Author's note: This is an edited version. Hopefully I have fixed and clarified the confusion created by the name mix-ups I had in the original version. This version is clearer and should offer a better reading experience. Thanks for the input.
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"Whoa! Sorry!" I cried, embarrassed as I walked in to the bathroom.
I had forgotten that Sarah, my wife's younger sister, was staying with us for the summer. I was following my morning routine and had to piss. As I opened the door and walked in, Sarah was in front of me, nude, and stepping into the shower.
"Good morning! Let me get outta your way. You do what you need to do." And with that, she moved her tight, nude body into the shower. I stood there for a second. I couldn't help staring. Sarah was a mini version of my wife. Tall, blond, athletic. Her tits looked just like Jane's too. Nice abundant B-cups. Her pubic hair, I noticed now, was a shade lighter than my wife's. As she turned to face the hot water, her ass stared at me. Even though I needed to piss, I started getting hard. I shook my head and tried to relieve myself without pissing on the wall in front of me.
Sarah's behavior may seem a little strange but my wife's family has very liberal attitudes toward personal privacy and nudity. I have known Sarah since she was twelve or thirteen and I was dating her sister. I ended up moving in part time for about two or three years. Throughout that period, they accepted me as part of the family which was great, except they had no qualms about nudity amongst themselves. It was very uncomfortable many times.
Especially with Sarah. I had to be constantly aware of her. I didn't mind seeing my mother in law, Mary, nude or in her underwear (hell, I liked that quite a bit. In fact, I had fucked Mary several times. But that is another story). I could even live with seeing my brother in law in his underwear or nude since, in the end, it was what I saw every day in the locker room and gym. Sarah, however, made me nervous.
Back then, she was in her teens and becoming a woman. Seeing her as she changed or getting out of the shower or whatever made me very uncomfortable. She wasn't my sister. She was a young woman. When she was fourteen or so, I had started telling Sarah's friends that she was my "girlfriend." I'd flex my biceps for them and ham it up. Jane and I thought it was funny. Since Sarah really did have a crush on me, maybe it wasn't the best idea. What's worse, Sarah had inherited her mother's natural flintiness. Her mother, Mary, would always wear low-cut tops showing a lot of cleavage. She'd lean on you, pressing her breasts against you. Or she'd rub your shoulders and back while you sat at the computer. Sarah would do similar and I tried my best to avoid her.
When Sarah turned eighteen, I relaxed a bit around her. If she was flirty, I could live with it -- even enjoy it. Plus, by that time, I had married Jane and we lived about three hours away. During our regular visits, apart from occasionally having secretive sex with Jane's mother, I finally learned to enjoy Sarah's openness -- as her "brother."
During these visits, Sarah and Jane would go shopping. When they returned, they'd excitedly model their clothes for Mary and me (Mark was in college).
"Mom, Look at this! Isn't it cute? Only $27," they'd squeal together holding up a blouse.
"Wow! And only 27 bucks? Try it on -- let's see" Mary encouraged.
And they'd both peel off their tops and try on the new blouses, one after the other.
"Look at these new bikinis!" holding up three or four small bright strips of cloth. "Three for the price of two! Can ya believe it? We each got three!" And the sisters would strip right there and try on the bikinis. Obviously, I'd get hard just watching my wife strip and try on a bikini. Seeing Sarah, her sister, strip nude in front of me and place small cloth triangles over the nipples of her sweet tits, was too much. Watching her bend over to put on tight thong bottoms, and then turn from side to side asking flirtily "C'mon Chris, do I look as good as Jane? Jane looks so hot, right?"
"You're even hotter, Sarah." I'd say winking at me wife.
Jane'd put on her fake pouty face. She'd look at me with raised eyebrows as if to say "Oh, really?." Then she'd pulled up her top and shook her tits.
"Is that your final answer, Chris?" she'd asked.
Sarah, competitive as ever, cried "No fair!" and pulled up her top too. Perky b-cups bouncing as she shook her chest too.
Mary had laughed. I gulped and barked out my best social laugh, glad my hardening dick was trapped uncomfortably but not embarrassingly in my underwear due to my crossed legs. The sisters giggled at themselves.
Through the laughs, Mary had said "Oh, you girls...Stop being silly. Let's see what else" and the modelling show would go on.
During other visits, Sarah who played volleyball at the college, would come home late after a long bus ride to an away game. After hugs and greetings, we'd move to the table to eat and trade stories to catch up. My wife got in the occasional habit of saying, "Hon, look at poor Sarah. She's all sore from the game. Whydoncha give her one of your patented massages."
Due to my sports interest in college, I had minored in massage therapy. Since I was a lawyer, I never used this knowledge professionally. I'd massage my wife all the time, though. It was often a doorway to sex.
The first time Jane suggested massaging her sister, I tried to decline. My massages were usually intended to relax the person. But they tended to excite me so I then turned the message sensual. It worked well for both parties since we were married. I'd love to massage her sister but I knew I couldn't "finish the massage" the way I wanted to.
"Come one hon, she's all tight. Plus, they lost the last set...it'd make her feel good."
I closed my eyes at my wife's unintentional double-entendre -- pictures of Sarah's tight little pussy in my mind. I bet she was tight. I had something to loosen her right up and, you're right, hon. It'd make her feel very good.
So I agreed. Sarah and I headed off to her room. I stopped and got a towel and some oil. When I got to her room. Sarah was nude. "How do you want me?" Man! I said to myself. How do I want you? I want you fucking bent over the bed with my cock pushing deep inside you!
Instead I said nothing, had her lay down, and gave her a very nice massage. I was hard as a board. But she was relaxed (And, I suspect, turned on).
So this was how my life went on. I was happily married to Jane. I would occasionally have sex with her mother. And I was constantly cock-teased by her sister -- at the insistence of my wife.
Sarah had recently transferred to a college in our town and she was staying with us until she found her own place...or indefinitely. It was unclear.
Our place was smaller than the house they had grown up in. Much smaller.
But Jane and I were happy. I was making very good money at a large firm in town. Sarah was a successful pharmaceutical rep and made great money. Men like to buy from hot women. -- especially smart, qualified, hot women.
That morning, after pissing, I'd decided to forego the shower (as much as I wanted to climb in with Sarah), and went to work. It was Friday and I wanted to get a lot done so I could leave at a reasonable time tonight. Sarah, Jane and I were going to go out.
When I got home, the sisters were already chatting. Jane was still in her dress and blouse from work. Sarah was wearing a revealing sports bra and skimpy running shorts. Jesus!
"Hey girls. Daddy's home." I joked. Sarah skipped over and gave me a tight playful hug. "Daddy! I'm so happy you're home." My wife laughed and brought me a drink.
"Daddy, huh? Does 'daddy' want some wine with his dinner?"
"Sure. Red, please. Hey, I thought we were going out?" I said as I sipped my manhattan.
"Yeah but I'm tired and Sarah is sore from her work out. We thought we'd just stay in and relax tonight. Catch up. Y'know" Jane said from the kitchen.
