"Oh don't worry, I'm very easy... to get along with."

I wasn't sure if I should trust what my ears were hearing, or rather, the way my brain seemed to be interpreting the words. But then the way she turned away from me, putting a slant to her hips... the slope of her shoulder said it all. Dumb moth to a bright light, I fluttered across the space between us. The shiver she gave when I lay my fingers gently on that shoulder. Just this slight touch and I was raising goose bumps! If she was feeling cold, it was the chill you get when you're burning with a fever. I caressed her and her flesh just rippled. I bent and breathed the fresh smell of her skin, the heady scent of soap and shampoo and just plain her. I began brushing her bare shoulders with feathery kisses, interspersing them with little swirling licks. I could hear the tiniest of sighs roiling up from deep inside her.

Moving her hair aside to expose her neck, I then moved in close and gave her a pronounced nip at the nape. This was an old trick I'd learned from rutting tom cats. And it worked! She gave a jolt and a squeak, which quickly turned into the first full fledged moan. The line of fine down leading to her spine was standing on end. As my hands moved down to the sides of her back she lifted her arms enough to allow them easy access in sliding around to her front. I cupped her breasts through the material of her top.

What I was doing was absolutely wrong, wrong, wrong, but going by the physical evidence it felt right, right, right. Beverly's breasts were perfect palmfuls. The nipples against my palms felt like magic buttons. Push gently. But maybe they were dials that needed to be twisted a little. Or knobs you pulled out a tiny bit to turn on the juice. My god, she was like a gothic romance--her bosom was actually heaving. Her blouse was a strapless halter, a frilly fancified tube top. Silly elastic, I thought, you can't stop me. But before I could act, Bev lay her hands atop mine and smoothly pulled them off her breasts. For an instant I thought some voice of reason was going to stop us before we got into trouble. She must have sensed the tensing in my arms as I got ready to remove them from around her.

"No, silly," she turned her head to look at me, the softest sweetest smile upon her glazed face. She then faced forward again, her hands gently guiding mine up under the fabric. Her breasts melted in my hands.

Beverly was new to town. Having my sister-in-law stay with us until she got settled had not been my idea. Bev wanted the type of apartment that would cost twice what she was willing to pay. Not that she had anything to pay until she found that dream job where she'd get paid tons of money for doing very little. It wasn't that I minded giving her a hand, I just knew the process would last a long time. My work room was the spare bedroom, which had never posed much of a problem before. I couldn't believe I'd been bitching about the situation for the past months before it happened. I couldn't believe I'd been bitching about it within the past half hour. I wasn't really losing the use of my room. I was just finding a different work to do in it. And delightful work it was, I thought as I started stretching the top up over her breasts. I was thrilled to be able to lend her a hand or two, or more.

Just as I was lifting the top over her head, I swung around her side, nuzzling past her raised underarm. Using one hand, I twisted the top, capturing her arms together above her head. I slid my free hand over a breast while I began kissing my way down her collarbone.

"If I can't manage to restrain myself," she asked in a husky breath, "what makes you think you'll be able to?" It was a rhetorical question of course. She easily slipped her arms free, and then her hands were all over me, pushing my head down to the unattended breast, stroking my hair, kneading my shoulders, reaching down to gather my shirt up over my head. When this interrupted my suckling, I slowly dropped, my tongue tracing the way down to her tummy. She tried the same trick with my shirt but my hands had better places to be. "Nor can you stop me," I murmured in my kisses on her tummy. My arms draped around her, my hands sliding down her back, coming to a rest gripping onto her ass, stopping to knead there a little before tracing her waist from the back to the front.

Once there, I had no more time to waste. My nimble fingers had the button undone and the zipper down within a breath. As I slipped the pants over her hips I took another deep breath, filling that sense with the luscious musky scent freed from the denim confines. Working the pants down her legs, I leaned towards the vee of her panties. My nose seemed perfect to fit down in the slot. As she worked her legs-- freeing her ankles of their jeany chains--her thighs spread slightly. In the crotch, the dampened fabric molded itself to the parting of her inflamed parts. Before I could think of it, my tongue lashed out to linger on that very spot of cloth.

We both gasped at the same moment.

The way my dancing tongue made the whole area quiver made me want to keep on doing just that. But eventually I stopped. I stopped to do you know what. I pulled down her panties with the long slow touch, the public unveiling of the modern savior. I moved back in right away. I bent down even further and basked in the odor.

"My god Bev," I murmured, "you smell so-o good" I looked at her puffy lips from the front. The glistening of the inner line spread out in a fan. "You make me dizzy," is about the last thing I remember saying for awhile.

I somehow got her backed up to the bed, and then she toppled down on her back. Her knees stayed high and waving far apart. In an instant I was on me knees, my mouth wide and glued to her cunt spreading it wide and gluey. I stayed down there a long time content to spend the rest of my life down there. I was a musical genius, and I knew no sound worthy of playing much less recording that the mountain climbing moans of her orgasms. Why did I keep choosing to scale the same heights? Because, after a little recovery, they were still there. They jutted up again.

Then in one sort of superhuman motion, Beverly not only pushed herself up into the middle of the bed, but she dragged me along for the ride, pulling me all the way on top of her. The movement was that of a heavy machine cycling effortlessly. But the way she nearly smothered me with kisses was something no machine could do. Her kisses were wide and deep and frantic. That she enjoyed the taste of her arousal as much as I did was something I found incredibly arousing.

Most amazing of all, from my perspective, was how she'd seemingly sprouted so many pairs of hands. I couldn't turn my head to verify what I felt: two of her hands held my face clamped to hers. Four or five hands were active on my back, alternating deep rubs with frenetic, equally deep, scratching. A pair of pairs were at battle on my nethers, the one clenching my ass, almost thwarting the other guys who were working overtime to get my pants off. I heard a furious ripping right before my underpants were miraculously flung away. My favorite hands were the ones slowly caressing my forearms. That was the touch that set all my hairs as pins. Those were the ones that slid down and rearranged me next. I was suddenly sitting on my heels, knees nudged into her armpits, leaning forward when her hands pulled my penis in that direction.