her hips rocked down. I held them still, and we both almost chuckled, feeling him throbbing deep in her pussy. I told her I was going to come like a teenager. She really chuckled and replied: 'Just the first time.' She was right."

Bob emptied his glass, and I did. Then he said:

"Enough! Way too much. You can imagine how we spent the rest of the summer, maybe better than you can imagine."

"I'll try to. No question about why she wants to visit."

"Oh, hope you don't mind; we will. She said she hoped we won't bother you."

"Kind of her. Better go to bed now."

We did. In the morning, Bob said:

"Did I really tell you all that?"

"Um-hmm, the whole story, like she wanted you to."

"Hm-hmm, I'm pretty sure that she didn't want it to be like that."

"Better than any erotic story I ever read. Life can be better than fiction."

We both nodded with wry smiles, and didn't mention Deb until Wednesday, when Bob said he was going to pick her up. I was more than just curious to meet her, wondering what it would be like to meet a girl about whom I knew so much. Had Bob told her that he had told me their whole story?

Late in the evening, they arrived. Was she really that attractive, or did I just want to think so because I had heard his so erotic story about her? If he had or hadn't told her, what was she thinking about me, knowing at least that I understood that they were going to sleep together? She greeted me with a smile, may a little abashed one. My smile was also probably a little funny. Then Bob said that he had to find a better parking space and left us alone.

Deb looked at me with a quizzical expression, after a moment asking:

"Did he tell you?"

"The whole story, said that you said that he should."

She smirked with smile and shrugged, replying:

"I don't know about the 'whole story,' but I figured that it would be easier if you knew."

"Yes. Of course I had to wonder about your sleeping here. The story sure clarified that."

"Shocked?"

"He made it sound too good to be shocked, not any more than you two were, if you were."

Deb smiled and shrugged and agreed:

"Something like that, I guess; too good to not to."

"It sounded like that."

"Oooh, he must have made it a good story."

"Um-hmm, but just about how you got there, well, the first night, stopping after ... you 'did', then just said that it was very good the rest of the summer."

Deb nodded with wry smile and agreed:

"It was. He just told me that he had told you, not how much."

"We had been drinking. Maybe the story wouldn't have been as good, if we hadn't been."

"Hm-hmm! If you liked it, we did.

I chuckled and ventured to add:

"Told him it was better than any erotic story I've read."

"Oooh! That good?! Maybe it was. Of course it was, since it wasn't just a story - for us."

"I guess it happens more often than people expect. I had to wonder, if I had had a sister."

"We could think so. Kind of funny with hindsight that nothing ever occurred before last summer."

"Bob said that he wondered about that too."

He returned, and Deb and I dropped the subject. We shared a bottle of wine, talking about our studying. Deb was doing graduate English Literature. There were a few slightly smirking smiles, when there was pause in the conversation, between them, with me from both Bob and Deb. I thought that it was apparent that we all were thinking about their situation and that I was privy to it.

Then it was time to go to bed. I offered to use the bathroom first and did, saying good night and disappearing in my room, worrying that I was probably going to have to overhear their reunion after almost three months. I did, with new fantasies from Bob's story, but it was me with Deb. In the early morning, I wasn't surprised to be awakened by moans from their room, with a different fantasy, when I remembered that he had told that she had said: 'We can do that too, I like to.' They weren't, however, since she couldn't moan like that with his cock in her mouth. My envisioning how good it would be, if she were, was very satisfying, however.

Such thoughts weren't the best thing to have when I saw them again, so I got up and used the bathroom and got dressed and busied myself in our little kitchen, trying to forget them. When I heard them using the bathroom, apparently together, I called that I was making breakfast. 'That's nice', she called back. Bob agreed: 'Yeah, but don't set the table till we're back in my room.'"

I snickered at the implication that they didn't have any clothes in the bathroom and the recognition that they had not closed the bathroom door. I waited till I heard his door close and then set the table. They came out of his room, giving me slightly wry smiles. Deb shrugged and said: "Hope we didn't disturb you."

Bob looked surprised at her direct reference to how they had spent the night. I smiled back at her, returning her shrug, and said: "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Bob smirked with a nod. This time Deb looked surprised at my reply. I was too. Then her eyebrows shot up, and she smiled apologetically and murmured: "I guess so."

We had breakfast and agreed to show Deb around the campus. It was a nice, late fall day, and she was good company, talking more with me than with her brother, but that was just natural, since compatible strangers have more to talk about than siblings, who know all about each other. With a visit to the museum for coffee and then looking at the exhibitions, we spent most of the day. Bob had already reserved a table for Thanksgiving dinner and we enjoyed it with two bottles of wine. He insisted that I had to be their guest, and we returned to our apartment in good spirits.

