Emily at Last

I always had a thing for my sister, Emily. She was very petite, with black hair and creamy white skin, and her ass was something to behold. It was perfect, and I yearned with every fiber of my body to have her. But something always held me back.

I did however take what I could get as we were growing up. She was three years younger than me, and quite innocent. We played together, and sometimes those games became heated.

Once, we were pretending to be dogs. I think that I may have been about 12 years old. I mounted her from behind, as I had seen our dog taken by a stray hound. We had our clothes on, but soon I had a raging hard on, and even at that young age it felt very good.

Several years later, I was reading a book about female fantasies, and Emily walked in. I asked her if she might let me eat her pussy. She looked aghast and reminded me that she was my sister. We never again said anything to each other of that nature, and we both got married when we were 19 years old.

Life went on, and we each had several children with our spouses. As we passed the 30 year mark, I concluded that we might never consummate our hidden passion, which I had sensed so many years ago but never found a way to act on.

One day however, fate intervened in my favor. Emily's husband, Frank, worked as an electrician, and made a fatal mistake at a job site. Emily called me in a panic on my cell phone, and broke the tragic news that her husband was dead. She was broken-hearted. Frank and Emily were devout Mormons, and they were quite committed to each other.

I rushed to her house to console her, and my mom, who lived nearby, was already there. She took Emily's children to her house for the evening, and I stayed behind to help my sister in her time of need. Unbeknownst to her, I had brought a bottle of very fine brandy, which I hid in my briefcase.

As the evening wore on, I asked Emily if I could spend the night, as it was now dark and my ride home would take over an hour. She concurred, and I then offered to cook something for dinner. She was not hungry, but I made a nice salad, with chicken breast that I fried in olive oil, with spices. We ate, but the mood was somber.

We then sat in the living room for a bit, and I offered to give Emily a massage to help her relax. She turned her back to me, and I gave her a very light neck and upper back massage, and then I asked her if she felt any better. She turned and jumped into my arms as she began to sob again. I held her tightly, and stroked her long hair.

I then carried Emily to her bedroom, and placed her gently on her bed. I told her to wait a minute, and then I retrieved the bottle of brandy, and poured her a tall glass.

Predictably, Emily said she did not drink, but I reminded her that when Jesus had a chance to make something to drink when he was attending a wedding and the wine ran out, he made wine, not punch.

She took the glass from me and sipped carefully from it, then all of a sudden she reared her head back and gulped the brandy down. She held out the empty glass and pleaded with her big brown eyes. I filled it twice more.

I got up to leave, but Emily cried out and asked me to stay with her. I then turned out the lights, stripped to my t-shirt and briefs, and slid under the covers next to her. I held her in my arms, and she cried softly on my shoulder.

As I gently caressed the back of her head, she held me tighter, and in that moment I knew that we had reached a crossroads in our relationship. I did not want to do anything to anger her, or to sour her feelings for me, and her husband had not yet been buried. Yet here I was holding Emily, my sister, in my arms, and I knew that I could have her if I pressed the issue. What to do?

Emily must have sensed the moral quagmire that I was in, as she slipped her right hand below the sheets, even as I pondered what to do, and she took hold of my stiffening penis. I instinctively kissed her and her tongue flicked into my mouth with a hint of brandy and passion. We kissed for what seemed an eternity, and then I bent down and kissed her nipples through her t-shirt, they were already perking up. My left hand slipped down and I rubbed her clit through her moistened underwear.

We said nothing, as we were both adults and she knew that I had undergone a vasectomy some months ago. We did not need to worry about protection. I tore her remaining clothes off, and soon enough I was between her legs, enjoying her throbbing pussy. She was delicious. I then mounted her and her legs lifted high on either side of me as I brought her to her first orgasm with several strokes.

We made love for hours. As the night wore on, she even gave me a wonderful blow job, and as we began to tire I retrieved a jar of Vaseline from the bathroom and proceeded to lube her beautiful ass. She bent over and waited as I rubbed my dick with the jelly and finally pushed it into her virgin ass. I reached down and rubbed her clit as I thrust slowly and we came together in a heap.

The next morning I woke up first and cooked breakfast after taking a much-needed shower. She snuck up behind me as I cooked and kissed me tenderly on the back of my neck. She too had just showered. We made love again, right on the kitchen table, and again in the living room.

As I left later that day, I promised that she would not have to remarry, as I would be her man forever, and sure enough, I came over every weekend after that, and always spent the night with my loving sister Emily.