I thought I was happily married (no, I WAS happily married) until quite recently. Janet and I had been together a long time (sixteen years and counting, married for twelve) and things were still pretty good. Ok, so we'd both turned forty the year before last, and the sex had become more occasional than occasion, but that's normal, right? In any case, our careers took precedence, this was always the deal and we were fine with it. Same reason there were no children. Same reason we had money, a fancy BMW, lived in a nice house with a large garden in a high-end suburb. When I say 'careers' I mean mine really, my wife wasn't overly ambitious, but the point is we both enjoyed our jobs; me a corporate lawyer, Janet a secretary at a small accounting practice.
So what happened? Why am I now living alone in this dump with my life in pieces? It's quite a story. A dark little tale, to be sure, but one I think ought to be told. Might even help. Yeah, let's spit it out. What happened? There's a short and a long answer to that and I'll give you the short one first. A single word will suffice.
It started one day last summer, a Saturday afternoon. Janet took a call and came back grinning. I looked up from the game I was watching on TV. "Who was it, darling?"
"Ah." It figured. Jessica had lived in Hong Kong the last five years (the bank she worked for had seconded her there and she liked it so much she'd stayed on). With no other siblings, parents no longer around, the sisters were close (despite the geography) and kept in regular contact.
"And guess what, Mark?"
"What, darling?" I still had half an eye on the TV.
"She's coming back!"
"Oh really? Great. About time too. Hasn't been over for ages, has she?"
Which was true. Jessica's last visit, a fleeting one, had been over two years ago. All I remembered of it was that the three of us had gone out for lunch and I'd felt a bit ignored, left out, as the sisters caught up. ALL I remembered? Well, no, if I'm honest: I also recall that Jessica wore a short, figure-hugging dress, looked sexy in it, and that I struggled not to lech at her the whole time. A struggle I only partially succeeded in (couldn't help the odd longing glance ... jeez, it WAS a rather low cut dress!) but thankfully the sisters were concentrating on each other and didn't notice. I'm sure Janet didn't anyway, there'd have been an 'atmosphere' later if she had. Jessica? Mmm, harder to say. No, don't think so. If she did she obviously didn't mind - our 'goodbyes' were warm and unforced. In fact more so than usual. Although I'd always secretly fancied her (she was a gauche but gorgeous eighteen when I'd first been introduced by Jan as 'my fiancé') my relations with Jess up to that point had been what you'd call cordial, our infrequent meetings book-ended by a smile and a peck on the cheek, but this time I got a wide grin ("Really nice to see you again, Mark!") and she leant in close, put her lips just to the side of my mouth, let them linger a moment as she slipped her hands around my waist and squeezed me before pulling away. Brief, yes, and nothing you'd call inappropriate, but definitely a 'kiss' not a 'peck'.
"No, for good, I mean," said Janet, interrupting my ignoble train of thought.
"What, coming back to live? Leaving Honkers?"
I was surprised. "Thought she loved it over there."
"She does, but it's a big promotion apparently. Head Office job." No surprise this time, I knew that Jess was something of a high-flyer at the bank. "What about Eric?" I asked. (Eric was the guy her sister currently lived with.)
Janet shrugged. "She was bored with him anyway. You know how Jess is with men. Use them and lose them!" This was no lie. My wife's glamorous little sister was a notorious heartbreaker. I'd heard chapter and verse on her antics from Janet over the years. I'd always found it quite amusing but my wife disapproved. Or seemingly disapproved might be more accurate: I sometimes suspected that Jan got a vicarious kick from tales of Jessica's 'wild side' (perhaps because Janet herself had gotten increasingly staid over the years). There's a full decade age gap between the sisters - Jess is only 31 – and it shows.
"Poor Eric," I smirked. "So when she's moving?"
"Wow," I said, thoughts drifting again back to that last time, the farewells outside the restaurant. The feel of Jessica's soft lips on the corner of mine, her luxuriant dark wavy hair brushing against my neck, the seductive smell of her perfume, her hands resting on my hips, the tantalising dress ... how it really showed off her body ... the scene had stayed with me ever since and I often replayed it (with endless steamy variations as to continuance and conclusion) whenever I felt horny or WANTED to feel horny. I'm sorry to say that Janet, my wife, had disappeared from my masturbatory reveries long before. Difference now was who DID feature in the starring role. It was goodbye Claudia, Megan, Naomi et al ... sundry other unattainable hotties from celebrityville ... and hello sexy sister-in-law! But all totally innocent, right? And safe – Jess being on the other side of the world rendered her as out of reach as any of my other female objects of fantasy. Ok I felt a bit guilty sometimes, especially about pretending to myself that Janet was actually Jessica when I made love to her, but still, no harm. The opposite, in fact – it spiced up the marital sex no end. Least for a while it did – things had rather dropped off in that department in recent times.
