It was mid-July, and I was starting to get desperate, so I gave my mother a call, hoping for an easy out. I scored. She immediately began talking about the usual first-two-weeks of August. With no exceptions, the first half of every August of my life has been spent with my family at our cottage out on the Sound.

"I know your life is in shambles right now, but you don't want to miss it. It's probably going to be the last year, because I'm thinking seriously about selling the place."

"C'mon, Mom--you've been thinking seriously about selling the place for years."

"Yes, but this time, I am seriously thinking about selling the place."

"You can't sell the place, Mom, and you know it. It's what Dad lived for."

Early in his career, Dad had made a killing--and killer rep--in the bonds market. He was a raging bull down on Wall, and hated every minute of it. He revived in the glow of his dream cottage on the Sound. When he was alive, we came out all the time. The place was a summer cottage but built to be comfy in winter as well. As kids, we did four or five Christmases out there. Some of my fondest memories are being fifteen and sixteen and going out with Dad to make repairs on the cottage, having him show me how to do such things. For a guy who made his living juggling electronic numbers, he was remarkably adept with tools.

Not to mention the time we were hanging new gutters and needed a third body, so my older sister Carol came along.

In the ultimate balance, Dad worked too hard and didn't get enough cottage-time. He was 53 when he sat down to some power lunch, and got served the businessman's special. He went face-down on the table. There's always a doctor in the house, or someone ready to show off their CPR training, but the heart attack was too total. By the time the EMTs arrived, there was nothing left for them to work with.

Mom sighed. "I know the history of the place. But it's become a money-pit. It's not like anyone's ever out there to take care of the old place. That's what I'm thinking this time: how sad it is. Houses need people to live in and love them. How sad the cottage must be all the rest of the year. The old place falling apart--I don't think that really honors your father's memory."

I cut her off. This was going too good. "Listen, Mom, we'll talk about all this when we're there. We'll figure something out. Otherwise, you're preaching to the converted. Yea, my life is in shambles, but I've never missed an August yet."

"I know. Carol and her clan will be there. Charles is such a nice guy, and the girls are so adorable."

I couldn't argue there. My big sister had married a great guy, and her 4 and 6 year old daughters were adorable.

"And even Lynnie said she'll be flying in."

I wasn't going to hold my breath on that. Lynne was her own person, and always had been. While Carol and I were a year and a half apart, Lynne always was the baby sister, born three years after me. After a year not liking the local branch of the state university, she just moved to Seattle. She did a few Augusts after Dad died, but then she switched her annual dutiful daughter trip home to November, something about it better fitting her work schedule. Whatever. I hadn't personally seen her in maybe three years.

I hung up the phone ecstatic. My life was in shambles. My job was great, but I was four months into a rather acrimonious divorce that I won't discuss. Except that I was out of the house. I'd exhausted my supply of friends' livingroom sofas. The problem would invariably be the friends' wives, which just made all us guys feel old. I'd managed a short-term sublet, but--DING!--I had to be out the first of August.

My intent had been to eventually chat my way into Mom allowing me to stay on at the place for a month or ten, while I got my life in order. This was going to be easy. All of Dad's tools were still down in his basement workroom.

Maybe I could sort out my life, rustically, as the caretaker of a cottage.

I drove out late in the afternoon. I pulled in and got out, and as I half-expected, Mom was out on the front veranda enjoying a cup of tea. "So nice of you to join us," she hailed.

I bounded up the front steps and stooped down to give her a good hug. "Oh, Mom, you know I always look forward to this."

Finally she pushed me away. "Enough of me. Go inside. There's a mob inside, and they're awfully noisy. Which is why I'm out here enjoying my tea in the quiet."

So I did go inside. First up I encountered Charles. "Hey!" he brightened. We slung out our hands to shake, and then pulled together for a man-hug. "Great to see you, man."

"You too, man."

"Hey, honey," he hollered, "your brother's here!"

