The Hot Sister-in-Law

I had been married to Anna for about ten years. She was half German but was raised in Germany. We had done a lot of crazy and wild things before we married, but my job was high visibility and involved government, so we had settled down to a very respectable lifestyle.

I had always had a thing for her sister. Both were blonde. Anna had the better figure, but Greta had a face that was slightly more attractive. I never acted on my interest, but I was definitely hyped up when she was around. She loved to come over because we had a pool, and she could enjoy it and be with her sister at the same time.

Greta was an enigma. She was raised in Germany and as a child had experienced the liberal lifestyle of the Germans. As a young teen, her grandmother would take both girls to a beach on the North Sea. There, all three would step into changing booths, remove their street clothes, and come out totally naked to sunbathe. Having spent several years in the states, however, and being married to a fairly conservative man, Greta had become very modest in public. When she went to the beach she had begun to wear a swimsuit but covered it with a tee shirt.

There was no doubt, however, that she was well endowed. Both she and Anna were probably capable of wearing the same D-cup bra. Once, when the entire family had gathered for a holiday, I stepped into the house from the patio to refill my glass. Greta had decided not to go back to the bedroom to change her top. She was right in the kitchen and had just taken her top off as I walked in. Knowing the European background, I simply made no comment and went straight to the refrigerator. While I was pouring my drink, Greta lay down her top, fluffed the replacement top she was going to wear and then put it on. Although I never looked directly, I knew exactly what she was doing some twenty feet away and in full view.

After that incident in the kitchen, things seemed to lighten up a bit between us. The next time I was in the pool with her and Anna, Anna asked me, "Have you noticed that Greta's not wearing a tee shirt?"

"No," I lied. "I hadn't. But now that you mention it, doesn't she normally wear one?" The three of us were no more than two feet apart as this conversation was taking place.

Anna continued, "Well, that's a compliment to you. If she didn't feel comfortable around you, she'd be wearing a tee shirt, so she obviously feels comfortable being around you without one." I was sure not to let Anna catch me glancing toward Greta's top, but when she went inside to fix another drink, I held onto the side of the pool talking to Greta and got plenty of glimpses of Greta's ample breasts, both from a direct frontal view and from the side as well.

Finally, Greta smiled and said playfully, "Are you looking at my breasts?"

I can bullshit with the best of them. I replied, "Well, I was just thinking how fortunate I am that you're comfortable around me and how much more fortunate I'd be if we were on a German beach." She laughed with ease at my reply.

"So you're telling me you'd like to see more."

"Well, of course. What man in his right mind wouldn't. Your beauty doesn't stop with your face."

Greta laughed and glanced furtively toward the house. I was facing the house right beside her, and she was turned away from the house. She slid down into the water to her neck, and when she came up, her right breast was out of the swimsuit. Her breast was about the size of Anna's, although her areola was a little smaller. The nipples were about the same. Anna's breasts had enlarged considerably when she gave birth, but Greta had never had children, so her areola had never enlarged. That was about the only difference. She held the fabric to the side for a moment, then went back to her chin into the water. When she came up, she was fully covered again and said, "Now, this is just between us, and it won't go any further. And it doesn't get you any free passes for anything else. You've been so nice about things that I thought I'd give you a taste of Germany." Then she swam to the other end of the pool.

Nothing further happened between us, although there were numerous family get togethers and although Greta came over frequently by herself to visit. Then came the time that their father was in the hospital. One night around 7:00, Greta came over to help sit with her dad. However, he had had a good day, and Anna had just left to go spend the night with him. We called the hospital, and Anna told Greta to stay at the house and to relieve her the next morning.

After she hung up, Greta said, "Well that's good. I came prepared to spend the night at the hospital, but I'm worn out from that trip across town. The traffic was horrible, and I'm a bundle of nerves. I need wine much more than I need the hospital."

I got a fire started in the fireplace while Greta poured us both a glass of wine. As we sipped, I mentioned a drink that I had gotten the recipe for. Greta decided she wanted to try it. While I was mixing it, she poured another glass of wine and went back to change into her "jammies." By the time I finished making the pitcher of drinks, she had returned wearing thin flannel bottoms that clung to every curve and a matching top that was short-sleeved and V-necked. She had removed her jewelry. When she sat on the sofa, she sat like a model posing for a photograph with her legs pulled up underneath her, with her back arched. Her left hand was across the back of the sofa, and her right hand was draped across her leg with the wine glass dangling from her fingertips. The glass, however was empty.

I took her glass and brought her a different one with the new drink in it. It was one of those concoctions that masks the taste of liquor entirely, but has a powerful kick to it. After a complete glass, Greta's face had a soft look to it. The phone rang. We got a good report on the father, and

Greta went to the bathroom.

When she came back to the sofa, she sat down and put her feet into my lap. Instinctively, I began massaging them. "Mmm," she said as she sat her second drink down and slid down into the sofa a little more. It was obvious that she had now removed her bra because her nipples were poking through the thin flannel. She raised her hands above her head and lay there. I continued to rub her feet, and she slid down a little more. By this time she had slid down so far that my hands were now on her legs rather than her feet.

