Her Final Wish

This story has a slow buildup. I hope that you find the conclusion worth the wait.

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Jonathon is sitting in a swivel chair in his home library gazing out the window at the sunset. The walls of the library are lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves made of maple. On the shelves are various books and magazines, vases and various knick-knacks, and photographs. There are lots of pictures of him and his wife, and their families, during happier times. The sky outside is awash with color, red and orange and pink. Despite the magnificent scene, he is feeling rather sullen. His eyes are slightly misty. He is sipping a cognac from a crystal snifter and listening to Mozart's Requiem. It is a choral piece that evokes a deep sense of sorrow, mourning, and contemplation in him. He always gets this way at the end of May. Well, at least for the past four years anyway. His wedding anniversary is coming up in early June and melancholy overtakes him at this time of year ever since his wife passed away. Loretta was taken from this earth suddenly four years ago, after 23 years of marriage. He was deeply in love with her and he still misses her tremendously. He has soldiered on, passing through the Kübler-Ross stages of grief and finally reaching acceptance. However, that doesn't mean that he doesn't get sad once in a while, especially at this time of year. In most aspects, he has moved on with his life, although he has not started dating or seeing other women.

Loretta was gorgeous, intelligent, talkative, and usually sarcastic, especially when Jonathon did something dumb. She was five-foot-three with shoulder length blonde hair, blue eyes, and an amazing top hourglass figure. She had firm 34C breasts that were just perfect in his mind. He loved her boobs. He loved to feel them, and play with them, and bury his face in them, and lick them, and suckle them. They were the most glorious breasts he had ever seen. She would frequently tease him saying, "These tits are the only reason you married me. Well, that and blowjobs, of course." He would usually just sheepishly smile, because he loved her outgoing personality and sarcastic wit, but she was also right in a way. He really worshiped her tits and adored her blowjobs.

Jonathon often contemplated why he loved boobs so much. Sure, there are theories about an evolutionary basis for man's fascination with the female breast. Some scientists aver that breasts may be desired because they indicate sexual maturity and fertility status. Others believe that men have developed an attraction to breasts because breast and nipple stimulation tap into a neurochemical bonding system that can bring couples closer together. It is all the effects of oxytocin and dopamine. Human evolution has harnessed an ancient neural circuit that originally evolved to strengthen the mother-infant bond during breastfeeding, and now uses this brain circuitry to strengthen the bond between couples as well. The result? Men, like babies, love breasts. Of course, it is possible that it is all just cultural. Let's face it female sexuality, and breasts in particular, is all around us - in advertisements, in magazines, on television, in movies. Men aren't so much biologically drawn to breasts as they are trained from an early age to find them desirable.

Whatever, the case, Jonathon found Loretta's boobs enjoyable. They were satisfying to feel or hold or lick or suckle. The sensory pleasure derived from the firm softness and warmth, and the tactile contrasts of skin and mammary tissue and nipple are gratifying and addictive. There are also the visual aspects. Curves are eye-catching. There's a reason car designers and architects love smooth lines and rounded shapes--it's pleasing to the eye. Breasts add that extra curve, making a woman's silhouette more dynamic and mesmerizing. And Loretta's curves were certainly spellbinding.

Mariah was standing quietly in the doorway to the library observing her brother-in-law, Jonathon. He had given her a key to the house after Loretta passed away for her to come and go as she pleased, and he had set up the spare bedroom so she could sleep over whenever she wished. In the initial months, she spent a fair amount of time at the house. Both she and Jonathon found it comforting to be together as they grieved. As time passed, Mariah was spending less time at the house. Lately, Mariah was mostly staying at her apartment which was a 15 drive from the house. She was only stopping by once a week to check on Jonathon and rarely sleeping over anymore.

Mariah was Loretta's younger sister, by eleven months. Jonathon used to tease them that they were "Irish twins" because they were born so close together. Mariah was an inch taller than Loretta, but otherwise they looked similar in appearance. Mariah had blonde hair that she kept a little longer than Loretta's, and she has gray-blue eyes, rather than the pure blue of her sister. Their figures were almost identical. Mariah also had a top hourglass shape, with prominent 34C breasts.