Carol ran in the room squealing. Her hug was much less manly. It was, in a word, awkward. With her husband standing around watching. Her tits were mashed against my chest, and I felt the sharp nudge of her pubic bone against mine. Thankfully, then the delightful little girls poured in to see their favorite uncle. I wound up down on my knees, at their level. The older one kept having to run back to her room to fetch the things that she wanted to show me--a new stuffed animal, a crayon drawing, a pair of slippers embedded with diamonds. The little one furiously imitated her sister, except she never moved. She stood before me and kept showing me something. Every time, she opened her fists and showed me her pretty little palms.

I was thoroughly mesmerized, until I caught a glimpse of movement where I didn't expect it. I looked up. It was Lynne moving into the room.

"Hey!" I smiled widely. "Didn't know you were here."

She shrugged. "So, don't I rate a hug?"

"Well," I laughed, "sure, but you have to charge me at knee level, and then show me lots of stuff." The words were out of my mouth before I got embarrassed by what I'd actually said.

Lynne crossed the room, so I stood up, and we hugged lightly. "It's so good to see you," I said.

"Same here too."

We were a crew, quite a crowd on the house. It made obvious sense how the sleeping arrangements worked out. Same as when we were young, each in the room we knew. The difference being Carol's room went to the girls, while she claimed for herself and Charles the guest bedroom. This was an addition I'd helped my father build. It was on the other end of the house from the rest of the bedrooms, so the guests would have that much more privacy.

It was en suite, with a private bath. Ostensibly it was built, like an attached guest house, for grandparents that might come live with us and thus become part of our every cottage vacation. But that never happened. And really, the bathroom he installed was much more exotic than senior living.

The whole construction was meant to impress our overnight guests. But I don't really remember any guests. When I was 17, and everyone else was clearly gone away from the cottage for at least a couple hours, I did indulge in a guest-bath, lounging in the wide deep tub with the Jacuzzi jets turned on full. I thought it would be really sexy. Maybe it could. But alone, it was just about the saddest thing in the world. The churning water jets just felt like nagging sweat bees.

So I certainly wasn't that envious. I would be scared of taking a simple shower in that place.

It was barely an hour or two, when Charles' cell phone chirped out a tune. The idiot had forgotten to turn it off. As punishment, he had to give his apologies. He had to turn around and drive back to the city to deal with some huge crisis. It might take a couple days to sort out, sorry. The debate that started he quickly squashed. "What can I say?" he said. "They said I could come in and join the team, or obviously I'm not a team player. So, sorry, but for now I'd like to keep my job."

I was sorry to watch the guy I was going to sit around and be guys with drive away for a few days. I was trapped alone with all these females. But as dinnertime approached, I was glad. I was prepared to be happy with whatever sandwich I managed to cobble together.

I'd gone to my room for a half-hour power nap, so I was a bit groggy when I came back down the hall to the kitchen. I was drawn by the scent of a fresh pot of coffee. In the kitchen, the women were working.

Mom was juggling an ambitious dinner from scratch, with my sisters running around helping as they could. My little nieces were running around the floor like escaped hamsters, asking to help as well.

It came home to me that I was the only guy in the cottage. The women were making me food. I stood there, sipping my mug of fresh coffee, gazing upon my empire. Until Mom looked over her shoulder and quipped, "Feel free to set the table or something."

It was later, much later. I was disappeared in the kitchen, a victim of my own torture. I was so a martyr! I cleaned up dinner all alone. Carol came in towards the end, remarking on Mom and Lynne having a private conversation, successful in having gotten her little girls asleep in her old bed.

Lynne came in the kitchen just in time to grab a dish towel and dry a couple pans. "Mom's off to bed," she announced the obvious.

We all sat down at the kitchen table. Soon enough I was up and opening the fridge. It would've been very melodic if I'd pulled out a bottle of beer, ringing it against the others as a question. But going in the fridge involved tearing back glued cardboard flaps. A can of beer tapped against another makes a sound like clunk.

Carol and Lynne chimed in, "Hell, yea!" I was my sisters' beer-fetching bitch until the 12-pack ran dry. By then, Lynne was getting belligerent. She wanted to know who Carol thought she was that she could instantaneously claim the back bedroom as her own lair.

Around that bend, I didn't want to be around anymore.

