Brotherly Love Ch. 01byquinn rogan©
My wife, Sally, was on the phone when I got home that day. It was a hot day, and she was sitting on a straight-backed kitchen chair, dressed in a thin sleeveless cotton vest, and a short white skirt. Her face was serious, and she was listening intently – but what caught my eye was the way her nipples were thrusting against the thin fabric of her top. Her breasts are quite small, and she very often doesn’t wear a bra, but, with it being so warm, I wondered what had raised her nipples ……
I also felt a frisson of desire as I studied the two hard bumps in the cotton and, as she smiled at me in an absent-minded kind of way, I walked round behind her and slid my hands inside the armholes of her vest and cupped her sweet little tits, brushing her taut nipples with my thumbs.
But she pushed my hands away, with a gesture of irritation, and, a little hurt, I went through into the dining-room to fix myself a cool drink. I went out into the garden to cool off – in more ways than one.
After about ten minutes, Sally came out and slipped an arm through mine.
“Sorry, Nick,” she breathed, apologetically. “That was James on the phone. He and Vanessa have split up.”
The mention of James, Sally’s younger brother, had its usual effect on me – a sensation of arousal, and guilt, in about equal measures ……
Perhaps, at this point, I had better explain, before the reader runs away with the idea that I had the hots for my brother-in-law.
Sally, my wife of three and a half years, was born in Malaysia, to Malaysian parents. When she was still a baby, her mother and father moved to England, by which time James was on the way, and he was born a month after Sally’s first birthday. Having two children in just over a year was probably the only reckless thing their parents ever did. Both qualified pharmacists, they set up a small business and spent the next twenty-five years working hard, living quietly and respectably, and building up a small chain of pharmacies, and a very good income.
The two children were both sent to private schools, and were ruled, at home, with what amounted, almost, to a rod of iron. Sally, and then James, went on to university and it was at university that Sally and I met.
She was still very quiet, almost demure, but she caught my eye right away. I can’t claim that I immediately recognised her smouldering sexuality, but I know I had a huge hard-on from the moment I first danced with her at the May Ball at the end of my second year. She is small, with beautiful, glowing light-brown skin, and dark eyes, almost black, which sparkle under heavy sensuous lashes. Her cheek-bones are high, her mouth lush and full-lipped. Her hair is dark and glossy and her body, while in no sense voluptuous, is constructed of delicate curves and hollows, with hardly an angle to be seen.
Her breasts sit high and firm on her chest, her nipples like two juicy raspberries, perfectly centred. Her waist is delicately sculpted, flaring outwards at the top of her hips. When she turns round, the twin cheeks of her bottom jut out above shapely rounded thighs, forming two delicious dimples where cheeks meet thighs – and, at the front, a glossy black forest sits in a perfect V, concealing rather than framing the long lips of her exquisitely sensitive vagina.
It took many months of assiduous courting, though, before I became familiar with the delights of her beautiful, wondrous body and, even now, after more than three years of marriage, I still catch my breath when I catch an unexpected glimpse of Sally in the shower, or changing. In fact, if the truth be told, sometimes I spy on her, just for the sheer delight of seeing her naked, when she is unaware of my presence. I never tell Sally about this – it’s my guilty secret, or one of them!
Since we started to have full sexual relations and, especially, since we were married, I have discovered Sally has a natural talent, and inventiveness, for sex, which absolutely takes my breath away. There can be few positions we haven’t tried, and enjoyed, and there isn’t a corner of our house where I haven’t pulled her panties aside and plunged my excited cock into her warm moist channel – or felt her exquisitely sensual lips lave my throbbing member to yet another cataclysmic orgasm.
She also has a taste for all forms of fantasy and we continually exercise our fertile imaginations, dreaming up all sorts of situations with different numbers of people – some real, some imagined ……
But my other ‘guilty’ secret had remained just that – until that day. After we had been an ‘item’ for nearly a year, Sally eventually plucked up the courage to take me home to meet her parents. This necessitated an overnight stay at their house, and I was accommodated in James’ room, as he, by now, was away at university, too.