Not as if I was obsessed with Jessica or anything, please don't get that idea. Sure, I jerked off over her, used her as a mental aid to get frisky with Janet, but most of the time I didn't give her a moment's thought, just lived my life. I liked being married to Janet, sharing my life with her. We were good together. Mark and Janet Taylor. The Taylors.
And Janet's attractive too. Ok, she's not 'hot' like Jess, not a head-turner, but she's definitely not bad looking. Although to be brutally honest my wife had rather let herself go the last couple of years: not so much the lines and wrinkles, which were only to be expected on a woman the wrong side of forty, but weight appearing where it shouldn't – unsightly flab around her middle, under her chin, on her face. She'd become, not to put too fine a point on it, a little dumpy. Janet is on the short side of ideal (she's five three) which unfortunately only served to emphasise the extra weight. When I say 'on the short side of ideal', of course I mean just in my opinion (these things being in the eye of the beholder). What IS (in my opinion) the ideal height for a woman? Six inches shorter than me, I'd say. I'm six foot exactly, so around five six. Pretty much Jessica's height, funnily enough.
Any case, Jan's a very nice person. A lot nicer than her sister actually. Jessica is one of those women who's very aware how pretty she is, if you know what I mean, likes all the male attention she gets, plays up to it. She's quite a frivolous sort too (despite the big banking career), always buying clothes and going off to have facials or a new haircut or get her nails done ... all that 'girly' stuff. Don't get any of that with Janet. Janet's grounded and mature. Like I say, we were compatible. She even likes sports. Try talking to Jess about sports and her eyes'll glaze over in two seconds flat.
"That's ok with you, darling, isn't it?" Janet was looking expectantly at me.
"Um, sorry, Hun?"
"Really, it's like talking to myself, Mark, sometimes!"
I gave her my sheepish look (it worked: a tolerant smile now from my wife) and I turned the TV off. "Sorry, darling, yes. All ears. So what was that again?"
"Jess staying with us until she gets a place sorted."
"Oh right. Yes ... yes, darling, of course. That's great. Well, not great, but it's fine with me. Absolutely no problem." I looked and sounded quite calm as I said this but my heart was pounding and my palms were suddenly a little clammy. Guess I knew, deep down, that having Jessica around the house 24/7 was going to prove a bad idea. It would have looked terribly strange for me to have said no – to say to Janet, "Nope, sorry, tell her to find a hotel." – but believe me when I tell you that if I could wind back the clock to this very moment that's precisely what I WOULD have said and hang the consequences. They couldn't have been worse than what ended up happening. "Brilliant!" said Janet, and she gave me a big kiss. "Shouldn't be more than a month or so. Six weeks max. Now, look, she's arriving Tuesday afternoon but I've got my dentist's appointment, remember?"
I winced. "Double crown, Hun, right?"
"Yep, that's the one. So, darling, can you maybe take a half day and go meet Jess at the airport? Then bring her back here and kind of get her settled in?" I thought about it for a moment. It'd be difficult because I had two very important meetings on Tuesday afternoon. Be much better if I left a key somewhere safe and Jessica got a cab to the house, settled HERSELF in. Yes, that was definitely the way to go – and I knew Janet wouldn't mind.
"Sure, Hun, I can do that. Just write me down the flight details and I'll be there."
