My sister and I are very close. Or very distant, depending on how you look at it. Some people would say we were too close. Some people might say too distant. Joy is my older sister. My beautiful older sister. My only sibling. I love her. I admire her. I resent her. I lust her. She is a slut. She is a tease. I am enraged and embarrassed and turned on by her.

My love for her was very pure, very pedastalized, until the first time I saw her masturbating. Nobody else was home, the door to her room was open, and she was flat on her back, with her legs spread, sucking her thumb. She smiled at me, very lewdly, just before she came. I ran to my room, locked the door, and came too. We never did talk about it, but she took to leaving the door open more and more when nobody else was home. I watched her masturbate. I watched her shower. I watched her fuck her boyfriends, and blow her boyfriends. Sometimes I got to watch her with her girlfriends. Once at Thanksgiving when I realized that neither she nor my uncle Joe were in the room I snuck upstairs and watched him eating her on her bed. She smiled at me then too. On those rare times when I managed to get girls into my room I would leave the door open for her to watch, and sometimes I would catch a glimpse of her standing just outside the doorway, playing with herself. One time I told her I was worried about flunking math, which she was really good at, and she said she'd see what she could do. The next afternoon when I peeked in her room she was kneeling in front of her mirror, watching herself blow my math teacher. I've never really been sure whether I deserved that A or not. A few times we actually made out. She jumped me after she got home from her senior prom, and right before I went out on my junior prom. I had some difficulty concentrating on my date, especially knowing that Joy was watching us make out in the living room afterwards. We still never talked about it, any of it. Her only pattern, after every sexual escapade, shared or almost shared, the next time she saw me, and somebody else was around, was to look me in the eye and say "Hi sweety!"

Joy moved away to college. I visited her a couple of times at school, and both times she made a point of fucking her boyfriend while I pretended to sleep. Then in the morning with the guy still in the room she'd wake me up and say "Hi sweety"

After graduation she moved even further away, and it wasn't too much longer before she announced she was getting married. I liked her fiance, Tom, as soon as I met him, and I felt kind of guilty at the wedding, knowing what my sister was like, wondering if he knew, agonizing over the fact that I was feeling guilty, debating whether it was fair to think of her like that, remembering all the sexual experiences I'd sort of had with her, wishing I could concentrate on the service, feeling, though I could barely admit it, quite jealous of Tom. I felt even guiltier at the reception when I followed her down a hall and watched her kissing the best man in a dark corner, watched her unzip his pants, watched her take him in her mouth. She saw me too. I know she did, because later, in front of Tom and the best man, she hugged me, and said "Hi sweety!"

I didn't see her for a long time after that. I almost managed not to think about her. I met nice women. I dated nice women. I fucked nice women. A nice woman asked me to marry her, and I accepted. I was almost afraid to invite Joy to my wedding. But she behaved well, sitting there in the pew with Tom and their two kids. I really was starting to wonder if she'd calmed down, or if my past was all in my head until just as I was about to share the cake with Sena, and there was Joy, standing behind Sena, sucking her thumb and winking.

More time passed. Sena and I settled down, and had two kids of our own. We were comfortable. I fantasized a lot. I fooled around some with women at work and church. Nothing serious, mostly making out after work or after meetings. There was an intensity about me, a lostness, a something, that seemed to attract them. But none of them were as good as I imagined Joy to be. Nothing quite recreated the experience, or the feeling for me that I craved so much.

And then, suddenly, about six months ago, Joy discovered email. I was flooded with her thoughts, her fantasies, her memories, and recitations of her flirtations, her exhibitions and her voyeurisms. It all came back. The jealousy, the guilt, the excitement, the lust. When I wasn't with my wife I was in the study reading, sitting at the computer with my belt unbuckled and my snap unsnapped and my zipper down, reading with one hand, squeezing myself with the other, and sharing my own fantasies and memories with her. When I was with my wife I was thinking about Joy. I thought about Joy's mouth while Sena sucked on me. I remembered watching Joy while Sena rode me. I imagined Joy's latest affairs as I fucked Sena harder than I could ever remember fucking her. Because Joy at 37 had most definitely not calmed down. She told me how she would go out in skirts and blouses with no underwear, and then whisper to men what she wasn't wearing, just to fluster them. She told me about blowing her husband's boss at an office party and about masturbating while she watched her oldest son with his girlfriend fucking on the rec-room couch. She told me about a woman coworker she liked to make out with, about a waiter she had kissed when Tom wasn't paying enough attention at her birthday dinner, and about a male coworker who would go for long secluded walks in the park at lunch and fuck her standing up against the trunks of trees.

Last week I found out I was going to visit a customer site for a couple of days. A customer site in the Middle of Nowhere. A customer site not far from where Joy lived. I complained to Sena about having to go, but Sena thought it was neat I was going to be able to see Joy again, and she took it upon herself to call Joy up and make arrangements for me to stay with them. Joy was even going to pick me up at the airport and drive me to and from the customer site, which was saving the company a hotel bill and a rental car. How could I refuse?

Joy picked me up at the airport, looking longer and leaner and tanner than I had remembered or imagined. Her long straight hair was bound behind her back where it bounced enticingly, and her nipples were showing through her tank top. We got to the car and she opened the trunk and put my bag in, then before walking to her side of the car she glanced around the garage, and lifted up her skirt, flashing me her beautiful ass. We drove in silence to the customer site. When we got there she gave me a kiss, squeezed my cock very lightly, and told me to call when I was ready to come home.

Somehow I managed to get through the day and solve the customer's problem. Joy picked me up and drove me back to her house, which was big and relaxing and secluded. Clearly Tom was doing OK financially. Dinner was hearty and filling and every now and then I felt Joy's bare foot rubbing against my leg. I tried not to look at Tom.

After dinner we all sat around talking. Joy had curled up on a couch under a blanket and after a while I realized her hand was moving under the blanket between her legs. She smiled at me, licked her hand, and put it back under the blanket. I looked around. Her oldest son was looking at her somewhat quizzically, but I couldn't tell that anybody had seen that little exchange. The kids went to bed, Joy went upstairs with them, and I watched TV some more with Tom. After a few minutes I excused myself and went upstairs to the guestroom. The master bedroom was at the top of the stairs and I looked in as I passed by. Joy was naked on the waterbed, flat on her back, her legs spread, playing with herself, sucking her thumb as she rocked back and forth. I was instantly hard as a rock. It all came back. All of it, in a rush. I was standing in the hall, paralyzed. She came. She came hard. She smiled at me. I heard Tom moving downstairs, getting ready to start up. I fled to the guestroom. Later that night as I lay on the futon, stroking myself to a massive orgasm, I saw her, for just a second, standing in the door watching.

The next morning Joy was supposed to take me to the airport for the one daily commercial flight out. I woke up. The house was quiet. It was still early, but I couldn't hear anything. I looked around. Joy was standing in the doorway. "Where is everybody?" I asked.

"Gone already. We get up early around here. Sleep good?"

I was embarrassed, but I had to say something. All I could manage was "The waterbed..."

"Come here," she beckoned, "Try it out"

"Wait a minute." I went to the bathroom, then stood there for a minute, looking in the mirror, trying to remember who I was, trying to get my bearings. I couldn't. Back out in the hall, I followed Joy to the waterbed.

"Try it out" she offered again. I climbed in. It was gentle, and relaxing, until I remembered watching her on it. Then it was much more. I looked at her. She was watching me and smiling. She dropped her robe. She was naked. I was hard. I was scared. "What about Tom?" I asked. She was already pulling down my sweatpants. I was naked too.

"What about him?" Joy answered.

"What if he comes home?"

"He won't. He's at the office"

"How do you know?"

"I'll call him." She rolled over, picked up the phone next to the bed and dialed. Then she rolled over again and as it was ringing she knelt over me, her hips hovering just above mine, her breasts swaying, her face flushed, the phone tucked between her chin and her shoulder. She smiled at me. I could hear Tom answering.

"Hi sweety," she said to her husband, as she lowered herself onto my straining cock.