Mark has to balance his fiancé, his sister, and of course Kathy in accounting
This story is my entry to the Christmas 2018 contest. It's in the Incest rubric. Generosity with your stars will be much appreciated!
Note: All Scotch whiskey in this story is over 18 years old.
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I was late getting to the party. I'm often late, but this time I was seriously late. I did not want much to go, but my date did. Jane loved parties, and she was dressed for it too. Jane was a sexy girl and she was not shy about advertising her wares.
It seems like Christmas season brings out the party animal in people, and every firm, large and small, was throwing parties. This particular party was sponsored by my own firm, so I felt obligated to make an appearance, but I knew with Jane in tow I would actually have to get my party animal geek on.
I made a beeline for the open bar. I needed a little buzz if I were to keep up with Jane. I knew all my colleagues would be checking her out. Some might, no, would even hit on her. I wasn't worried. If anyone could take care of herself, it was Jane. She was a formidable woman, the best candidate I had found to date to be my life partner. It was high time, too. I was 33 years old.
Jane was twenty-six. She wanted to marry, have kids, and live the perfect American life. We lived in New York, and if we were to have a house with a front yard and back yard, a well-behaved dog, two cars, a room for wood working, a barbeque, a hammock, and all that jazz, then that meant either New Jersey, Westchester, or living on Long Island. Plenty of people did it, enduring daily long commutes, and they led happy, healthy, productive lives, and raised happy, well-adjusted children. It was my idea of hell.
That was Jane's only imperfection. I was much too strange, too alienated if you will, to want that. I don't know why I am the way I am. Does anyone really know what forces shaped their personalities? Genetics plays a role, I'm sure, and probably in my case my parents' divorce played a big role. It was ugly. It was brutal. I was furious at both my parents, but I was carted off by my Dad while my baby sister Sorelle (literally, she was a baby; she was still nursing at the time) stayed with my Mom.
At the time I hated both of my parents (I was twelve and my sister Sorelle was one), but as time evolved and I matured and understood the inevitable incompatibility of my parents, I grew to hate only my Dad. Probably I hated only Dad because from the age of twelve until now, ie, for the last twenty-one years, I've only laid eyes on my Mom a few times. I lost my hate for my Mom because I no longer even knew the woman! I hadn't seen my baby sister Sorelle since she was seven, and at the time I was 18! That was when I gave her a doll with a genuine porcelain face and I was told it was (and still is) her most prized possession.
I was destined to see my Mom again, however. My Mom was throwing a Christmas dinner, and I was not only obliged to go, I was required to bring Jane, too.
"Jane has her own family, Mom," I said. "She'll want to see them at Christmas."
"Don't feed me that bullshit, Mark. Jane is Jewish, isn't she?"
"Only on her mother's side. She wears a cross on a necklace, Mom. What Jew does that?" I asked.
"How should I know? Jews are weird. Anyway, she's the girl you love, and you are not going to hide her from me! You will bring her at Christmas and that's that!" my Mom said in her inimical "sweet" manner we all love.
So here I was at the party, sipping my Scotch, which was an 18-year-old Johnny Walker, either red, blue, or black, or black and blue, whatever. Jane had already finished her margarita and was nagging me to dance. We danced a few dances, and after dancing for around twenty minutes I decided to look for a john. The party was in a strange place in the countryside a short way up the Hudson Valley, and it had bedrooms for those too drunk to drive home at the end. Its business was mostly as a rental space for parties. My firm had rented the bedrooms, too. We had the luxury package deal.
I figured there would be a john upstairs near the bedrooms. It had not occurred to me how busy the bedrooms might be. I know people are exhausted and tense around Christmas time and often need to blow off steam, but I was surprised that every single bedroom was in use. It was not people who were napping or already sleeping off their booze induced fatigue, no, the bedrooms were being used for sex.
All the bedroom doors were closed. I opened the first one, indeed looking for the john, and was confronted by a smiling, moaning woman fucking some guy whose face I could not see, bouncing up and down on his cock, since they were fucking reverse cowgirl style. I tore my eyes away from her bouncing boobs to her face, and the giggling, moaning incarnation of a sexpot was Kathy, from accounting. I had never noticed how deliciously sexy she was until just then.
I smiled and waved, and she smiled and waved back. It was so casual, it was as if we could have run into each other at Whole Foods or some such place. I got an erection, and visualized Jane naked to force some sort of psychological loyalty to my partner. Really, though, any man would have gotten an erection seeing Kathy with her gorgeous body going at it like that.
The next door over I discovered two people were rutting doggy style, and the woman was even grunting like a dog as the man rammed into her in a way that I for one would call rough sex. It was fascinating to watch, and I perved a bit and watched the two of them go at it. Tearing myself away was like trying to stop staring at a traffic accident. For the accident it's perhaps the horror that keeps your attention; here it was the eros.
The third door was in fact the john, but it was being used. I decided to open yet another door (maybe there were two johns?) but instead I saw such a sexy sight (at least for my taste) that I guess I'll never forget it!
