Letters Found by a Widow

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She discovers her late husband's long affair with his sister.
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leBonhomme
leBonhomme
684 Followers

[Editor's note: this story contains Incest content.]

This is a very short story in the form of letters from a sister to her brother. It is softcore, so if you prefer hardcore details don't bother to read it. It is an idea that came to me one night after having written a two chapter story that was pretty much only hardcore. Even an author needs a little respite after that.

* * *

Dear Brother,

You've probably forgotten about it, since it was several years ago, and we weren't entirely sober. It was the best advice you ever gave me. I had also forgotten about it until a few days ago. I bet you forgot that we just had our first wedding anniversary. We didn't forget, celebrating with a bottle of bubbly, real champagne. Since then I have been wanting to thank you, wondering if I should tell you the whole story. I will, I want to.

As we were finishing the champagne, knowing what we were going to do in bed, he grinned and said: "You're the best lover I ever had." We had already been chuckling about our previous friends, not like that, just admitting that we both hadn't been celibate before we met. His words suddenly reminded me of what you had said back then: "Try to be the best lover he ever had." Remember?

I can't remember which guy I was with at the time and can't remember what we talked about that led to your saying that. I went back to my flat, thinking about what you had said, asking myself if I hadn't been trying to be. I had to admit that I hadn't been. Oh, I did everything he/they wanted to do, for me to do. Wasn't that all a nice girl should do, not act like a ... harem girl?

I probably shouldn't get too detailed, but yes, I did suck cocks, after they did that to me, but not voluntarily. For a couple of dominant ones, I even swallowed, but with the other ones, I tried to avoid going that far, like with the guy I was with, when we talked. Was that why we broke up?

Anyway, with your words ringing in my ears, with the next one -- a sweet softy -- I risked his thinking that I was some kind of a slut. He didn't, I hope, and he sure enjoyed it. Then I did too. With the right attitude, you want it; want it to be that good for him; want to taste it; want your mouth full of it to confirm that it had been that good for him. (Not "you," me, of course!)

Your advice paid off: I could ask guys (the few) to do everything I wanted. After I made one come twice without stopping ... I'm telling you this?! He's on a trip tonight, and I've opened a bottle of wine. Okay, make up a story for your wife about why I'm writing.

I sat on his face and didn't let him stop until he made me come a couple of times - more! The pillow was wet on both sides of his head. I had never come like that from his -- or anyone's before - just doing that to me. I did after that, spurting, not always twice, three times, and then not with him, but sometimes, and, of course, when we were doing it the other way.

You didn't want to know that your sister comes like that? It's your own fault for telling me to be the best lover I can be. Thank you!

Love and kisses. (Shouldn't have added them, but that's the way I'm feeling right now.)

Your sister

PS: I reread this this morning, a little surprised, but ... Thanks again! He would probably also want to thank you, but not like that I have been so explicit. I think it was fun.

Dear Brother,

When you dropped me off after our returning from Gramp's funeral, you asked what I thought about it. I asked myself, too. What should we think? Maybe my letter had been wrong, that I shouldn't have told you all that, but I had. Oh, when I was writing it, I suddenly had the wild idea of offering to show you how good your advice had been. Must have been when the wine bottle was almost empty. We aren't like that, brother and sister. Well, that's what I thought back then, but we are. We proved that. It was so good!

We only had one drink in the hotel bar the night before we went to the funeral. When I looked at you and murmured: "I want to," you immediately murmured: "I do too." How could you have known what I was thinking? But we both were thinking the same thing. We had, later, joking that we could have saved the price of two single rooms. And how we did! Was I trying to show you how good your advice had been -- every way we could? You did every way I could want, imagine I wanted, taking your own advice. Or were we trying to do everything we could together to make up for feelings in the past? Or was it to suggest that we had to do it all, because we never would again?

