My Wife And Her Sister 3

It was towards the end of November that my brother in law died. It wasn't any great surprise. Rick had been seriously unwell for several months.

'It would be nice to make it to Christmas,' he told me one afternoon when I went to visit him in hospital.

'Oh? Is Santa on a promise to deliver you something special?' I asked.

'I've managed to track down a couple of bottles of Chateau Lynch-Bages,' Rick said. 'The 2001 vintage. They should be just about coming to their peak. And I'm sure I can count on you to help me drink them.'

'Well... when you put it like that,' I said. But even then, I could see that it might be a near run thing.

'And if I don't make it... you can, of course, drink my share too,' he said. 'For some reason, Jillian has never really taken to the Bordeaux reds. She prefers new world sauvignon blancs. And Champagne, of course.'

'You'll make it,' I assured him. But I was wrong. On a rather dull November afternoon, one of those gloomy afternoons when it couldn't seem to make up its mind whether to rain or perhaps even snow, Rick dozed off and never woke up again.

Someone -- I can't remember who -- once said that the worse thing about dying was that you didn't get to hear all the nice things that people said about you at your funeral. The people who gathered for Rick's send-off certainly had plenty of nice things to say about him. Not that the things they had to say weren't thoroughly deserved.

'I've suggested that Jillian come and spend a few days with us,' Monica said after we left 'the wake' and headed back out to Chalfont. (Jillian was both Rick's wife and Monica's twin sister.) 'Even though the inevitable was perhaps inevitable, these last few weeks have not been easy for her.'

'No,' I said. 'And I think you're right. A bit of a break might do her the world of good.'

Rick's last few weeks had not been easy for Monica either. Jillian and Monica were twins of the closest kind. The happiness that one felt was also felt by the other. But, regrettably, the same was true of the pain felt by one or the other of them.

'In case you've forgotten, I'm off to Milan on Monday,' I told her. 'Just for three days. I should be back on Thursday. But I can put it off until after Christmas. If you need me here.'

'No, no. You go,' Monica said. 'I suspect Jillian and I will just take things quietly. Probably very quietly. You know.... Watch a few girly movies. Perhaps grab a bite of lunch. Do a bit of shopping. Give Jillian a bit of a chance to unwind.'

It made sense.

My main reason for going to Milan was to meet up with the new CEO of our largest customer in that part of the world. Carlo had a bit of a reputation for keeping supplier organisations at arm's length until he actually needed something specific from them. So, rather than trying for a formal meeting, I told his Executive Assistant that I was going to be in Milan for the opera. (My spies had also told me that Carlo was a big opera afficionado.) 'If there was an opportunity for a quick cup of coffee...,' I told his EA. 'While I'm in your beautiful part of the world.' And it worked.

But then, as Robbie Burns once observed: 'the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley'. Carlo had a fall. Right outside his office. And he ended up in hospital with a broken ankle. I sent him some flowers, but the coffee would have to wait for another day. And then I called my own EA, back in London, and asked her to see if she could get me home again.

'Nothing into Heathrow,' Susan said when she called me back twenty minutes later. 'But I've managed to get you on a late afternoon flight into London City Airport. Rufus will be waiting to drive you back out to Chalfont.'

'Cheers, Susan,' I said. 'You're a star.'

'Do you want me to let Monica know that you're going to be home a day early?'

Did I? 'Umm... no. I think I'll surprise her,' I said. 'She has her sister staying. Jillian. Her twin. The one whose husband died. If the traffic's kind to me, I might take them both out for a bite of supper.'

'Would you like me to make a booking somewhere?'

'No. But thank you. If the traffic's kind, I'll call somewhere from the car.'

But the traffic wasn't kind. First, the flight from Milan was late in leaving. And then, possibly because we were late leaving Milan, we missed our slot at London City and had to 'go round' a couple of times, making us even later. Mind you, even if we had been on time, I would still have had to wait for Rufus.

'Pile up on the 406,' Rufus said. 'Lorry jack-knifed. Boxes all over the road. Might be quicker to take the A40.' And he described a map in the air with the forefinger of his right hand.

'You're the expert, Rufus,' I told him.

Things started out a bit slowly, however once we got onto The Western Way it could just as easily have been a Sunday. But our good luck didn't last for long. From The Hangar Lane Gyratory all the way out to the Derham Road roundabout we were pretty much back down to a crawl.

When we finally pulled up outside the house, all was in darkness. Either Monica and Jillian had gone out, or they were already in bed. On the off chance that they were already in bed, I let myself in quietly so as not to disturb their sleep.

Their overcoats were hanging on the coat stand just inside the front door, so I assumed that they were in fact home and that they were having an early night.

I left my bags in the hallway, and crept into the kitchen to contemplate a snack of some kind. But it was already gone nine, and the more I thought about food the less I felt like any. I slipped into the downstairs cloakroom and washed my hands and face. Then, without turning on any of the lights, I quietly made my way up the stairs.