A huge behemoth of a man (really -- this guy could have played Rubeus Hagrid in the Harry Potter movies) was fucking a tiny little wisp of a woman, in missionary style. I had a great view of the giant's back and ass as it rose and fell, and all that I could see of the woman were her little legs up in the air, and her cute little feet, with her toes all curled up in erotic pleasure.
The woman had a tattoo near her ankle that looked to be the Rare Redeye Flatwing Butterfly, with its signature red eyes. It's one of my all-time favorite butterflies. My parents had a watercolor painting of the butterfly in their living room, I remembered. Small though the little woman under the giant was, her voice was loud, and she was urging on the giant on to fuck her harder and faster, and never to stop! I love women who are noisy during sex, and this little woman was noisy as hell!
One thing intrigued me, though. It was her toes. They were curled up the way toes can get on a woman when she's close to orgasm, but it was the length of her toes that caught my fascination. Her baby toe was super short, and the toe right next to her baby toe was long, in fact it was her longest toe. I have not seen the bare feet of that many people in my life, but I've seen quite a few, since I was a lifeguard every summer from ages 16 through 22. I notice everyone's toes, because my toes are weird just like this tiny woman's, underneath the giant. I used to be a bit self-conscious about it. This sexy little woman underneath Hagrid had the same toes I did! She was the only person I had ever seen with my bizarre toes. My goodness. I had to meet this little woman.
In addition, the little sexpot underneath Hagrid, who was still pummeling her with his cock, had painted toenails. That's no big deal. A lot of women paint their toenails. This woman, however, had painted her toenails in red and green stripes, presumably due to Christmas. I loved it.
I left the two lovers and as I approached the WC I saw a skinny, almost naked woman clothed only in panties emerge from the john. She blushed when she saw me standing there waiting for the john, and she ran quickly to one of the bedrooms and slammed the door. She had a nice body with really brightly colored areolas. I wanted to grab her and rape her but of course I didn't. I recognized her, too. She worked in the back office.
What was her name? Oh yes! It was Annie. The back office always seemed to me to be a great place for hanky-panky and boy was she up to that right now!
I smiled to myself. What an interesting and yes, quite frankly, stimulating trip to the john this had been! I had to remember to give Kathy in accounting a nice Christmas present this year. Maybe I'd find a reason to visit Annie in the back office, too? Having relieved myself, I went back downstairs to find my true love Jane. She was rapidly getting drunk, and talking to some stud with a stereotypical name for a stud: Troy. She was giggling a little too much with Troy. If she was trying to make me jealous, well, she was doing a good job of it. By now I had nothing but sex on my mind.
The music started up with a hard rock song with a good beat and Troy pulled Jane onto the dance floor. As Jane went, she gave me a little shrug as if to say 'it can't be helped, Mark.' I watched them dance for a while and then gazed blankly around the room. One man was towering above the others. It had to be Hagrid. If his back were bare, or if I could have seen his naked ass, I could've been sure, but there was only one giant at the party, and so it had to be Hagrid. He had a nice face.
Hagrid was dancing with a cute little blonde. She had a nice body and a cute, even adorable face. She was probably in her early twenties. I wondered what they were doing here? I was sure Hagrid did not work for the company, I would have noticed a giant, and I was fairly sure the adorable blonde with the special toes didn't work for us either. I also tend to notice adorable blondes. I was fascinated by the blonde, but before I could embarrass myself, Jane returned with Troy in tow.
"May I have the next dance, Jane, or is your dance card full?" I asked my partner and also my date for the night.
Jane blew off her stud Troy, saying, "Sorry Troy. I go home with the man who brung me."
Brung her? Just how drunk was Jane, anyway? Maybe she was trying to be funny. Usually Jane is fastidious about language. I got to dance with Jane and fortunately for her she stayed with me for the rest of the party.
I love dancing with Jane. She has such fluid moves and when I hold her she feels as if she's floating in the air.
I had met Jane a few years ago. We had friends in common and one night when we talking together, and I enjoyed everything she had to say, I said the customary, "We should have lunch together sometime."
"That would be nice," Jane replied.
Usually nobody follows up with such banal and vague invitations, but I realized this was an opening, so I said, "Let's make it concrete. Lunch tomorrow?"
"I'd love to Mark, but I work and get only a half hour for lunch," Jane said.
"Saturday brunch, then?" I asked. Everyone in New York has brunch instead of lunch on the weekends.
"I work Saturdays, too, I'm afraid," Jane said.
I was not giving up. "Sunday brunch, then?" I asked.
Jane smiled. "You like me, don't you, Mark? Sure, Sunday it is. When and where?"
I gave her a time and place. "Is that convenient?" I asked.
"I know the place. It's near where I live," she said. "That will work great."
We had a great time at brunch. I fell hook, line and sinker for the woman. She was everything I wanted in a woman; she was the woman I had been looking for my entire life. We went out for a coffee at a nearby coffee house, which was just a bit quieter than the brunch place. It was easier to talk.
After the coffee, Jane said, "Will you walk me home?"
"Sure," I said. I held her hand as we walked.
Arriving at the door to her apartment I made a move and I kissed her. I liked the way she kissed. I could tell she liked me, just by the kiss.
"I'd like to see you again," I said.
She looked at me and leaned in to kiss me again.