I met her plane (it was on time) and she came through pushing a couple of big suitcases on a trolley. She looked a bit mussed up from the long flight, was clad in track suit bottoms and baggy sweatshirt (no little 'fuck me' dress this time), nevertheless my immediate thought was, yep, gorgeous as ever. When she spotted me she abandoned the trolley and ran the last few paces. She jumped into my arms, kissed my neck, gave me a long hug. I reciprocated and we stood embracing for quite some time. It was almost like we were lovers rather than brother-sister-in-law – a flight of fancy I rather enjoyed but quickly snuffled out. I had no intention of going there. Or did I? Truth is I'd left the office far earlier than was necessary and I'd used the time to go home and get showered and changed (carefully: best jeans, designer shirt, favourite shoes, touch of cologne bla bla) before coming to the airport. I'd made an effort to look my best, in other words. Made an effort for Jessica. Got my reward too. "Mark, you look fab!" she exclaimed, looking me up and down approvingly. I smiled and shrugged, felt absurdly pleased. "Not as fab as you," I told her. Jessica laughed. "Oh, c'mon. Nobody looks 'fab' after twelve hours on a plane." She was wrong but I didn't push it. Didn't want her to know exactly how attractive I found her even when she wasn't trying. I had a strong urge to tell her but I fought it back. The policy I'd settled on was 'secret crush' and it was a good policy. If only I'd stuck to it. "Not even me," she added. I caught the glint in her eye. Like I say, Jess isn't exactly unaware of her physical charms. I took the trolley and we made our way to the car, arms linked and chatting away inconsequentially.
Jessica carried on talking on the drive back, me grunting now and again, trying to keep my eyes on the road. Not so easy to do (before getting in she'd pulled off the sweatshirt and is sitting next to me in what was underneath, a skimpy, spaghetti-strapped top which doesn't hide a great deal of her spectacular tits) but I manage most of the time. Couple of occasions she caught me looking but I sense she doesn't mind. I feel a bit embarrassed but then I get to thinking it through: Why should she? Why should she mind? If I made some sort of pass at her then, sure, being my wife's sister she'd have a right to be pissed, but just ogling her tits – what's the big deal? She probably even likes it. Yeah, bet she does, I think (warming to the theme). I mean, top like that, tits half tumbling out, specially tits like hers, she must know the effect it's likely to have on a guy. So she must like it, right? She's a terrible tease when it comes to men, after all, Janet's always tut-tutting about that. Well ok, here she is teasing ME a little bit. Fine. Long as it doesn't get out of hand it's cool. Suitably emboldened, making only a token effort to hide what I'm interested in, I turn and treat myself to another little leer when we're on the next easy stretch of road. Glad I did because one of the straps on this top of hers (one nearest me) has slipped over her shoulder, it's actually slid right the way down her arm, and her top has fallen (gravity being a wonderful thing – thank you Mr Newton!) such that I can glimpse pretty much the whole of one of her lusciously large breasts, nipple and all. I've got an erection now - a proper hard-on. Oh man. I'm transfixed and I end up staring (no, make that 'drooling') for too long. The car drifted into the wrong lane and I had to drag it back in response to one or two angry horn-honks. "Shit, sorry!" I muttered, red-faced.
Jess is laughing. She's perfectly aware of what my 'problem' was right there. "No, Mark, it's me who should be sorry, I think. Shouldn't distract a man when he's driving, should I?" She pulled her top back into position (i.e. so it reveals merely oceans of cleavage). "There, is that better?" she grinned. "Are we safe now?" She's mocking me, but also being very affectionate. She seems totally at ease. Me, on the other hand, I'm all at sea. I'm feeling kind of stupid and excited and turned-on and embarrassed and anxious all at the same time. And I have a good half hour of this journey still to negotiate!
We go quiet for a while and I concentrate on the road.
"Anyway, it's so nice having YOU come to meet me," said Jessica, breaking the silence. "Such a pleasant surprise when I heard. We've never spent quality time together, have we? You know, without Janet getting in the way." I didn't know what to say to that, just cleared my throat nervously. Where was Jess going with this?
