A few years after my sister Debbie married, I learned that my brother-in-law played around on her. Just the way he stared at me was enough to make me nervous; like he could see through my blouse or something. I caught myself more than once checking to make sure my miniskirt was pulled all the way down. Whenever I did that, he'd smile slightly, looking down at where I tugged at the hem, and I'd shudder. If my sister noticed, she didn't say anything. They'd been married for 2 years, and I wondered why Debbie didn't leave him. My sister was attractive and big-breasted. I wondered what Chuck was like in bed. A disgusted shiver swept through me, as I imagined him, not with my sister, but with me, his sweaty body on top of me; grunting, straining. He licked his lips suggestively, a disgusting gesture. I turned crimson and fled the room.
For the first couple of occurrences, I simply tried to ignore him. He didn't let me, hanging around me constantly, and even worse, complimenting me on what I wore. Once he asked me if I went around without a bra often, and I wanted to slap him. Instead, I just blushed again, and my nipples tightened with my embarrassment. The reaction bothered me severely, both because he was my brother-in-law, and the fact that his presence disgusted me. But as I thought about it, I realized I did usually wear a bra. My nipples were too prominent for me not to. And while I had plenty of jeans and slacks, I'd been sticking to the skirts, or my short shorts. Then I got pissed, telling myself I had the right to wear whatever I wanted, and I shouldn't have to change just because of his perverted reaction to it.
Chuck landed a job in Hawaii and Scott and I helped Debbie and Chuck pack and move their belongings. The first morning, I wore a half-shirt and the shortest tennis skirt I had. Fuck him if he couldn't handle it. I started helping with the housework, vacuuming the floors, dusting the shelves. Everywhere I went, I felt his eyes following me. Anything that made my breast sway or caused my skirt to rise a little higher, I was intensely aware of, and felt the heat on the back of my neck when I thought of his response. The few times I dared to glance at him, he caught me at it, and I quickly looked away with even more embarrassment. And the more embarrassed I got, the more he looked.
When I started packing the dishes, I felt him come up behind me. I froze. "What are you doing?"
"That's a nice outfit," he whispered, so close I felt his breath on the back of my neck.
I shivered, suddenly cold. My knees were shaking, although why I was so scared I didn't know. My sister was just in the living room. "Yeah?" I said, wincing at the quiver in my voice. "So?"
He didn't answer, and I started to turn around. Then I felt his hand on my waist and I jolted, my body reacting violently to the heat of his touch. "What are you doing?" I hissed.
His hand rose higher, sliding around my belly, and then creeping upward. My fingers whitened, as I gripped the edge of the sink. "Chuck?" Goosebumps pricked up across my skin. His hand went higher, to the bottom of my shirt. "Chuck?" I whimpered.
And as before, he ignored me, and I shuddered as his hand slid up under my shirt. I stood there, let him touch me, fondle my breasts. He even slid his other hand under my skirt, letting his fingers roam over my pubic mound, teasing at the edges of my thong. And I stood there, letting him do it! When he jerked away I gasped, my hips still undulating, my nipples still tightening. I looked over to see my sister walk into the room, and I blanched. When she smiled pleasantly over the fact I was doing the dishes, I almost groaned. Chuck sat at the table, silently watching me again. I could still feel his hands, rough against my sensitive flesh, the heat of them burning into me, as he groped and teased my nipples.
What would have happened if she hadn't come in? Would he really have pushed under my panties? Would I have let him? A sudden rush of wetness soaked through my thong at the thought, and I clamped my legs together to keep it from trickling down my legs. "Oh God," I groaned inwardly, realizing I would have. I'd have let him fuck me, right there in the kitchen, sliding those coarse fingers of his up into my soaking wet slit. And even worse, it probably would have made me cum. I did the only thing I could think of. I told my sister that I needed to go outside and smoke a cigarette before I had a nicotine attack.