My Two Wives

The torture went on seemingly forever, until finally I heard the unmistakable sounds of female in ecstasy from the other end of the couch. Her foot brushed my calf, flexing and releasing, until she'd wrung herself out.

She rose and walked over till she stood right in front of me. I didn't know if she was going to say something or if she was expecting me to. In the end, she simply reached out and brushed my lips with her wet fingers, then left the room. I heard the door to her room close softly.

I licked my lips, and tasted my sister's pussy juice for the first time.

Five seconds later, I came explosively all over myself.

***

If I'd been lost after I'd gotten hard against her ass, it was nothing compared to this.

Becky had picked up Zach and taken him to church, and now I was alone in the house with my sister. Whose pussy juice I'd tasted the night before. What the hell do you say to your sister after that?

I was in the kitchen, sipping my coffee pensively when Naomi strolled in. She looked like a train wreck, with her hair a mass of tangled waves, makeup smudged around her eyes, and the semi-crazed gleam in her eye of a coffee addict who'd yet to get her morning fix.

Before, I would have looked at the picture she presented only in terms of the crazy hair and makeup smudges. I would have bugged her about looking like a homeless person.

But I'd tasted her pussy juice.

Now, I noticed the long legs revealed by the men's briefs she wore to sleep in. I noticed that her nipples were just a little bit hard, and that her breasts were just big enough to provide a nice handful. Her hair now reminded me of her head thrashing against the pillow as she brought herself to orgasm.

I could never go back to thinking of her as a sexless being again.

"Morning," she grumbled as poured herself a coffee.

"...Morning," I replied.

She took several sips, and I watched her eyes lose that glazed look. Suddenly they widened, and she turned to stare at me in horror.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered. "Did I really...?"

I looked away. "Yeah."

She sat down heavily on one of the bar stools. "Wow."

"Yeah."

She looked at me sideways. "Are you...you know, weird about it?"

I swallowed. "Well, I'm not exactly thinking it's all okay."

"No, of course it's not OKAY," she rushed. "But we were both drunk. Maybe it doesn't have to be that big of a deal?"

I stared at her blankly.

"We're both just going through a bit of a dry spell," she continued desperately. "So, it's not really that unexpected that something like that would happen with alcohol added to the situation."

I felt like she was rationalizing, but I wanted the awkwardness to be gone, I didn't want my sister to move out, and I definitely didn't want my wife to know. Her explanation seemed like a nice way to brush it all under the rug and never have to deal with it again.

"Yeah, that's probably it. Let's just forget about it," I suggested.

She smiled tepidly, and we had breakfast.

We passed the entire ride to her school in silence. Later on, when Becky got home with Zach, we both talked to her but not to each other.

That night as we were getting ready for bed, Becky asked if Naomi and I had had a fight or something. If I was going to tell her what had happened, this was the time.

In the end, I just told her we'd had a little argument but that it was no big deal.

I was sure -- or at least I hoped -- that Naomi and I could return to normal, but I didn't think Becky could if she knew the truth.

For the next week, I tried my hardest to forget what had happened and go back to normal, but I'd catch Naomi giving me these inscrutable looks from under her eyelashes. They weren't blatantly sexual looks, but there was something...intense about them, and I couldn't help imagining that she was remembering what had happened on the couch.

There was also an awkwardness between us now that had never before been present. Like on Tuesday night when we both reached for the salt and our fingers brushed; we both jerked our hands back, and we stared at each other in silence for I don't know how long -- a second, a fraction of a second, an eternity -- before I mumbled 'Go ahead'.

We'd shared our space since Naomi had been born, but suddenly it was strange and uncomfortable. I would find myself watching her when she wasn't looking then avert my gaze if she looked at me. Until she caught me looking, though, I'd study the way her hair brushed the skin between her shoulder blades, the sway of her hips when she walked, the way she nibbled her lip as she did Sudoku. I was seeing her for the first time as other men saw her.

***

"I can't believe you don't get how important this is to me!" Becky yelled.

"You think it's not important to me? That I just enjoy fighting with you?" I yelled back.

"You're an Atheist! Why would you care if our children are baptized?"

"I've explained this already," I said exasperatedly. "If you want to expose our kids to your beliefs, that's one thing, but I don't want religion shoved down their necks."

