The Nasty Wife

When we pulled into the driveway, none of us spoke. The headlights died and the entrance to the garage became darkness. With the rattling of keys, the engine was next to cease, and the silence thereafter was deafening.

"It's over," I thought aloud.

"Yeah," the barely visible figure, my sister, added from the backseat. "Going back to real life is going to be... weird."

"What are you two going on about?"

"It's like you... changed me," Katy confessed, "but now you're leaving, and I'm going to wake up tomorrow, go to class, and come back home to Mom like none of this even happened."

"For someone so eager to call it quits," Miranda noted, "you're talking like you're let down now that you've gotten what you wanted."

"It's not the same, though. I'm not the same..."

"Maybe we'll visit more often?" Miranda looked to me, and a stray moonbeam caused her glasses to shine.

"Yeah, of course," I agreed. "It's not like we're never seeing each other again."

"But that's not..." her words drifted into confused contemplation.

"It's not what?" I tried to get her to say.

"You're going away again, and now I've got an even bigger hole in my heart than before because of it. Visits are just visits, and even if you come around more often, it's not the same."

"What's she talking about?" my wife interrogated me.

"I know you have to go," Katy sniveled, "but I don't want you to leave me."

"I, uh..." I'd no idea what to say.

"You sound like we're breaking up with you," Miranda joked, though I could hear in her inflection that she was unnerved by the girl's emotiveness.

"I'm just so confused..." my sister proceeded to exclaim. "About you, about myself, and I don't know what I'm going to do."

My spouse, unable to handle emotions, froze up and couldn't say anything. I was in a similar position, though I knew I had to at least try to speak. "It'll be okay, Katy," I said. "Things can go back to the way they were now—"

"But I don't want them to go back to the way they were before, don't you see that? I... I think I love you."

The door on the driver's side opened and Miranda stepped out, closing it behind her with somewhat of a slam, though not angrily so. We watched as she lingered briefly before treading the walkway to the porch and taking a seat upon the swinging bench which hung there, waiting for us to finish our conversation.

"Is she mad at me?" my sibling whimpered.

"I don't know," I admitted. "She's not good at stuff like this."

"Do I chase after her?"

"What—"

"I just said 'I love you' and she left. Doesn't she see what she's done to me, or what she's doing to me? Shit, I'm crying."

"Katy, who is the 'you' you're talking about?"

"I...I don't know."

"It's not me, is it?" the implications were overwhelming.

"It is, but... It's just... Ugh," she groaned, frustrated and upset.

"It's just," I picked up where she left off, "you meant her too, didn't you?"

"She made me feel something I've never felt before, and now I'm afraid I'll never feel it again."

"Are you talking about like... attraction to other girls, or?"

"No, you idiot," she went to slug me but hit the seat instead, "I meant when she was talking to me like..."

"Like what, when she was calling you a lesbian and a dyke?"

"She was so sweet and warm to me, and it made me feel so weak, like my heart was melting and I'd lights in my chest and butterflies in my stomach..."

"Katy, she was trying to sexually confuse you. Don't you see that she was just playing with you because it excited her?"

"No—but—she was... and I..."

"Is this like Stockholm syndrome or something, where she made you do stuff against your will—"

"It wasn't against my will; I just didn't know I wanted it until she said it."

"Whatever you think it was, Katy," I tried to get her mind straight, "it's not. It was like roleplaying, just... crazier."

"I want to hear her say it, then."

"What—"

"Go get her," the sobbing creature demanded. "I don't believe you; I want to hear it from her."

My door popped open and I stood without it shutting, waving to get Miranda's attention, beckoning her near. The swing was left swaying after her departure, and she descended the wooden steps before wandering over. She'd a hand in her pocket, the other adjusting her glasses.

"You two done yet?" was her inquiry as she approached.

"Uh, I think Katy wants to talk to you."

The window was rolled down and my wife rested her arms there as she greeted the girl. "Yeah—"

She was interrupted and I couldn't immediately see why. I ducked back into the car and my heart pounded when I saw in the dim light my sister having seized her, their lips sliding together. The blonde was desperately kissing her, an arm locked around her torso and the hand of the other gripping the side of her face. I nearly staggered from the sight, and I couldn't tell if Miranda returned the gesture or not, because all I could see was her face, more so illuminated than Katy's, being intimately embraced. Then, the faint smacking of lips ended, and they split.

