Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
*****
You are sitting under the tree with your sister-in-law, the family presents dutifully displayed around the base. Your excited children are finally in bed and your husband is out for the evening with his pals. You don't expect him back before midnight. Suzy suggests a bottle of wine and opens a box of chocolates. It's been a long week, the final one in the office before the holidays always is, so you think 'what the hell' and accept a generously filled glass. Your sister-in-law is a few years younger than you, but she looks slightly bedraggled in your husband's scruffy blue towelling dressing gown and an old pair of his cotton pyjamas. She's had a rough couple of months with the separation and divorce. You didn't really want her to stay, something about her makes you feel uncomfortable, self-conscious, but you couldn't turn her away, not at Christmas.
The wine tastes so good that before you realise it the first bottle is empty. Not to be deterred, Suzy collects another from the kitchen while you sit and wait. She dims the main lights, so you can enjoy the twinkling fairy lights together.
"Let's play a game", she says. "Simon Says."
"Okay." The alcohol has gone straight to your head.
It all begins innocently enough. Suzy pats the top of her head, you pat the top of your head. She pulls a silly face, you pull a silly face. You both laugh aloud. Your sister-in-law loosens her frayed belt and slips a hand under the folds of her robe. You hesitate.
"Touch yourself," she whispers, holding your complete attention with her wide brown eyes. Suzy pulls back the flap of her gown. "Use just the tip of your finger, moving it slowly up and down. Like this."
You sense the danger, but inexplicably you ignore it. You lift the hem of your skirt, the one you wore to work today, and lightly scratch the soft cotton of your panties with a manicured nail. It tickles your sensitive skin. You smile at Suzy all gooey-eyed. You can't stop yourself, not yet, even though you know you should. Each stroke is sending a delicious tingle all the way down your spine. It feels so good. Your sister-in-law shuffles closer. Nudging your hand aside, she replaces it with her own. Her palm squeezes your panties, pressing against the excited flesh. You're paralysed. Her mouth seeks yours and your lips yield. You are kissing your sister-in-law, French kissing, your tongues entwined. Suzy grabs your hand, guiding it between her thighs. You know exactly what she wants you to do and you do it. You've lost your moral compass, cast adrift from any rational thought by new and dangerous passions. Meanwhile shameless Suzy dives inside your panties, stretching you and the elasticated waistband to snapping point. Her finger slides between your lips like a needle on a record player and finds the well-worn groove. Your sister-in-law probably doesn't even remember LPs or cassettes, but that no longer matters as she circles your clit.
The tension is unbearable. You want to come, you are going to come. The final stages of sexual arousal feel surprisingly lonely, intensifying your desperation to connect with Suzy, to share everything with her. You unbutton the fly of your husband's loose pyjama bottoms, your hand scrabbling through the flap. Her wetness envelopes your fingers, fitting them like a velvet-lined glove. Somehow you are still playing the silly game, copying her every move, reciprocating her every caress. You are breathing much faster, erratically, synchronously, loudly. You should be worried about waking the children, you are both making too much noise, but you are so close now that nothing else matters. Suzy comes first, the ring of muscles contracting tightly around your stabbing fingers. She cries out your name, you like that, and you longingly kiss her mouth. Your body begins to throb, succumbing to wave after wave of pleasure. It gradually fades away, abandoning you to face the consequences.
There is a brief moment, when you cling to her like a shipwrecked castaway, that you believe that you will both come to your senses and that calmer heads will soon prevail. There are a million reasons why this is wrong, why you should put an end to this madness, but you cannot recall a single one. Instead, you find yourself sat on the couch with your sister-in-law kneeling dutifully at your feet.
Suzy's smooth hands sweep across the top of your thighs, pushing back your crumpled skirt to your waist. You feel helpless as she peels off your sweaty nylon tights and then returns for your panties. Cool air circulates around your crotch, but not for long. Your sister-in-law kisses your trembling knee, moving inside, moving deeper. You brace yourself, but her impact startles your body nonetheless. Her mouth hums like a busy bee against your pussy, collecting the sticky beads of nectar. Your petals unfurl, you are flowering again. Her rasping tongue dips inside your honey pot and you are overwhelmed with new pleasure. Gasping for air, you lift your open legs on to her narrow shoulders, squeezing her head between your squirming thighs, drowning her in your flowing juices. Suzy's appetite seems to be insatiable, her resolve indefatigable. You don't remember a time when you managed it more than once with your husband, but here you are with your sister-in-law again on a rising wave. It continues to grow, bigger and bigger, teasing you, scaring you. When it finally breaks, the climax is nothing like you have ever experienced. It is endless ecstasy, it is a total wipeout. You pull Suzy up from the floor and kiss her mouth. You smell your musk and taste your saltiness on her lips. Your expectations will never be the same.
The silver clock on the mantle piece says it is only half past nine. It was a wedding present from your husband's parents. His mother never really liked you. So you imagine what the battle-axe would say if she were to find you sitting on the sofa now with her beloved daughter Suzy, your sister-in-law, kissing and cuddling like randy teenagers.