At the time, Sally and I were still not having sex, but we had progressed some way down that road, but any physical contact between us was quite out of the question, given her parents’ extremely protective attitude to their daughter’s virtue. Sally, with her wicked sense of humour, knew how I would feel about this, and teased me throughout what was a pretty painful evening with flirtatious, lustful glances. I didn’t even get a goodnight kiss, and, by the time I retired to James’ room, I was feeling mightily frustrated.
I know it was a lousy thing to do, and an abuse of hospitality, but I was feeling so horny …… There was a small two-drawer chest beside James’ bed, just like the one I had at home. I lifted out the bottom drawer and, sure enough, underneath it, lying in the gap between the bottom of the drawer and the carpet, was a little heap of magazines.
I sighed with pleasure, and took them out to have a look through, and decide which one would be best for helping me relieve my sexual tension, and let me drift off to sleep. Underneath them, though, as I lifted them out, I saw an exercise book, with a hard maroon-coloured cover, like the kind of thing my mother had with recipes in.
Curious, I picked it up, and opened it.
My mouth dried, and my balls began to tighten. From the first entry, it was clear that this was James’ ‘very personal’ diary, where he wrote down all his most private thoughts, and experiences. But the most exciting thing, to me, was the extent to which Sally figured in these sexual fantasies.
Sally had told me that, from a very early age, she and her brother used to creep into each other’s beds at night, for mutual comfort, when one or other of them had been on the wrong end of the strict discipline exercised by their parents – and the first entry in the book recorded how James had wriggled towards his sleeping sister’s bottom and felt his penis grow hard as he pressed it against her ……
As I read this, I felt my own penis grow very hard and, my conscience flying out of the window, I tugged off my clothes and got into the small single bed, James’ diary clutched in my shaking hand ……
I masturbated three times, reading the diary, before I finally dropped off into a troubled, confused sleep. When I woke, the following morning, my first thoughts were of self-disgust, and I vowed to put the diary back, and try to put it out of my mind – but then I had another quick look and my cock reared again and, once, again, I had to jerk myself off.
During the day, I made an excuse to visit the local library, sneaking the diary inside my jacket, and used their photocopier to reproduce every page of it. Over the next few months, especially when Sally and I were not together, I read and re-read it – especially the parts where James had spied on his sister, catching glimpses of her naked breasts, her buttocks and her pussy – parts of her I had yet to see, myself!
But then, at last, Sally and I entered into a full sexual relationship and the delights of her body were under my eyes and hands and lips and I slowly forgot about James’ diary. But, every time I met him, or he was talked about between us, my guilt feelings resurfaced, and I wondered how he thought about his sister, now – now that they were both adult, and married.
Trying to sound casual, I asked Sally – “So, what’s wrong with James and Vanessa?”
Her expression was troubled. “He says she’s been unfaithful – with Brian!”
“With Brian?” The shock must have been apparent in my voice. Brian and his sister, Sue, had been their next-door neighbours since Sally was nine – the four children had grown up together – and Brian had been best man at James’ wedding, just as Sue had been a bridesmaid at ours. And – both of them had appeared, frequently, in James’ secret diary.
“James said he came home early on Friday and Brian was in the house. They weren’t – doing anything – but James said he knew right away that something had been going on and, when Brian left, he had it out with Vanessa and she eventually admitted that she had been going to bed with Brian for the last two months. Oh, Nick – it’s so awful – poor James! He looks on Brian as his best friend – and now they’ve both betrayed him!”
“Do your parents know?” I asked. They would be devastated – they were so ‘respectable’ – this would crucify them.
“No,” said Sally, and she started to sob. “Poor James,” she cried, “he doesn’t know what to do.”
“Can’t they patch it up?” I asked, putting my arm round her shoulders. She turned to face me and buried her head in my chest.
“I don’t know – Vanessa’s gone home, and James is all alone in that house. It’s all Brian’s fault – he never could resist a pretty girl – even his best friend’s wife!”
Despite myself, I felt my cock twitch. Brian had figured a lot in James’ diary – I knew much more about his sexual proclivities than Sally realised.
“Nick,” said Sally. “Would you mind if I asked James to come and spend the weekend with us? We’ve always been very – close – and I might be able to help, if he would talk to me.”
“Yes, of course,” I replied. “I’m sure it would help him, talking to you. Let’s give him a call after supper.”
