Sister in Law

I don't think that I was able to keep a coherent thought in my head as I watched that coffin sink into the cold soil. I shook, and a hand was around my shoulders that I knew was a woman's but I did not know whose. Nor did I much care. How could I? My entire life until that moment was gone, and watching that ornate brown box sink made me feel like when I looked up at the horizon, there would be nothing except dust and silence.

The arm turned me and pulled me into a walk to a car; I had no strength left. I walked on, not really caring. The arm felt good and comforting. I began to weep again and the arm then pulled me to her. I knew it was a her because even though I was bereft of thought and under a tsunami of loss, I felt the two warm breasts press into me. I was eighteen and there were hormones.

"It will be okay," I heard her say. "We're going to watch over you."

***

As I climbed the steps to the stage where the University's beaming smile could not hide her flat, bored eyes. I was just another name, and it was called - Thomas Carter - and I took my diploma and shook her head. As I walked off the stage, I looked into the stands. She was looking at me, her smile radiant, her beauty a shining beacon. Her strength my rock over the past four years. I waved to her.

Why my brother had cheated on her for the cheap, stupid slut that he'd knocked up, and lost Monica forever, was a question that only his heart and brain and cock could answer. I had not bothered to ask him; he was as dead to me as my father, and as lost to me as my mother.

Monica was my father, mother and sister all rolled into her actual relationship, as my now ex-sister in law. I kept looking at her, and kept seeing her brilliant smile, and nearly stumbled on my way back to my uncomfortable seat. I rejoined the long row of graduating seniors, and once there I chatted amiably with my neighbors, none of whom I knew well, but all of whom I knew by sight.

I was going to start law school in three months. After my mom left, my dad had invested heavily in life insurance. I had taken the absolute smallest amounts that I could and worked impossibly hard, driven by his memory, aided by Monica's steadying hand. Achieving good grades was relatively easily done. I got into a good law school, too, and even though that degree would further erode into that nest egg, I knew that I'd be able to repay it quickly.

But while everyone around me was bubbling with their plans for the night - going out and getting hammered or dinner with their big families so that their achievements could be celebrated properly - I knew what was going to happen. Monica was going to hug me like she always had, that full-body embrace that plastered my chest to hers, and she would give me a big but chaste kiss on the cheek. Then she would get into her sleek sports car, because she had taken my brother for a ride in the divorce and drive off to her life.

And like most nights, I would return to my small apartment that I did not share.

I felt like I might cry.

After the final songs were played and the otherwise boring ceremony drew to a close, I joined the throng on the gym floor. Monica pushed and shoved her way through the crowd to get to me.

"Thomas," she said softly, her eyes glimmering with tears.

"I did it, Monica," I told her.

She pulled me into that embrace. "I know, baby," she said. I got the expected kiss on the cheek. But she slid her hands down my arm and took my hands into hers. "I have a surprise for you," she announced.

"A surprise?"

"Yes, a surprise," she smiled. The woman's smile made my heart ache. She knew that I was madly in love with her; she had told me that she knew my darkest secret last Christmas. We had spent that day together, actually; she did not spend it at her parent's mansion and since she was in the midst of divorcing my brother, she had no where to go. So we had spent it together and we cooked together then ate together. After we cleaned up, she poured us some wine and we sat and talked for hours. In that conversation, she told me that she knew I was infatuated with her.

Talk about the mother of all friend zones. I did not even think of attempting a seduction. I mean, my brother's cock had been in her body before; why would I want that?

She walked me to the car. Part of my brother's problem was that Monica came from money. Though she had never out and out told me, I got the sense that the prenup she'd made him sign was ironclad, drawn up by lawyers who knew how to protect their clients. My brother, who was rudderless before my father's passing, completely lost his way until his cock led him to the wrong woman. So we got to this car, a midnight blue sports car that screamed wealth. She had me get in.

Monica drove like she was competing in an F1 circuit. Her shifting precise, her acceleration strong. She was aggressive, weaving in and out of traffic as we got onto the freeway. Where was she taking me, I asked her.

I told you, she replied without taking her eyes from the road. "It's a surprise."

We fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. We had always been able to talk. I saw her as I would see a mother, and despite the difficulties of working up the courage to tell that female adult how badly you fucked up, you did it because you needed her advice and her tenderness. She would forgive you, after all; she was your mother and she loved you above all others. Except my mother was gone, perhaps as rudderless as the first son she birthed. So I had Monica.

It had been Monica whom I'd told that I'd finally lost my virginity. It had been Monica to whom I turned when I faced dark nights and loneliness that I felt might crush me to death. It had been Monica who had brought me along with her family for their annual family vacation to whatever Caribbean island had caught their fancy this time.

I was part of their family, in a way, like a stepson. Monica was now ten years older than me - my brother was eight years older than me. My father had been older than my mother, and I often wondered - believed, in fact - that it was my birth that triggered her departure. But I had a family and it was big and broad and they welcomed me with open arms, though only on certain occasions.

She got off of the freeway. We were nearing the mountains. She accelerated through two-lane roads, finding them fairly clear of traffic. For another half an hour she drove and we talked, until the car came nearly to a halt and she made a sharp right turn onto an unmarked road. A few yards into this side road had us surrounded by woods; the forest was deep and old and impenetrable.

After a longish drive that had me fearing for her expensive car's suspension, we got to a clearing and a large, gorgeous log cabin sat high atop a bluff that overlooked a lake. I did not see this immediately; it was during the tour that I came to see it.

"What is this place?" I asked in hushed tones. Though it was spring and there were bright green leaves everywhere, and bugs making their incessant noises low in the weeds and birds called our their territories in the trees around us, I felt like I needed to speak in hushed tones. The lushness of the spot seemed to call for it.

"This is my family's getaway," she explained. "We only use it on special occasions," she spoke in the same hushed tones that I did. She grasped my hand, and in seconds our fingers were intertwined. "This is a special occasion."

Monica worked on Wall Street. She made more money in a day than I would probably make in a year. Her father's money ensured that she didn't have to work a day in her life, but she loved the life of high finance. All of this had been told to me time and again. I knew their mansion was imposing. This was an anti-mansion yet in some way it was more enticing to me than their mansion.

"It is. I had no idea," I replied.

"Do you know who was never granted the right to make a visit here?" she asked.

I could tell from her tone that I did not have to guess - not really. I said my brother's name, and got the curt nod of her head that I expected to see.

"What did you ever see in him?" I asked. That question I had only asked her a million times...in my head. Never out loud.

"There was a time," she said after a heavy pause, "that he made me laugh harder than any man had ever done." She turned to face me. "I loved him. A part of me did, anyway," she said.

I felt her squeeze and returned it. Maybe giving her some strength back.

"I fell out of love with him pretty quickly," she admitted. "Even before his dick spoke for him," she added in acidic tones. Clearly, she had not forgiven him.

"But you married him," I objected.

She shrugged. "Things were too far along. That's why there was a prenup," she finally stated the obvious for the first time.

"You knew?"

"I expected," she corrected me. "Sadly, I was proven right."

"That sucks," I said softly, meaning it.

"I know," she agreed just as heavily. But her face morphed, turning into the face of my smiling guardian angel. "But I found someone infinitely better."

"You know I've always wanted the best for you," I said as my heart skipped a beat or two.

She smiled. "I've been waiting for my true love to become a man," she explained and for the life of me I could not understand why she was drawing me closer to her. "And today, he did."

I blinked. Me? That was a sick joke. Surely, she could n-

The kiss that she planted on my lips ceased all conscious thought. As deeply erotic and sensual as my dreams had been of that first kiss between us, the reality was so much better. As powerfully as my cock had surged in whatever pants I wore during that first kiss, the surge was faster and stronger than any dream. Saying that I was melting into her was an understatement.

"I love you so much," she said, breaking the kiss and speaking breathlessly. "Have you ever wondered why I never stayed in your presence long?"

"Yeah," I said raggedly as the reality-words again put the dream-words to shame.

"It was because I had to see whether you were going to be a good man or not. Do you remember the first time I protected you?"

I gulped. "At the internment," I said haltingly.

"Yes. When I put my arm around your shoulders, it was the moment that I knew. I was not in love with your brother, not really. I was in love with you."