"That's your liberal upbringing talking-"

"Yeah, maybe it is, but I don't think everything my parents did was wrong. I appreciate that they gave me a choice, and I want my kids to have the same."

"And I want them to have the full experience of growing up in the Church! I want to raise them to feel God's love, so they don't turn away from it like you did." Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"We settled this a long time ago, Becky," I said quietly. "I'm not going to apologize for my beliefs."

"What beliefs? You don't even believe in God!"

"I'm starting to wish I did, so I could pray for my wife's mood swings to be over!"

"Well, maybe I'll take my mood swings to my parents' place!" she yelled.

"You fight with your husband and go stay with your mother? Could you be any more of a WASP?" I asked derisively as I headed for the bedroom door.

"You're a jerk!" she hurled at my back.

"Maybe so. You know what else I am? An agnostic, not an atheist! It'd be nice if my own wife knew the damn difference!"

I slammed the door and hurtled down the stairs. I swooped up my car keys and stormed out of the house. I definitely needed a break from my wife. Her mood swings had gotten insane. Coupled with the nausea, she was not my favorite person to be around. That might make me sound horrible, but I'm just being honest; you strap up any guy who's dealt with a pregnant, hormonal female to a lie detector, and you'll get the same answer.

I drove around aimlessly for a while, cooling off. For two weeks now, her moods had been unpredictable at best. I never knew what was going to set her off. One day, I left a glass in the sink and got yelled at for not putting it in the dishwasher. A couple of days later, I made a show of putting my bowl in the dishwasher after using it only to get yelled at for not rinsing it out. The next day, I didn't rinse my dish out enough.

This wasn't my wife. It was like Becky's evil twin had taken over our home. Or demonically possessed Becky.

I didn't remember it being this bad with Zach. This whole pregnancy was just so much harder. I sighed, finally calming down.

It wasn't her fault. I didn't understand how hormones could make someone insane, but I knew that this wasn't really Becky. She might have her faults, but she didn't randomly bring up issues as serious as the religious upbringing of our offspring just to have a fight.

I stopped and grabbed some flowers then headed home. I arrived to an empty driveway.

"Hey," Naomi called when I came in.

"Hey, where's Becky?"

"Took Zach to her parents'," she said sympathetically.

I ground my teeth, then dialed Becky's cell.

"Hi, Noah," she answered.

She sounded much calmer.

"Hey, where are you?"

"On my way to my parents'. I'm going to spend the weekend there."

"You don't sound mad anymore. Why don't you come home?" I ventured.

"I'm not mad anymore. I just want a little break. I thought a weekend apart might do us some good, since you've got six more months of me being hormonal and crazy to go."

That surprised a laugh out of me. "So, you're aware that you've been a little...uneven lately?"

"Yes, I'm aware, Noah. And if you're feeling sorry for yourself, I wish you could try out these hormones for a bit and see how much fun you have not knowing when you're going to go Godzilla on people and when you're going to burst into tears," she said dryly.

"Point taken. So, we're agreed pregnancy hormones suck?"

"Definitely agreed."

"You sure you want a weekend away from me? Your parents might not be as much fun to yell at..."

"Ah, but variety will keep things spicy," she said wryly. I savored the knowledge that my wife was still in there somewhere.

I grinned. "Okay, then. I love you."

"I love you, too."

I hung up, feeling much better.

"Well, that was pretty anti-climactic. All is well with Nancy and the Republican spawn?" Naomi asked from the couch.

"All is well. She's gonna spend the weekend at her parents'."

Naomi looked up from her textbook. "But she's not mad?"

"No, she's just trying to disperse her wrath among more recipients so that no one person takes too much abuse and ends up tossing her out a window."

"Good thing. You know she yelled at me the other day for moving her shampoo?"

"Only six more months to go..."

"Oh gee, is that all?" Naomi asked dryly.

I grinned, and then the moment of familiar comraderie passed and we were just staring at each other.

I cleared my throat. "So, uh, any plans for tonight?"

"Just studying," she replied, holding up the textbook. "You?"

"I think I'll call the boys up, go out for a change."

"Cool."

