In-Fucking-Sane Ch. 03

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Husband and Sister-in-law alone together, some truths emerge.
2.6k words
4.43
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Part 3 of the 12 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 03/09/2017
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The next morning, I woke up ready for action, but Jen was too sore. “I can’t. I can’t do anything right now. I just want to lay here.”

“Okay,” I said, and I started to get up.

“Wait.”

“What?”

She turned toward me on her side and asked, “Should we talk?”

“Sure. ‘Bout what?”

“I don’t know. The last couple of days? What we’ve been doing?”

I got a little nervous, then, because I loved the last couple days. I didn’t want things to change. “It’s been awesome.”

It took her a few seconds to respond. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“So?”

“What’s going on here?” she asked.

“Well,” I begin, “we love each other and we had fun, right? What do you think?”

“I don’t know. Do you think she’s…” Jen couldn’t finish her thought.

“Ann, you mean?” I started getting nervous again. Where was Jen going to go with this?

“I don’t know.”

I asked, “What, like she knows what we’re doing or something?”

“No, not that,” she said, “I mean, like how we’ve been lately and her moving in with us. I don’t know.”

“Like if there’s a relationship between the two?”

“Yes. I don’t know.”

“Why would there be a relationship?”

This question seemed hard for Jen to answer. I, as you know, had already thought about this and fucking knew there was a relationship. She shook her head and said, “Forget it. It was fun, right?”

“Damn right.”

* * *

Later that morning, Jen met some friends at the mall to do some shopping. I stayed home and watched ESPN. Some tennis match. Ann came downstairs in her bathrobe around 10:30.

“Hey.”

“Morning.”

“Where’s Jen?”

“Mall. Shopping.”

“Shit. I told her I’d go.”

“She thought you might need some sleep.”

“Yeah.”

“You can meet up with her.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s some eggs and bacon on the stove, if you want.”

“Yeah.”

She made herself a plate and came into the family room with a glass of juice. Sitting across from me, she curled her legs up and began to eat.

“Good?” I asked.

“Oh, god, yes. Thank you.”

“Greasy breakfast foods. They do the trick sometimes.”

“Mm-hmm,” she agreed while taking a big pull of orange juice. I turned back to the match, but could sense Ann watching me. “Did Jen bring my purse up last night? And my shoes?” she asked.

“No, I did.” I said this and instantly turned back toward the television. I figured this would make me look casual, and, therefore, innocent if she happened to notice that her vibrator had been moved. But, I also felt that I was pretty well covered. Do drunks remember exactly where they put shit before they pass out? Nah.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

I nodded, never taking my eyes off the game, but I had her in my peripheral sights. She looked at me, rubbed her feet together, and turned to watch the game. “This any good?”

“No,” I answered, honestly.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you mind turning it off?”

“No, not at all.” I hit the remote and gave Ann my full attention.

“Don’t answer if you don’t want to, okay?”

“Okay.”

She smiled slyly and asked, “Were you guys doing it last night?” My eyes must have popped a little and I blew out a big sigh. Ann laughed. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just…I heard, well, you know.”

“You heard her?”

“She’s so fucking loud. Yes!”

“But, I closed the door. You were snoring. Hell, you were totally passed out!”

“Just how long were you in my room, mister?” she asked, mock-accusingly. Before I could answer, Ann said, “Just kidding. No, Jen woke me up.”

“Geez.”

“Please don’t be embarrassed!”

“No.”

“Don’t be mad! I want to keep staying here; I need this place.”

“No. Ann, I don’t care. I’m not embarrassed. I mean, I can’t speak for Jen, but I don’t care.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. We’re glad you’re here, and I’m sorry we woke you.”

There was a lull, almost bordering on uncomfortable, before Ann spoke again. “Can I tell you something? Something totally honest?”

“I guess, if you want to.”

“I’m jealous of you guys. You and Jen.”

“Why?”

“What you’ve got. Together, I mean.”

“I’m lucky. We’re lucky.”

“Do you know how long it has been for me?”

“How long for what?”

“How long since Kenny and I...you know?”

“Umm…”

“Don’t worry, I'm okay telling you and Jen. Guess.”

“Uh, so you’ve been here for, what, three weeks, now and…”

“It will have been one year in about a month—less than a month.”

Ever been in a conversation that you would love to eavesdrop on, but hate being a part of? This was one for me. I had been ready—eager—to redirect away from this topic, but the number freakin' stunned me, and my face probably showed it. “A year!”

“Almost a year.”

“What the fuck? How?”

“I wish I knew.”

“You know that’s not your fault, right?”

“Whose fault is it, but his and mine? Half of it, at least, is on me.”