I soon find out. She puts her hand on my thigh and leaves it there as I continue driving. It's enough: soon I'm tingling with arousal and my hard-on, temporarily snuffed by the car swerve, is back with a vengeance. Any doubt that my wife's little sister doesn't know exactly what she's doing here is removed when she begins squeezing my leg. I snatch a look and sure enough she's smiling at me, a sly and knowing expression on her beautiful face. Her hand creeps softly into my lap and comes to rest on the tell-tale bulge in my jeans. I feel her palm pressing firmly down on my erection. "Ooo, Mr Taylor, what have we here?" she giggles. I should stop her doing this, I know that, but I don't. I can't. It feels too good. Maybe if me and Janet hadn't been going through one of our less amorous phases, leaving me in a rather sex-starved condition, I wouldn't have been such an easy 'mark' (if you'll excuse the pun) for Jessica. Dunno. Probably I couldn't have resisted the sexy bitch in any case. What I do know is that this point here in the car is the time I SHOULD have halted things, should have stopped what was going on and tried to recover a semblance of normality. That I didn't, this was a crossing of the line and there was no going back. Because Jessica realises she has me under her spell and after that ... well after that it's just a matter of her deciding what games she wants to play, and how she wants to play them. Next thing I know, she's unzipped me and her fingers are inside my pants, gently squeezing, flesh on flesh. "Marky, are you ok driving in this condition? Sure we shouldn't pull over?" She sounds amused. "We'll be there in a few minutes," I grunt. (Big risk I'd be 'there' even sooner if Jessica kept this up!)
"Great. Better let you concentrate then." She gave my dick a final squeeze, then zipped me up and took her hand back to her own side of the car. "Poor thing," she grinned, seeing me flushed and panting. "Never mind ... home soon, right?"
"And we have the place to ourselves for a while, Mark, don't we?"
"Yeah, we do," I blurted. She giggled.
When we got to the house there was only one thing I wanted – NEEDED - to do and that was fuck Jessica senseless. Had to get the cases in first, though, so I did that, put them in her room, then we flopped down on the sofa in the lounge. It took all my willpower not to jump on Jess there and then (that top of hers was in a state of glorious disrepair again – oh jesus, those tits!) but I managed not to. I figured that would be a bit 'caveman', which isn't how I like to think of myself. She wanted a coffee anyway ('wake me up' she said) so I went to the kitchen and made her one, came back and placed it in front of her on the table. She smiled. "Thanks, sweetie." Seeing that she'd made herself comfortable on the sofa, I took one of the armchairs. "So? How are we doing?" she said. It was obvious from her amused, insinuating expression what she was enquiring about. "Um, ok, I guess." I tried to hold her gaze but found myself staring (again) at her glorious jugs. Her top was more off than on. Jess raised an eyebrow, looked sceptical. "Oh really?"
I grinned, playing along. Fact is, as the lump in my jeans disclosed, I had a monster going on. Jessica knew this, of course. "Could have fooled me, Mr Taylor," she teased, looking ostentatiously at the evidence. She was enjoying herself and I was starting to too. Nothing seemed to matter at this point other than that me and Jessica were into each other and we were gonna make out. That she was my wife's sister, I'd pushed this right away, only aspects of Jess I was concerned with right now were: (1) she was drop-dead gorgeous, (2) I had an odds-on chance of getting to fuck her. My dick was driving the wagon, brain gone to mush. I was exactly and precisely how she wanted me, in other words. Jessica stretched out languorously on the sofa. "God, this feels good after that plane," she purred. The straps on her top had fallen completely loose and the top itself was struggling to stay on. I could see several inches of smooth torso and her glorious breasts were almost in full view. My tongue was hanging out. Oh jesus.
"Janet's are quite small, aren't they?" The grin on my sister-in-law's lovely face was distinctly mischievous.
It was true. Despite the recent regrettable deterioration my wife still had an ok figure (decent enough legs, for example), however her breasts weren't that exciting. Not something I liked to admit (and certainly not something I'd tell Janet) but I'd gotten more and more into large breasts on women as I'd grown older and that my wife wasn't well endowed in this area was one of the reasons (although by no means the only one) that her physical attraction had waned in my mind to the extent it had. Still, I said nothing. Didn't really want to discuss this with Jessica. Trouble is, she DID want to. "Yeah, I know," she went on, as if I'd agreed: "Janet's always been jealous of my tits. Told her a few times she should consider a boob job but she won't, says only 'bimbos' do that. What do you reckon, Mark? Do YOU think she ought to get a boob job?"
"That's totally up to her, Jess."
"Bet you'd like her to, though, am I right?"
I stayed quiet. Jessica smirked and reached for her coffee. "What time's she back?"
"Not till six thirty."
She looked at her watch. "Let's see, nearly two hours. So what do you wanna do between now and then?
"I think you know what I want to do, Jess."
"Do I?" she flirted. She replaced her mug on the table and lay back on the sofa, one arm behind her head. With her other hand she was softly stroking her belly.
"Yeah. You do."
"What's that, Mr Taylor? Pray tell." Fuck, she was a little tease!