I stood for a moment, fishing for something to say. I gave up, and turned to go upstairs.

"Noah."

"Yeah?" I turned back to her.

She stared at her highlighter, seeming focused on the lid as she flicked it off then press it back down with her thumb. "Things are really weird, now."

"Yeah. But it'll get better. Just needs a while to go back to normal." I had no basis for this theory; I was just hoping like hell it was true.

"It doesn't feel like it'll get better." She looked up and met my eyes, and I lost all awareness of my surroundings.

The look in her eyes mirrored what I myself had been struggling with lately: shame, guilt and a powerful need that simply refused to fade. Nothing happened to snap me out of it, but I guess in a moment like that you have to either act to maintain the intensity, or gravity naturally brings your mind plummeting back to reality.

I laughed awkwardly. "It's no big deal. It's just like any other drunken stupid thing that happens. We'll forget about it."

"You really think so?"she asked. Her eyes flicked down to my crotch.

"Yeah!" My voice was unnecessarily loud. "I'm gonna go get some work done."

I fled the room and hid myself in my office for the rest of the afternoon. I left just before five with a cursory farewell to Naomi. Still on the couch, still wearing nothing but a tank top and men's briefs.

It was good to have a night with the guys. For a few hours, I managed to forget that my wife was temporarily bipolar, and my sister and I had some disturbing sexual tension happening. Of course, I was careful to cut myself off after two beers, since last weekend had established that alcohol was a disastrous addition to the Noah and Naomi equation.

Midnight rolled around, and this is where the guys divided into two groups: those who had to get home to their wives and kids, and those who didn't. Even though on this particular night, I didn't have to get home to Becky and Zach, I figured I'd better pack it in since the remaining guys were starting to drink a bit harder. Call me a slave to peer pressure, but I just didn't want to take my chances with hanging out while trying not to drink.

Naomi was in the kitchen when I got home, and the smell of popcorn floated through the house. She was still wearing the little tank top and briefs.

"Hey, how was your night out?" she asked.

"Good. How was studying?"

"Good."

We stood there silently. I tried to keep my eyes trained north of her neck.

"Okay, then. I'm gonna head upstairs. Night."

"Night."

I climbed the stairs to my office wondering if she was right -- maybe it wasn't going to get any better. Maybe the relationship we'd had was gone forever. It was a depressing thought.

I meant to do some work, but I found myself on Facebook. Browsing through the updated statuses of my friends, I came across Naomi's.

'In for the evening, studying. Bleh.'

I clicked on her profile, and surfed through her pictures. Even as I chastised myself for being a pervert, I clicked on every photo of her wearing something revealing or posed seductively. There were a ton of pictures from her trip to the Dominican Republic. God. She always wore a one-piece swimsuit to cover the scar from her surgery, but it was cut low on top and high in the hips. She had a body like a thoroughbred.

I heard a cough downstairs, and my shame mechanism activated. I exited Facebook and opened up a work document.

Around midnight, I was lying in bed, contemplating the wrongness of jerking off to thoughts of my sister in her bathing suit, when I heard a soft knock at my door.

I seriously considered ignoring it. I didn't want to talk anymore about how things were weird between us; that wouldn't fix things, and it denied me the pretense that there was no danger that I'd lost the best family relationship I had.

I sighed. "Come in."

"Hey," she said softly.

"What is it?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I gathered that."

She hesitated, then came and sat on the edge of the bed. "I wanna suggest an idea, and it might sound crazy, but I think it could make things cool between us again."

"What?" I asked cautiously.

"I think we should try to have sex."

I sat bolt upright. "What the fuck, Naomi!"

"Not actually have sex, Noah! Hear me out!" she said hastily.

"What did I do to deserve this?" I stared at the ceiling in bafflement.

"Listen, I've been studying psych all night, and I remembered a class where we discussed adult consensual incest. It's often the result of prolonged separation which prevents the Westermarck Effect from taking place. But we grew up together and never had sexual issues before this, so obviously the Westermarck Effect did occur for us. We're just experiencing some temporary...blockage of the effect because of the whole drunken episode, so we just need a catalyst to put the Westermarck Effect back in place."

She paused expectantly.

I remained silent.