"But...I was...am...so much younger than you," I objected.

"I didn't care then and I don't care now," she said this firmly.

"But..."

"When you told me that you lost your virginity, I wept."

"Why?"

"I wanted to take it," she said.

"I had...I never...um."

"Good," she said, putting a straightened finger over my lips, again cutting off my speech with precision. "I never wanted you to."

"But, why...?"

"Why weep? Why did I want to take your virginity?" she knew my question. She knew my heart.

"I felt it would be right," she explained.

Suddenly, I wished that I'd never met Ginger, the only girl I'd ever met who had gone to bed with me.

"I...I would have waited," I admitted with a dry mouth.

She shook her head, that lustrous hair continuing movements even after her head returned to a still pose. "I dared not lead you on," she said.

"I...don't know...."

"I do," she said. She pulled me tightly to her. Embracing me. Filling my brain with the sensation of her warm body and those breasts pressed to my chest. Her fingers at my back, a scalding yet comforting heat. "It will be cold tonight," she said. She looked me right in my eyes. "But the bed we will share will not be," she said.

She stepped back, once, a quick movement. But her hand never left mine. She turned, and opened the door to re-enter the opulent cabin. There were two lofts. To the right, a sofa that had looked comfortable during the tour, and the fireplace that it sat in front of was loaded up with dried wood. To the left, a bed, a king sized bed with a wooden post frame. To my surprise, we went right.

"I thought..."

"Shhh," she said. "I've always wanted this moment to be just right. And the thought of a warm fire crackling, warming my bare feet, as I take your body into mine for the first time, is the dream that I want to live tonight."

By the time we reached the top of the stairs, my cock was so swollen that the constriction by my dress pants nearly triggered pain. She led me to the couch and had me sit. She lit the fire, not with conventional matches, but by some gas-fed lighter mechanism. But it was a real fire, burning real wood, making real smoke, and adding real atmosphere to the room.

Standing there, in front of me, I was utterly entranced. Captivated beyond measure. Her top was a cream colored sweater, lightweight but not translucent in any way. She slowly removed it from her body, first letting me gaze on the long, lean flesh of her abdomen. Her bellybutton was small and an innie. As the sweater rose over her breasts, I saw the lacy, creamy bra that held them in place. She smiled at me, and without looking tossed the sweater to the side. It landed on the big easy chair there.

She reached up and lifted the bra over her breasts, sliding the garment over her globes. My mouth dried out even more as the most perfect breasts topped by light pink areola and stiffened nipples were revealed. I studied them, then the perfect bone structure of her collarbone, the way that her shoulders looked.

She darted an outstretched finger up twice. "Up up," I inferred from the quick gesture. I unbuttoned the oxford I'd worn under my gown. Pulling it from the tuck, I took it and the undershirt off of my body.

She smiled, seeing me bare-chested. I worked out often during college, packing on weight but not fat. Just some weight. I was not chiseled nor would I win any weightlifting contests. But I sported some definition. Enough that her smile told me that she liked it.

She undid the belt. Undid the button. Lowered the zipper. Her blue slacks had hung a little loose on her lower body. The pants fell away, revealing long legs toned and silky smooth. I could not wait to touch them. Her panties were small and delicate and cream-colored, and not a hint of a spare curly hair was seen.

"Show me," she said, and I stood as the tent in my pants made my arousal obvious. Like she had done, I first loosened my belt. Then the button and finally the zipper. Like her, I let my pants fall. Unlike her, my sexual need was instantly visible, a thick white tube of flesh that bounced with each beat of a heart racing along.

"Nice," she smiled. "I'm going to enjoy feeling that in my body," she whispered.

I wish I had something witty to say. Or something romantic. But all I did was stare, openly and slack-jawed. She backed up, and the fire warmed the back of her legs.

She told me to come. I approached, watching those arms unfold and spread wide and those breasts inviting me in and that small patch of cloth hiding from sight a sex that I fervently believed was wet and needy...for me.

Not once did I pause to think that my brother's cock had already been inside her body.