“Look, I don’t know how to say this right, you being my sister-in-law and all, but there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing.”

“No.”

“No. Look, you’re going to have guys—good guys—who will…what do you mean, ‘no’?”

She stood up and took down her bathrobe to her waist. The pink tank top gripped her torso. Then, she sat down again, and looking at her chest, said, “My chest, for one.”

“Your boobs? Nobody cares about that.”

“Uh, you do. Look at Jen.”

“Okay, but…see now, I…”

“Can I tell you a story?”

I nodded—anything to take the pressure off me in this shitty conversation.

“When Jen was 13, her boobs started coming in. I was born 13 months after her, right? So, I watch her start looking more and more like a woman. And Jen is going through this thing that, you know, I’m about to go through, and I’m excited for it! I’m going to start having a woman’s body. I ask Jen all kinds of questions. I’m thinking about new clothes and high school and colleges and getting my own place and, I don’t know, being free, being a grown up. Then, I turn 13 and I’m ready and I’m waiting, and here they come…and then they stop. They just stop.” Ann’s eyes were turning red. She sighed big.

“Then, you know, by the time Jen is 16 and I’m 15, her boobs are just fucking huge, and she leaves her bras out, and I can’t even look at them, and I just fucking hate her. Jen got a woman’s body and I got some little girl’s.” And then, she was crying. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked.

So, I was in a tight spot here. Do you comfort a sister-in-law on the sexiness of her body? Doesn’t that cross some line? Or, really, did I already cross it last night, creeping in her fucking room? These were questions I couldn’t tackle in the seconds after she finished talking. But, I needed to do something, say something.

What I saw was that Ann was looking beautifully sad, and that I had information that might make her feel better. Fuck it if it crossed some hazy moral line that just made my brain hurt. In-fucking-sane, right?

I got up, grabbed a tissue, and handed it to her. She took it with a sniffle.

“Ann, you know about last night?” I moved back to my chair.

She nodded, wiping her eyes.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way. Please don’t think what I might say somehow means I don’t love Jen or changes how you're like a sister, okay?”

She nodded, interested and eager for some kindness.

“Last night—Jen and I last night, when we woke you up?—that happened because of when I went in your room. I mean, you may not know this but, you know, you had kicked the sheets down and so, when I came in…when I came in, I could see your body and…”

“And what?”

I plowed ahead. “And, well, it was beautiful. It was…fuck it. It was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. And when I left your room, I was so turned on that I went straight into the shower with Jen and I fucked her half to death.”

“You looked at me while I was passed out?”

“Yes.”

“My body…made you hard?”

“Very.”

“Then you fucked her?”

“Yes, and...” I stopped. Was I saying too much?

She considered this for a few seconds, sniffed, and smiled. “I know it’s probably fucked up to say this, but thank you. It’s not easy to be honest about stuff like that. I know, just now, you were. I kind of need the truth these days.”

“Least I could do,” I said, and then, “Ann?”

“Yeah?”

“This—what I just said—it doesn’t change things right? We’re cool? Me and Jen are cool? You and Jen are cool?”

“Yeah, it’s all cool.”

“Thanks.”

It’d be just fine if that’s how things ended that morning, if I had gotten up and let Ann finish eating in peace. But, that’s not how it went.

Ann, after eating a bit more, looked up at me and said, “I want to tell you something true, too.”

So, now I relay Ann’s story.

* * *

Four years before, Ann and Jen had just moved into the apartment together. Jen was in the very early stages of dating me. Ann had not yet met Kenny. The girls were drinking together on the big fuzzy carpet in their living room, talking about life, family, work, boys, everything. Ann decided to tell Jen the truth about her body jealousy. Jen was stunned, but ultimately sympathetic.

Ann gestured at Jen's chest, “I mean, look at them, Jen!”

Jen looked down at her breasts. “They can be a pain in the ass.”

“Pain in the ass? Look at these.” Ann pulled off her shirt, removed her bra, and sat on her knees.

“What? Ann!”

“Look!”

“So, they’re small.”

“Feel them,” Ann said with a hint of amusement,

Jen giggled and reached over. “They’re firm, at least.”

Ann looked across. “Let me see yours. I never saw them when we were younger.”

Jen stripped off her shirt and unhooked her bra. She got on her knees and shuffled closer to Ann.

“Jen, they’re amazing!”

“They’re too big.”

“Can I feel them?”

Jen nodded, let her arms down, and turned her head slightly. Ann reached across and felt one, then both. She held them; she caressed them, she squeezed them.

“They’re perfect, Jen. I so hate you for these.”

Jen reached across and felt Ann’s again, touching them in the same way as Ann had touched hers. “There’s advantages to ones like this. Yours will still be firm and have this nice shape when mine are dangling around my knees.”

