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Message-ID: <50805asstr$1111752604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Frank Braun <mazares@hotmail.com>
User-Agent: Xnews/5.04.25
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 24 Mar 2005 20:43:44 EST
Subject: {ASSM} RP: LIFE WITH MY WIFE AND DAUGHTERS - Part VIII
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Date: Fri, 25 Mar 2005 07:10:04 -0500
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Copyright (C) 2002 by Frank Braun

mazares@hotmail.com

Emailed comments are welcome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


LIFE WITH MY WIFE AND DAUGHTERS - Part VIII

The house was unusually warm when Rebecca, my 15-year-old daughter, and I 
arrived home from a Saturday afternoon spent in the park. My youngest 
daughter, Rachel, 11, was gone for the evening to a slumber party, and I 
expected to find only my wife, Sarah, at home.

But when we arrived in the kitchen, we found not only her, but her 
sister, Gabriela, as well. Both, to my surprise, were only barely dressed 
-- Sarah wore only a black crop-top and black thong panties, and her 
sister was dressed only in one of my white button-down, but <i>un</i>
buttoned, shirts, and white bikini panties.

"Just surviving the heat," Gabriela giggled, seeing the wide-eyed looks 
on our faces. "Your air conditioning's out."

Both women were giggling, and the table around which they sat was strewn 
with the makings of the Margueritas they'd been drinking -- surviving the 
heat indeed!

I was almost embarrassed by their near-nakedness in front of our 
daughter. Sarah, at 34, was still magnificently beautiful with her long, 
curly, near-black hair and rivetting dark brown eyes; and Gabriela, just 
a year older, though less voluptuous and more athletic in appearance, 
shared her sister's exotic coloring while also exuding an unmistakeable, 
nearly animal, sexuality.

The giggles subsided for a moment; and in that instant, my wife's face 
turned suddenly serious -- whether really or jokingly I couldn't tell -- 
and she looked at our daughter and said, "Precious been fuckin' Daddy 
again! I can see it all over her face!"

Rebecca looked at me with an expression somewhere between panic and 
questioning -- and I, horrified by the remark, looked at Gabriela, whose 
jaw had gone slack, her eyes -- wide open -- peering into mine.

"Hee, hee, nevermind!" Sarah spurted out, now giggling again -- and very 
visibly drunk.

"I'm taking a shower," Rebecca said quietly, and left the room, her long, 
wavy, dark brown hair swinging behind her.

"Join the party," said Sarah, trying to recover from her case of the 
giggles. I fetched a beer from the refrigerator, opened it, and sat down 
across from them at the table.

"Maybe I should be getting home," Gabriela said, moving as though to 
stand up. She was clearly handling her alcohol better than her sister.

"No, no, hell no," said Sarah, grabbing her by the wrist. "Sit down. The 
party's just started. And we weren't finished talking anyway."

Sitting right next to Gabriela, she leaned over to rest her head on her 
sister's shoulder. "We were trying to figure out why Daddy liked you 
better than me, remember?"

"You're being silly," Gabriela replied. "You only thought so."

"No," Sarah slurred on, "I think he found you sexier!" Then, her voice 
lowered to a near-theatrical whisper, she said, "You were fucking Daddy, 
weren't you?"

"Dear God, what's gotten into you?" muttered Gabriela, caressing Sarah's 
head as it rested on her shoulder. She looked at me for a moment -- 
deeply into my eyes, in fact, as though trying to guage my thoughts -- 
then, after a silence, went on. "Like you weren't," she whispered, 
sighing at the same time.

Now it's getting deep, I thought, feeling a sort of panic over the 
realization that I was about to hear things that I probably didn't want 
to hear.

Sarah, all her giggling gone now, her head still resting on her sister's 
shoulder, looked at me with a big-eyed, drunkenly sad expression.

"I thought it was only me," she said, turning her face up to look into 
her sister's eyes. "I had no idea."

Gabriela moved her other arm into place to pull Sarah's head closer to 
her breast; Sarah clasped her sister around the shoulders, and there the 
two sat for a time in a quiet embrace.

Feeling awkward, I sat silently with my beer, admiring the beauty of the 
two sisters, admiring the beauty of their embrace. I dreaded the moment 
in which their conversation might continue. Though Sarah was my wife of 
so many years, and though I had long been very fond of Gabriela as a 
person, I wasn't sure I really belonged in the conversation.

"Well," said Gabriela, mustering a smile, "<i>you</i> were the one with 
the boobs!" And, with a suddenness of movement, she pulled her hand free 
and teasingly pinched one of her sister's breasts which were, indeed, 
much larger than her own.

Suddenly giggling again, drunk as she was, Sarah jumped free of the 
embrace and pinched back, missing, and giggling some more, before 
reaching out to take up her drink and toss down its remainder.

"Make me a drink!" she said, still giggling, speaking this time to me. 
"You're being useless so far!"

Gabriela's drink was empty too, so I made new ones for both women, 
finding myself suddenly deep in thought. My relationship with my wife's 
father was a good one, I held the guy in really high esteem, and had just 
paid a visit to him a couple of weeks before at his little farm upstate.

And now, I learn that he was fucking both his daughters. That he was 
fucking my wife before I knew she existed. How, I wondered, would I view 
him from here forward? But how, I wondered also, was his situation then 
any different from mine now? And what about "then?" Was my wife still 
fucking her father?

"Really," Sarah said, taking up her new drink and looking at Gabriela, "I 
really did always think you were sexier than me." I snapped out of my 
brief reverie to also look at Gabriela.

"Quit it," she said, grinning. "It's your tequila talking."

"No," Sarah went on, "it's my heart talking. I used to watch you. You 
didn't know that, did you? I used to watch you dressing and undressing, 
showering -- even watched you in your sleep. I always wanted to touch you 
-- you know, <i>touch</i> you. But I was afraid to. Afraid of what you 
would think."

I felt more and more like an intruder on a conversation that shouldn't be 
happening in front of me. But I was too spellbound for it to even occur 
to me to stand and leave. And at this point, it was as though neither of 
the sisters even remembered that I was there.

Gabriela, silent, stared at her hands, which were now folded in her lap. 
At last, and quietly, she said, still looking down, "You could have. You 
know? You could have. It would've been alright. I wanted you, too. All 
that time, I wanted you, too."

She looked up, and the two sisters peered silently into each other's eyes 
-- moving slowly, tentatively closer to each other, closer to a kiss, 
their lips slightly open, quivering.

But it was at that moment that Rebecca reappeared, and the two drew 
quickly apart, the spell for now broken.

I broke the nervous silence. "You might have gotten dressed," I said to 
our daughter. Her hair hung wet and still dripping, and she was wrapped 
in a white terry towel.

"It's too hot to dress," Gabriela said with a nervous smile, looking at 
Rebecca. "Sit down and join us."

Wordlessly, Rebecca took a chair between her mother and myself and sat 
down. Her mood seemed serious, even sullen; and that, combined with the 
awkwardness of the moment, made the room seem suddenly and uncomfortably 
quiet.

"Cheer up, sweetheart," I said, reaching to my left to gently raise her 
chin with my hand.

"We need to talk," she said at last. "Or I need to, anyway."

"Do I need to leave?" Gabriela said, setting down her drink. "I mean, is 
this a family thing?"

"You <i>are</i> family," said Rebecca. "You need to hear this too."

We all sat silently, looking at her. I was terrified -- perhaps out of 
guilt -- by what she might say; Gabriela seemed uncomfortable; and Sarah, 
though staring at our daughter, seemed -- perhaps out of drunkenness -- 
to be resigned to whatever was about to come.

"Yes," Rebecca went on -- and then she looked directly at her mother -- 
"Yes, 'Precious been fucking Daddy again,' if that's the way you want to 
put it.

"And yes," she went on, now turning to her aunt, "yes, I have sex with my 
father. My Daddy makes love to me. And to my sister, too. That's the way 
<i>I</i> prefer to put it. We're not just fucking. We're making love. 
Just like you and Julian. You think he doesn't talk about it?"

Sarah gasped, suddenly sober, and turned to stare at her sister. Julian 
was Gabriela's son, now 16 years old. Gabriela's eyes grew wide but blank 
as she stared into the distance beyond us; a pained sigh fell from her 
lips as all of us looked at her in silence.

"And all of that's cool," said Rebecca, after a long pause. "Except for 
one thing."

All eyes were on her again, waiting, as though on a cliff's edge, for 
what might come next.

"You," she said, now looking at her mother. Our daughter's eyes seemed to 
exude a degree of pain, the tears beginning to well up in them. 

"You," she said again, now rising to stand in front of Sarah, "you just 
keep ignoring it all, like you think it'll go away -- at least where I'm 
concerned; I don't know about Rachel. You just keep ignoring it. And I 
want you -- I so badly want you to be a part of it! It just keeps feeling 
like you're the only thing standing in the way of all this being 
perfect!"

"Oh Becca, sweetheart," Sarah whispered, looking into our daughter's 
eyes. She extended both her hands to take hold of Rebecca's wrists and 
pull her slightly closer. "I thought it was you, keeping me out -- 
keeping me at a distance."

"I tried, that one night, you remember --"

"I know," Sarah interrupted her. "But I was scared. It terrified me. It 
wasn't you -- " She paused, turned to look at her sister, then turned 
back again. "There's just so much you don't know. Things before you were 
born."

Rebecca moved forward, slowly, to sit on her mother's lap, facing her, 
straddling her thighs and placing her hands on her shoulders.

"I want to be a part," Sarah continued. "I'm sick of all the tension, 
too. I just haven't known how -- "

"Just relax and <i>be</i> a part," Rebecca blurted out, impulsively 
pressing herself against her mother's breast and wrapping her arms around 
her neck, her face buried in Sarah's rich, black tangle of hair. "I don't 
know how else to say it," she said, her words muffled in her mother's 
curls. "I don't know 'how' either. We just have to let it happen."

Sarah reached up to take our daughter's face in her hands and pull her 
back just far enough to look into her eyes. Both gazed at each other in 
soulful silence for a moment, until, with nearly animal force, Rebecca 
clasped her mother hard again and pressed her lips to Sarah's in a deep 
and passionate kiss.

Sarah uttered a moan, relaxing into her chair; our daughter's towel fell 
loose to crumple around her waist, exposing her creamy, white, apple-
sized breasts; and Rebecca relentlessly darted her tongue deeper and 
deeper into her mother's mouth with what seemed to be a long-pent-up 
hunger.

Feeling awkward, embarrassed, and unbearably aroused all at once, I 
looked away, turning to face Gabriela. Her mouth hung open, her tongue 
now and then delicately touching her lips, her eyes glued to her sister 
and her niece. She, too, was aroused; her chest rose and fell in short, 
fast breaths; her hands were invisible beneath the table.

By now, Sarah's crop-top was pulled up to expose her pendulous, olive 
breasts; mother and daughter tugged nearly violently at each other -- 
fondling, squeezing, stroking as though they'd fought for years to keep 
their hands off each other, and had finally given in to desire.

Then suddenly, Rebecca jumped off her mother's lap to stand beside her, 
facing all of us. The towel fell to the floor to fully expose her body; 
her pink nipples stood out, erect, as her breast heaved excitedly; and 
her pelvis, with its beautiful black patch, undulated enticingly as she 
stood.

She extended her hand to her mother and said, "Please -- please let's go 
to the bedroom."

Both of them were by now unconscious of anyone else in the room. 
Wordlessly, Sarah took our daughter's hand and, without so much as 
looking back at us, followed her out of the room -- and they were gone.

By now, I suffered a painful erection, stifled by jeans that suddenly 
felt unbearably tight. My mouth hung open as I stared blankly into my 
sister-in-law's face. She, too, seemed numb; she stared back at me in 
silence, until finally, in a hoarse whisper, she spoke.

"I'm so fucking horny right now I can't stand it."

"Me too," I said, my voice equally hoarse, subdued. I stood, turned away 
from the table, and walked into the kitchen -- and just stood there, my 
back to Gabriela, my mind paralyzed, my cock struggling in vain to stand 
up in its pants.

In a moment, Gabriela was there, her body pressed to my back, her arms 
wrapped around me, her hands clawing at my chest and belly, her breath 
hot on my neck.

I pulled myself free and turned to face her. The shirt was gone, and she 
stood there wearing only the tiny white panties. Her breasts, much 
smaller than her sister's, heaved beneath her short breaths, and her dark 
nipples stood out long and erect.

"We can't do this," I said, moving backward, my voice pained by the fire 
in my pants. "You're family."

She gasped and, with an incredulous look on her face, said, "And your 
daughters aren't?"

I looked away from her eyes, looked at the floor. She had a point, for 
Christ's sake.

She moved forward to press me against the wall. With her body glued to 
mine, her hand squeezing desperately at the hardness in my pants, and her 
face just inches from mine, she looked me deep in the eyes and pleaded.

"I've been fucking a child, and no one else, for over a year." She seemed 
to be near sobbing as she whispered forcefully. "I need a man. I need a 
real man!"

By now she had loosened my pants, and my cock, fully erect, began to take 
over my brain as she pulled at it hungrily with her hands.

"We can't do this," I whispered. "It isn't right."

"Oh dear God," she said, "we'll sort all that out later!"