"Oh come on, Jess."
"No, tell me. Please. I'd like to know what you have in mind."
"Ok, I wanna fuck you. There. Happy now?"
She went all wide-eyed. "What, your wife's little sister? Isn't that illegal? Isn't that incest or something?"
"Er no, Jessica, it isn't." I knew I had to play along if I was going to get where I wanted to be (which, for the sake of clarity, was inside her knickers). She giggled. "Suppose it's ok then. Or at least I'll consider it."
"Why, yes. What's the big rush? I'm gonna be living with you guys for a few weeks, correct?"
"But what, Mark?"
"Well, you know, Janet's not here, and after that stuff in the car..."
"Stuff in the car?"
"Yes, Jess, that stuff in the car. You teasing my dick half off. Remember?"
"Guess that really got you in the mood, uh?"
"You could say that, yes."
"Well I'm in the mood too," she smiled. "I've always fancied you, you know."
"You're kidding me!" I said, metaphorical chest puffing out. God, the bitch played me like a violin, she really did.
"Yeah, I have. Honestly. I want you just as much as you want me. It's just if we do it now, that'll be a bit cheap."
"Cheap? Why for heaven's sake?"
"Because a girl likes to be wooed before she falls into bed with a man. Likes to have the guy, you know, work for it."
"I have to work for it? How, Jess, exactly? You're my sister-in-law."
Jessica giggled. "The sister-in-law who's gonna be living with you for a while."
"Still, how do you mean? Like you want me to take you out and stuff? Lunch? That sort of thing?"
"Sure, that'd be nice. Not just that, I want other things too, but yes I'd love for you to take me out sometime. Remember that lunch we had last time I was over?"
"I do remember it, yeah."
"How you kept looking at me? You know, almost drooling?"
I smiled ruefully. "Was it that obvious?"
"Let's just say I could tell that Mr Taylor wished Mrs Taylor wasn't with us," smirked Jessica. I winced. "Ah."
"Hey, don't worry, sugar, I liked it. I loved having that effect on you. Like now. I'm having the same effect now, aren't I?"
"Too fucking right you are!" (Well, no point denying it, was there?) "Good," she grinned. "Because I still like it. I like it even more now I know we're gonna end up in bed soon."
"Yes, Mark, soon. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe not even this week, but by the time I move out of here to my own place you and I are gonna be banging our brains out. And it's gonna be worth the wait, trust me." Hearing her talk like this was enough to send my desire for her off the scale! "So, sweetie, you carry on feeling this way about me, ok? Carry on looking at me like you are now, like you wanna rip my clothes off, concentrate on pleasing me while I'm here, and so long as you do all that we're gonna have a ball. Ok, Marky Mark?"
"Is that a yes?"
"How about a 'yes, Jessica'?"
It's safe to say that Jess was calling all the shots here (and that was how it remained throughout the whole tawdry affair). She nodded, seemed satisfied with my response. Then she got up, grinning, and peeled off her tracksuit pants, tossed them on the floor. "No reason not give you a preview, though, is there? Seeing as we understand each other now." She slowly removed her top and discarded that too, leaving only her little lace knickers. "Does Mr Taylor want me to take these off too?" She was smiling wickedly. I didn't trust myself to speak. "Why doesn't he ask me then?" she pouted.
"Please, Jess, take them off."
"'Jessica'," she admonished. Ah.
"Please, Jessica, please take your knickers off."
"Please, please and pretty please."
"How about 'DARLING Jessica'?"
"Please, darling Jessica ... please please PLEASE." I knew I was debasing myself, begging like this, calling her 'darling', but I didn't care. All I wanted was to see the gorgeous bitch fully undressed. Finally she did it - she slid her panties down and kicked them off and stood naked in front of me. Giggling, she posed and preened for me for a while, then she lay back down on the sofa. "So, Mr Taylor, you know what I'd really love right now?" She was beckoning me over with her finger. I went and stood by the sofa, staring down at this vision from heaven. God, what a body! My cock was on fire! "What?" I croaked. "A nice massage," she purred. "No lotion, just your big strong hands. Can you manage that, baby?"
