Meg was a classic Irish redhead with green eyes and freckles. A sweet personality if you didn’t cross her. She’d married my older brother a few months before I had to come live with them. Mom and Dad had moved away for Dad’s new job and I was still in school here but near enough to the end I didn’t want to change.

Their two-bedroom apartment was rather small so privacy was not easy. Thus I was frequently distracted by sounds that could only be copulation. I’d never had any so it was speculation.

One day Meg was gone and my brother Phil and I were enjoying a beer as we watched a sporting even on the TV. He’s twenty and I’m eighteen but he will let me wet my whistle at home. During break in the game he asked, “I hope our bedroom noises aren’t too disturbing.”

“Bro, they are distracting but it sounds like you are enjoying the benefits of marriage.”

He wanted to talk, that was clear. “Meg sure surprised me. She insisted on being a virgin bride and I accepted that. On our honeymoon she discovered what she’d been avoiding and all that I ever heard about redheads in the sack proved true. She loved it. It’s a good thing I had some experience though. I dated a divorced woman for a while and learned a lot which I had to put to use right then.”

Of course he had my attention. “What do you mean?” I asked to keep him talking.

“She wants it all the time now. Morning, afternoon, night, and even again in the night sometimes. Women don’t seem to have bodily limits like us guys so it’s tough to keep up. I know I ought not complain but it can be strenuous.” I couldn’t help but get a big grin. Seemed like heaven to me, but I’d never been there.

Phil worked a day shift that started early while most of my classes were afternoon and early evening. Thus each of us had a good bit of alone time with Meg. After that brotherly conversation I had more difficulty keeping my thoughts around her from getting carnal, let alone the times I’d stroke my erection in rhythm with the sounds that came through the wall. When Meg had gotten quite comfortable with me being around, she began to be a lot more casual about her garments. It was getting warmer and she wore less, seemingly oblivious to the effect revealing more of her body might have on me. One real toughie was when I would return from class and she’d obviously just been laid. Besides being able to small the sex if I got close to her, she’d sometimes just wear a small robe that wouldn’t stay together at the top, giving me very nice flashes of her round C-cup breasts.

It was a sweet torture, I guess. One day, in the morning after Phil had gone to work, she was prancing around in a t-shirt and a pair of panties so sheer I could see her ass crack and the shadow of her pubes. I retreated to my room, dropped my drawers and laid back on my bed beating my meat. Wanting to ask me about lunch, she entered quietly and stopped at the sight. My eyes were closed in fantasyland but opened when I heard a little movement. Both hands covered my parts.

“Don’t stop, please! I’ve never seen that.”

My willy began to wilt from the embarrassment so she moved over to sit on the bed and pushed my hands aside so hers could grasp me. That reversed the deflation for sure. I stared at her face as she stared at my shaft and when it erupted she squealed an odd little noise. I watched in amazement as she dipped her fingers in the pearly stuff on my belly and put them up to her mouth, smiled at me and then left. I stayed holed up until she called me for lunch. Nothing was said about the momentous happening.

Two days later she just outright asked if she could see me do “that” again. When I looked puzzled she explained that she was very curious. “But you’re married,” I said.

“I’ve been a good girl all these years and now that sex is ok I feel a bit wicked but excited by it. There is so much I don’t know.”

I protested, “Can’t you just ask my brother? He is your husband, after all.”

She looked sheepish, “I’m kind of embarrassed by my ignorance when he knows so much. I was hoping you could show me a few things.”

“I’m a virgin myself so I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

That brightened up her face, “Maybe I’ll show you a few things too.”

With the unspoken understanding that coitus was only for spouses, we eagerly explored each other with hands and mouth. Meg’s consideration in cleaning up Phil’s deposits made my tongue’s explorations of her pussy quite delightful and the resulting orgasms eased off her demands for copulations. She even began to dress more modestly to divert her husband’s suspicions. He mentioned to me, rather grateful sounding, that she seemed to be settling down. He could handle two times a day.

Of course, I was still quite envious but my beauty-induced ejaculations were certainly satisfying even if not in her pussy. Then it got closer. Somehow she learned about sliders and I was delighted. My rigid rod was feeling at least the outside of a real pussy for the first time. Meg got off as well, loving the rubbing of her clit on a “foreign” shaft. The delights of “wickedness” were often in her comments. I kept wondering how wicked would she get.