I collapsed on the sofa, a glass of wine in my hand, and turned to face Jeremy.

It had been quite a day, out of an exceptional week. My life, as they say, would never be the same again.

My husband Neville and his half-brother Jeremy had been out tramping in the mountains near our home, the previous weekend, when it had all gone wrong.

In appalling weather on the second day, as the two of them pushed along a ridge, with a gusty side wind, and torrential rain, Neville slipped. His boot landed on a piece of ground which had been undermined, and he stumbled before slipping from the edge. Jeremy turned, he said, just in time to see Nev sling his arms around a large rock to arrest his fall.

The ground was unstable. The rock was unstable.

Neville fell three hundred feet onto more rocks below. I was informed, and the body was retrieved the next day.

The funeral was nice. I think I can say that, even though it was awful, because it could have been much more awful. All Nev's friends came to pay their last respects. Some of his family travelled from overseas to be here.

We weren't church-goers, but I knew Neville would have liked something, so I spoke with a minister friend I'd known since I was a kid. He and the Funeral Director worked out what was best. I just did what they said.

Jeremy spoke on his brother's behalf about how he was the glue in their blended family. His mother wept. His sisters hugged me over and over. I stood and tearfully described his unique wonderfulness as a loving husband.

When the burial was over I thanked them all for attending, cried a few private tears of my own, and invited, as was expected, everyone back to our recently renovated house for a drink and something to nibble.

They came. All of them. Relatives and friends, and hangers-on. People I loved, and some I'd never met. They all wanted to spend time telling me how Neville was delightful/reliable/handsome/clever/funny/intellectual... I nodded a lot. I was running on automatic, and anyway all the things they said were true.

Eventually they'd all downed as much of our booze as they could manage, eaten every snack in the place, and started to leave. Some made plans to catch up with me while they were still in town. Others had planes or trains to catch. Eventually, all but one of them had gone.

Then, as I said, I collapsed on the sofa, a wine in my hand, and turned to face Jeremy.

"Thanks. I couldn't imagine having got through this without your help."

"Oh, to tell the truth I'm glad there was so much to be done."

"I'm with you. It's been so busy there hasn't been time to think."

"Just as well, Laney."

"Yeah. So, what now?"

"I think I need to sort some things out in my head."

"You're not alone."

"And you, Laney? How are you managing?"

"I'm alright, actually. For now. I'm... just not sure where to from here."

"Yup."

"Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure."

"Could we just sit here for a while, and drink?"

"Hell, yes."

"Good. Because I never do that."

"I know."

"Lots of things I never do."

"That right?"

"Uh huh. Lemme get some port."

"Oh, you're serious."

I returned with a bottle I'd hidden in the back of the pantry, and two appropriate glasses. All of that was dumped on the coffee table before I sat down and faced Jeremy again.

"You know, I'm not being entirely honest here."

"You're not?"

"No. I don't really want to get plastered."

"Ahh... no?"

"No. Umm... listen, it's been a long time. I have no idea how do this properly, but you find me attractive. I know you do."

"I always have."

"Yeah."

"So... you'd best get to the point, Laney, in case I get the wrong idea."

"I want to fuck you."

"Okay, that's more direct."

"I want to fuck you. Here and now, because I like you, because I've lost my husband, because I know you want to, and because I've just been so fucking horny since he died."

"Why are you still talking?"

"There's one more."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I want to do it because it's just so fucking wrong."

"Is it?"

"Feels wrong to me. But it's got to be better than what I've been managing alone these last few nights."

"Did that feel wrong?"

"Yeah. Listen, are you... seeing someone? Nev said you were, a while back."

"It didn't exactly work out, with her being a bitch and all."

"I thought it was all just sex to you."

"Hey, I'm not that shallow. Usually."

"I hope you are now."

"I'll make a point of it."

I leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek before standing in front of the sofa and kicking off my shoes. I wore a long somewhat-slim black dress, and my hands took hold of the skirt of it up high on my thighs, and started to pull handfuls of the cloth up, shortening the skirt with each lift. "I did something else that I think was inappropriate..."

The skirt was past my knees. "What was that?"

I kept lifting, the thin cloth bunching easily above my hands. I took hold of the whole thing and pulled it boldly up to my waist. "I wore my sexiest panties. To my husband's funeral." I wiggled and grinned, showing off the thin wisp of black satin. "I thought maybe he was watching."

Jeremy put his hands on my hips and pulled me towards him. I bent my legs and finished up pressed against him, kneeling on the sofa. I dropped my dress and it fell around us a little, though not covering my knees. "I was watching you."

"You," and I kissed him between words, "have always been watching me."

"That's not my fault." he kissed me back.

"It's not? Why is that?"

"Well, if you will walk around half naked."

"I don't do that."

"Laney, what were you wearing that morning you got up early to pee, when we were camping?"

"Oh, that morning? Umm... panties?"

"Perfect example."

"I did that on purpose."

"Bitch."

"And I knew you'd be jerking off later in the bushes. Was I right?"

"Yeah, when you guys went for a walk."

"Nev thought we were going for sex."

"You weren't?"

"Uh uh. I told him you would be jerking off so that's what he would have to do as well."

"You didn't."

"I did. He did have a distinct advantage though."

"What was that?"

"He could watch me."

"I should have followed you."

"Too late now, Jeremy. Too late."

"Hold still, will you? Okay, arms up." He grabbed the bundled up dress, and hauled it up and over my head. "Oh, so not just the panties, huh?"

"You like?"

"I do."

"Take it off. My breasts need air."

I fumbled with his business shirt while I spoke, and both that and the bra were out of the way at about the same time. I pressed myself hard against his chest, and continued to kiss.