"Shit, yeah!" This wasn't as good as a fuck but it was pretty damn close. I knelt down by the sofa (thinking hang it, I'll start straight in with her tits) and I reached out my hands, placed one on each breast, and started to caress and fondle Jess's luscious bazookas. For about half a second ... until she called a halt, pushed my hands away. "Mark, what are you doing?" I was confused. "Er, giving you a massage. Like you said."
"A FOOT massage, sweetie, is what I meant. Obviously." She rolled her eyes.
A foot massage.
So I gave her one of those, shuffled on my knees to the end of the sofa and got busy with her feet. Meanwhile she'd retrieved her phone from her bag and was engrossed with that. She pretty much ignored me, just the occasional encouragement for my efforts: "Mmm that's nice, sugar, keep going."... "My toes, don't forget my little tootsies, they need attention too."... "Kiss them, baby, if you like. My toes love being kissed. Makes them feel all warm and happy." ... Etc. Can't say the experience (on my knees giving Jess a foot rub when she's lying there naked and every nerve and sinew in my body is screaming to fuck her) is that satisfying from my perspective, however I comfort myself with the sure fact I'm scoring points with her, doing this, and those points (as she'd made clear in our little chat earlier) can be cashed in before too long. The close-up sight of her fully and lusciously nude (when I can't touch) is cruelly tantalising but it also serves to stress how Jessica is worth waiting for. And 'working' for, as she'd put it. Yeah, I was happy enough. Nevertheless I was relieved when she finally told me to stop. She'd kept me at it for what seemed like ages and I was getting tired from kneeling there in the same position (shoulders were aching also).
"So, my little foot slave, wifey's back at six thirty, right?"
"Ok, sweetheart, then you'd better finish up down there. I need to go unpack, take a shower, put some fresh clothes on. Don't want Janet seeing us like this, do we?" I levered to my feet and Jessica got up too. "How about a reward for being such a good boy?" she said and she kissed me. Kissed me properly. She draped her arms around my neck and pulled me in tight, pressed her naked body against me, and snogged my face off (tongues and all). She let me put my hands around the back (right on her lush, peachy ass) and pull her into me, let me squeeze her and grind my erection into her belly, let me do this till I was bucking and grunting and close to cumming in my pants, before she broke away in a fit of the giggles. I stood there crimson-faced and breathing hard. Sweating a bit too. "Damn it, Jess, I want you!"
"I know, baby. But remember what I said, yeah?"
Jessica smiled. I got the impression I'd passed some sort of test. "Ok, I'm going up now. I really do need a shower. Hey, you wanna watch?"
"Yeah, sweetie, watch. Watch me have a shower. You can make yourself useful. Hold the soap and the towel. Pat me down after. And my legs feel a bit dry – need some cream on them."
"Brill! So, what are we waiting for?" She turned to walk from the room. "Oh and be a darling and bring my clothes up, Mark, will you?" I retrieved the pile from the floor (top, tracky pants, her trainers, her knickers) and I followed my naked sister-in-law out of the room and up the stairs. My eyes were locked on her glorious swaying ass every step of the way.
When Janet got back she found us watching television, Jessica curled in an armchair, me semi-sprawled on the sofa. Jess leapt up when Janet walked in. "Hey, big sister," she grinned. Janet was grinning too. "Jess, you look great!" Something of an understatement: Jessica, in tight, low-slung jeans and cotton tee-shirt (sans bra), was looking absolutely delicious. "You too, Jan," said Jess. Not quite so accurate – my wife wasn't looking her best. A little weary and her work clothes, though smart enough, were on the dowdy side. Standing there next to Jessica didn't help. How was it that the (half) Spanish blood running equally in the sisters had endowed one with a dark and sultry beauty, but in the other only the merest trace of that? I tried not to dwell on the contrast but it was impossible not to, especially with the memory of Jessica in the shower less than an hour old. Oh god.
I got forgotten about as they hugged, greeted, exchanged affectionate banter. "And how's my darling husband?" smiled Janet, finally, turning to me. "Been taking care of my kid sister?"
"Um, yeah, course," I replied. "How was the dentist, honey?" I added quickly, keen to move on. "Fine," said Janet. "Didn't hurt a bit."
"Told you it wouldn't, didn't I?"
Janet smiled and plopped a kiss on my forehead. "Still, a relief to get it over with. Any case, enough about me and my teeth, let me take a shower and then how about we dial in some Chinese, the three of us? You guys haven't eaten yet, have you?"