Carol just shrugged, threw her palms up. "Well, I guess because I'm the one with a spouse, and a couple of kids."

"What do you mean by that?!" Lynne wanted to know.

Carol just spread her arms in that universal gesture of What the fuck are you talking about? "I'm stating the obvious. It's called very simple math. You showed up alone. And doofus over there," she pointed my way, "finally got smart and divorced that frigid bitch. So you tell me who should get the back bedroom? Sorry, but I travel with more baggage. I'm fecund, and I like dick."

"What do you mean by that?!" Lynne wanted to know again.

"Oh, Lynne," Carol quieted, "we all know you're a lesbian. And there's no reason to hide it. You love the one you're with."

"I'm not a lesbian," she vehemently replied. "Do I look like a squat dyke?"

"But you've had female lovers..."

"Sure, but who hasn't? I l-like d-d-dick, t-too," she revived her childhood stutter. "It's just that I have this history of falling for guys who are totally unavailable."

"I have a couple squat dyke friends," I began, helpfully, "but really, most the lesbians I know are really beautiful women. What's known in the guy trade as hotties."

Lynne stared me down. "So your wife dumped you because you're such a sexist asshole. What's up with that story? Is my brother one of those pin-dicked two-pump chumps who can't satisfy a woman?"

I was stunned by the attack. Speechless, in fact.

Carol broke the spell with her bell-like laugh. "Wrong. Our brother has a big ol' schlong."

"How do you know?!!" she shot back.

Carol shrugged. "I've seen it."

Having recovered from the shock, I took control of the conversation. "In fact," I introduced my side of the story, "I initiated the divorce. As I'd initiated orgasms galore every time. But, after so many years, she was happy with once a month. Your brother, he still wants it all the time."

The table went quiet. "Or is that too much information?" I breached the silence.

I never got a direct answer. We all just decided it was time for us all to go to our respective beds.

I dozed lightly, another power nap. I rousted myself seeing the clock said one-something in the morning. Everyone had been in bed for a couple hours.

I got out of my bed. I got out of my room. I wasn't sure I was going to actually be so bold, but then, having made my way across the house to the guest quarters, I opened the door and closed it behind me.

The one disadvantage of the guest rooms were that they were tacked on to the end of the ductwork. There was a window unit, but Carol had ignored it. She'd opened windows, and lay on the mattress with all the covers kicked away and her nightgown shucked up to her waist. Need I mention that her legs were sprawled apart? And no panties were involved?

I eased my weight onto the bed, and then crawled forward, low on the horizon. I moved my gaze in to her juncture. With first the tip of a finger, then the tip of my tongue, I began playing with my sleeping sister's pussy. Her juices started flowing like a flash-flood, and then the first small quiverings began building. After a huge orgasm on her part, I moved up, the plum head of my cock dipping between the slick lips of my sister's cunt.

Carol groaned, "God, it's been too long."

I shoved the nightgown up over her breasts. "God, c'mon, get naked for me."

She shucked herself and I slid up inside. Her cunt felt so good, so familiar. It had been too long, but you get busy with your other lives. Carol glowed below me, and we fucked the crazy dance we'd been doing since she turned sixteen and seduced my fifteen-year-old ass. I was the one to lose virginity that evening.

I remained her guest in the guestroom, again proving myself her best lover ever, thrusting deep, squeezing her ass up against me. Drenching us with her juices. And then of course stirring in my own.

That was the way it was with us, even in the beginning. Though we were lovers nearly daily through out high school, we were never in love. We easily dated, became engaged and got married. Carol was my sister; I was her brother. We've always happily lusted after each other. We're siblings who happened to discover they rub like flint and steel under the sheets. Who wouldn't want to keep returning to that? Crossing hallways in the dead of night. For the sheer pleasure of fitting together really well!

We lay in each other's arms in the aftermath, cooing and kissing and warbling. "Gotta love that sneak-attack," she grinned. "What possessed you ... what inspired you ... at this late hour?"

"Thought you might like a little husbanditute, lying here all alone in this big bed. Just the thought of your sweet little pussy, going unattended ... it about made my heart break."

