Robert Livingston had been a widower for about six months. He and his wife had been completely devoted to each other, and not once in their twelve years of marriage had either been unfaithful. "Compatible" is hardly a strong enough word to describe their relationship--their interests were almost identical, and they were truly friends who cared about each other. They were extraordinary lovers, too. They liked to do just about everything, with no guilt or embarrassment even when they sometimes engaged in the kinkier kinds of sex. Even though they had given Nature many opportunities, they had had no children. She always wanted them, but it never seemed to happen.
Robert's six months of widowhood had been a very difficult period for him. He had managed to continue working, but the first couple of months were basically a loss. His boss was sympathetic, though, and allowed him to work his way through his grief, knowing that when it was over he would return to being a good worker. Robert did get control of his emotions and confirmed his boss's faith in him. He was far better, in fact, than before. He used his work as an outlet for his emotions and helped sublimate his grief by throwing himself into his job, working long and hard hours. What he was doing was obvious to his boss, and after a while he counseled him about his workaholism and persuaded him to ease up. After that, Robert leveled out and became more like his old self.
Even though his boss had helped, Robert's older sister Libby had been the biggest help of all. Libby was only eighteen months older than Robert, and like him, she was widowed. She and Robert were the only children of now-deceased parents, and they had maintained very close family ties.
Libby kept in close contact with Robert in the period following his wife's death. She made sure he had clean clothes and ate and slept well. She came and cleaned his house every week and took care to stock his pantry with easy-to-fix foods. She checked on him almost daily to assure his coping was progressing in a satisfactory manner. Through it all, though, she didn't nag, crowd him too closely, or make her concern too patronizing. She gave him enough space and time for healing to take place.
Because of his emotional state, Robert didn't recognize at first that Libby was giving him the same treatment he and his wife had given Libby when her husband had died those three years previously. They had given her just the right balance of love, concern, and space she had needed, and Libby knew it was a good formula. It had worked very well for her, and now she was giving it back to him.
Libby's approach seemed to have worked because Robert had survived the hard times emotionally intact and appeared ready to put his life in order. He was ready now to think of the future, not dwell on the past. Although he wanted to avoid any situation that might lead to an early remarriage, he was ready to be around other people, to once again enjoy friendship and good company.
After a while, Robert reached the point that he recognized the role Libby had played in his recovery. He realized that Libby had been more than a nurse or even a loving sister--she had given him the friendship, strength, and companionship needed to carry him through those difficult times. He not only loved Libby as his sister and for what she had done for him, but he truly LIKED her as a person. She was level-headed, had a pixie's sense of humor, and he enjoyed her company more than that of any of his other friends. He usually spent several evenings a week at her house, watching TV, listening to music, but mostly just talking and relearning how to laugh. Often, he would leave late, getting back to his lonely house only in time to sleep. He had been living a monk's life as far as sex was concerned, though, and sometimes his sexual urges would be so great that he would have to masturbate in order to relax enough to sleep. This usually was done quickly, without any real satisfaction derived.
One evening when he was leaving Libby's house to return home, he remarked about how he was so sleepy it was a shame he didn't have some clothes there so he could just spend the night. Libby told him that she had already been thinking about that, that she thought it was a terrible waste for them to be living in separate residences, each one just rattling around in a big house like a pea in a pod. She said she thought one of them should lease their house and move in with the other. After all, both houses were large and had three bedrooms and two baths, so it made good sense to do something like that. Robert, surprisingly, agreed, and they sat down right then and there and worked out the details. They decided that he would lease his house and move in with her. He insisted on paying half the expenses, and not only that, pay her half of what profits he might reap from the lease of his house. She wasn't interested in receiving money out of the deal, having been left at least financially comfortable by her husband, but agreed in order to set the wheels in motion. Robert moved his things over the following week-end and had his house leased within a week after that.
The consolidation of households turned out to be an excellent arrangement. They both slept better, knowing someone else was in the house. Libby cooked for Robert, so not only did Robert eat better, but so did she, having to cook for more than just herself. Although he offered to continue using a commercial laundry, she insisted on doing his laundry and ironing. It was almost like they were married, but without the sex part.
Robert still relieved himself by masturbating whenever he got exceptionally horny. Now that he was getting over his grief and returning his thoughts to more normal activities, he found that those occasions came more frequently. Soon he found himself practicing the solitary art almost nightly. During his shower was the usual time--that way there was enough noise that Libby couldn't hear him if he caught his breath or moaned at climax.
He often wondered how Libby handled the sex thing. Even though she was very much a lady and had a certain reserve about her, she'd never been prudish or puritan in her attitudes, and she was certain to have sexual urges. In all their conversation about so many matters, though, the subject of sex had never come up and he didn't know how she stood with respect to meeting her needs. <Did she masturbate, too?> Robert wondered. <If so, how and when did she do it? While she was at home and he was at work?> He had never heard any suspicious sounds, so he had no inkling. Even though those questions passed through his mind, he never voiced them to her or intimated in any way that he wondered about her sex life.
Robert didn't think much more about Libby's sexual situation until the day he accidently saw her nude. He had gone into her bathroom to see if she had some spare deodorant, and while looking into the cabinet he glanced into the side room that contained the shower. To Robert's complete surprise, there stood Libby. She apparently had already finished her shower when Robert came in, so he hadn't heard her. Libby had her back turned to him and was completely nude, in the process of drying off. He was truly amazed about how good a body she had--slim waist and hips and very nicely rounded, tight buttocks. Each one had a dimple at its bottom that utterly fascinated Robert. His wife had been a few pounds overweight, most of it in her hips and buttocks, and he found Libby's slenderness a sharp contrast. Even though he knew it was his sister he was looking at, he couldn't help but react to the sight. Though he resisted it, his cock rebelled and grew erect. He had gone so long without any sex except the self-administered kind, that the sight of Libby's nakedness aroused him like he hadn't been for a long time.
Robert knew it was wrong for him to keep looking, but he couldn't make his eyes turn away. When she bent over to dry her legs, the whole space between her thighs was exposed and he could see soft fur and the clearly distinguishable features of her sex. < Well, she's obviously a woman> Robert thought to himself. <She might not be using it, but all the equipment is definitely in place.> He was mesmerized, and could hardly breathe because of the surge of arousal that seeing her had caused. Then, without warning, Libby turned around and saw him standing there, staring at her fully exposed body. He was totally embarrassed at having been caught out, and stammered, "Gee, Lib, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in here--I was just looking for some deodorant."
Libby was slow in reacting, and Robert had ample opportunity to get a complete view of her frontal nudity before she attempted to cover herself with the towel. In those brief seconds, Robert was able to see the lush triangle of fur at the juncture of her thighs and see that she had very nice breasts--full, but still firm and well-nippled. She didn't appear to be upset or embarrassed at Robert's voyeurism. Indeed, if anything, she seemed merely amused. Laughing, she said, "Robbie, you're red as a beet. You're a real nut case, do you know it? C'mon, get out of her and let me finish my bath."
That night, Robert felt more sexually alive than he had since before his wife's death. In the shower, rather than his masturbation being done quickly like taking a dose of medicine, he lingered over it, savoring the good sensations, fondling his cock rather than quickly jerking himself to climax. Though he felt guilty about it, the picture of Libby standing there wet and fully nude filled his mind's eye as he brought himself to the most enjoyable orgasm he had experienced in a long, long time.
.... There is more of this story ...