It rained all morning but cleared up as I was getting in the car. Traffic was light and I made good time. I soon crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge and was in New England not long afterwards.
I knew I'd have a lot of time to think on the drive. I also knew I'd probably fixate on the past year. That was all that was on my mind lately.
A year before I was on top of the world. I was thirty-seven and a tenured professor with a pretty wife and an amazing six year-old son. Then one day I came home and Greta was waiting for me in the living room. She told me our marriage was over. It was just like any cliché.
I staggered through the process of getting a divorce. There were lawyers, lawyer's fees, and lots of tears. We sold the house and I found an apartment near campus. The divorce was finalized in February, my wife and son by then living in their own apartment clear across town.
Then my dad died.
I barely knew the man. He ran out on me and Mom when I was three, moving in with his girlfriend. They married, moved to Massachusetts, and had a kid a few years later. That's my half-sister Stephanie.
Dad wasn't involved in my upbringing beyond paying child support. I only saw him once or twice a year at the most. He paid for college, though, all the way through graduate school. His trucking business had prospered and he was a wealthy man. I had no desire to refuse the funds, either. I figured he owed me.
We exchanged Christmas Cards and saw each every few years, but that was all. He'd only met his grandson once. That's why I was surprised when his death hit me so hard. Any remote chance we'd had of a real relationship someday was gone. Like my marriage.
The funeral was awkward. Everyone was from dad's life in New England. Dad's second wife passed away years earlier so the only person I knew was Stephanie, and she was practically a stranger.
I hadn't seen Stephanie in four or five years. I knew she'd been to culinary school and was working as a personal chef, but not much else about her. I found myself noticing how cute she was, but pushed aside the thought. Even so, I kept glancing at her more than a brother should.
I got a call from her a few months later. She'd been handling Dad's estate, keeping me informed the whole time. I knew I was inheriting a substantial sum, but had no idea how much.
I'd just gotten home on a Wednesday evening, looking around my miserable little bachelor pad. It was strewn with boxes I hadn't gotten around to unpacking yet. I'd been living there for months and it looked like I moved in yesterday.
That's when Stephanie called. She told me she Dad bought a cabin in Maine right before he died.
"A cabin? Really?"
"Yeah," Stephanie said. "I came across the paperwork this afternoon. He paid cash and never said a word to me."
"Sure is," she said. "So, listen, I have a bunch of papers for you to sign regarding Dad's estate."
"You want to send them to me?"
"I was going to head up to the cabin some weekend," she said. "I thought you might want to see it, too, so we could decide what to do with it. While we're there, you could sign the papers."
"Yeah, okay. I can get away."
We talked for a few minutes, deciding to head up that coming weekend. It was completely innocent, and I was happy for the chance to be somewhere else for a few days.
All I had was a pair of freshman sections to teach on Friday mornings, and then I was free for the day. I'd leave at noon and be at the cabin around dinnertime. Stephanie would join me on Saturday morning.
I reached Maine late that afternoon. My exit was a half hour up Route 95, though, so I still had some driving to do. I was relieved to get off the interstate and was soon driving through vast, rural stretches of pine forest.
The cabin was down the end of a narrow dirt road a few miles from a small town. It was perched on the shores of a narrow lake some miles long. There were a scattering of cabins on our side of the lake, the opposite shore within the boundary of a state park and thus untouched.
I parked and went inside. The caretaker Dad hired said he would leave the cabin unlocked for us and the keys on the kitchen table. That was Maine for you.
The cabin was gorgeous. I'd worried I might be in for a weekend of roughing-it, but found no danger of that. There were three bedrooms, two full baths, and a great room with a pair of huge windows facing the lake flanking a massive stone fireplace. It had every modern convenience, including a modern kitchen with granite countertops and what looked like very expensive appliances.
I went back out for some essentials. At a grocery store in the nearest town I bought a twelve pack of beer, milk, coffee, and Cheerios. I pulled into the drive-thru of a fast food place and got a burger and fries for dinner.
I settled right onto the couch and switched on the satellite TV. I found an NHL playoff game and watched it while I ate dinner and drank too many beers.
I woke with a start the next morning, my neck stiff from falling asleep on the couch. I made coffee and stood at the window looking out at the lake while I drank it.
The waters were dark, almost black. Towering pines lined the far shores as a pair of geese flew by. I wondered if it was possible to keep the cabin. My son would love it here. Maybe summers in Maine would give him back some of his childhood happiness.
Finishing the coffee, I went out for a run along the dirt road. I did a few miles at a good pace. Even during the darkest depths of the past year, I never let up on my daily runs. Running was my salvation, my daily peace and time for introspection.
I ate some Cheerios for breakfast when I got back and showered. I was toweling off when I heard Stephanie.
"Hello! Andrew?" she called.
"Uh, just a sec," I answered. "I just got out of the shower."
I dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. Stephanie was in the living room looking out over the lake.
She wore jeans and a dark blue sweater. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a long ponytail that reached all the way down to the middle of her back. I noticed her long legs and the way her jeans showed off her ass. I admonished myself for the thought, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
"Stephanie," I said.
She turned around. More un-brotherly thoughts popped into my mind as I was reminded how pretty she was. She had very fine features, olive green eyes, and full lips. Her breasts were larger than average and suited her frame. She was trim but had the perfect amount of that feminine plumpness men so frequently lust for. She certainly wasn't fat, but she had all the right curves and was soft to the touch.
We hugged and I smelled her fresh, clean scent. I felt a tingle of arousal followed by a pang of guilt. I told myself I would have to knock it off or it would be a long weekend.
We chatted for a few minutes about the cabin and the view. I kept looking at her face, marveling at her prettiness and feeling myself drawn in by her eyes. I wondered what her lips felt like, thinking what it would be like to kiss them and feel her tongue in my mouth.
I pushed my thoughts aside as best I could. I barely knew this woman, but she was still my sister. I told myself brothers shouldn't be looking at their sisters that way and wondered what was wrong with me. Yet I couldn't help myself.
She noticed the fast food wrapper and empty beer bottles on the coffee table.
"What's this?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
She looked horrified.
"I think we've some grocery shopping to do."
I drove us into the nearest town with a supermarket. We talked about Dad's estate on the way. It seemed he'd left a lot of properties and assets, far more than I expected.
After taxes and lawyers my share came out to over ten million dollars.
I nearly drove off the road when Stephanie told me.
"Ten million?" I gasped.
"That's what I said. You're a rich man now, Andrew."
"Ten million," I repeated, absorbing the idea. "That's a lot of money, even if Greta expects half."
Stephanie did all the shopping at the supermarket. I just pushed the shopping cart and watched as a bewildering variety of ingredients went into it. She also selected several bottles of wine.
We grabbed lunch at little deli near the edge of town, a place Stephanie said the foodie websites recommended. We sat out front at a little table eating roast pork sandwiches topped with melted provolone and hot peppers. It might have been the best sandwich I'd ever had.
Stephanie started talking about her favorite eateries back in Boston.
"I don't know much about fine dining," I confessed. "Greta's idea of gourmet is The Olive Garden."
"Did she cook, at least?"
"She could reheat Chinese food."
"You poor thing."
We hopped back in the car and headed back to the cabin.
"How's that guy?" I asked her. "He was at the funeral. What's his name?"
"Josh. He's no longer in the picture."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too," she said. "It hasn't been easy lately. First Dad dies and then Josh breaks it off a few weeks after."
"Well, a lady as cute as you won't stay single for long," I said.
"Aw, shucks," she said, rolling her eyes playfully and pretending to be embarrassed.
Back at the cabin we put the groceries away and decided to take a walk. There was a trailhead a quarter mile down the dirt road. It led into the state park where the far side of the lake was crisscrossed with walking trails.
We walked for hours, talking about our lives. We'd fallen into an easy familiarity, and the talk flowed freely. Stephanie told me about Josh and how he left her for another woman.
"I feel so inferior to her, whoever she is." She sighed. "I can't get over the fact that he found her more suitable than me. Better."
I put my arm around her shoulder and she leaned in close to me as we strolled along. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world, to console her that way.
I felt a rush of excitement and reminded myself that this woman – this beautiful, interesting woman – was my sister. Nothing could come of these wayward thoughts except for anguish.
She straightened up after a minute and moved away again. She was still very close and our hands brushed against each other now and then as we walked.
The conversation turned towards my life. I told her about my surprised grief over Dad's death and my divorce.
"So that's where I'm at." I shook my head. "I don't know how my life got this way. I know self-pity is pointless, but I can't seem to move on. I feel shattered."
She nodded, deep in thought.
Stephanie headed right for the kitchen as soon as we got back.
"OK, let's get cooking," she announced. "Start slicing those onions."
"Um. Slicing onions?"
"You're hopeless," she chided gently. "Let me show you."
She unzipped her sweater and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair. Underneath she wore a white form-hugging tank top. Greta wore a B cup, but Stephanie's tits were noticeably larger. She had to be a C, I decided. She looked incredible, her breasts stretching the fabric in the front of the tank top.
"Pick up that knife," she told me. "Stand here."
She stood behind me, reaching her arms around and holding the tops of my hands. I felt her breath on my neck as she showed me how to hold the knife and move it through the onion. I tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but her presence was distracting to say the least.
The cutting and dicing phase of making dinner was fun, Stephanie standing close by or leaning against me as she demonstrated proper technique for me. It was a pleasant sort of torture to feel her so near. A couple of times, our eyes met and I thought I saw a flash of something, but was sure I'd been mistaken. There couldn't be a mutual attraction, could there? Even if there was, what could come of it? After all, aren't there some lines not meant to be crossed?
When the prep work was done Stephanie had me step back as she started the actual cooking. I sat at the big island in the middle of the kitchen and watched her work. She tended four pans at once with casual ease, chatting with me the whole time about what she was doing.
"You should have your own cooking show," I commented.
"Maybe I will someday," she said. "Do me a favor, will you? Open the bottle of cabernet."
I opened the wine and we shared a drink as she cooked. Now and then she trusted me to something, putting her hand on my shoulder and giving me tips. She also had me sample a few sauces in advance.
"Try this," she'd say, holding up a spoon. Then she'd move the spoon towards my mouth and gently feed me.
I was starting to see she was also talented and funny in addition to being adorable. I told myself I was sick for feeling thinking of this way, but couldn't seem to stop.
We sat down for dinner. The first course was a celery and artichoke salad topped with shavings of Pecorino Romano. Stephanie prepared one plate which we shared. She paired the salad with a light white wine and we leaned over the dish together, savoring the simple flavors and how they interacted.
Next up was a lobster cake delicately sautéed and drizzled with a coconut curry sauce. Stephanie served it on a bed of creamy polenta and we had another glass of wine.
"Normally it would be crab cake," she explained. "But, hey, it's Maine so I figured I would change it up."
"Oh my god," I gasped as I tasted my first forkful. "That's incredible!"
Stephanie smiled, shrugging and giving me a "who me?" expression.
I stared at her, shaking my head in amazement.
"This is amazing," I told her.
Next was a pasta course, rigatoni smothered in the most delightful meat sauce I'd ever sampled. Stephanie paired it with some Chianti, the bottle of white wine having been drained.
By this point we were laughing and having a good time. I kept complimenting her food and she touched my arm. Ours eyes met and then she turned away. It was as though she'd forgotten for a moment we weren't just two single people sharing a meal.
The main course was sweet Italian sausages served with roasted fennel and olives. I sighed with pleasure as I sampled it. The flavors of all three ingredients came through clearly and worked in perfect harmony.
"You learned all this in culinary school?" I asked.
"That and a year of study in Italy," she said.
The meal lasted at least an hour. By the time it was over, we were buzzed from the wine and joking in an easy manner.
We moved into the living room, our third bottle of wine in hand. I got a nice fire started by turning a valve and hitting a button in the fireplace.
"How rustic," Stephanie joked
"Every modern convenience," I said, returning to the couch.
Stephanie turned on the sound system in the corner and poured us another glass of wine. She sat down on the couch closer to me than was sisterly. We talked some more as we watched the fire and drank.