"And bust the zipper on your pants?"

"That too!"

Given the finished hour, she was pushing me back to my own bed. It would've been too easy to snuggle up against my lover and to hell with disclosure.

But I did indeed leave my sister's bed. She had the girls to deal with so early in the morning--she couldn't stay up all night fucking.

"I know there's no way Charles will be back by tomorrow night," I looked back at her.

"So will you come visit me again, but a bit earlier? For more time?"

I reached back to tweak her toe. She was still lying there, naked and splayed. I wanted to start playing again immediately.

"Maybe when everyone else gets glued to the tube, we should announce our adjournment to my quarters, for the privacy of a quiet couple rounds of cribbage."

Well. We'd traveled and were staying at Grandma's. Everyone was stuck to the television. It was loud, and I didn't like it. Carol and I wound up exchanging rolled-eyes over and over again. Then she stood up and invited me to go upstairs where it wasn't so stupid t.v. loud, challenging me to a quiet game of cribbage. Cribbage was something we played at Grandma's, on ancient boards.

We were halfway through a long game that was kind of wearing on my nerves when Carol stopped the game. She had another game in mind. She unbuttoned her blouse and showed me her tits. They were sheltered in lacey cups. Then my sister unhooked her bra. From there, at her initiative, pants and socks went flying.

I lost my virginity at 15 to my older sister, upstairs at our Grandma's house, while everyone else was watching t.v. A cribbage board went flying, and some pegs were lost forever!"

The weird thing was moving back through the darkened house to my own bedroom. Through the kitchen to the hall to the bedrooms. What stopped me was the wide doorway into the livingroom. A low lamp was on in there.

Lynne was in there. She was on the one sofa where she couldn't possibly see me. I could see her just enough to see what she was doing. I could hear what she was doing. It was like she couldn't sleep and had gotten up to read for awhile. Properly covered in her sleepwear. But there was no book, no magazine. The hand to turn the pages was busy buried, hidden down the front of her panties. My little sister was masturbating her heart out.

She couldn't see me, and I certainly didn't want her to hear me. I waited for the muffled sounds of her climax to quietly pad past the doorway. It was a very sexy thing to come across. Maybe if I hadn't been so drained by my other sister, I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to get back into my bedroom.

What stopped me in my tracks was that just seconds after her final moans subsided, there came another sound. A chill went up my spine when I finally figured out that I was listening to Lynne, as she quietly wept.

Her tears were copious, trickles to start rivers. I slunk away in shame, in the shame of having witnessed such a dark cavity. Seen, but with no idea what to do next. I obviously wasn't up on current remedies.

I was just happy to be safe in my own bed. Thinking about Lynne made me want to jack-off, until the part where she started crying. Probably I started getting horny again because my crotch was still damp and smelling of Carol. It was late, and hard to sustain such twining fantasies, so I rolled over, still gripping my cock through my shorts, and fell asleep.

The next day was full family day. The smell of bacon frying invaded my dreams hours before I wanted to be awake. We were all sleepy-eyed as Mom served up breakfast. The big pot of coffee helped. Carol's girls had of course been awake all along with Grandma, helping with breakfast to make the day a beach day.

I had trunks, and the thought of making sandcastles with my little nieces was very appealing. Lynne threw in a wrench that left the girls begging. "I live in Seattle, for chrisssake. I don't own a swimsuit. When it's finally not raining, who wants to go jump in the fucking ocean?"

"Ahem!" her mother, sister, and brother chorused.

"We do!" the girls chimed in, "we want to go jump in the fucking ocean!"

Carol offered, commanded, "C'mon. I have a spare suit. In the other fucking room."

"Oh, yea, right. Like I could shimmy into anything your skinny ass can fill."

Carol laughed. "C'mon. It's a generous suit. Your hot curves won't be flopping out too much. C'mon. Be the cool aunt. The girls have been anticipating this for months."

Lynne shrugged, then followed Carol to the back bedroom.

We spent the day on the beach, breaking just for lunch.

And it was the best feeling in the world. Being wet from the surf, and then spending a long time engaged with these two tiny girls as we built, and adorned, castles made out of sand. Oh, the moats!