We got through a whole bottle of wine with our supper that night, and opened another one when we sat down on the couch, and Sally called her young brother. She hadn’t changed her clothes and, as she talked to James, curled up in a corner of the couch, her thighs were almost completely exposed, up to her brief white panties. They talked for a long time and, as I listened to Sally’s end of the conversation, my mind conjured up images of Brian fucking James’ sexy young wife, Vanessa, and I couldn’t help getting the beginnings of a hard-on.
It occurred to me that Vanessa was not unlike Sally, to look at, and that started a whole new chain of thoughts – like maybe that was part of the attraction for James, in the first place. And, maybe, going back to James’ diary, and what I had read – for Brian, as well.
From there, it was a short step to replacing the image of Vanessa with one, in my mind, of Sally and, as I visualised her, naked and moaning, legs apart, with Brian’s cock plunging in and out of her sweet little pussy, the surge of arousal inside me was quite overwhelming, and I had to put my glass down, as my hand started to shake with excitement.
I tried to banish it from my mind, but, as I stared at her slim brown sexy thighs, I could not help imagining Brian’s hand sliding up between them, feeling the dampness of her panties, hearing her sigh with pleasure as his fingers gently pressed against her moist slit ……
I looked at her face. Her eyes were bright, and animated, her mouth slightly open, and occasionally her little pink tongue darted round her parted lips, moistening them, as thought they were dry. She wasn’t talking, but listening intently as her brother spoke. I could sense that she, too, was in a state of some arousal, although it might be emotional, rather than sexual.
Automatically, I glanced at her vest, but she was hunched forward and, if her nipples were erect, her posture was keeping that fact secret. But she was moving around a lot, as if she was slightly uncomfortable, and the hand which was not holding the phone was stroking her thigh.
I got up and topped up our glasses. Sally looked up at me, and smiled, and the movement pulled the cotton of her vest taut and I saw two profound indentations against it. I sat down hurriedly, and crossed my legs, to conceal my excitement. The images would not go away ……
“Well,” I heard Sally say, at last. “You can tell me more on Friday. You are feeling better, now, though, aren’t you?”
She listened again and then said – “Fine – we’ll see you on Friday – about seven. I’ll cook a special meal. Take care.”
She hung up.
“What was he saying?” I asked.
“Oh – a lot of stuff,” Sally answered. “It’s all a bit – complicated.”
“Can you tell me?” I enquired, and Sally looked at me.
“You know I’ve no secrets from you, Nick, and James didn’t say I wasn’t to. But this is only between us ……”
“Of course,” I agreed, and Sally took a long sip from her glass.
“Well,” she said. “You know that Brian and Vanessa went out with each other, for a while, before she took up with James?”
I had known, that, and I nodded.
“Well, it seems that they didn’t – sleep together – but, well, they weren’t entirely innocent, either.”
It’s funny about Sally – she’s almost totally uninhibited in bed, including her language (she loves ‘dirty talk’, as she calls it) – but, elsewhere, she’s almost as conservative as her parents. It’s a bit of a joke between us, and I grinned at her. She blushed, and smiled back, her eyelashes dropping.
“Oh, all right,” she smiled. “They didn’t ‘fuck’, but Brian did get to feel her breasts and – down there!” Her courage failing her, her hand pointed down between her legs, and my cock jumped – I couldn’t tell her I had been imagining Brian feeling Sally ‘down there’ not five minutes ago, but my mouth dried again ……
She went on. “Well, James realises it was a mistake, now, but he always wanted to know how far Brian had got with Vanessa and, well, one night, in bed, she told him – and it made him very – excited.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just shook my head, as if in disbelief, feeling very hypocritical, and waited for Sally to continue.
“After that, James was very confused – about his reaction. He felt he should have been jealous, and resentful, but whenever he thought about it, he got excited all over again, and he couldn’t resist asking Vanessa to describe what Brian had done to her. Then, one night, he asked her to imagine what it would have been like if she had let Brian – go all the way – and, while he was on top of her, he said she should pretend he was Brian, and say his name, and everything.”
