Part 1 – Background
"What the hell do you mean they're coming here?" my wife Melina screamed, furious as she re-read the email that I showed her, written by my sister. "How can she do this to us? We're supposed to leave tomorrow! Now what are we going to do?"
It was a hot June Saturday, and Melina was sitting in front of her desk in the little "sitting room" that adjoined our bedroom. I came up next to her and read the email over her shoulder. It went: "Our trip to Europe had to be moved up a week, and the boys will be coming home after finals, so we told them to stop at your house for the next couple of weeks. They'll be there later this afternoon. Thanks, Liz."
I had no answer for my wife. I was furious, also. My sister and I had never gotten along. She was eight years older than me, and always liked having a little brother only so that she could have someone to beat up. We were raised by strict, evangelical parents, and as we grew older, Liz became very rebellious, and was really wild as a teenager.
One glorious afternoon when our parents weren't home, my life changed. Liz had been charged to babysit me, which really grated on her since she'd just turned 18 and would rather be out with her girlfriends, and I didn't really need babysitting, anyway. Angry at our parents, she invited one of her classmates over. He was the high school varsity quarterback, and had a reputation with women. My sister told me to watch TV or find something to do, and took him to the basement. Of course I peeked, and received a first, unforgettable lesson on what sex was about. I didn't realize it at the time, but the seeds of voyeurism had been planted inside me that day.
My sister's hatred for me became unappeasable that evening when, at the dinner table in front of our parents, I asked Liz very loudly why she had let the varsity quarterback take her panties off and get on top of her in the basement that afternoon, and what were they doing. For two months, our parents' religious anger was vented upon her, and then it was confirmed that her stud friend had impregnated her, one of six girls he knocked up that school year. Of course, my parents blocked any attempt by her to have an abortion.
Shortly after giving birth to her first son, she met another man, a rather nerdish guy with a promising business career, and she suckered him into marrying her by getting pregnant again. She moved out, and over the years, I very rarely heard from my sister, except when she wished to impose upon me for something.
She and my wife Melina hated each other, also, adding to the crisis of the moment. Nearly two decades after she had left home, calling me a "little shit" on the way out, my sister was being herself again, making life hell for me and my wife.
As I listened to my wife's anger, I began feeling more miserable and angry with my sister. Melina and I were approaching our eighth wedding anniversary, and we were going on a camping vacation to celebrate, and also to possibly start a family.
"My god, she didn't even give us notice!" Melina railed. "They'll be here this afternoon!" Her gray eyes were blazing. "What the hell are we going to do about the vacation? We can't just leave those boys here alone!"
"Honey, we'll think of something." I said as I knelt on the floor in front of my wife. I'd rarely seen my quiet wife get this angry. She was wearing her favorite clothing for lounging around the house, a huge man's t-shirt, oversize xxx-large with a deep v-neck, and gym shorts. Despite my anger and the crisis, or perhaps in some unconscious response to it, I began getting aroused at the sight of my wife. I began caressing her thighs, but she pushed me back and stood up.
"Good God, stop that!" she ordered. She stalked into the bedroom and stopped. "God, I hate that bitch!" she yelled. I followed her in and hugged her from behind.
"Come on, honey. I'm furious, too. But it's not the boys' fault. Besides, we haven't seen them in years, and I'd rather see them without their bitch mother around." I said. I felt Melina relax a little in my arms, and was silent for several minutes. I wondered if she was thinking what I was: what the boys were like.
The last time we'd seen them, Todd, the older boy, had been a handsome, growing 14 year old, with smarts to match his looks and very outgoing personality. He had talked to Melina, very nicely, and I thought that she liked him despite his being my sister's son. He was 19 now, and had started college a year early. His brother Ned, a year younger, was scrawny, with big nerd glasses and a personality to match. Ned always struck me as a brilliant kid, but didn't appreciate being the kid everyone made fun of and bullied.
"She's your sister, so you make it up to me." Melina finally said, stunning me with a take-charge attitude she rarely displayed. I watched as she hooked her thumbs into her shorts and panties, pulling them down her legs, then stepping out of them and her wedge-heel sandals. She eased onto the bed, made a small mound of pillows, and laid her head on them as she lay on her back and spread her legs.
"Dive in, mister. Eat me." she demanded, and I wasted no time. Settling between her long, luscious legs, I first looked at her vulva. Her raven black pubic bush was very thick, outlining her labes. Her fingers separated the brown, crinkly folds, revealing the bright, angry pink walls of her cunt, glistening with wetness. I was amazed how wet Melina was. Maybe her anger was fueling her fires, but I wasn't going to question my luck. My tongue slid up her slit towards her clit. .
"Oh, yes." my wife said, almost dispassionately as I began to eat her delicious twat in earnest, looking up only once to see her watching me. She relaxed, enjoying my tongue working deeper into her cleft. Her feet began caressing my back and sides, which, as always, triggered the memories...
- - - - - - - - - -
Melina and I met in college, and it was love at first sight... for me, anyway. She was quiet, seemingly shy. She was also very determined and committed to her studies, not letting anything get in the way of her goals. Melina's father was English and her mother was of Italian and Greek heritage, and she got the best of all worlds. Her hair was raven black and lustrous, and she almost always had it in a tight, severe bun. She would "loosen up" by wearing it in a ponytail. Her skin wasn't pale but wasn't tanned, either (she never gets much of a tan).