Lynne was suddenly crawling over to join the fun.

I hadn't wanted to make the observation. But though Carol's swimsuit covered Lynne, it didn't quite contain her. As she crawled towards us.

It was a terrible time for me. I just wanted to play with my nieces. But then it was so much more fun when Aunt Lynne played too! My problem was two-fold. I was shocked, because it'd been ages since I'd seen Lynne in anything but frumpy-wear. And then I was seeing it displayed like this.

There wasn't enough material to keep her dangling breasts strapped to her chest. They hung there like ripe fruit, cradled, like an offering. While we scooped up damp sand into hasty pediments, the shape of fresh breasts, perhaps crenulated along the uppermost fortifications.

You know. The ramparts to be breached, and all that silly stuff. I was just stunned to be thinking of Lynne in the way that I practiced with Carol. Was I indeed a double-pervert? I was hoping I was doing a good enough job hiding it. The bottoms of the borrowed suit were just as nicely tight. From the way she was squatting, I had to keep looking away from how I could see the sliver of her little valley.

I was grateful guys got to wear big long baggy trunks. There was webbing inside that'd thankfully trapped me, like a dolphin in a tuna net. And I wore a Bubba-sized t-shirt against the sun, the hem hanging nearly to my knees, so I felt safely covered.

I was glad--we all were glad--when we finally wound up back at the cottage, ordering up pizzas as we took turns showering and getting back into clothes.

For pizza, Lynne shocked all showing up in a t-shirt tight enough to declare she wasn't wearing a bra. I certainly chewed my slices slowly. And thoroughly. Not wanting to choke when I swallowed.

Carol had caught it right away, cocking an eye at me. She was sitting next to me, and in the bustle leaned over, hissing, "Where did those come from?--I'm jealous! And why are they suddenly on display for the first time right now?" Having said the obvious, she paused to drink from her glass.

As she was drinking I caught her eye. "Clearance Sale," I said.

Water shot out my sister's nose, and still she kept laughing, which got me laughing, and then everyone wanted to know what we were laughing about. Carol went on-task, inventing on the spot a funny enough joke that didn't involve our baby sister. But that did conclude with the overheard deadpan punch line. Clearance Sale. How mean of me.

Afterwards we all settled down. The t.v. massaged our brains for a couple hours. I tried to figure things out, but failed. I helped Carol get the girls settled for the night, happy for the honor of reading them to sleep; then we all found our own beds.

The thing was, about half past one I was wide awake again. I got up and made the long quiet trek across the darkened house. I lifted the covers, and crawled in under beside Carol. Then I started waking her up. I traced a finger along her slit, and found it pretty slick. I parted the lips slightly, and was knuckle-deep in cunt sauce.

"You faker," I said, rudely pushing her thighs aside. I steered myself to her opening.

"Tonight you were supposed to be here earlier. I got impatient. I started without you. She's all ready for you."

"So I noticed," I said, sticking it in. I could tell Carol was in the mood for fast and furious. Humping back like she was about to break and die with a wonderful smile on her face. We had five minutes of tiger fuck heaven, and then it was like we were both broken.

Lying languishing in the afterwards, I told her about seeing Lynne the night before.

"Coming, then crying?" Carol pondered, looking quizzical, and then resolved. "I think I'm beginning to understand. Do you think she's doing it now?"

"How would I know?"

So we pulled on scraps of clothes, and snuck out to have a look.

Lynne was in fact there, and madly at it. It was beautiful to see, even from an oblique angle. And then so sad when she climaxed and started to cry.

Carol moved right on in the room, and sat down right beside her. "Why are you weeping?"

Surprisingly, Lynne took it as natural that suddenly her sister would be sitting down next to her.

"You just made yourself feel so good," she cooed, "so why the tears?"

Lynne was cracked open. "Sure, I'll play with other girls, but I'm not a lesbian. My bad luck with boys? There's just one guy I want, and I can never have him."

"Why not?"

She hesitated, and then continued. "Because he's under the roof right now, and I'm not talking about your husband."

