Family Jewels Ch 02

My brother-in-law had always had a creepily close relationship to my wife, Katie. Now, suddenly, he had come for a visit and she had been acting strangely, as if she were attracted to him and sick of me. It had all happened pretty fast.

Now, the day after his arrival, a moving van had appeared in front of my house with his clothes, furniture, and God knows what else. I confronted him in the kitchen as the men began to bring in boxes and place them in the hallway.

"What the hell is this, Philip?"

My tone made an impact. A minute ago he had been standing there with his bathrobe hanging open, exposing himself to me. Now he pulled the ends of his robe together and smiled apologetically.

"I thought you knew, Dan. She sent me an urgent e-mail. Asked me to drop everything and stay here a while. She said she's depressed and needs me. Oh, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. But... well, you know how Katie can be." He grinned.

"Yeah -- well, she's pretty impulsive. She should have talked to me." What was happening? I had forgotten how charming he could be. "You know, we need our privacy."

He took a step or two towards me. "Oh, man. I am so embarrassed. Look, do you mind if I just stay a day or two more? Hey, it's not like I have time to come every time she calls. I just -- I thought she was freaking out or something."

"Well, I understand." We shook hands. "It's really her fault. But, if you don't mind, this just isn't a good time for us to have company."

"Oh" -- he put both hands up. His robe fell open again but he was too close for me to see anything. Not that I wanted to look. "Understood. Completely understood."

He was on his way back to his room when I got that extra bit of courage. "Hey, Philip. Do you mind if I ask you a real personal question?"

"Oh, no," he said. "Not a bit."

"What were you and Katie doing alone in your room yesterday? Just after you arrived?"

He laughed. "Oh, man, she just unloaded on me. All about how afraid she is of getting older, how she's getting wrinkles around her eyes. And all the time I'm thinking -- THIS is the emergency? I canceled a sales call for this."

I just smiled and nodded and his door closed behind him. As I tipped the moving guys, I steeled myself for a talk with my wife. She had always been unpredictable, high-maintenance, happy one moment and depressed the next, but I had reached my limit with her. If telling me that she was having sex with her brother and then mocking my anatomy was her idea of a joke, I wasn't amused. Not at all.

As usual, Katie slept in, so I had to wait, sitting on one of the high stools in our eat-in-kitchen, till she woke up. Philip stayed in his room, probably sensing that Katie and I needed space to talk. I realized one thing as I waited. I had enjoyed talking to him; Philip was the one person in the world who knew how difficult my wife could be. He had always had to deal with her: her erratic behavior, neediness, sudden fits of anger, her occasional cruelty. For the first time, I liked him.

When Katie emerged from her room, saw the pile of Philip's stuff -- boxes and furniture -- in the foyer and saw my face, she almost turned around and walked back.

"Wait a minute," I said.

She sighed and sat down on the bench next to mine.

"Did you ask your brother to move in to our home?"

"Yes."

"Without telling me? Without a single word?"

"I did it for you."

I brushed this off, not knowing exactly what she meant. "Why did you tell me you had sex with him? Was it true?"

"No."

"And I don't appreciate the personal insults. If you're unhappy with me, just say so."

"I'm not, Daniel, but..."

"Then why did you say those things?"

She threw her arms around me. "I've just been so fucked up lately. I've been afraid you're not attracted to me anymore. And..."

"Well?"

"I wanted to see if it would turn you on." Her tone changed a bit, and her green eyes fixed me with a straight look, just like the night before. "I've always thought there was something between you and Philip."

"What, is he gay?"

She shrugged. She had gained back some of the upper hand. "Maybe a little. Aren't you?"

I smiled and shrugged. "Believe what you like. Philip is leaving in a few days."

"Okay," she said. She gave me a quick, coquettish kiss and went off to get dressed. The conversation had left me aroused.

*

And that was how I let Philip stay in my house. It's funny how things sneak up on you. I always thought of a story I had heard about the Red Chinese and the way they interrogated prisoners. They would ask loads of questions about the prisoner's belief, his values. Then they would convince the prisoner that Communism was consistent with these values. Gradually, they would get the prisoner to reveal military secrets. And, finally, the prisoner would be ready to swear his absolute allegiance to Mao Zedong.