Adjusting, I allowed myself to massage both feet and legs, stopping at the knees. Then I asked, "Would you like me to give your entire leg a massage?" She replied that she would. I then moved above the knee, careful to massage only the front of her thigh and the outside. Occasionally, I would allow my hand to go all the way to her hips and about halfway up the hips. Greta continued to sip on the drink I had made, and the fire began to die down a bit.

Finally, I said, "If you want to get the full benefit of this massage, you need to turn over and let me massage the back of your legs." She flipped over, and I knelt beside the sofa. I began at her feet and rubbed in one continuous movement all the way from her heels to her waist. As I did, I made milking movements with my fingertips, causing her muscles to relax. After a few of these, I began to linger more on her buttocks, massaging them, and moving outward as I did. I knew that the motion was actually spreading her butt cheeks apart. Then I separated her feet and on the next sweep up the leg, I allowed my thumbs to go to the inside of the thigh. Each time I did so, I moved the thumbs higher. Finally, I was not only spreading her butt cheeks but I also knew that the pressure was spreading her vaginal lips as well. It was at this stage of our interaction that I realized that she was not wearing panties.

I had Greta turn over again and began to massage her temples and her neck. Finally, I kissed her on the forehead and reached down her legs again, massaging the front of her legs up to the top of her pants. After several passes, I began to rub gently on her stomach. I loosened the two bottom buttons on her top and continued to rub her stomach. Then I slid my hand down the front of her pants and cupped her pussy. As I pulled my hand back up, I rubbed my middle finger across her clit. She made no response but posed no objection.

The next time I cupped her pussy, I lingered on the clit and rubbed it rapidly but without a lot of pressure. Then I slipped my hand inside her flannel bottoms and felt her moist and responsive. While I rubbed and stimulated her there, I kissed both breasts and with my teeth tweaked her nipples through the light flannel top. Then kissing her lips, I undid the remaining buttons on her top and put my mouth directly onto her breasts, nibbling, sucking, licking, and kissing.

Greta's breathing became more rapid, and her mouth more hungry. I parted my lips lightly and let my tongue touch her lips ever so lightly. She opened her mouth and responded by thrusting her tongue into my mouth and pulled my head to her so that our lips were pressed tightly.

I then slipped my thumbs inside her waistband and began to slid her bottom down. She lifted her hips off the sofa and exposed a beautiful tuft of blond hair just above her pussy, neatly trimmed into a landing strip pattern. I lifted her legs and put my head between them. She convulsed as I began to lick.

After a few moments, I brought my lips back to her breasts and mouth. My fingers resumed the clitoral stimulation. Then I slipped two fingers inside her and massaged her G spot while my thumb continued to massage her clit. I alternated, sometimes using that technique, and sometimes pulling the fingers out so that I could massage the clit rapidly. Her breathing continued to be rapid until she moaned loudly and with one long, continuous moan. When she opened her eyes and said, "Fuck me," I was already down to her knees. I raised her legs again and pushed the head of my penis between her lips. With only a few tentative strokes, I began to bring her juices out onto me. Finally, I thrust my dick inside her, full shaft.

She locked her legs around my hips and moaned as I made thrust after thrust. I had wanted her for years, and since I had already given her satisfaction, I wasn't too worried about how long I lasted. Within about five minutes, I felt myself rushing toward a climax. I pushed against her pussy as hard as I could, making as deep a penetration as I could. I unleashed a torrent of hot semen into her receptive pussy.

After catching our breath, we were such a mess that we went in and shared a shower together. I had to help her walk to the shower. I wasn't sure if it was the sex or the alcohol, but she was weak. Naked, we walked together down the hall and got into the shower. As I washed her, I felt my juices running out of her pussy and washed her thoroughly, kissing her from behind as I did.

After we had washed, we walked naked again back to the living room and out onto the patio. We stood naked beside the wrought iron railing and looked down at my fish pond, laughing at the movements of the fancy goldfish and other exotic fish in the pond. Then we walked back inside, and I helped her get back into her pajamas. I took her to the guest room and tucked her in. As I kissed her goodnight, I reached down and gave her sweet pussy a final cup and thought about how sweet it was when she was giving it to me an hour before.

The next morning, I rose early and fixed breakfast. Greta came down the hall still in the same bottoms I had put on her the night before. She had changed tops, however, and was wearing a tank top that was oversized and gave a good look at most of her breast from either side. When she got up and refilled my coffee, her nipples showed.

Breakfast finished, I offered to take care of the dishes while she got ready to go to the hospital. Nothing was mentioned about the previous night, but when she got up from the table, she reached down to her crotch and rubbed. "I must have fallen asleep and rolled over on the remote last night. I sure am sore down there." With that, she turned and walked down the hallway to the guest room. I knew that if she had a sore pussy, it was from the pounding I had given her, but I chose not to point that out.

I noticed as I passed down to the master bedroom that both the door to the guest bedroom and the door to the bathroom inside it were both standing open. I could hear the shower running and saw Greta's clothes laid out on the bed, slacks, sweater, panties, and bra. However, I decided not to push my luck since there was no liquor involved this morning. I quelled my growing erection and got dressed for the day.

I wondered though, is this a one-time thing or the beginning of something to be repeated over and over? One think I knew: Greta was just as hot as Anna, and I had the pleasure of having both.