by Adam Gunn
copyright 2015
When you marry a woman, you marry her family. Never forget that . . .
Back in the day, when the idea that sexual harassment in the workplace wasn't that bad of an idea, I had this girl that worked for me. Debbie was cute, and if her clothes weren't always the most current fashion, if a new blouse was something to be celebrated, I couldn't complain; after all, the bank we were working for was only paying her $219 a week.
Debbie and I flirted, some of the gang would go out for drinks after work. One Friday night after everybody else went home, I invited her to my apartment 'to see my collection of antique beer bottles' and the rest was history. She stayed the night, then she stayed the next too. In the thirty-six hours, we didn't get out of bed except to use the bathroom and find out what was in my refrigerator and how we might make it into something edible. We didn't hide our affair very well, my boss gave me a little lecture that came down to 'don't do anything that's going to embarrass the bank.'
We took our time that year, there was no hurry to do anything more than be together. We hit bars and dance clubs, went to every arts fair the city offered, with a group of sixteen of our friends we were at the midnight premier of The Return of the Jedi. In the easy going sexual environment of the eighties it would have been easy for us to sleep around, the cool thing to do was swap girlfriends, I could have had any number of women. But that meant Debbie would have been vulnerable to advances from the guys, and neither of us wanted that. We stayed faithful, it wasn't difficult. When we met neither of us were accomplished lovers. She'd only had two men before me, I hadn't had that many more women.
There was some angst when Halloween passed and she asked me if I was coming to her parents house for Thanksgiving. I'd met them already, but now I was going to be presented to the whole family. But it wasn't any stress at all. There were fifteen or more people in the cramped suburban ranch and each one helped me fit right in. The surprise was Debbie's sister, Doris. I knew she had a fraternal twin, they'd grown up very close – how could they help it? – but in high school they'd gravitated to different crowds, after their graduation Doris had headed out of state to college. And now she was home for the holidays!
This one was a knockout, blond feathered mane down to the middle of the back, glittered blouse that was filled with her femininity, jeans that seemed to be pasted on - I couldn't help but notice the camel-toe. She smoked Virginia Slims with a calculated disdain, was the trouble that every man wanted to find. We chatted, with a laugh she accused me of being a capitalist chauvinist, but her innate mirth soothed my feelings. For a few seconds I had an incredible physical desire, I blindly wanted her, but of course, being the good boyfriend, I clamped my appetite. But throughout the afternoon I felt her eyes upon me, baiting me.
With her presence through December my routine with Debbie was disturbed. The two sisters seemed to want to catch up and many nights I spent by myself. Once or twice a week I'd have dinner with both of the girls, and I found Doris was really a nice person, once she decided to take off the mask of her insouciance. Her major was Political Science, she felt strongly about the growing wave of conservatism in the country, her goal was to head to Washington after graduation in a year and a half and get a job in government. Over the pizzas and Chinese food the two sisters would giggle and reminisce. And all the while I felt Doris's gaze boring in to me.
One night Debbie had a Christmas party to go to, all the kids she met in community college were getting together, and she had a proposition for me. "Hey, why don't you take Doris out, get to know her a little better."
"I think I know her fine," I responded.
"Yeah, but she's alone tonight, you're going to be alone, be nice to her . . . for me, okay?"
I caved, told her to tell Doris I'd pick her up at seven. We went downtown, walked past the decorations and into the department store where she wanted to see Santa. I laughed as she stood in line with the seven year olds, and when she sat on the elf's lap and he asked her what she wanted, she whispered in his ear. Santa guffawed with the joke and gave me a manly look that confused me. Over a dinner of pasta we had a bottle of wine, then another, and when she put her hand on top of mine I didn't remove it.
"Take me back to your place," she demanded in the car, and I was at that state of light drunkenness and thought 'okay!' While she hit the bathroom I poured us a drink, then lit a candle or two. "Oh, how romantic," Doris remarked sarcastically, and when we were on the couch she cuddled to me, our lips met. Her hands roamed my body, I was encouraged to do the same. I held her lavish breast in my hand, Doris opened her mouth to my tongue, we wiggled and clutched.
