Dinner With Sister In Law

Sitting at the dinner table with my husband and his sister, my heart is racing with excitement. The familiar tingle between my thighs has now escalated to a wet slithery sensation as I rub then together and feel my own wetness on my soft flesh.

Thirty minutes ago I excused myself to go to the toilet....

Having locked the door behind me as I entered, I conducted my usual perverted raid on her washing basket, hoping that she had not recently completed her laundry. My eyes bulged to illustrate my joy when I lifted the lid back and noticed an almost full basket, full of beautiful clothing waiting to be washed. Silks, satins, fine cottons. All scented with her addictive perfume and her own feminine body scents. Heaven!

Thankfully for me and my perversion, she is a fitness fanatic, and there is usually a selection of gym clothing and swimsuits for my private pleasure. Rummaging through her soiled collection I chose what must have been her underwear for a recent gym session. The black cotton thong was still slightly damp, and the smell was intoxicating. Sweat, pee, and a bit of excitement from her sessions on the cycling machines no doubt, all mixed together and absorbed into this flimsy material. With clammy hands I pulled them out of the basket, inhaled all her scents from the underwear, noting not only her body odours but also her hypnotic perfume. God, I was in heaven!

With my heart threatening to escape the confines of my chest, I nervously put each stiletto-heeled foot through the relevant holes in her thong, pulled them up my waxed legs until they reached the bottom of my mid length skirt. At this point I grabbed my hem and lifted it so that I could keep hold of it with my teeth as I continued. Knowing and hoping that this would happen tonight I had anticipated my need for not wearing my own underwear. When the cold damp material touched my hot intimate wetness I gasped with excitement and joy. I was such a dirty tramp. Wearing another woman's discarded thong. Soaked in sweat, pee and her own intimate juices. God, and now they were mixing with mine. I could have died and gone to heaven right there and then!

With my middle finger I push the material hard against my soft folds, and force them slightly inside me so that they would remain there when I left the toilet. With skirt lowered, and thighs rubbing together to enjoy the kinky sensation, I lifted my middle finger up to my nose and inhale the musky aroma. I couldn't help myself as I then tasted it with my tongue, savouring 'our' wetness.

With toilet flushed and my face reddened with sexual excitement, I left the toilet and headed for the dining table, where I sit down squirming in ecstasy. The wetness was already seeping through as we were served dinner.

So ... here I am. Gently, teasingly rubbing my thighs together. Feeling the ever so slight yet wonderful friction of the wet thong caressing and pleasing my swollen clit. With every movement the material is taking me closer and closer to my needed release, but I dread to let on to the siblings at the table.

The tingling rises and rises to become that itch which needs scratched until orgasm, and I delicately rub my thighs tighter together. My breathing becomes deeper, heavier, and more irregular. Surely they will notice? But I can't stop myself. I so need this. Now!!!

Thinking of her wearing and grinding herself into the thong which is taking me to my release, sends me over the edge, and I grunt and shake for what seems to be forever as the waves of pleasure rip through my tender body. My husband notices my shaking, stops eating, and turns to me asking if I am OK. I stutter that I am fine and that I just got a chill up my spine, and excuse myself again.

Inside the confines of the toilet again, I need to continue my orgasms to try and cure my itch. I hitch up my skirt, dip my hand down between my soaking thighs, and rub myself furiously through the wet thong. The rising odours hit my nose just as I reach that second plateau. Grinding hard into my soft lips my body shudders and knees buckle as I take myself over the orgasmic edge again. As the waves fade to an amazing tickling sensation, I grab the waist of the thong and pull it hard so that the material is almost cutting my soft swollen lips. With this delightful friction, I decide to tease myself all night and keep it in position.

Without washing my hands again, I exit the toilet and return to the table. The night ahead is sure to be filled with so many more orgasms.

To be continued....