Mariah fancied her brother-in-law. Loretta had much better taste in men than she did; and she had always been envious of Loretta's boyfriends and of her husband, although she never made a play for her sister's partners. That would just be wrong. Mariah's first marriage ended in divorce after only 18 months. They were incompatible and Mariah suspected that he might have been gay. Her second husband just up and left suddenly eleven years ago. She never heard from him again and to this day she has no idea of why he left or where he is. She never remarried, although she has had several boyfriends on and off.

Jonathon heard a slight noise and turned from the window and looked towards the door of the library. He saw a familiar female form in the shadows wearing an olive-green floral print dress. It had a scoop neckline and ended just below the knees. "Loretta?" he whispered.

Mariah stepped forward out of the shadow and said, "No, silly. It's me, your sister-in-law, Mariah."

"Oh yeah. Right. Sorry. I guess I was daydreaming."

"I understand. You were thinking of her, weren't you? You always get melancholy at this time of the year. Well, that's why I came over, to cheer you up. We're going out to dinner to that new Brazilian steak house that opened up downtown."

"I'm not sure I feel like going out tonight."

"I know you're not and that is exactly why I came over," she said in a stern but loving tone. "Now get your butt off that chair and get moving. I'm driving us and we're going to have a good time."

Jonathon finished his cognac, sighed, and got up from the chair. He knew that tone of voice and realized it was less arduous to comply with his sister-in-law's wishes than to argue with her. He turned off the music he was listening to and followed her out to her car. He was admiring her cute, rounded butt in the tight dress, and watching her hips sway from side to side as she walked. "Is that one of Loretta's dresses?" he asked.

"You have a good memory. It is. We are the same size, you know. We used to wear each other's clothes all of the time. I decided that enough time had passed that I could wear one of her dresses without it upsetting you. Did I get that wrong?"

"No, you're right. I don't mind. In fact, you look wonderful in it."

Mariah did a twirl as she was walking, flaring the dress. "My sister always did have great taste in clothes, and in men." She smiled at him. "That's why I used to borrow so many of her dresses. And why I still borrow them."

"Gosh, you look so much like her. I find it comforting to see you wearing her clothes. You are just as beautiful as her."

"Why, thank you. I'm glad that you approve."

When they arrived at the restaurant Mariah ordered a Moet Ice champagne and Jonathon ordered an Old Fashioned. They toasted the memory of Loretta and the future. Neither of them had ever been to a Brazilian steak house before and they were enamored by the presentation of the meal. The servers would come to the table with knives and a vertically-held skewer, on which were speared various kinds of premium cuts of meat. There was beef, pork, chicken, lamb, various sausages, and even buffalo. They were both surprised at the taste of buffalo. It had a lighter flavor than beef and slightly sweeter. It was definitely something to try again in the future.

During the meal Jonathon ordered another cocktail. While they were eating, he could not stop staring at her bosom. The scoop neckline of the dress really showed off the pronounced cleavage of her 34C breasts. He kept trying not to look, but inevitably his eyes drifted back down to her boobs.

Mariah noticed his preoccupation with her breasts and smiled at him. "It's okay to look, you know. I don't mind," she murmured.

"What? Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It's just that you look so much like Loretta. I'm sorry. That's quite rude of me."

"Don't be sorry. I don't think it's rude at all. In fact, I'm flattered. I know how much you adored her breasts."

"Still, I apologize for staring. Wait. How do you know I adored her breasts?"

"Well, first of all you are a guy. And second, we are sisters, remember. And we are best friends and very close in age. What did you used to call us, 'Irish twins?' We would talk about many, many things, including you and your preferences and partialities. Didn't she used to tell you that the only reason you married her were for her tits and blowjobs."

Jonathon's face turned a bright red, as he stuttered, "I ... I can ...I cannot believe that ... that she told you that."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I mean, you are a boob man, right? You did worship her tits?"

"Yes, but to hear you say it out loud. It's kind of embarrassing. I just didn't think she would tell anybody our private thoughts and desires."

"Sisters, remember. And 'Irish twins' no less. Besides, I am honored that you would think my boobs are worth appreciating. Let me get the check. This dinner is on me tonight. You can pick up the next one"

After they went back to the house, Jonathon poured himself a straight bourbon and asked, "Can I pour you a nightcap?"