The girls laughed. Ann kept fondling Jen’s, and she said, “Why didn’t I get these, too?”

Jen’s breathing started getting rhythmic. “And these nipples.” Ann pulled at one, and then both.

“Ann…”

“Feel my nipples, Jen. You can’t even pinch them.” Jen reached back across and rubbed and curled her fingers around Ann’s nipples.

“I like them, Ann. They’re…”

“I’m going to kiss one.”

Jen let go of Ann’s nipple, drew in a breath, and held it. Ann leaned across and lightly kissed the inside of Jen’s fat breast. She kissed the other one, and then kissed the nipple. She said, “Men get to have this with you, Jen.”

Jen released her breath with a soft hum sound. Ann continued kissing all over the soft
flesh.

“Men get to suck them,” she whispered. And then, Ann took one of Jen’s nipples fully into her mouth. Ann swirled her tongue around it, and then let it slip out from her lips. Ann pulled back, a bit shyly looking down at the rug.

Jen said, “Men can do that with you, too. It will just be different, but they’ll like it.” And then Jen leaned across and licked Ann’s breast and nipple. Jen kissed the nipple and sucked on it. She let it go with a lick and sat back.

Ann took one of Jen’s breasts in her hand and sucked the nipple again. She looked into Jen’s eyes and asked, “Can you suck your own?”

Jen nodded.

“I want to see,” Ann whispered.

Ann lifted one of Jen's breasts up. Jen took the heavy tit from her. She pursed her lips, pushed the nipple between them, and drew it into her mouth.

Ann watched, mesmerized. "That's what men get to have with you, Jen."

Then Ann leaned across and took the other breast between her lips. Jen groaned into one breast as Ann made out with the other one. Ann’s hands rubbed Jen’s back and shoulders, tummy and thighs. Jen moaned through deeper and deeper breaths. She was no longer sucking on it for some demonstration; it aroused her. She licked circles around the nipple, and she opened wide and took as much of it in her mouth as she could fit. The soft flesh rose and fell in and out of her mouth as she drew in and released, again and again.

Ann pulled away and murmured, “Keep doing it.” While Jen pleasured her breast, Ann rose up and slipped her pants down to her knees on the floor. Ann leaned forward on her hands, stopping with her mouth a mere inch away from Jen’s other tit. She slowly pushed her tongue against the bottom of the areola, and even more gently drew it up and over the nipple until the nipple flicked back. Then, with the same deliberate and languorous tempo, Ann continued to lick.

The sensation of having one nipple fervently sucked and the other one slowly lapped brought Jen to a new level, and she gulped and gasped intermittently. Ann, meanwhile, took one hand off the floor and slid it back into her own panties. Her fingers curled and caressed the slit underneath, and she moaned into Jen’s nipple.

Jen lowered her tit from her mouth and a string of saliva stretched and burst. She looked down at Ann and whispered, “Wait. Stop for a second.”

Ann stuck her tongue out as far and flat as she could, and then drug it across Jen’s breast and nipple one last time before pausing.

Jen stood up on her knees and pulled her skirt and panties down, and then she lowered her hand to her pussy and slipped a finger inside. While Ann watched this, her own fingers began working more excitedly inside her panties. Jen sat back on her knees and pulled Ann’s head toward the breast. Ann resumed the sensual licking. Then, Jen took the other breast in hand, drew it up to her mouth and began licking it as Ann had done, with aching slowness.

Jen and Ann came together a few minutes later. It was an experience Ann had never spoken about to anyone, and she couldn’t imagine it being any different for Jen. It was their secret.

And when I asked Ann if it had ever happened again, Ann answered, “No, I think we were both afraid of taking it any further, you know, as sisters.”

And I asked if Ann thought either her or Jen regretted it. To this, Ann replied, “We never really talked about it afterwards. But, I don’t regret it. It was amazing."

Author's Note: I acknowledge the point of view trouble with having Ann's story told by our narrator. He's using descriptive language as if it were Ann's private, erotic remembrance. It's not his voice; he doesn't talk that way.

But, Ann would never have told the narrator this particular story, in the setting they were in, and for the reasons she was telling it in such a deliberately sensual way. She would have been broader and more factual.

My dilemma: how to keep it interesting? I tried some different things, but they all seemed contrived or overly complex. I kept it simple, perhaps too much so; I hope the reader can forgive.
-FS

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7 Comments
NewOldGuy77NewOldGuy77about 3 years ago

Do NOT apologize. Writing is hard work, and you're doing it quite well.

ipreferoralipreferoralabout 6 years ago
Great series, but a pet grammar peeve

"Drug" is not the past tense of "drag". If your character says it, then you're setting the character in social space, which is good, but if you write it as part of the narrative, then you break the reader's willing suspension of disbelief.