Her arms enveloped me. I shuddered, and uttered a masculine noise of all-encompassing need the moment that I felt the heat of bare skin pressed to bare skin. She snaked her hands to my lower back, spreading her fingers and putting her palms to my back. Her smile seemed mischievous as she moved her hands down, over glutes made hard and curvy from four years of steady workouts. As she made me naked, my cock stood even harder; I had not thought that possible.

"How does this compare to your dreams?" she asked as I stepped out of unnecessary boxer shorts and with a quick, side-kicking motion, cast the underwear aside.

"Better," I gulped.

"Just you wait," she promised. She once more took my hands and guided them to her hips.

"Take my panties off," she whispered.

My fingers curled, sliding under fabric. Grasping, then pulling, the moment her pussy was uncovered I caught a waft of her scent. It filled my nose and wiped away all but need. I throbbed, my body clenching and balls churning.

I began to fear that I might spontaneously orgasm onto her leg.

"Ohhhhh," I moaned as her hand moved, and from the top she encircled my shaft in her fingers.

"It's such a perfect cock," she whispered to me. "I know that it's going to be a perfect fit."

"I'm going to cum!" I warned her.

"So?" she countered, her hand beginning to move up and down. That elicited more groans, and a definitive shudder. "I know that I won't let you stop, not anytime soon," she promised me. Then, she offered another kiss, those lips soft and hot and her tongue wet and sensual and her hand moving with expertise.

I shuddered. Groaned. Moaned. Shuddered. And then quite suddenly, cried out "Oh no!" and went stiff. The first rope of semen hit her thigh, and began running down her leg. I painted her legs with my cum, her hand never stopping, squeezing at the base to keep each explosion at its greatest force.

She looked down, and I joined her gaze. Her legs were indeed covered; several milky-white droplets dotted the hardwood floors.

Using her other hand, she swiped up a glob onto her finger. I could not believe it when she opened her mouth and deposited the glob onto her tongue. Her eyes closed slowly, then her lips, and her swallow was both visible and audible.

Her eyes snapped open. "Perfect taste," she said.

She finally released my now-flaccid penis. It still leaked semen.

She took her hand, and pulled me around until we stood on top of the bearskin rug that laid in front of the fire. "I know you're going to make me cum," she whispered to me.

Post-nut clarity is a thing. But her aroma hit my nose again and despite just cumming, my balls began churning again. She guided me to the floor, both of us on our sides, her wet, messy legs sliding against mine to transfer the mess before snaking through mine. Her hands under my neck and around my back and her kiss was again hot, wet and needy. The kiss lasted forever until she breathlessly broke it.

"I know you're going to make me cum as fast as I made you," she promised. She rolled to her back and I rolled atop her in a matching motion. I looked at her face, and then down to her breasts pulled taut and down by gravity. With a sensation of amazement, I used the tip of my index finger to draw a circle around her taut flesh.

"Yes, baby," she purred and I had the sense of a cat stretching, suddenly caught in the rays of the sun beaming through a window. Her movements had that same feline fluidity, and her hand hit my shoulder. "Down on me," she wanted.

Down on her I went, pausing to stare. Pink lips, moist and swollen with need. Her body pulsing, her hips twitching in anticipation. I took a finger, and pressed it to the top of her sex. The moan she made was the most perfect sound I had ever heard. I moved it downward, light and slow, feeling her body coat my finger. I did not enter her; I took the finger and waited until she had my gaze again.

Then I put that finger into my mouth, and moaned around it as the taste of her musk slammed home.

My tongue was on her a moment later, wild and frenzied, not steady and paced and gentle. This was wild abandon, drawing on reserves I did not know that I had. Her cries were sharp and loud, her back arching up off of the rug. I forgot that my cum was drying on my leg, leaving me sticky. I forgot that my cum was doing the same on her leg. All I knew was that my mouth and tongue worked on her body, finding that hot button of sensitive flesh with ease.

"YES!" she screamed loudly, the hard walls bouncing echoes through the cabin. Idly I wondered how many other family members had screamed the same thing in this very spot, the cabin's walls resounding those cries as well as it had bounced hers. "Right there, right on my clit, baby, right there, oh fuck, don't stop!" she urged.