"Why did you do that?" the brunette was flabbergasted, thick frames sideways and lopsided.

"It was the only way for me to tell you everything I had to say at once."

"But it was so... gay."

"...I'm your little gay girl, remember?"

"Katy, it was just lust," I could hear the sound of my sibling's heart being broken. "I say some filthy things when I'm turned on, and I'm sorry," Miranda continued before pausing. "...I'm married to your brother."

The wife had to back away when the door opened. My sister stepped out, wiping her eyes, and it was shut, like mine was moments afterwards. She took a few wobbly steps, found her balance, adjusted her clothes, and headed for the front door, purse slung over her shoulder. She retrieved a key and found her way inside, where I, by this time, had circled around the vehicle to meet with Miranda. She was silently touching her lips.

She turned and started chasing after the girl, I following her in the exact same way.

"You look like you've been crying, dear," was what we entered to hear my mother empathetically exclaim, holding onto Katy by the shoulders. "And your mascara, it's running down your face. What happened?"

"It was just a sad movie, Mom."

"Aw, sweetheart... Here, let me get that for you." She looked right at me as she dabbed the fresh tears from her daughter's face. "But baby," she gasped when her eyes fell upon the shivering thing in her nearness, "you're still crying."

"They didn't get together in the end," her snivels became sobs and she buried her head in our mother's bosom.

After tending to Katy, who was consoled enough to take a seat at the kitchen table, face down and nestled in her arms, Mom motioned for me to join her in the hallway. I looked at Miranda, who gave me a terrified look, and then, realizing I was panicking probably even harder than she, followed the woman I feared most at that moment.

"What did you do to her?" she was grave. "You obviously didn't take her to see a movie. What, did you go out drinking and something happened?"

"No, I—"

"Let me smell your breath," my mother pulled me close, held my mouth open, and sniffed before letting me go. "Okay, then, so you're not drunk. Is she?"

"No, ma'am..."

"Then what'd you do to her, huh? Why's she crying like that?"

"It wasn't me," I stammered, unsure if that was the truth or not, though thinking it to be at the time.

"Then who was it? Tell me what happened... now."

When I glanced back to glimpse my wife, she was gone. I could hear murmuring, so I assumed she'd gone to comfort Katy. With no choice, trying desperately to think of a single lie, I had to face those piercing eyes, of which demanded answers to questions I dreaded.

"It's not my right to tell you her business," I grew confident as I realized how saying something so atrocious made it sound almost genuine, "but she just had a nasty breakup. It happened when we were in the driveway, no less."

"I don't believe you," she saw right through me. "Tell me, then, what story am I going to hear if I ask her, huh?"

With that, she passed me, and I trailed her to the kitchen, where Miranda sat across from Katy.

"What happened?" now the question was posed to who would probably answer it truthfully.

My wife grabbed the girl's hand and squeezed, and it caused the distraught blonde to verbally stagger. "I—I, uh..." She looked to me and I was begging her please behind Mom's back. "I—"

Cutting her off, I was hoping she'd affirm my fiction. "I told you, Mom, she just had a bad breakup. Can't you just leave her alone?"

"I wasn't asking you," the middle-aged woman didn't even look in my direction as she scolded me, knowing my antics for what they were.

"Katy, don't you think our house is closer to your campus?" my deviant spouse chimed in.

"What?" my crying sibling sniveled.

"You have to catch the bus to get there, don't you? Well, I was just thinking, since we live closer, and because I pass it every day on my way to work, wouldn't it be so much easier if you stayed with us? We could carpool. I mean, I'm sure there are times when your mom wishes she had a little privacy. So, you wouldn't want to stay over, if even for a little while?"

"I could pack a suitcase..."

"It's settled, then," the brunette triumphantly announced. "Well, unless anyone else has any objections?" she looked to my mother and me.

"I mean, it's sudden," I choked out, reluctant though aware this was the solution to our immediate problem, "but I know we've been saying all night how it sucks that we never get to see each other that often, so... Would it be cool if Kate stayed with us for a while, Mom?"