Carol smiled to herself, having guessed right. "If you're talking about our brother, I don't know what you're talking about. If you want it, all you have to do is ask."

"And you have?"

"Are you kidding? Like you never guessed? We've been doing it since I was 15 and first molested him."

"Well, no wonder I always felt like I wasn't a member of a secret club." She pondered that.

"But how did you do it?" our little sister wanted to know. "I wanted it too, but I never got it. How?"

"How? Give him a little encouragement. Flash him some panty--that worked for me. After all, he's your brother. All his thoughts for you make him feel like a pervert. Let him know you're a pervert too!"

I'd moved slowly into the livingroom, out of the shadows and into the conversation. Lynne looked at me, then lifted her legs, parking her heels on the sofa cushions. She gave me a totally unobstructed view of her panties.

I leered back at her. "Don't start something you don't want to finish."

Lynne grew this large slutty smile, "But what if I want you to finish inside me?" I moved into the room, and down on my knees before her spread knees. I let a finger trail up to join hers in rubbing at her panties.

"Keep that up, and... " she gasped.

"Can you be quiet," I whispered, "when you're not alone? Out in the livingroom?"

"I'm sure," she moaned.

"How quiet?" I asked.

"Probably not very quiet," she giggled.

Then Carol reached down and gripped both our shoulders. "I think you two really need to get to the back bedroom, right now. The kids were restless, so we swapped rooms for the night. That sounds plausible to me," she said to Lynne. "As for you," she smiled at me, "you're on your own for where you wind up woken up."

I stood up, then reached a hand down to tug Lynne from her sofa-sprawl. Her panties went out of view as I helped pull her to her feet, but I knew that condition wouldn't last for long.

Lynne led us into the room, then shut the door behind us. Immediately she pulled us close and her lips were on mine. My hands went around her, pulling her body against mine. Lynne managed a free hand enough to reach and flick off the overhead light.

The room was plunged into darkness, and that's not what I wanted. I reached back and flicked the light back on. Then I broke the embrace and went over to click on the bedside lamp. I moved back into my sister's embrace, running a hand along the wall behind me until I hit the nub and killed the overhead.

"Now, the first thing you need to know about showing your brother some panty, is that no matter how lively the sight, he's still gonna wanna yank 'em down, for the best sight of all.

I was on a roll. "But I want way more than just getting under the covers and pulling down your panties in the dark." I moved in, tracing my fingertips like spider webs down her tits. "I also want to be able to clearly see these pups." Lynne thrust out her chest and brought her hands up, tracing her fingertips over the backs of my hands. We leaned together for a little tongue kiss and then backed apart again. My hands trailed down her sides to the hem of her nightshirt, while she slunk her arms straight up. I pulled the shirt up off over her head in one graceful motion. And then I just had to take a step back to take in the sight.

"Damn, girl, where you been hiding those?"

"What? You like?"

"Your uniform of baggy oversized shirts. I never imagined."

"What? Are they as pretty as Carol's?"

I was startled by the question. Because I was thinking about her tits, not Carol's. "Lynne, I've never seen such beautiful breasts." My hands reached for them, on their own locomotion. "Anywhere, anything, ever in my life."

I touched her just lightly. "Carol is gorgeous. Since she does favor tight shirts, I'm sure you know that they're smaller. And just perfect in their own way."

I played with them, always returning to their cores, since Lynne seemed to really like that. "Sensitive, hmm?"

"Just like my sister," she stated the fact we both apparently knew.

"The faucets for the flow below?" I wondered aloud, with one hand cupping my sister's cunt through her damp panties.

I tweaked her left nipple more, and she totally gasped. "Hot water, huh? Guess it is a sister thing."

Lynne backed away from me, her whole face basking in a smile. When she reached the bed, she scooted backwards onto it, kicking stray covers away. She patted the bit of bed beside her. Then she spread her legs and patted the bit of bed below her. "Come. Join me. Let's make this our bed."

I left what I was wearing on the floor, then crawled onto the mattress to join her. I reached between her legs. Her panties were practically dripping. "You're a juicy girl, aren't you?"