It was she that pulled her turtleneck over the long neck, the jet black bra was unsnapped, I was looking at the most perfect breasts I'd ever had the pleasure to visualize, even in my fantasies. They jutted from her rib cage conically, the nipples leapt from the skin, reaching for my mouth. Doris laid back, I crawled on top. Her hand reached for my trousers, my belt was released, my seething cock was encircled by her palm. Clumsily, she helped me disrobe, and when I was naked she pulled her jeans over her hips. The hair of her pubes was well trimmed, thin, the first time I'd ever seen a woman who's bush wasn't allowed to roam wildly. I bent below her, she raised her hips, my tongue dipped into the unholy tunnel, tasted her serum. It was sweet, that forbidden spot, and I desired nothing more than to fill it with my sword.
After no more than seconds, she pushed me away, "I've been wanting this so bad, fuck me!" Again, the first time I'd ever heard profanity during the deed. She flipped, knelt, presented her rump to me, I knew my place. It was waiting for me, that delightful cunt, I only had to stand behind her, point my prick, push.
And I couldn't. My mind screamed at me, 'What the hell are you doing? You're not only screwing around on your girlfriend, you're doing it with her sister! Christ, what kind of cretin are you? Stop it!!!' I could have ignored my conscience, taken this most beautiful and willing woman. I'm sure I would have had a great time, I might have even gotten away with it. It might have been a wonderful memory through the ensuing decades, a high point of my life.
When I backed away and told Doris, "I can't," she looked over her shoulder with a shocked demeanor. "You're sure?" was all she said, and when I nodded, she picked up her clothes, walked slowly into the bathroom. But before she closed the door, she turned to me, displaying that phenomenal body, the legs that reached all the way up, the flat belly, the breasts that flowed like twin volcanoes, the crevice between her legs that longed to be impaled with the cock of a man. For thirty seconds she stood there, letting me simmer, and when I'd had a chance to reconsider the awful choice I was making, she loudly proposed, "You're absolutely sure? This is your last chance."
Regretfully, I acknowledged the idiocy of the situation. "I'm sorry, I can't."
She turned, the rump that consisted of two perfect orbs was revealed, the voice echoed from the bath, "Okay." And the door was closed.
She gave me plenty of time to put my clothes on, to regain the scraps of dignity I owned, to curse myself for seven kinds of fool. When the door opened again, she was dressed perfectly, the blond hair flowing, the lipstick I'd tasted perfect. "Can I get you anything?" I offered.
"We'd better not, I don't think I'd want the disappointment again. Can you just take me home?" There was more anguish in the tone than fury. The drive was silent, save for David Bowie flowing from the cassette deck, when we reached the block her parents lived on she had me stop fifty yards from their door.
She reached over, pulled my face to her, for a long moment our lips touched, our tongues weaved. Then her dark eyes surrounded by long lashes searched mine and she proclaimed, "You're an idiot. My sister deserves you." The door was opened, I watched her walk away in her leather jacket, that tremendous ass swishing, and I had no choice but to regret my chivalry. I slept but little that night.
The next morning I got to work, a few minutes later Debbie arrived, a crisp face, a joyful posture. "Did you and Doris have a good time last night?"
"It was fun," I responded.
"I'm so glad," she smiled, and agreed quickly when I suggested a tête-a-tête that night. I burned for her all that day, as soon as the books were balanced we drove quickly to my place, she understood my need, stripping quickly and bouncing on the bed. She didn't seem to mind when, less than fifteen minutes after we started, I spewed deep into her. That didn't stop us, we were furious for each other, we didn't slow down for food or drink. An hour later she presented her ass to me and begged me, for the first time, to penetrate her virgin anus.
Less than a week later we celebrated the Christian holiday. I attached myself to Debbie's entire family as we attended their parish for Christmas Eve worship, singing 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful' and 'Silent Night.' Later we exchanged gifts in their living room. Doris was collected and quite cool; it was as if we hadn't seen each other naked, the unfinished passion had never happened.
The week between the holidays I saw Doris a couple times, a dinner, a party. Other than an occasional smirk at me, she seemed warm but not particularly cozy, we coexisted without rancor. Just after the stroke of Midnight, as the year merged into the next, we kissed for luck, just the requisite peck. Two days later, she was heading back to her campus, the strain I felt was lifted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