"No, babe, we were waiting for you. And Chinese sounds great."
Jessica, back in her chair, nodded vigorously. "Works for me, sis. Chinese is yummy! When you live in HK for five years you get a taste for it, believe me."
"Great!" beamed my wife. "Oh is your room ok, Jess?"
"It's perfect, Jan! My own bathroom and everything. Love the nice big shower!" She managed to catch my eye (right on the word 'shower') and I looked away quickly. "Ok, give me a few minutes and I'll be right with you," said Janet. We sat and listened to her footsteps up the stairs. I was feeling a little queasy. Guilt. I looked over at Jessica. She was grinning. "Been taking care of my kid sister?" she mimicked, gleefully. "Don't, Jess," I said. She went quiet for a moment then, laughing again, she got up and sashayed towards me, wiggling her hips. She stood in front of me, idly fingering the hem of her tee-shirt. "Don't what?" she pouted. "You know," I mumbled. I desperately wanted her to behave normally now Janet was in the house, felt pretty terrible in any case about things and this wasn't helping one iota. "Mmm, let me see," mused Jess, finger on chin. "Don't do THIS, you mean?" And she slowly raised her tee-shirt over her flat, tanned belly ... inched it up until I could see the lower slopes of her fabulous breasts, those breasts which were so much bigger and sexier than her sister's. "Jessica, stop it!" I begged. But I was mesmerised and she knew it. I was a goner. She slid her shirt up further, all the way over her breasts. "Do you wanna kiss them, baby?"
"Jessica, please, no."
"No?" she taunted. "What, you DON'T want to kiss my nice big tits? Thought you liked them."
"I do. Christ, I do. You fucking know that. Just that..." I indicated with my finger upstairs. Jessica laughed and pulled her tee-shirt over her head. Took it off and tossed it on the sofa. Then she sat down and snuggled in close, arm round my neck, hand on my knee. She put her lips to my ear. "C'mon, don't be a wimp," she whispered. "She'll be a while. Any case, we'll be able to hear her coming down, won't we?" I was putty. Before I know it I've got my face in her tits, slobbering all over them, I get so into it that it's only Jess who hears Janet trotting down the stairs. She pulls away and quickly puts her top back on. It's in time but only just. When Janet comes in, Jess is bent over the coffee table flicking through a magazine and I'm up and walking and halfway to the kitchen. I keep going (because I need to compose myself) and when I return Jess and Jan are sitting together on the sofa and they're well into the 'sisters catching up' thing. I've brought a bottle of wine out with me ("Oh great, darling, thanks," says Jan) and I pour us all a glass, settle myself into an armchair and let them get on with it.
Janet has put on a similar outfit to Jessica – black jeans and white cotton tee-shirt. Co-incidence or touch of sisterly competiveness? I'm not sure. Hope it's not the latter, however, because my wife looks nice, sure she does, but compared to her gorgeous little sister ... well it's not a fair contest. Even their names seem to shout the difference. Janet Taylor and Jessica Sanchez. Which of these two sounds like the 'nice' middle-aged married woman and which sounds like the exotically luscious babe? Mmm, quite. I sit watching the two of them chatting, and I make sure to split my gaze evenly, but there's really only one of them I want to look at (clue: it's not Janet Taylor). 'Sister hot. Wife not.' The unwelcome phrase pops into my head and once there I can't get rid of it. Jessica catches my eye once or twice and her expression when she does ('smug' springs to mind) tells me she knows precisely what I'm thinking.
I take orders and phone for the Chinese. When it arrives we decide to eat in the kitchen. There's quite a wide-ranging conversation – Jess's new job (a big one apparently), my work, Jan's work, the house, mutual friends, yada yada yada – and I have to keep my end up because Jess in particular is keen to include me in all the chat. She plays footsy with me under the table, off and on, but generally she behaves herself (to my relief). Well, apart from when Janet excuses herself for a couple of minutes and Jessica uses the opportunity to pull her shirt up and flash her tits again, grinning and sticking her tongue out at me.