When Deb offered to make coffee, He suggest a glass of cognac with it and got the bottle, now three quarters empty. While he poured, Deb chuckled and asked if that was what we had been drinking when he told the story. I nodded, surprised that she wanted to refer to it. Bob was much more surprised, not knowing about our conversation, while he had been parking his car. When he looked at her with a frown, she shrugged and said:

"He told me. I asked, while you were parking."

"You did?" Bob asked, glancing at me and then at her."

"She asked," I replied: "Told her it was good."

"It sounded like it must have been," Deb remarked with a grin.

She raised her glass and looked at me. I raised mine and smiled at her, and the Bob raised his and looked at her and agreed:

"It was, but I guess I got a little carried away. After the six pack was empty, we were drinking this, with soda. Cheers, nice that you're here, and that you two seem to get on well together."

Deb smiled at me, and I returned it, and we all had a sip and then drank some coffee. Then she smiled at me again and said:

"You know more about us than anyone else does."

"He sure does, I hope," Bob agreed emphatically.

"Of course. I meant, since your story was that good, not that anyone else knows," she added.

I wondered if she was a little drunk from the wine, not yet from the cognac, but she was having another sip. I had one too, to keep her company, and then Bob did, while I wondered if she was wanting to hear more about the story. She was going to have to ask Bob in his room. Then Bob muttered: "Should have gone to the men's room in restaurant."

Deb and I had, while he was paying the bill. I called after him to close the door, remembering that he and I usually didn't and then that they hadn't that morning. Deb smirked at me with a nod, and we both raised our glasses and had a token sip, then smiling at each as we set our glasses down. I was liking her more than I already had been. Then she said softly:

"Should have said skaal, that was nice, like in Scandinavia last summer, where we learned that one should always look again at the person you're drinking with afterwards. Hm-hmm! Don't have to ask about the beds there, by then it didn't matter."

I nodded with smile; she had assumed correctly that in Bob's story, he had told that it started between them, when they had to share the not too wide double bed mattress and covers. We took a sip of coffee and waited silently for him to return, smiling at each other – or had she pursed her lips slightly? If we had been alone, I instead of Bob would have been sitting on the sofa with her, and would have been wanting to put my arm around her.

Bob returned and we talked inconclusively about what we could do the next day, finishing our cognac and coffee. It was still not so late, but sooner or later – I suddenly remembered her saying that in Bob's story – we were going to have to go to bed. Sooner, I thought, also recalling that she had wanted them to do it sooner that night in the hotel. I yawned and said:

"Children's bedtime. I'll go first again. Thank you for the fine dinner and a delightful day," the latter with a smile at Deb, or rather Debbie, as I would have preferred to call her.

She smiled back. Or had she purse her lips again, or did I just want to think that she had? I went to the bathroom, hearing her say that she would clear away the cups and glasses. When I returned to the room, she was still in the kitchen, drying them. Bob was standing in the living room waiting for me and thanked me for being such a good sport about her staying with us. We said good night, and he went to brush his teeth and whatever else he did before going to bed with a girl. Debbie looked out from the kitchen with a smile and said softly that they would try not to be so loud. When she said good night, she definitely had pursed her lips.

That was very nice, but a little bothersome when I was in my room and undressing. A few – too few – girls had sucked my cock, but for some reason I had never envisioned their lips around my cock when I was with them somewhere else, but I just had with Debbie, when she had pursed hers, recalling again that in the story she had said: "We can do that too, I like to." As I got in bed, I admonished myself not to think about her that way. Then I did, however, only wondering if we were in one their hotel beds – or in mine! Then I was wondering if I couldn't hear them because their mouths were arousing each other. That wasn't so good either, since I remembered that she shaved her pussy, had told him in the story that she was going to start shaving it again. Only one of my girlfriends in college had shaved hers, and it had been especially delightful to lick, also because she was a more active lover than the others had been. Were girls who shaved in general more interested in sex and better at it? I didn't have to ask myself if Debbie was; Bob had told me that she was. I fell asleep wondering how I was going to keep such thoughts out of mind when I was with them till Sunday afternoon.

In the morning, I was again the first one in the bathroom, then dressed and in the kitchen, soon hearing Bob's door open and then the bathroom door being closed. The bathroom was really too small for two people. Bob and I never were in it together, and after the first week together, we had stopped wearing anything when we went to and from it to our rooms. Certainly, two persons couldn't get dressed in it, so there didn't have to be anything sexy about their doing what Bob and I did.