The sudden change in conversation perplexed the oblivious woman who'd almost gotten to the bottom of our terrible deeds. "Hang on a second now—"

"I don't need my mother's permission," my sister dried her tears and her face was lit up. "I'll go get a few things and then..." she stood up and was already hurrying to her room.

"Hey, I want some answers, young lady," Mom was at her heel, though I let the two go, knowing we'd successfully converted Katy to our side.

"Holy fuck," I sighed in relief when my wife and I were alone in the kitchen, clutching my chest. "That took twenty-five off my life."

"Almost getting caught gave me such a rush," Miranda groaned. "It's like we're murderers or something on the brink of getting found out."

"That's exactly what it felt like, well said."

"I feel invincible," she went on, her voice lowered but firm. "I bet she wouldn't even catch us if you fucked me here and now."

"No," I laughed, feeling unnerved again already, "we'd definitely get caught if we tried something like that."

"You're right, it's too extreme. Maybe if I jerk you off, I can do it fast enough that you cum before they return."

"There is no way in sweet merciful fuck, Miranda. That's like getting out of the frying pan just so you can throw yourself into the fires of hell."

"What do you propose, then? You could try fingering me, but you'd cum faster than I would, no offense, so let's go for that instead."

"How long do you think they'll be gone?" I asked rhetorically. "They're not even that far away, and you can almost see into the kitchen from the hallway anyway. It's too risky."

"That's why it's hot, Hun," she informed me, grinding her thighs. "And she's a girl, so you know it's going to take forever. She's got to get her makeup, her clothes, her toiletries, and anything else she decides she might need. We could be sitting here for twenty minutes."

"She nearly told on us," I reminded my rutting wife. "We were this close from everything crashing down around our heads."

"And I saved our asses, too, didn't I?"

"You did..." If it were only me, I realized things would've turned out a lot different.

"Then get it out, and hurry up, you're wasting valuable time."

"But where would I even cum?"

"That's a good question," she responded, thinking it over. "How about you take out your dick, I'll slip my pants down just enough so you can rub it between my thighs, and then you cum on my cunt."

"Holy hell," I swore. "Miranda, that's a lot more than just a hand-job. Why don't you understand that we'd get caught for sure?"

"Sit down," she pushed me into a chair, "and then I'll stand in front like this, so I can look around the corner to see if anyone is coming. Now," she grabbed at my belt when we were in her suggested position, "we hurry to get you to bust as fast as we can, and then it's over before you know it."

"Just hand stuff," I surrendered.

"Just hand stuff," she promised after my button and zip were undone, pulling my prick from its restrictive prison. "See? It's not so bad," she started to stroke, taking a brief glance around the wall that barely concealed us, "and no one's coming."

I fell into a stupor as she pumped, sensitive and vulnerable from having been so aroused watching her and my sister, copious amounts of pre-cum dribbling from my tip, lubricating slightly her hand and grip, causing it to squelch when she tugged and pulled. My breathing became shallow, I felt feverish, and I requested she look again. We were alone, but my heartbeat I could still feel palpitating throughout my entire body. My chest felt like it was being pounded on like a literal drum. Then, to my horror, she started pulling down her own pants, and was advancing with her pelvis protruding in my direction, where I could see her exposed vulva.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, trying to fix her vesture.

"I just want to rub it a little. Come on, don't be such a prude. We've come this far, what's a little farther? I'm telling you, babe, they're going to be gone awhile. Just give in; I'll do all the work. I've got this, I promise."

"Then you better hurry the fuck up, because I'm about to have a goddamn heart attack over this shit."

With an intentional "whoopsie", she sat down upon my cock, sheathing it to the hilt. My mouth opened wide, and I was pushing at her abdomen and chest, awestruck from the feeling of the hottest, tightest embrace smothering and swallowing my every inch in purest, rawest ecstasy. In sudden movements, she thrust forward and backward, not upwards or downwards, grinding hard upon me as I lay as deep within her depth as I might be. Her movements were so slow, but the chair still squeaked, or until she rest her foot against one of the wooden rods connecting together its legs, holding it thusly in perfect place. Arching her back, she leaned to see the hallway, and when no one approached to catch us, went back to discretely, though intensely, humping me.

"Miranda..." I wanted to talk some sense into her.

"I'm fucking you in your mother's kitchen, and she could catch us any minute," she hissed salaciously, so close that her infernal breath rolled out onto my neck.