"Absolutely, I'll have a brandy. But please do not put on that woeful music you were playing before dinner. I understand you may not want happy music. How about something a little more neutral in character? Maybe soft jazz?"

"As you wish, m'lady." He gave her an overly dramatic bow and poured her drink and handed it to her. He pulled up a playlist of contemporary soft jazz and went into the library and sat down.

She followed him in and sat down in the adjoining chair. "Since it's getting late and I've had some alcohol, I was thinking of sleeping over tonight. Is that okay with you?"

"Of course, whatever you wish. That's why you have a key to the house and your own room upstairs," he replied. They sat and talked for several hours.

They talked about their jobs and the current hot story in politics. He teased her about her lack of a boyfriend and bad taste in men. She, in turn, encouraged him to get out and engage with life again. "It's been four years since she passed, it's time for you to move forward. Never forget your time with her, be grateful for it. Move on, but remember."

"I know you are right. It's just that I still miss her." When he finished his bourbon, he got up and poured himself another. "Would you like another brandy?"

"No, I have had quite enough. Thank you," she replied.

As Jonathon gets more intoxicated, his gaze becomes fixated on Mariah's boobs. "Are you enjoying staring my tits?" she asks.

"I can't help it. In that dress you look so much like Loretta. The way your round boobs fill out that dress. The way your prominent cleavage jiggles when you laugh. You were almost right earlier when you said that that I am a boob man. I don't like just any boobs though, I loved hers."

"Go on. Tell me more," Mariah encouraged. She was thoroughly amused at his drunken rant about Loretta's tits. She thought that it would help him if he could express to someone how much he loved his wife, and her boobs. And she wanted to see how far he would take this.

"Her 34C breasts had a teardrop shape with just a slight sag," he continued. "I loved the way they hung on her chest. They were soft and yet firm. I loved to touch them, and hold them, and squeeze them. Her areolae were round, pink in color, and three inches across. Larger than average, but I found they were proportional to the overall size of her boobs and to her body frame. Besides I love larger areolae. They appear more mature and womanly. Women with tiny areolae are not as sexy. Men and girls have small areolae; women should have large ones, not gigantic ones, but prominent. They should say, 'Hey, look at me. I am a mature woman.' Her nipples were usually flat, but when stimulated they would stiffen and protrude in a most pleasing fashion. I loved rubbing them or sucking on them and making them stand up. In fact, they were so sensitive that frequently I could bring her to orgasm just by playing with them and suckling on them. They were the most magnificent breasts I have ever seen."

Mariah was astounded at this graphic, drunken monologue. Granted, he was describing his wife's tits; however, it sounded to her that he was describing her own boobs. She knew that Loretta and she were built similarly, after all they did share clothes, but she could not remember the last time she had seen her sister topless. She never paid that close attention to her sister's breasts anyway, and how they compared to her own.

Jonathon eventually talked himself out and fell asleep. After about 15 minutes, Mariah rouses him from the chair and guides him upstairs to his bed. He flops on the bed, still fully clothed, and is dead asleep. She pulls his shoes and socks off and encourages him to get undressed. He mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over. She pulls off his polo shirt and removes his trousers. She figures it is better to sleep in his boxers than fully clothed. She has a guilty pleasure as she admires his almost nude form. He is 6-foot-one and 185 pounds. He has a V-shaped torso, with a muscular chest, shoulders, and arms. His stomach muscles are well defined, not quite a "six-pack" but definitely well-toned. His thigh and leg muscles are sculpted and powerful. "Wow, my sister certainly has good taste in men," she thinks. As she starts to pull the sheet up to cover him, he rolls over again. She notices his dick popping out through the fly in his loose boxer shorts. It is soft, pink, and about 3.5 inches long; it appears rather thick. It is circumcised with a nicely rounded mushroom-shaped head that is in perfect proportion to the shaft. She licks her lips at the sight of it. "Mmm, I wonder what it looks like when it is fully engorged and erect," she ponders. She reaches down to touch it; it feels warm and spongy. She tucks it back into his shorts. She blushes and mumbles to herself, "I can't believe I just did that. I shouldn't take advantage of my drunken brother-in-law that way. But it did look nice, and it felt nice, too."

After making sure that Jonathon was settled, Mariah went to her bedroom. She removed her dress and her bra. She was standing in front of a full-length dressing mirror in just her panties. She started to really look at her breasts. They were 34C with a teardrop shape just like Jonathon described her sister's, but she thought they had more than just a slight sag. "Oh well, age will do that, I guess." Her areolae were more of a rose color than pink, and they were definitely large. She always thought they were too big, but Jonathon expressed a specific penchant for larger areolae. She went to the desk to get a ruler. "This is stupid," she thought. "Am I really going to measure my areolae? Yea, why not? If guys can measure their dicks, then I can measure my tits." After his soliloquy about her sister's boobs, she was curious how her boobs measured up. Her areolae were not perfectly round but slightly oval shaped, and they measured 3 inches by 2.5 inches. Her nipples were not flat; they did protrude about a quarter inch, and they were thick, about a half an inch across She began rubbing them and pulling at them to see what would happen. He said that her sister's nipples would stiffen and protrude when he played with them. She never really paid attention to what, if anything, her nipples did during sex. After two minutes of nipple massage, she did not notice a change. "Maybe I need more stimulation." She slipped one hand down her panties and started massaging her vulva, while the other hand continued tweaking her nipple. She closed her eyes and started fantasizing about Jonathon's dick. "I wonder what it looks like when it gets hard. How big would it get? It appeared thicker, fatter, than normal. Loretta always raved about having sex with Jonathon. I wonder what that would be like? Would he even want to have sex with the sister of his deceased wife?" Mariah's middle finger slipped into her wet pussy. "Oh my. That feels good." She paused for a moment and realized that she was making herself horny. Very horny. She also noted that her nipple had grown in size. It was thicker and sticking out a half an inch now. "I guess my nipples do respond to sexual stimulation, just like my sister's."

She slipped on an oversize tee shirt that she uses to sleep in and crawled into her bed. "I'm too wired up to sleep right now," she thought. She removed her panties, lay on her back, and began caressing her vulva. She let her middle finger slid into her vagina. She then inserted her index finger, also. She started stroking the front wall of her vagina looking for her G-spot. She quickly found it started rubbing it in a determined fashion. At the same time, she used her thumb to stroke her clitoris. Within a minute, her breathing became rapid, her pussy became even more wet, and she began to tremble. Waves of pleasure washed over her as she had an intense and prolonged orgasm. When it finished, she rolled over and promptly fell asleep.

* * * * * *

Mariah woke up feeling refreshed. Between a full eight hours of sleep and the tremendous orgasm she had last night, she was reinvigorated and raring to get a start on the day. She slipped on a pair of loose denim shorts and a pale purple tank top. She peeked into Jonathon's room and noted that he was still fast asleep. She went downstairs and put on a pot of coffee. After straightening up the kitchen, she started to prepare breakfast for herself. She was in the process of making scrambled eggs and bacon, when Jonathon walked into the kitchen. "Good morning, sleepyhead," she greeted him cheerfully. How are you feeling this morning? You were a wee bit tipsy, last night."

"Yea. Sorry about that. I was feeling kind of glum and when I get that way ... well, sometimes I drink a little too much. Or in the case of last night, a lot too much. I'm guessing you helped me to bed, because I certainly don't remember. Also, I may have said some inappropriate things, my memory is a little foggy; and if I did, I apologize."

"You were actually pretty amusing last night. After I called you out for staring at my boobs, you went on a rather long X-rated monologue about Loretta's tits. You described them in exacting detail and told me how much you adored them. After you fell asleep, I dragged you upstairs and undressed you and put you to bed."

"Well, that's embarrassing. I hope you weren't too offended. And, thanks for seeing me to bed."

"No worries. It is partially my fault for wearing one of her dresses that revealed so much cleavage. Anyway, are you hungry? I was just making myself breakfast -- scrambled eggs and bacon. The coffee is already brewed."

"I would love some coffee and breakfast. Thank you," he replied.

As they sit and eat together Mariah asks, "Are you available next Friday evening? I have a work function I need to attend and I don't wish to go alone. It's a networking party. It'll will probably be boring for you. Actually, it'll be boring for me, too."