"Well?" she demanded.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, right. The Westermarck Effect is where family members who spend a large amount of time together under the age of six basically lose the ability to see each other as potential mates. One of nature's little miracles. And I'm sure that we experienced this effect, because I never had these thoughts about you before..." she seemed to catch herself. "Did you think about me sexually before?"

"Who says I'm thinking about you sexually now?" I snapped.

I could barely make out her features in the dark, but the skepticism came across loud and clear. "Noah, I'm not an idiot. And I'm not delusional. I see the way you've been looking at me."

I returned to staring at the ceiling and wishing for a comet to strike the Earth. Or at least my bedroom.

"I'm telling you, it's just some weird pause of the Westermarck," she continues. "We just need a catalyst to bring the effect back into play."

"And that catalyst is...us having sex?"

"Trying to have sex," she corrected. "My theory is that one real kiss will be too much. It will bring out all the icky feelings that sexual contact with your sibling evokes when there's no alcohol present, and the Westermarck will fall back into place, and I can stop having these thoughts and everything can go back to normal."

I wanted to ask about the thoughts, but I realized that that would be counterproductive.

"I don't really feel comfortable with this, Naomi."

"Do you feel comfortable with the way things have been this last week?"

"No, but what if it gets better on its own? We should give it a chance to get better."

"It won't."

"It mi-"

"It WON'T," she said emphatically. For some reason, I believed her. Maybe because deep down, I had that same feeling.

"So, we'd just kiss?" It sounded bizarre to my own ears.

"Yeah."

"Um, okay then, I guess."

We both sat there.

"I can see I'm going to have to be the grownup here," she said with a sigh, scooting over to me.

But for all her big talk, once we were close enough to carry out the deed, she made no move. I realized I wasn't going to be able to be a passive participant in this.

I reached out and found her nape, awkwardly drawing her toward me. Our eyes stayed open as our faces approached, with me watching her eyes, and her watching my lips. I could feel her breath on my lips now. The air between us seemed to dance with electricity.

The moment before our lips met, the thought popped into my head:

'This is your sister.'

Then:

'Finally.'

I brushed my lips against hers, once, twice, three times. Tingles erupted in the nerve endings in my lips, nerve endings I'd had only the dimmest awareness of before now. I pressed my lips to hers more firmly, tugging her closer. My other hand found its way to her waist, and I touched her side lightly as her lips moved under mine.

With a soft sigh, her lips parted, and the last remaining thought of our little experiment fled. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and found her tongue waiting, eager to tangle with mine. Our tongues slid against each other, hot and hungry and desperate.

My hand tightened on her waist and suddenly she was straddling my lap, with the covers acting as a barrier between us. The sounds of our heavy breathing filled my head. My cock was a steel ridge between us, and I wasn't sure whether it was the guidance of my hands at her waist or her own initiative, but she'd started grinding herself along my hard length. I ripped the comforter from between us and flipped her onto her back.

Her long legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me against her as she brought her lips up to mine. Rational thought was trying to penetrate the haze surrounding my mind, but deep down, I didn't want to be rational or pull back. I ground my cock against her, and felt the dampness spread from the crotch of her briefs to my boxers. She was wet and needy, ready for me to get rid of the last barriers between us and be inside her. Fuck, I wanted that too...

I jerked back, panting, but her legs still gripped me. I forcibly unlocked her legs from around my waist and jumped off the bed. I was angry, at her, at myself, at Becky; I just wanted my life to go back to normal.

She stared back at me, wide-eyed.

"Oops," she whispered.

"So much for the Westermere Effect," I said acidly.

She jumped up and fled the room.

***

Not half an hour later, I'd heard the door slam; Naomi had gone out.

I lay there restlessly turning the night's events over and over again in my mind. I'd feel overwhelmed by guilt and the desire to tell Becky one second, then completely determined the next to never let tell anyone about what had happened. The only thing I was sure about was that it was time for Naomi to move out. I could help her out financially until she could handle it on her own, but she had to go for the sake of my marriage. After tossing and turning for almost three hours, I finally drifted off to a restless sleep.

I was woken by noise coming from downstairs, inebriated giggling and clumsy stumbling. I tried to shut my eyes and go back to sleep, and then I heard the low rumble of a man's voice.