My name is Sabrina. My husband and I always spent Thanksgiving weekend at his family home in rural Pennsylvania. Christmas was with my folks. Tom and I grew up near each other, but had moved away after we got married. It was our third year of marriage, but our first year to travel after giving birth to our son, Tommy Jr. I was nervous about driving from Georgia to PA with a baby in the back seat. The ride always seemed to take too long without the diaper changes and breast feedings. I dreaded what it would be like baby in tow and begged Tom to explain to his family that we couldn't make it this year. But he just wouldn't hear it. By the time we pulled up the long gravel lot, the sky had darkened and puffy, white flakes were softly falling around us. If I wasn't so grumpy, I would have appreciated how beautifully the branches cradled the snow.
When we walked in the large farmhouse, we were warmly greeted by each family member: Eileen and Ed (Tom's Mom and Dad), his sister Claire, her husband Mark and their two kids, and his brothers Eddie and Steve. Eddie grabbed me to give me a big Parker family hug, twirling me around so no one would see him cup my ass and give it a good hard squeeze. It was the same move he'd been making since I started dating Tom. I'd learned to ignore his playful slaps and squeezes.
"Your breasts are huge, sis," He growled hungrily into my ear, "I can't wait to take a taste."
I pushed him away, my cheeks heating up from more than just the heat from the fireplace, "You're a pervert," I shot back at him, keeping my voice low enough to avoid further embarrassment and joined my husband as he passed little Tommy Jr. around the room.
We grabbed a quick bite to eat and unloaded our luggage into the room we were staying in upstairs. It was beside Claire and Mark's room and across from Eddie. Steve was settled down the hall and Eileen and Ed slept in the refinished room downstairs with Claire's two. After we were all settled, I said my goodnights, explained that Tommy Jr. and I were going to turn in, and left Tom to catch up with his family. I planned to be up early to help Mrs. Parker with all the cooking for the holiday while the men watched Football.
At breakfast the next morning, I couldn't help but notice how Eddie's eyes lingered on my breasts while we sat around the table. But what was even more shocking was that Mark, Claire's husband, kept staring as well. I was used to Eddie, but Mark had never even given me a second glance since I'd known him. At least, none that I had noticed.
But sure enough, there he was, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. I was used to men looking at me the way Mark was. I have long dark hair that hits below my shoulders when I don't have it swept up. My breasts are a healthy C-cup, unless they are full of milk, then they creep up to a D or more. They can be quite a handful now-a-days. I still have a tiny belly left over from my pregnancy, but I've been an athlete all of my life, so the rest of my body is slender and toned. Besides, Tom likes my belly and I can still fit into a size 6. All things considered, I'm a catch.
Embarrassed by Mark's stares, I excused myself from the dining room table to take my plate to the kitchen sink. That done, I reached into the cupboard for a coffee mug and felt someone press up against me. Eddie.
"Don't mind me. I'm just here for the coffee," He teased, rubbing the beginning of his hard-on against my back. Tom was definitely the handsome one in the family, but Eddie would be the rock star. He worked at a studio, mixing music or something. He had shaggy hair and a neatly trimmed scruff of a goatee. He was toned and had arms that women would die to have wrapped around them. Well, other less-married women than me, of course. Oh, and his ass—it was a great ass. The kind of ass jeans are tailored for. Not that I ever looked.
"You're disgusting," I whispered, "What would Tom think if he saw?" I pushed back against him, shoving him away with my hips.
"Aw, Tom doesn't mind. We've always shared everything," he said, stepping back up behind me. Then he added, "It's about time you realized that and stopped saying no."
He slid his hand around my waist and dipped his fingers beneath the elastic band of my skirt. I just froze as he plunged a finger into my pussy. His entire family was sitting in the next room!
"I've been patient long enough, but my dick's getting wet one way or another this weekend."
He pushed his finger in deep, curled it so the tip bumped up beside my g-spot, and stood there finger fucking me in his mother's kitchen. His hard-on was still rubbing against me, getting larger every second.
"Mm. Did you wax your pussy just for me?" He asked, "Makes you seem so much younger—like my kid sister in need of a fuck lesson. Do you need someone to teach you how to make a man cum, baby sister?"
"Please, just stop," I said again, pushing back against him. It only seemed to make him harder.
He abandoned the coffee mug that he had clasped in his hand to reach beneath my blouse and cupped one of my breasts. He pinched my nipple and milk squirted out. He kneaded my breast and my milk ran down my chest and through my shirt.