I waited till Bob's door closed and set the table. They soon joined me, this time more nonchalantly, and we had breakfast, complaining that it was drizzling. After breakfast, I was a little surprised when Bob said he would go and buy a newspaper and took his umbrella and left. Debbie helped me clear the table and insisted on washing up. I waited with the dishtowel to dry. Then she surprised me. Not looking over at me, she said:

"We don't have to do it twice a night. Last night we were talking. Bob said that he had thanked you for being a good sport about my staying here, and I agreed."

She gave me a smile and looked back at the sink, continuing:

"Then he said that it was a little unfair – no, "rather unfair" - us two together and you alone. I agreed with him again. Did I says that I thought it was "very unfair"? I was thinking it was."

Her eyes didn't leave the sink as went on:

"Then he surprised me and asked if I liked you. I do, from our short acquaintance."

She smiled at me again. Could she see that my cheeks were flushing? I returned her smile and replied: "I do too, from our short acquaintance.

She quickly looked back at the sink, but I could that her cheek was rosier than before. After handing me a plate – without looking at me again – she said:

"I said that I did 'from our short acquaintance.' He replied that he had thought so, and I said that I was glad we were going to be together for a couple of more days."

Her cheek was even more flushed. Where was their conversation leading, I wondered; where was ours, that she was blushing? She handed me another plate and continued:

"Then he said: 'If you like him and want to be together for a couple of more days, and we both agree this is being unfair to him ...' and didn't finish his sentence. He couldn't see that I was blushing, like I am now."

Debbie turn her face to me. She was blushing, with an embarrassed but good smile. I was pleased that I also was blushing, now having an inkling of where their conversation could go, since she knew and was blushing, but wanting to tell me. She wrinkled her nose with an unembarrassed smile and said:

"You are too. I like that."

"Me too. And then?"

She looked back at the sink before she spoke:

"I didn't say anything, just blushing, and then he said: 'Well, if you want to be together and get to know each other better, I don't need to be around all the time.' I wasn't sure what he meant. I mean, I've slept with him, we've slept with each other more than with anyone else, but we're siblings. We never really talked about that."

She ventured another glance over at me, now with just a quizzical expression. I took a deeper breath and replied: "Nice of him. I would also like to get to know you better."

When she smiled, blushing again, I did too. She began to chuckle, almost a girlish giggle, and then we both laughed. I could have hugged her. At that moment we heard the door open, and we stifled our laughter but were grinning when we turned to see Bob shaking his umbrella in the corridor. He smiled wryly and said: "It looks like you two don't want to go out in the rain."

Debbie and I glanced at each other with smiles – or had she pursed her lips again? - and shook our heads, grinning at him.

"I rather thought so. I'll get some books and go to the library, maybe read the paper, or do you want to read it." I shook my head. Debbie replied:

"Take it with you, something to read in case you finish your books."

I heard her suggestion that he stay in the library for a long time. Bob did too. With a wry smirk, he replied that he wouldn't be back before five and went in his room. Debbie and I looked at each with twitching lips, waiting for him to return from his room and leave. When he came out of his room, he smirked again and said: "And one of you is going to pay for supper tonight."

We nodded, then as he was about to close the door, he called into the room: "And don't do anything I wouldn't."

The door shut, and we looked at each with slight scowls at his parting remark. Debbie murmured:

"He didn't have to say that."

"Little brothers can be such a nuisance when older sister has a date."

"He told you I was born first?"

"By two minutes. Hm-hmm! Must have been cozy for nine months."

Debbie grinned and replied:

"I can't remember. It wasn't until last summer."

"There lots of things we don't have to do that he wouldn't."

"Hm-hmm! Name the first one that comes to mind."

"We don't have to ... read the newspaper; he doesn't either."

"We can't; he took it with him. Try again?"

"Your turn," I replied with a smirk.

"Hmmm? He doesn't have to hold your hand, and I don't have to," but she did, turning in front of me."

"He'd better not want to. Oooh! And really had better not do that!"

Her finger was scratching in my palm, as she looked up at me with a purr and pursed lips.

After two nights of fantasies about her and having envisioned her lips around my cock, I was at a loss for any other response than putting my arms around her, still holding her hand, drawing her hips to mine and leaning her back, arching her back so that our lips could meet. Then our tongues did. For a moment, I recalled the photo a sailor kissing girl on Times Square sort of like that on V-Day. But her arm hadn't been around him, like Debbie's now was.

My hand slid up on her blouse, and I recognized that she wasn't wearing a bra. Why hadn't I noticed at breakfast? I was pretty sure that she had been the day before. It felt like her breasts – "nice breasts" – were as firm against my chest as though they had been trapped in a bra. After a few moments, I knew she could feel my cock. I usually didn't want the girl to feel him on a first kiss, but now I did. She chuckled in her throat and ended our kiss. I thought she might mention that, but she didn't, chuckling again and murmuring: