A week ago Monday my husband, Jack, came home all excited. One of his company's suppliers was going to take him to a big game—football—I think. Apparently there was an extra ticket available. He couldn't wait to call his brother.
"Davey's gonna drive all the way here for that?" I asked incredulously.
Davey was—there's no way to sugar coat this—an accident. Sixteen years younger than Jack he came along the year Jack left home for college. He and his wife Emma used to live reasonably close (about an hour away) then Dave got this great opportunity up north.
When they were nearby Jack and Dave got together fairly regularly but we seldom visited as a couple; only on holidays and family get togethers really. I like Emma as Davey's wife, and my sister-in-law, I never really thought about it beyond that—much.
The next Friday I got home to find my husband in his game-going jeans and T shirt with his team's logo on the front. I'd had a rough week and was glad the weekend was here. I lay down on the couch as he scurried around getting his stuff together. I knew his company's supplier had arranged for a hotel room downtown for after the game, so he wouldn't be back 'til noon the next day. I dozed off.
I guess it was because Davey was coming that I found myself dreaming about the last time we'd been together. Three months ago we'd gone to visit them in their new home up north. The dream consisted mainly of recalling a session in their hot tub. Jack, Davey and I were soaking and enjoying the champagne we'd brought to celebrate his new job and their new house when Emma arrived. I was sitting nearest the steps leading down into the tub and was a bit surprised at the pussy twitch I got when my sister-in-law's ass, stretched into the string bikini, passed inches from my face as she climbed in.
I accepted my dual sexuality before most people even realized they had sexuality. My grandmother introduced me to the joys of woman loving when I was twelve. You might say that I was an early bloomer. Later in high school I dated my share of guys but always had a girlfriend or two I was close with. I don't call myself a bi-sexual because, although I enjoy sex with men or women, I am not interested in sex with men and women. Most of the bi-sexuals I've met are more than happy to engage in threesomes (and more-somes) with both genders participating at the same time—but that's not me. For me sex with men or women is like steak and cheese cake; I like both but I don't want them on the same plate, at the same time.
It's not that I'd never had sexual thoughts about Emma before that weekend. I'd known her since she married Davey over ten years ago. Sure I'd had lascivious thoughts about her before, but being family, I'd never done anything about them and no opportunities had tested my self control. My erotic dream about watching how her boobs nestled into the cups of the orange and grey stripped swim suit top, bobbing in the swirling hot tub, didn't really come as a shock.
I don't know what broke into that dream. I was happily recalling the soothing hot turbulent water and the lustful glances I was giving my sister-in-law, when my eyes opened. There, shimmering in the surreal post nap fog, I saw Emma sitting in the chair opposite the couch I was reclined on; her beach blonde (bottled of course) spiky styled short hair framing her pretty smiling face.
"It's about time you woke up sleepy head" she said. "I thought I was gonna hav-ta drink all this wine I brought by myself." I popped up on the sofa and rubbed my eyes trying to make sense of it and remember what was going on. The last of the late summer rays of sun were still streaming past the curtains. The clock read seven-thirty. I'd slept for almost two hours.
"What ... why..." my sleep fogged brain wouldn't let me form a coherent sentence.
"The boys are gone to their game. Jack even came in and kissed you good-bye but you never stirred." Then I remembered that Davey was coming to go with Jack to some game or other. My head cleared a bit and I rubbed my eyes again.
"I wasn't expecting you" I said an immediately hoped it didn't sound unwelcoming.
"I know. At the last minute I decided to keep David company on the trip down." Then she raised her glass of wine in one hand and an unopened bottle in the other and said; "boys night out—girls night in" and giggled. "Try this" she proffered a glass of the dark red liquid. "It's only been out a short while ... it's from Australia."
She was wearing a blue stripped scoop necked top and white shorts. I scanned her tight little body and shuddered at the dream I'd been having about it. Despite just having awakened, I took the glass of wine she was offering and took a big swallow.
"Mmmm ... it's good" I said and my voice was comically hoarse. We both laughed. She held up the bottle and remarked,
"See it's got a Kangaroo on the label." She laughed again and I realized that she'd probably had more than one glass waiting for me to wake up.
I told myself that there was nothing unusual about this situation. Emma had decided to accompany her husband on the long drive and now we'd spend a family evening together while our husbands enjoyed the sporting event and no doubt got sloshed. My mind said there was nothing unusual, but my pussy was sending a different message.
We sat and talked, like sisters-in law, about how they were adjusting to their new home and how Davey's new job was going. Before I realized it we'd polished off the first bottle of wine Emma had brought. I was still in the slacks and blouse I'd worn to work. At a lull in the conversation I said; "Ya know if we're gonna have a girls night in we should really slip into something more comfortable."
My sister-in-law's face dropped a little and I realized that she was starting to show affects from the wine. "I never thought to bring anything" she informed me, sounding apologetic.
"We're close to the same size. I think I can scare up something that'll fit you" I speculated while rising from the couch.
We were pretty close too. She might be an inch or so taller than my five-two and she was certainly had better muscle tone. Emma fancied herself something of an athlete and works out four or five days a week. She also plays volleyball in some kind of league. So even though her fortieth birthday was just around the corner she didn't look a day over thirty. Up until very recently I thought my boobs were a little bigger than hers. But lately—as I seemed to spend more and more time checking them out when we were together—I'd come to the conclusion that they were also pretty close to the same size.
My sister-in-law followed me down the hall to my bedroom. I was trying to remember if we'd ever been alone like this before. I couldn't recall a time in the twelve or thirteen years I'd known her. My mind caught up with my pussy and concluded that this was a unique situation. I started having naughty thoughts. 'She's Davey's wife for God's sakes!' I chastened myself. 'If you start acting on this crazy fantasy; how's that gonna affect your relationship?' The stark reality temporarily and slightly cooled my rising passions—but not entirely.
I could have gone to the closet and chosen from several velour and polar fleece lounging suits; or I could have gone to the bureau drawer that held my flannel night gowns and PJs but I didn't. Instead I went to my lingerie drawer. The black peignoir with the lacey see through top was the first thing my hand lighted on. It suited me and I was suddenly feeling the affects of the wine. I rummaged through the silk, satin and lace; not knowing what I was looking for but having the feeling that I'd know it when I saw it. A pale blue baby doll that I hadn't worn in years emerged. A vision of Emma in the sexy nightie caused a major cramp in my womanhood.
'Maybe she won't wear it ... she'll be too shy' I thought, but I turned around and handed it to her anyway. I was surprised that she had brought her glass of wine with her and had to set it on the bedside table to accept the wispy piece of chiffon. She held it in her hands in front of her, staring at it with wide eyes as though she'd never seen anything like it before—I was pretty sure she had.
"Is that OK?" I asked picking up the peignoir from the top of the dresser (showing her that I'd chosen something equally sensual for myself). She looked at me and the dilation in her pupils gave away her impending intoxication.
"Uh sure ... sure ... it's fine" she said but didn't sound very convincing. I started unbuttoning my blouse and the room seemed to get sort of shimmery; 'You've probably had enough too'.
I tossed the blouse into the hamper, leaving just my everyday bra on top, and started working on the fasteners of my slacks. After I stepped out of them, I thought the grey knee-hi nylons looked ridiculous with white bra and bikini panty set, so I draped the slacks over the back of the chair and sat down to remove them. The thin trouser socks fluttered into the laundry basket on top of the blouse. I felt my nipples stiffen, sitting there in my underwear—Emma hadn't moved.
I saw her glance over at the door to the ensuite bathroom and reasoned that she was deciding whether retreating to the privacy of the closed off area was excessively modest. She made her decision and after dropping the scanty nightwear on the bed, she pulled her blue stripped top up over her head. She was wearing a fairly thin nylon-like bra which allowed her large pinkish-brown areolas to shine through.
.... There is more of this story ...