Maybe we thought so, but on the trip back home, we did save the price of two single rooms. I thought that was even better, just lovingly enjoying it, not having to overdo it again. My apologies for not knowing immediately that it was you behind me in bed, but you chuckled, both of us agreeing that it was just too familiar to wake up that way. "Familiar"! More family than with our spouses! We couldn't chuckle about that, but it was.

Regrets? Like Sinatra sings: "Regrets, I've had a few," but mine are only about not having known earlier your advice, none about us. I hope you feel the same way.

Love,

Your sister.

Dear Brother,

Your letter was just what I was hoping to hear. Another song popped into my head, while I was reading it: "Do it to me one more time." Please! I want to, too. It can't make any difference if we do again. "Quando, quando, quando, tell me when." Another visit to Grandma?

[The letter continues with a couple of paragraphs on other subjects.]

Dear Brother,

I felt a little wicked greeting Grandma, knowing that our visit was really about our being together. I'm still the best lover he ever had, and hope that you are at home, but it's so good with you too. It's not like we're each having an affair that could upset our marriages, like we talked about on the drive back. Why not, if it's so good with each other?

[Her letter continues again with her thoughts about their grandmother's situation.]

Dear Brother,

Oh, it was so good! Did you think you had to make me come three time like that? The pillow was all wet. Did I tell you about that in my first letter about this? I think so. I wonder if the hotel thinks we're married, or just an oversexed couple; not just the pillow was wet. It is just so good with you, maybe because we can't as often as we want to. You said something suggesting that. Maybe better that way. I think so too.

[Again. more that he could tell his wife about the visit, phrased so that that sounded like the start of the letter.]

Dear Brother,

Yes, I liked that we agreed not to do anything on the way to her funeral. That was nice, very nice, just talking in bed together about her. But it was also nice that we did afterwards, on the way back. Thank you.

[The rest of the letter is an appreciation of their grandmother that he could read to his wife. She reads it, recalling that he had read to her at the time. She had been shocked by her sister-in-law's first letters, almost tearing them up, but had continued to the read the subsequent ones. Now, she smiles mildly with a sigh. She shrugs and murmurs to herself: "If they wanted to. She was right: he was also the best lover I ever had." Her thighs clutch together, as she gives a soft moan, and then finds the next letter.]

Dear Brother,

Thank you for finding an excuse for our being together again. Just one night, but we knew that. Are we getting old, not having to do it so many times? I wanted to make you come again like that. You let me, but it took longer that I remembered. You thought so too. And I let you just do it to me once. But then we both did again. I love to feel you come in me.

[His widow's thighs clutch together again, but she continues to read.]

I know you do at home too, like he does in me. Funny, being able to tell you that, but that is just the way it is: both of us happily married, but also able to enjoy each other as good as siblings can.

[His widow sees that he had underline the last phrase and skips to the next letter.]

Dear Brother,

Aren't we lucky! Both feeling the same way about it all? I love him, but I love you too, and you love her. The best of both worlds: happily married and having a loving partner, whom no one can take from us. We're just so lucky! And that you said so too. Pity that we don't have a reason to see each other more often, but maybe that is good.

[His widow skips the rest of the letter, noticing that the date of it is several years later.]

Dear Brother,

We are getting older. Oh, it has been good when we were together, and I am still looking forward to the next time, but, well, you know too, we sleep more than we used to. But not just sleep! We do back here, too, both ways, "more sleep, but not just sleep." You two too, I hope.

[His widow takes a deep breath, nodding. She finds the next letter, dated a year or two later.]

Dear Brother,

I still love you, even though it wasn't like "back when." C'est la vie. That was just -- not just -- the most intensive way we could enjoy it. And it was so good! Lots of very fond memories!

[The letter was very short, just another couple of paragraphs telling him to greet his wife. His widow snorts, nodding, then shrugging. She gathers up the letters and puts them back where she had found them.]

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this little piece. It was fun to write. If you liked it enough to rate it, that would be appreciated. If you didn't, because you wanted hardcore details, thank you for reading anyway, but please remember that I warned that there would not be any.

leBonhomme
leBonhomme
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