The bedroom was in darker-than-dark darkness. To avoid having to turn on any lights, I undressed just outside the bedroom door where there was the merest hint of light from the skylight above the landing. Then I went back into the bedroom and was just about to climb into my usual side of the bed when I realised that Monica was on my side. Rather than disturbing her, I prepared to go around to the other side. It was only then that I realised there were already two people in the bed. Asleep. Probably. But spooning.

'Oh?' a sleepy-but-slightly-startled voice said. 'It's you. I didn't think you were....'

'Coming home until tomorrow?' I said. 'No. I wasn't. Slight change of plan.'

'Right,' Monica said.

'Sorry. I probably should have phoned.'

'Umm... no. It's OK.' And then, while gently shaking Jillian's shoulder, she told her that they needed to make room.

'What?' Jillian said.

'It's Tom,' Monica told her. 'He's come home a day early.'

'Tom?'

'Tom.'

'Oh. Right. Do I need to...?'

By then, my eyes were beginning to get used to the little light there was and, as Jillian began to ready herself to get out of bed, I could see that it appeared that the sisters were both stark naked.

Jillian threw back the duvet, exposing still more of her naked body. 'I'll just....'

'No. It's OK,' I said. 'I won't take up much space. Just tell me where you need me.'

'We weren't expecting you,' Monica said.

'No,' I said. 'I can sort of see that.' And I laughed quietly.

'Umm... perhaps if you go in the middle,' Monica suggested to Jillian.

'Umm... yes,' Jillian said, and she moved to the centre of the bed and made room for me to slip in on her right.

And so there we were: Monica, Jillian, and me. Lying there. In the darkness. I was surprised. To be honest, I think that we all were. But I don't think that any of us was exactly disappointed. Far from it. 'And now?' I said.

'I think having woken Jillian up, the least you can do is give her a cuddle,' Monica said.

I laughed. 'Yes. I suppose so.' And then I said: 'I... umm... didn't realise that you two....'

'No,' Monica said. 'Well... not recently anyway. In fact, not for a long time. But these past couple of nights, the stars have just been....'

'In alignment,' Jillian suggested in a sleepy voice.

Monica nodded and then reached out and turned on the bedside light -- at its lowest level. 'I'm pleased that you came home early,' she said.

'Oh?'

'Yes. Jillian was saying that it has been some time since she has had a cock to play with. And I said that if she played her cards right, you might let her play with yours.'

'With mine?'

'With yours,' she confirmed.

'As nice as that sounds, I think that would require my wife's consent,' I said.

Monica nodded. 'I don't think that would be a problem,' she said. 'Although I suspect that your wife might want to watch.'

'To watch?'

'My sister playing with your cock,' Monica said.

'Well, I'm sure that that could be arranged,' I told her.

'Is your cock...?'

'Showing any interest in the idea?' I said. 'Umm... yes, funnily enough it does seem to be. What do you think?' I asked Jillian.

Jillian reached between us, took my growing cock in hand, and pressed it against her warm, furry cunt. It was funny, both of the sisters had the same soft-yet-springy cunt thatch. 'Mmm. Nice,' Jillian said.

It was. And I told Jillian so. 'Very nice. And there's no prize for guessing that you two are sisters, is there?' I said.

'Is that such a bad thing?' Jillian asked.

'Not in my book,' I told her. 'I fact, I find it rather exciting.'

Monica looked at her sister and smiled and nodded. 'I told you,' she said.

'You told her? What did you tell her?'

'I said that you were a bad boy at heart. One sister good; two sisters better.'

'And three sisters?' I said.

'Sorry. No more sisters. Just Jillian and me. Although, as you know, we do have a cousin,' Monica said. 'Leanne. But that might require a bigger bed.'

'Oh? Does Leanne play?' I asked.

'You might have to ask her that.'

Leanne was about the same age as the twins. Late fifties? Maybe early sixties? She was also about the same build. Yes, there was a family similarity there. I tried to imagine her added to our ménage á whatever. But while two sisters -- especially twin sisters -- was unquestionably rather exciting, I thought it might perhaps be a tad difficult to do justice to three similar women.

'Are you going to fuck me?' Jillian asked.

'I could do,' I told her. 'I would certainly like to. But you'd better ask your sister.'

Jillian turned to look at her sister.

'Of course he is,' Monica said. 'But I want to watch. I want to see everything. So maybe doggy style.' And Monica reached out and turned the bedside lamp up a notch or two. Or three.

Doggy style was fine by me. And, judging by the speed with which Jillian got up onto her hands and knees, she seemed pretty enthusiastic about the idea too.

I seem to have reached an age where, as a rule, it takes a moment or two for my cock to get ready for action. But, that night, it was up-and-ready almost before my brain had decided on my next move.

I positioned myself astern of Jillian, made myself comfortable, and then reached between Jillian's thighs to check out her cunt. Happily, it was warm and well on the way to becoming wet. I ran my fingers along her welcoming valley and allowed them to become covered in her warm juices. And then I transferred some of her slippery juices to the head of my now-stiff cock.

'Let me give you a hand there,' Monica said. And, next thing I knew, my kind and considerate wife was feeding my cock into her twin sister's magic fuckhole. 'OK?' she said.

'Oh, better than OK,' I told her. 'I just wish that I had two cocks.'

'Greedy boy,' she said.