My sister-in-law, Heidi, is a lifesaver. My wife, Gretchen, threw me out on my ass and Heidi, her younger sister, took me in with no questions asked. Well... She really isn't my sister-in-law because Gretchen and I aren't really married but we have been living together as man and wife for 9 years. Heidi is widowed, living alone and has one of the same problems as I do.
That problem is, Gretchen, her sister, hates both of us. I am not sure why she hates Heidi unless it is because Heidi is so young and cute but she hates me because I drink, gamble, cheat and earn less money than she does when I work. There may be other things but I think those are the main ones. It can't be the cigars and I do bathe often. She's threatened to toss me out many times before.
Anyway, I found out I showed up at Heidi's door and out she took me in, cleaned me up and put me to bed. The next day was Saturday and when I woke up, couldn't quite remember where I was or how I came to be there. I stumble downstairs in my boxer underclothes and am surprised to find I was in Heidi's house and had been in her spare bedroom.
You have to realize that Heidi is rich and, because of the way Gretchen felt about her, we have only been to this big house of hers once before and that was for a party when their parents retired and moved to Florida a couple of years ago. Heidi is a tiny little thing, 29 years old, just over five feet tall and about 100 pounds. Her husband, Ralph, almost 40 years her senior, was an outstanding Dentist and left her lots of cash, investments and royalties from some dental gizmos he had invented.
I am a little embarrassed when she comes out of the kitchen and says, "Well, you've finally come to. I wasn't sure if you would live through the night." She eyes me up and down. "How about some coffee and, phew, you need a shower."
I'm a little sheepish when I say, "Ah... Sure... Ah... How did I get here and what happened?"
"You got here in your truck and you were shit faced, smashed out of your mind."
"It ain't a truck, it's a SUV. Ah... do you know what happened to my clothes?"
She's standing there, one hand on her hip and a spatula or some kind of kitchen thing in the other, barefoot, in yellow shorts and matching, polka-dot blouse. "Well, whatever it is, it's up on my lawn and the back seat is full of clothes. What's the story?"
"I'm not sure. I stopped on the way home from work to have a drink or two with some of the guys and the next thing I remember is coming down your stairs, here, this morning. Is it Saturday?"
"Yes, when you got here, you didn't have any pants or shoes on, just your boxers, socks and polo shirt. I just hope the neighbors didn't see you. I called Gretchen she said you came home drunk, and wanted to have sex with her. She said you had lipstick on your collar and fly. She said I could have you then she hung up on me."
She fixes me a cup of weak coffee and I gulp in down as if it is medicine (or a shot of whisky)
I start out the door and she stops me. "Woah there buster, I don't want my neighbors to see you in your undies again. Where are you going?"
"I need to get some clothes to put on."
"Give me the keys and I will bring you something from the truck and move it out, off my grass."
"It's a SUV. Er... I don't know where the keys are. I don't have my pants on and I couldn't find them upstairs."
"I'll go see if they are in your truck, or SUV."
She goes out and I have another cup of coffee. She is back in just a couple of minutes. "Here are your keys, they were in the ignition. I moved it out to the curb. Here are some pants that have mud all over them... they were in the middle of my lawn. Here is a clean change; they were in the back seat along with a lot of other stuff. I can't find any shoes other than golf shoes and you're not going to wear those in my house."
Hum... I did remember some sprinklers running somewhere. Anyway, I take the clean clothes and head up the stairs. I wonder what happened to my shoes and why I have a woman's makeup compact in my shirt pocket. I shower and use the hotel style deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste in the guest bathroom. There are no shaving supplies so I skip that. I don't usually shave on weekends anyway. By the time I get back downstairs, barefoot but with clean clothes on, I'm beginning to care whether I live or die. (I'd kill for two fingers of scotch, in in the bottom of a gallon pot).
I could see Heidi a little clearer now. She is far more attractive since her face and body wasn't fuzzy anymore. "I'm going to see what else is in my car."
