Sis and Wife’s Sis Need My Help
Copyright© 2026 by WildcatF4F
Chapter 3: A Trio of Cajuns in Austin
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 3: A Trio of Cajuns in Austin - This is a light-hearted saga beginning in the early 1960s about a couple madly in love and their good friend. Although the couple has to deal with their sexuality early on, they become comfortable with each other's sex and love. The husband is called upon to help his sister and his wife's sister with their sexual deficiencies.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Humor Incest Brother Sister InLaws Masturbation Oral Sex Tit-Fucking
A few days after our wedding, Rita earned admission to the University of Texas Medical School. I had already been accepted into the graduate program in Chemical Engineering at the same fine institution. We packed up and moved into a nice little apartment in Austin — the kind of place where the rent was suspiciously reasonable, and the walls were suspiciously thin.
Surprisingly, Mark — who had been dead-set on Tulane Law School — suddenly decided the University of Texas Law School was calling his name. Coincidence? Sure. And I’m the Pope’s favorite altar boy.
I’d met Mark back when we were freshman fraternity brothers at LSU. He was tall and skinny, with a very pronounced Adam’s apple that looked like it was trying to escape his neck. Thin red hair, freckles everywhere — the man looked like a tall, stretched-out Howdy Doody who’d been left in the sun too long. Yet somehow, women flocked to him like he was giving away free margaritas. The only logical explanation was that he was hung like a Clydesdale with a trust fund. The guy dated and fucked so many gorgeous sorority girls that he eventually lost count and just started referring to them by hair color and major.
He’d dated Rita before I ever met her, but he couldn’t get to first base. Not even a foul ball. He once complained, “I took her to a nice restaurant — I expect at least a hand-job when I drop that kind of cash on a date. All I got was a polite peck on the cheek and a thank-you for the breadsticks.”
Before Rita, Mark had tried his luck with her older sister, Gloria. If Rita was beautiful, Gloria was the kind of beautiful that made men forget their own names and occasionally their ZIP codes. Rita was short — five-foot-two on a good day — and dark-complexioned, taking after her Cajun father. Gloria, on the other hand, was five-foot-nine of pure Irish-firecracker perfection: tall, red-haired, and built like the kind of statue they put in museums with little velvet ropes around it. She’d placed third runner-up in the Miss Louisiana Pageant a few years earlier, which is Southern beauty queen speak for “I was robbed.”
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