I kept trying to suppress the thoughts streaming through my head. I'd never wanted a woman so bad in all my life. There she was, too, mere inches away.
An upbeat song came on the radio.
"Oh, I love this one!" Stephanie said, jumping up.
She started dancing. Her hips rocked back and forth, her tits bouncing under her tank top. I started to sweat, filthy thoughts overloading my brain. This was too much.
The song ended and a slow, romantic ballad replaced it.
"Dance with me," Stephanie said.
Gulping, I stood. I put one arm around her waist and the other on her shoulder and we began to sway softly. She pressed closer to me and I hoped she wouldn't feel the growing bulge in my pants.
We danced, slow and sensual by the flickering firelight. She rested her head on my shoulder and we continued to rock. I was in agony. My mind raced, searching for justifications for what I wanted to happen. I firmly believed anything between fully consenting adults wasn't wrong. Did that extend to incest?
Then Stephanie looked up at me. Her eyes were like two emeralds glowing in the firelight, her half-open mouth so inviting.
I'm still not sure who initiated the kiss. Maybe we both did. Our lips were suddenly together and we were kissing furiously.
She broke it off, pulling back.
"What are we doing?" she gasped. "We have to get a hold of ourselves."
I started to speak. Then our eyes met again and Stephanie was back in my arms. Our tongues attacked each other's mouths and I pulled her tight against me.
"Andrew," she murmured. "This is so wrong. We shouldn't."
I looked her in the eyes.
"Stephanie," I told her calmly. "We both know what we want to happen. There's nothing wrong with this."
Stephanie stared into my eyes and then nodded slowly.
We kissed again and I slid my hands down her back until they reached her ass. I felt her round butt and grabbed it eagerly. She moaned and pressed herself closer to me.
Stephanie pulled back slowly from my embrace, eyeing me with a devilish look. She pulled off her tank top and threw it aside. I stood there dumbfounded, staring at her breasts as she undid her bra and cast it aside. They were exceptional, round and full and topped by a pair of inviting pink nipples.
I pulled her close to me and kissed her again. She pulled off my shirt. She looked me over and caressed my chest and shoulders.
"Damn," she said. "You keep in shape, in spite of the junk food binges."
We stripped each other the rest of the way and collapsed onto the thick rug in front of the fireplace, our hands all over each other as we made out wildly. I was carried away by the sudden fury of it all, desiring only to ravish Stephanie with every ounce of lustful vigor I could muster.
I growled, kissing and biting her neck and moving down to her breasts. I took one into my mouth, licking the nipple tenderly and then nibbling it just enough to make her squeal. Then I sucked on it hard and she sighed happily.
I inched my way down her body, kissing her belly until I arrived at her pussy. She lifted her legs for me and I leaned in close.
The musty scent of pussy filled my nostrils and I sighed with anticipation. I love few things in life more than eating pussy.
I gave her pussy a long, slow lick and felt her shudder. I pushed her pussy lips aside and kissed her clit, sucking on it gently. She let out a little chirp of delight and I plunged right in. I began licking her clit rapidly, slurping up the taste of her juices. I licked it up and down and then from side to side, Stephanie gasping and groaning.
I slid my middle finger inside her, fingering her as I kept licking her clit.
Stephanie was gasping and breathing heavily. I started fingering her faster.
"I want you inside me," she moaned. "Fuck me!"
I crawled back on top of her. Stephanie pulled me close and kissed me hard. She reached down and guided me inside her. I could scarcely wrap my mind around the reality of the moment. I was inside my sister's pussy, and I was going to fuck her.
Stephanie's eyes grew wide and she gasped.
"Oh, that's it!" she moaned. "Now fuck me."
I began fucking her nice and slow. I knew that was what she wanted. I'm not sure why, but we had some sort of perfect sexual chemistry right from the start. We could read each other's cues and respond to them effortlessly.
We kept at it slowly, kissing the whole time. After a few minutes, I increased my tempo. She began to moan, bucking and thrusting underneath me. She lifted her legs up, wrapping them around my waist tightly.
I began fucking her faster. She responded, groaning and kissing me wildly. It was like she was trying to push her tongue all the way down my throat. I'd never seen a woman so aroused.