Keep going, please. The characters are great and the tension is building!

sparkle8sparkle8almost 7 years ago
Amazing Story

FS, you are an exceptional writer. Your characters are well developed (no pun intended), and the dialogue is spot on. I love that you keep the chapters short so that it is really like reading a book. The erotic content is superb, and the narrator (who seems to be nameless, which heightens the interest) speaks with perfect pitch as a man caught in an in-fucking-sane situation, and goes with the flow. And your accuracy of spelling, punctuation, and syntax is a welcome change from many of the stories here. Keep up the good work.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 7 years ago
great story

Perhaps having Jen start something in common room thinking Ann will be out, but she comes back early.

TJSkywindTJSkywindabout 7 years ago
Suggestions

A little more directly, as if she were saying it would work fine. You didn't need to have it set aside with the "So, now I relay Ann’s story" break; you already set the scene for Ann to tell her story sufficiently. That's like pointing to a chair and then saying, "That's for sitting on."

Now you can use that sort of thing as a warning if you are going to change perspective - but those can be jarring if not done right. IMHO, it's better to keep the story conversation flowing. You have the two main characters together in the same room sharing personal, intimate experiences, in first-person narrative. Keep the conversation going from that perspective. With third person, you can pose questions, reveal more information to the reader than what the speaker is willing to let the other person to know. That's the strength of that perspective over first person. First person, though, is supposed to limit things to what the character is reasonably expected to know or experience; you're asking the reader to experience the story as if he or she *were* the character. Changing perspective forces the reader to stop and make an adjustment; and can affect other parts of the story, such as momentum and suspension of disbelief. It may be easy for one reader to do that - a second if that much. But it affects the reader's immersion into the story, and some may not recover as well.

Your notes at the end strike me as a bit odd, though. The first paragraph is almost a non-sequitur. While yes, the author might not talk like that personally (I wouldn't normally assume such), but as it's his story, it's his voice; he's the author. (You don't give a gender in your bio, so I'm presuming here.)

You, as the writer, pick the mood with words and scenes; you determine what the characters say and do. Own it. The voice presumably will change for the next tale you write, unless you plan to recycle the story while only changing the names? And if the story isn't going where you want it, go back to where you are having difficulty and try again. Rewrite as many times as you need to until you are satisfied. Even solicit opinions if want. Sometimes stories try to go off on their own tangents, but you have ultimate control; that sort of thing happens when the characters seem real in your mind and sort take on a life of their own. In the end, though, it's your story. Your voice.

Second paragraph is an interesting comment on Ann. So, yeah. Does Ann have other motives other than relaying a past experience? He shared one, so she felt the need to share one. So maybe here you, as the author, need to decide what Ann's goal is. It could be just a confession. It could also be that she's feeling neglected, horny, whatever, and is open to a three-some if he is willing to suggest it to Jen.

Sometimes people do that - suggest to get someone else to do it, when asking directly might be considered too confrontational, rude, or selfish. Like when someone asks, "Are you thirsty?" because they themselves are actually thirsty, but don't want to bring up their own needs first. If someone else admits to being thirsty, they can then add their own desire to quench their dry throats (and if you say no, you are supposed to ask if *they* want something to drink! And if you don't, they might stew is silence about how selfish and/or thoughtless you are).

In this case, Ann might be telling him the story to see if he's interested or intrigued by the incest-possible-threesome, and expects him to present the idea to his wife, rather than Ann asking her sister Jen directly. Ann and Jen once had an intimate shared experience, never repeated (not drunk enough? no opportunity?). Presented this way, Ann gets to test the waters to see if Jen is open to exploring that further, by having him ask - and possibly take the heat if things go south.

As a writer, if the situation isn't getting you to where you want the characters to go, re-do it.

Now the following are possibilities -- and you hinted at such by Jen's attempt to talk about their recent spike in sexual activity. Does Jen just want to share him because Ann needs it and Jen loves her sister? Is Jen is feeling a little stressed, because she knows her sister has a stronger libido -- and she wants to show her sister she knows how to take care of her man due to jealousy? Or visibly reinforcing her wifely claims to her husband in front of Ann? Or perhaps, for whatever the reason behind the sudden surge, Jen suddenly realizes her husband is enjoying the extra activity, and also realizes that her own libido is not set so high? Did Jen and/or Ann try some girl-on-girl stuff in college and liked it? If she shares him with Ann, Jen's pussy gets more rest. Or maybe something else entirely? See the possibilities?

Slainté

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