The portion of dinner discourse I didn't like (hated, in fact) was Jessica regaling us with stuff about her love life. This was, as always, eventful. "Jessica Sanchez, you're terrible! Poor Eric!" said Janet (laughing despite herself). We're hearing how Jess has been cheating on him left, right and centre. Jessica giggled. "Well, you know, a lot of dishy guys in Hong Kong. What's a poor girl to do?" I wasn't laughing. Tried to but ended up looking morosely down at my plate. Jess noticed: "Jan, I do believe your husband disapproves," she said, throwing me a teasing grin. "Um, no," I mumbled in weak protest. "Well I'm glad he does," smiled Jan, squeezing my arm. "Means I don't have to fret about him and all those young female lawyers he works with." God, I felt like such a heel at this point. But it was true enough: Janet had no reason to worry about me and female colleagues. The reason to worry, if she only but knew it, is sat right next to her, giggling and spooning up the last of the rice. "Really, Mark? Some hotties at your firm, uh?" Jessica's foot was stroking up and down my leg as she said this. "Not really," I muttered. I didn't dare look at her. I was willing her to change the subject. She did, but not in the way I was hoping. "Talking of dishy guys," she grinned, "there's a couple over here I might look up when I've got settled in." And she spent what seemed an eternity telling us about them. I felt a sharp stab. Yeah, can you believe it? I was jealous. Haven't even fucked the girl yet and I'm anguished at the thought of her dating other guys. See how much trouble I was in?
Any case, that was pretty much it for the day. Jess announces she's still a bit jet-lagged and retires for the night. Me and Janet stayed up and watched TV for a while then we went up too. I was feeling extremely horny but, sadly, had no desire whatsoever to make love to Janet (who seemed to kind of want to). She went to sleep (a little disappointed, I think - it had been a long time) and I lay there half the night obsessing about Jess in the next room, yearning to be in HER bed rather than this one. I badly wanted a wank, what with Jessica's merciless teasing from earlier, but I can't risk it, can't even risk touching myself down there.
After perhaps three hours of this, tossing and turning under the duvet, just about burning up with frustration, I finally dropped off.
She hadn't emerged by the time Janet and I left for work the next morning (we left together as per usual). "Sleeping off the flight, I guess," said Janet. "Yeah, guess so," I replied. What I'm thinking is how I'd love to fix Jess a cup of coffee and take it to her in bed. Almost suggest this but think better of it. My wife wasn't the suspicious sort but there's no point pushing it. Janet leaves a note for her sister on the kitchen table, along with a set of house keys, and we get going.
At work I try to concentrate on what I'm meant to be doing but it's impossible. Just keep thinking about Jessica.
End up calling her: I held out till mid-morning then I locked my office door and dialled her number. It rang for a long time before she answered. "Yeah?" The sound of her voice, sexy and a bit sleepy, made my heart palpitate. "Hi Jess, it's me."
"Yes, I know."
"Er ... so how are you doing?"
"I'm great, Mark. You?"
"Yeah, great. I'm, um, at work."
"Guessed that, sweetie."
"What are you doing?"
"Doing? How do you mean?"
"Well, like, where are you?"
"I'm in your house, Mark."
"Ah ok. Yeah, thought you would be. You weren't up when I left this morning."
"Well, you know, girl needs her beauty sleep."
"What, even when she's beautiful already?"
She giggled. That knowing laugh of hers. I had an erection now. That I knew this thing with Jess was illicit and wrong was, if I'm honest, contributing. I tell her how horny I'm feeling. Tell her I've been thinking about her all morning. That I can't seem to do any work. That I've got a hard-on from just talking to her.
"I see, Mr Taylor. And what if I tell you I'm still in bed, completely naked? Does that help at all?"
I groaned. She was giggling again. It was rapidly becoming my favourite sound in all the world.
"You're a fucking tease, Jessica Sanchez, that's what you are."
"Yeah, you fucking well are."
"And is that a compliment?"
"You haven't forgotten what we discussed, Mark, have you? You know, about how it's nicer if a guy has to work for it. C'mon, sweetie, it was only yesterday."
"Jess, I know what you said yesterday, and that's fine, but I'm going fucking crazy here! Just want you to know that."
She says she understands and is pleased to hear it. That she WANTS me thinking about her the whole time. That she loves the idea of my cock being hard for her. "Just so long as it's hard when it goes inside me, sweetheart." Jesus, the girl was driving me utterly beserk! "Look, baby, I can throw a sickie and come now," I said, hopefully.
"Could you, honey?"
"Yeah, I could."
She went silent.
"Jess? Jess, you still there?"
"Yes, baby. I was thinking about your suggestion."