She pressed her lips hard against mine, darting her tongue around in my 
mouth, and instinctively, I grabbed the cheeks of her slender ass and 
pulled her even closer to me. I was by now beyond resisting.

In minutes, we were on the carpet of the dining room floor, rolling 
around like hormone-crazed teenagers grabbing at each other with 
inexperienced passion.

While I rarely gave it any thought -- while, that is to say, I had long 
ignored it out of conscience -- I had always been wildly attracted to my 
wife's sister, and it seemed now that all that desire was being 
uncontrollably unleashed.

I broke free of her animal grip to move my head to her crotch, where I 
all but tore off her panties to bury my tongue in her already-sopping 
vagina. Looking upward as I flicked my tongue in circles around her clit, 
I watched as she frantically squeezed at her breasts and pulled at her 
nipples with her fingers, and bit at her lips in an attempt to suppress 
her groans.

Her pelvis bucked violently in my face as she came the first time, her 
juices and my saliva soaking her neatly-trimmed patch. I pressed her 
belly down with my hand to hold her still as her orgasm came in whimpers 
and sobs, while she covered her face with her hands, and her head flailed 
wildly from side to side.

When she at last came to rest, I raised myself up to my knees, my nine 
inches standing straight up over her belly. Not yet fully recovered, 
Gabriela was still panting when she whispered, "It really is that big, 
isn't it? I always thought she was making it up."

The "she" made me again suffer a flash of conscience as I thought of my 
wife, but there was no going back. I lowered myself over my sister-in-
law, and stared into her eyes as she lay there staring back. I could find 
no words, and said none. But the mutual desire we felt was as loud, in 
its silence, as it needed to be.

Reaching down with my left hand, I pressed the head of my cock to her wet 
opening as she raised her knees and spread her legs to accommodate me.

"Dear God," she whispered, "dear God, a real cock. You have no idea how 
long it's been. Please.... just please fuck me!"

With no thought of exhibiting skill or providing pleasure, my cock threw 
itself selfishly, forcefully, into the warmth around it and began 
pounding, hard and deep, as I stared into my sister-in-law's eyes.

My lips closed over hers, my tongue violently exploring her mouth, as I 
fucked her mercilessly -- angry, in a ridiculous way, at her violation of 
a family "trust;" and consumed, to a depth that surprised me, by what 
evidently had been a long-suppressed desire to have my wife's sister.

Gabriela pulled her lips away and turned her head to the side, and 
shifted her butt to suddenly wrap her long, athletic legs painfully 
around my waist, locking her ankles together behind me.

Her cunt seemed to rise hungrily to meet each of my thrusts as she 
approached another orgasm -- and once more, her breath quickened and she 
bit her lips to suppress the whimpers and tiny screams that nevertheless 
escaped her as she became motionless, locked tightly around me, with only 
her cunt's muscles contracting in great squeezes and twitches as she 
came.

At last she relaxed, falling limp beneath me, as she released the last 
gasp of her orgasm. And by now, I could last no longer, and pulled out 
just in time -- flinging three twirling white ropes of semen, one after 
the other, across her belly and onto her face as my loins spasmed in 
agonizing pleasure, and my lungs let loose a great, uncontrollable groan.

Frantically, Gabriela sat up, grabbed my cock, and enclosed her mouth 
around it, sucking dry the last spurts of my cum as though it were 
precious liquid not to be wasted.

It was just then, as my last spasms played out in the wet warmth of her 
mouth, that we heard it.

Beginning as mere distant whimpers that grew quickly into groans, and 
then to piercing screams from far down the hall, my daughter and my wife 
apparently found pleasure at once -- their voices, and now finally their 
hearts, I hoped, at last joined indistinguishably together...

I lay, exhausted, on my back on the floor, my sister-in-law sitting 
beside me, staring into my face, fiddling idly with my spent penis. It 
was amazing, looking at her beauty -- so different from her sister's, yet 
so like her sister's that I felt as though I'd just made love to a 
different incarnation of my own wife.

"You are a very lucky man, Frank Braun," she said softly, looking into my 
eyes, her hand now twirling the hairs of my chest.

"I suppose I am," I said after a time, closing my eyes and searching the 
recesses of my still-guilty conscience. "But I think we all have a lot of 
talking to do."

"Maybe we do," she said, kind of distantly. "But," she went on, more 
assertively, " -- and open your eyes and look at me -- we have a lot of 
living to do, too. That's the important part. Remember that."

In her eyes I saw her, I saw my wife, and I saw my daughters, all at 
once. And I agreed silently in myself that perhaps she was right.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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