“Then they were at a party one night and Vanessa was dancing with Brian and she felt him – against her – and she pushed back against him. They danced for a while, like that, and then, one day the following week, Brian called while James was out and that was how it started. Vanessa says it was as much James’ fault as hers, although she’s sorry, now, that it happened, and she wants James to try to forget it and give their marriage another try.”
“And what do you think?” I asked. My excitement had died down a little, now, and I was genuinely concerned for James and Vanessa. Sally’s response surprised me, though.
“I never thought she was good enough for James, anyway,” she said. “She was no virgin when she married James – don’t forget, I knew her at school. I’d be very surprised if she went out with Brian for three months and didn’t drop her panties for him. I know she did it for at least three other boys!”
My cock stirred again, as I had a literal vision of my sister-in-law easing her panties down for some unknown boy, in a darkened lane, up against a fence, then gasping as a strong young cock drove up into her willing cunt. Then, again, she was replaced by my own sweet Sally, and my cock became painfully erect.
I spoke, almost without thinking.
“He only married her because she looks like you, anyway,” I blurted out, then, aghast at what I had said, stared at Sally. Her cheeks reddened and her mouth dropped open. Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed, almost to slits, as she continued to stare at me.
“What?” she said, at last. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” I tried to explain. “You know James thinks an awful lot of you – you’re very close, the two of you. It’s natural he would want a wife who – well, reminded him of you.”
“No!” said Sally. “You didn’t mean just that. You meant something – more.”
I shook my head, helplessly, wishing with all my heart that I could take back my rash remark. But Sally was insistent.
“Has James – talked to you – about me?” Her tone, although positive, was also hesitant, almost disbelieving. Her face was very flushed, and I couldn’t help noticing that, again, her nipples were like organ stops against the thin cotton of her vest.
Then I noticed the unshed tears brimming under her eyelids, and, instinctively, I opened my arms.
“Hey,” I said, softly. “Come here,” – and she wriggled across the couch and I slipped an arm round her shoulders. She turned her head and buried it in my chest. Her movements had rucked her short skirt up and her thighs, and her panties, were plainly visible. I dropped my hand onto the soft flesh of her inner thigh, and stroked it, gently. Sally, in turn, placed her little brown hand on the back of mine and guided its motions, up and down her thigh.
“Have you talked to James?” Her voice was muffled, subdued. I couldn’t lie to her – I sensed this was important, and, unless, I told the whole truth, now, there would be a web of misunderstanding between us which could eventually sour our love for ever.
“No, Sally,” I said, “but – well, I have a bit of a confession to make.” And I told her about finding James diary, all those years ago, and my shame at having to admit to snooping among his things, when I was a guest in his – and her – parents’ house.
When I had finished my confession, Sally had lifted her head and was looking up into my face. My hand was still on her thigh, but it was motionless, her hand lying flaccid on top of it.
“And – James’ diary – it mentioned me?” she asked, with a strange, enigmatic expression on her lovely face.
I nodded, and took a deep breath. My cock was throbbing with excitement, as I recalled that first night, reading James’ diary.
“On the very first page, it told how you crept into his bed one night and, when you were asleep, he could feel the heat of your body beside him and he snuggled up to you until he was spooned against your back. His penis was pressed against your bottom, and it began to get hard. He started pushing it against the warm softness of your cheeks, until he started to ejaculate ……”
Sally was now sitting up straight, her face flaming, her mouth half-open with shock.
“That isn’t true, Nick – I never went into his bed, naked. I always wore pyjamas, or a long nightdress.”
“He didn’t say you were naked – but he could feel the shape, and warmth, of your bottom, through your nightdress. And he – well, he opened his pyjamas at the front ……”
“And he – came on my nightdress?”
“No – he did it in a tissue. He pulled away, at the last moment.”
I could see her hands were shaking.
“Did you never – sense – anything – when you shared a bed with James, I mean?”
Her face troubled, Sally shook her head, slowly, then said – “Well, there might have been a few things, but I didn’t really think anything – I thought, maybe – well, I suppose we were both – curious. About girls, and boys, I mean. You see, our parents were very – well, you know them – you know what they’re like. We weren’t given much freedom when we were young and, when the other kids were having dates, and things, we had to stay home, and study. We never got to see anything on television, and all our books were ‘vetted’ by Mum and Dad.”