I go out the front door and find my SUV parked three feet from the curb in front of the house. The back seat is full of my clothes. It looks like someone has emptied my closet in there. I open the rear hatchback and find most of my shoes, toiletries, golf bag and tennis racquet. I wonder briefly where my fishing gear is. I take socks and a pair of tennis shoes, my shaving kit and go back to the house.
She's still in the kitchen and turns when I come in. "I'll fix you some breakfast and then you'll have to go make living arrangements somewhere."
"I can't stay here?"
"Not on your life. Gretchen is already pissed because I like you. She would shit a brick if you moved in."
I can't help but smile and my ego says, "I didn't know you liked me."
"Well, you're a first class turd but I kind of like some of the things you do. But if you were my partner you would never get to fuck around like that and you wouldn't get away with the shit you do."
I am having a little problem with the language. Gretchen wouldn't say 'shit' if she had a mouth full and I don't think she knows for sure what 'fuck around' means. As bad as I am I didn't use those words in normal, mixed conversation.
She slaps a plate full of bacon and eggs in front of me and says, "Eat this, then get your shit together and get out of here."
I look at her with what I hope are cow eyes and say, "My wallet is missing so I don't have any money or credit cards."
"Shit." She glares at me, "OK, you can stay a couple of days but come Monday, your ass is out of here. I have to go downtown and to the market today. Clean up your mess while I'm gone."
She leaves and I clean up. The kitchen is a mess. I put the dishes in the dish washer and start it, my dirty clothes in the washer and take another shower. I notice one of the kitchen cabinet doors is sagging so I find some tool and fix that. I go through the house and straighten up a little. By the time she gets back, the house is sparkling and I am looking and smelling good. (Even the whiskers are gone.)
I meet her when she comes into the kitchen through the garage, arms full of groceries. She is stopped and looking around cautiously as I take the packagers from her. "What the hell happened? Did Mr. Clean stop by?"
"Just thought I would tidy up a bit. Do you mind?"
"Not at all. By the way, you should have a look at the inside of my garage."
"I'll do that later but right now there is a football game I'd like to see, U of Florida at Arkansas. Can I watch it on that big TV in your family room?"
"Sure, it's a den but what the hell. I'd like to see that game too."
I traipse in and plop down on the big sofa facing the TV and turn it on. Four or five minutes later she follows, holding two Corona beers with lime slices stuck in the bottles. She plops down beside me and hands me one of the beers.
"The game just started, the kick off was just a moment ago," I said. We are pleased when The Gators score about half way through the first quarter then dismayed when Arkansas scores two minutes later. By the end of the quarter, the Gators are ahead, Heidi has finished her beer and is curled up on the sofa with her head in my lap and snoring softly.
I want another beer but don't want to disturb her so I just sit there, watching the Gators overwhelm Arkansas. By the end of the first half I have to pee and really want that second beer. Carefully, I ease her head up and slip out from under it, take a pee and get my second beer.
When I get back she is as I left her so I again ease up her head and slip back under it. As I settle back in she snorts and wiggles around a little but doesn't wake up. Her hand comes up, rubs her nose and settles on my thigh, right in front of her face.
The halftime report is interesting but nowhere as interesting as what her hand is doing. It has slowly crept around until she is clutching the inside of my thigh, only an inch away from touching my dick. Then she whispers "Oh Ralph" and grabs it through my trousers.
Now, still asleep, she is absolutely purring, "Oh, Ralph, MMM..." She has a hard grip on my cock which had grown to full working size. She caresses and squeezes if four or five times and then with a start, she wakes up and looked at what she had a handful of.
With eyes wide she looks at me. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I just ..."
"Not to worry, I was enjoying it."
"I was having a dream about Ralph. It's been over two years since he passed away." She was embarrassed. "I dreamt we were having sex but I know he couldn't get a hard on and we hadn't done that in three or four years before he died. I think you wanting to fuck my sister triggered that."
She looks at my crotch. "You've got a hard on now, haven't you?"