After a little while, breathless with need, I spoke again. "Sweetie, does it matter if your pants get stained?"

"Ahh... why?"

"Because unless you remove them, I'm going to dribble on them, panties or no panties." I lifted myself up on my knees. "Come on, get 'em off."

Jeremy lifted his ass off the sofa and wriggled out of the trousers, leaving him in some stretchy boxers with a blatant bulge.

"Those too."

"That's hardly fair."

"I'll make up for it."

"Promises, promises. You already proved you're a tease."

"Not all the time." He'd lifted the front of his boxers over the tip of his solid cock, and slid them down his legs. I looked down at it. The shaft rose from a dark thatch of hair. He was uncircumcised, unlike his half-brother. He was big, too. I'd seen his cock before, when the two brothers carelessly peed off a river bank one time, and one occasion when he'd convinced Neville and I to play strip poker, and then lost badly. It wasn't like this though. Hard and strong. Dribbling just a little at the tip. I haphazardly stroked him, running a fingertip through the dribble and spreading it over the head. "I could have made use of this the other nights. You never said you had it."

"I only just realised."

"Well, don't lose it."

"I will if you keep doing that."

I had moved on, removing my hand and pressing my panty-covered mound against him, rubbing up and down gently, and watching him twitch. "Would that matter? How fast can you recover?"

"I've been drinking, Laney." I'd only count on one round if I were you."

"We'd better make it good, then."

"I'll do my best."

"It's not up to you."

I put my hands behind his shoulders, and pulled. Hard.

He gasped, and the two of us fell to the floor, my head narrowly missing the coffee table. "Whoops. Forgot about that." I was flat on my back on the floor, Jeremy in the traditional missionary position, his legs between mine, his chest pressed to my breasts. We kissed for a little longer.

Jeremy pulled himself back then, for a moment, and took hold of the sides of my panties. "Lift your ass, girl. You ain't nekkid yet."

"No, no. Get your hands off." I slapped him away before taking hold of his shoulders again, this time pushing him to the side. The two of us rolled over. Now Jeremy was flat on his back. "I told you already, it's not up to you."

"What does that mean?"

"Just this. If anyone is fucking anyone, that fucker is me. You, the fuckee, do as you're told."

"He never told me you were like this."

"I wasn't. Now listen. He did tell me something about you."

"Oh, fuck."

"Yeah. So you get a choice. You want me to take these slinky panties off, or just, maybe... push them aside?"

"He should never have told you about that."

"No, but he always was a blabbermouth. I know about that girl, too."

"What girl?"

"The one in high school."

"Oh."

"But I'll never tell. Well, unless I meet up with her mother."

"I don't know anything so embarrassing about you."

"I bet he told you the bottle story."

"Nah."

"Liar."

"Okay, okay."

"So, Mr Kinky. On, or off?"

He whispered back. He was obviously embarrassed, but arousal trumps embarrassment every time. "On."

"I thought so. Relax."

"No chance."

I knelt more carefully, my legs outside his, and lowered myself until my dripping thighs were close to the tip of his cock. I hooked the satin of my panties with my finger and pulled them to one side, baring what he must have already known was black pubic hair. The way my legs were apart though, I'm sure he could see more glistening pink than black.

I pushed myself against the head of his hard cock, working some of my plentiful lubrication over it before making a concerted effort. He popped through the opening without trouble, but I was glad that we were in this position, and that I was in control. He was considerably larger than the brother I was accustomed to, and I could feel him spread me in the nicest possible way.

I don't always like large cocks, but this one seemed just right. I loved the feel of him as he slid deep inside me, tight but slippery, and the slight curve in the shaft put him just where I wanted.

I sat there for a while, committing the feeling to memory, looking down and seeing him inside me, our nests of hair together, my lips surrounding, comforting, welcoming him. The panties pressed against him on one side. I knew he could feel the pressure, and I was aware how much he liked it.

I could smell Jeremy too, sitting above him like this. His sweat. Arousal and nervousness, shyness from the public speaking earlier, I guess. I could smell my own odour too. Together we delivered a heady tang of need, with just a whiff of guilt. I hadn't wanted to fuck this badly in years.

I moved.

The sharp intake of breath. The thrust of his pelvis. The moan that escaped from my own mouth. The gentle scrape of the head of his cock against me. The overflowing desire. The sight of him staring at me.

I did it again.

I slowly grew accustomed to it. The building rhythm of the two of us sliding skin on skin. The breathing, and the movement of the bodies. The slow, inevitable climb towards release. The rampant need.

We flowed. First our movements flowed against each other, each thrust against a counter. Each lift a bending of the bodies, a reluctant parting. We pressed together, all thoughts of safety, or nicety put aside. Only the movement mattered. Only the flowing rhythm.

The movements became faster, the pressing more emphatic.

"I always wanted to, you know," I said to him, brief words between gasps. "I always wanted to fuck you." Jeremy didn't answer, his need greater than speech, but I couldn't shut up.

"I never ever wanted to make love to you. Not once. I just... I just wanted to fuck you."

Somehow the speech helped release me. The admission brought me closer. The need transparently took me somewhere different.

We moved faster and harder, thrusting against each other. I stopped talking for a moment, and then everything seemed to happen at once. I felt him tense beneath me, felt the swell of his completion as much in my mind as in my cunt. I crushed him, hard, pushing him over the edge, and starting my own inevitable orgasm. As the contractions between my thighs commenced, and a wave of pleasure undulated through my entire body, I found the strength for one final question. I spoke and came together, clamping down on him as I uttered the inevitable question.

"Did... Oh, fuck, did... did you push him?"