Now, maybe this is an exaggerated view of what happened to me. But I did notice that the conversations at the dinner table after Philip took up residence were frequently about power -- and male anatomy. It was as if Katie and Philip were initiating me into their strange world.

"You always wore those tight Jockeys," Katie reminisced with him. "Even when we were kids." Was she making fun of him or sharing a sexy memory?

"You were a good girl back then," he said by way of response. "But I understand you're not so good anymore."

She became terribly earnest, pleading, yearning. I'd never seen her like this. "I did everything for you, Philly. Everything you asked. Wasn't I good?"

Philip turned to me, passing the green beans, offering a casual explanation. "I always taught her that men are to be obeyed. Well, real men."

"Real men!" she echoed in this crazy little-girl voice. Again, it was a side of her I hadn't seen in a while.

"Real men?" I said.

Philip looked me in the eye and I saw that, even though they were not biologically related, they shared the same emerald eyes. "Superior men," he said, slowly drawing out the words.

He smiled, threw his napkin on his plate, and indicated with a toss of the head that it was time for the two of them to retire to his room. She sprang up like an eager child and I froze. I knew I should do something. Then, as he rose from the table, I saw that he had undone his pants, letting them fall in a bunch above his knees. He was wearing no underwear, but the tail of his white dress shirt partly concealed his genitalia. I could only see the tip of his penis about a foot from his crotch.

It was more than obvious what they were going to do in the room, but I did nothing, said nothing. Looking at me from the corner of his eye, he led her away from the table and shut his door behind them.

Alone at the table, I was reviewing what I should have said to him. "Get out! Get out of my house!" But I was also thinking of his anatomy and his idea of the "superior man." Was he my biological superior? He certainly had a way about him. His manner with me was calm, controlled, but gentle. I felt safe with him around.

Filled with these thoughts, I crept over to his door, just as I had on the day he arrived. I heard obscene slurping sounds, little gasps for air, faint female moans. I was breathing hard myself -- whether from rage or lust I couldn't say. I thought about what it must feel like for her to mouth his gigantic organ. I had completely forgotten what I should do: burst into the room, grab him by the neck, and throw him out of the house.

Maybe this was because - in my crazy state of mind - I liked having him there. Since he had moved in, Katie, always a late sleeper, got up at six in the morning to prepare our breakfast. After meals she got right up to clear the dishes, a task she used to postpone almost indefinitely.

Her manner of dress had changed. She wore a short, sheer housedress now, plain white panties, and heels. In this outfit, she straightened, organized, and even cleaned the house. She washed the wood floors with oil soap, something that hadn't been done since we moved in.

Even more surprising, she had developed an interest in finding a job. Directed by Philip, she printed out job notices from the internet and clipped them from the newspaper. She pasted them into a notebook and presented them to him, reporting on her progress in finding an interview. I felt relieved of the burden of constantly worrying about my unruly wife.

Her behavior with me changed as well. She was now polite but a little distant. Every night, after her visit to her brother's room, she would come our bed, slip under the covers, and reach for my cock to jerk me off. One night as she stroked my diamond hard (but undersized) cock, I asked her what she had just been doing with her brother. I breathlessly told her that I could see traces of his semen on her lips. She gave no answer, just jerked me harder. She knew I would come in a matter of seconds.

After I did, I rolled onto my back, but she fixed me with her green-eyed stare, slowly bringing her manicured, cum-covered hand towards my mouth.

"Why do you do this?" I gasped after licking it clean.

She gestured in the direction of Philip's room. I understood: he had told her to jerk me off.

"You're glad he's here, aren't you?" she purred.

"You never answered my question," was my hoarse response.

She shrugged. "What I do for him, it's what I always did for him. He does so much for me."

"What? What is it he does for you?"

"He keeps me safe. From myself. You too. You're an only child. You need a brother like him."

I should have yelled, "NO I DON'T!" But I just nodded in agreement. As a kid I had gotten bullied and had often wished for a big brother. She knew this.

I felt myself regretfully sinking into sleep.