"Stop, we really are going to get caught if—"

"That nasty fucking cunt around your dick... Mm, baby, do you like your whore fucking you so raunchy like that, huh? And knowing the last pussy this cock tasted was your sister makes my clit throb. Fuck, it's hot enough to make my pussy clench. Can you feel that sick shit, baby? Doesn't that make you want to nut?"

"Miranda, please..." I pleaded. "Fuck, it feels so good, though."

"Are you close?"

"We've only just started... But," I started pulling up on her body as it overpowered mine, "that's enough. I admit, this is hot, unbelievably so, but you've got what you wanted, to fulfill the fantasy of fucking me here where they could walk in on us anytime. But they are really going to if you don't stop."

"Ass-play," she announced, kissing right under my ear, to then nibble upon it.

"What—"

"If I stick a finger in your ass, especially when you're this deep inside me, you'll explode like a firework."

"Please don't, you know I'm not into stuff like that."

"Just this once, Hun, then we'll never do it again. My fantasy isn't complete until they either catch us or you cream-pie me. It's one or the other, so pick one."

"Are you sure this'll work?" I was afraid it would, dreading being touched in that way almost as much as I dreaded being discovered in our lewd, exhibitionist activities.

"If it doesn't, I'll work you until it does," was her promise.

"Hurry up..."

After receiving my permission, she lathered a finger up in the lubricants that poured from her hole and left my hardness drenched. Then, she reached back, and I closed my eyes. Gradually, I felt the most vivid sensation of her swirling her wet finger around my anus. Nothing hurt, or at least not yet. When she'd readied me, I felt a prodding, and then an entry. I gripped her finger tighter than she gripped me, and I felt my every throb pulsing about her penetration from the inside out. Suddenly, my length was twice as sensitive, causing her vaginal muscles and their compression around me to liquefy my knees and dissolve my body into sweaty, quivering raptures.

Luckily, her cunt was too much for me to handle, and before she could start fingering me, the very thought of her doing such a thing so abhorrent, I climaxed. My rectum sealed airtight, letting up briefly during the short intervals of the pulsations which emptied my balls up into her. My orgasm was full and deep, where I felt as though I was releasing that which had built up in my scrotum to replace that which I was to normally lose, the semen that had no intention on being otherwise emitted. Whenever I finished, the act of discharge being longer than I remembered, she waited for me to relax before exiting. I shuddered when she started sucking her finger, though I was thankful for good hygiene.

"See? It wasn't so bad," Miranda noted as she dismounted. "And look at that creamy, cum filled pussy, baby," she then proudly said, displaying the frothing, aforementioned orifice I'd just deposited into. "Almost good enough to eat—"

The sound of a door opening interrupted whatever her implication was. As my eyes went wide, she was already buttoning her trousers, though pulling at her crotch to fix the panties that clung awkwardly to her sopping, leaking crotch. I followed her lead, and she backed into the wall as I stood, careful not to take a single step forward, because that would cause my approaching mother and sister to see me with my pants practically at my ankles. Because my wife finished dressing before I, she'd me doing my belt as she did my zipper. Our fingers almost tangled when we each dove for the button, but the voices coming were literally right around the corner. I pulled my shirt down and my partner in debauchery was seated inconspicuously by my side. Not even—

"I hope this isn't too much," Katy grunted as she dragged a large, bulging suitcase into view. "As you can see," she pointed to the enormous luggage, where everything she owned was most likely stuffed into one container, "it's just a thing or two. You know... the essentials. Hey," she looked at me, "why are you sweating?"

"It's perfect, Katie dear," Miranda intervened as I wiped my burning face on my sleeve, "just as long as it's not too little. Are you certain you've got everything?" She then put her finger to her lips, the gesture dissolving into rubbing under her nose when my mom revealed herself.

"Are you guys sure it's okay that she stays with you?" the middle-aged woman asked. "You know, because you're... married."

"Mom!" my sister caught the innuendo. "Don't be gross, god...!"

"It'll be fine," her daughter-in-law reassured her, laughing and shaking her head. "I think the only pain in the ass will be big bro over here," she looked at me and I could see that she thought herself to be a god. "You know, because of work."

"Work...?" I was too focused on her deviousness to comprehend the second meaning to her words.