Chapter 8
Willa has turned it back to me now. She said she enjoyed writing what she did, but doesn't want to do any more. She's being very secretive, won't show me anything she's written and only smiles when I ask her about it. She said I could just wait and read it if and when our book ever gets published. I told her I ought to know the incidents she told about so I wouldn't tell them myself, but she wouldn't give in and suggested I check with her before I get too far into any of our escapades.
Everything has turned out so well that I'm going along with her. Actually, I was going to let her read the finished manuscript before I sent it off. I'd never think of revealing such personal things about her without her consent. Willa is a wonderful girl, and I love and respect her too much for that. It's just that I wanted to get it all down and be sure it sounded right before I told her what I was doing.
Oh, well, enough of this. I just thought I ought to explain, in case our separate parts seem a bit jerky. Willa says I should be sure to include our midnight motorcycle ride -- so I'll do that right now ...
It was toward the end of last summer, and all around El Paso everything was very hot and dry. I get lazy as the dickens in weather like that. It was Wednesday evening and I'd been up to Las Cruces for three calls, hadn't sold a one of them and didn't particularly care. They'd gone fast though, so I got home early, about seven, I think it was.
I pulled into the drive and nearly ran over the damned things before I noticed them -- two motorcycles, sitting in front of our garage as big as you please. The garage door was closed, so I figured Willa's Mustang was put away. (It's her first car and she nearly always puts it in the garage overnight.)
What would you think if you arrived home three hours earlier than usual and saw two motorcycles parked in your driveway? Well, that's what I thought, too. As I climbed from my car, my imagination went flying. Not one motorcycle, but two! Could that mean my wife was cheating on me with a couple of crude young studs? My senses reeling, I charged in expecting to catch her in the act and whip up on all three of them.
I was angry. I'd told her she could have a casual affair every now and then if she wanted to (after the night a blond shoe salesman came to our house one time) just so long as she asked me ahead of time. She'd had one -- with her boss while they were in Chicago on business. She'd asked me before they went if she could sleep with him should it work out that way, and since I'd met him and liked him, I told her sure. He didn't know I'd given her permission, of course, and Willa told me all about it when she got home -- in fact, she and I had a pretty good romp ourselves because she really laid it on thick and I got hot hearing her tell about it -- but this was different! To my knowledge she didn't know any guys with bikes, so I figured she'd let herself get picked up. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd discovered what I feared -- that my wife was balling a couple of motorcycle freaks -- when I hurried down the hall and stormed into our bedroom. Killed them, maybe, because I was boiling.
The steam faded rapidly as I stopped short and stared dumbly at the empty bed. I felt like a fool then, recalling Willa had told me that morning she was going bowling with the new ladies' league they were getting together in the building where she worked. My suspicious mind made me feel bad. I don't know why I'd jumped to the conclusion my wife was cheating on me. Because of the way she'd described the night in Chicago with her boss, I guess, but I should have known she wouldn't do anything without checking it out with me first. She's made it very plain that I'm the number one man in her life, and I felt like kicking my own ass for having doubted it even briefly.
But I hadn't imagined those bikes parked in front of the garage, and I couldn't figure them. The rest of the house proved just as empty as the bedroom. It puzzled me till I happened to glance out the kitchen window. There in the shade of our droopy weeping willow tree, which stands only a few feet past the patio, lay two sleeping people. Instantly I was boiling again. Of all the nerve, I thought, yanking open the back door to go out and give the bastards a piece of my mind before I ran them out of the yard.
They lay on top of their sleeping bags, both of them sound asleep, making themselves right at home. Stifling the outraged yell before it left my throat, I stopped short at the edge of the patio. One of them seemed vaguely familiar. She had her back to me, so I couldn't see her face, but her long, light-brown hair looked soft and hauntingly out of my past. Ignoring the dark-skinned young man snoring loudly beside her, I walked quietly around so I could get a look at the girl's face.
"Becky!" I blurted.
It was my older sister, by three years, whom I hadn't seen for nearly four years. To say I was surprised is putting it mildly. The last I'd heard, Becky was in New York making a name for herself as an up-and-coming commercial artist.
Becky opened her eyes and smiled up at me, then yawned and stretched catlike. "Surprised to see me, Bubba?"
I put my hands on my hips and frowned. "I'll say, you nut!"
She sat up and stretched some more, making those soft little sounds in her throat which I remembered from when we used to sleep together -- before Mom found out we were doing more than sleep and put me on the couch.
"You don't seem very pleased."
"I am, Becky. I'm delighted!"
She put her finger to her lips and motioned to the guy with a toss of her head.
"Who is he?" I whispered.
"My husband. Arturo Sanchez. Isn't that a name, though?"
"You're finally married?"
She held out her hands. I took them and pulled her to her feet.
"Damn, it's good to see you!" I murmured, looking into her hazel eyes. "Tell me what else you've been doing, and about your old man."
She hugged me tight and kissed me. It was like old times with her tongue darting around in my mouth and her tits mashed against my chest. She was my sister and I'd sworn never to touch her again, but I couldn't make my prick stay down. The first cunt it'd ever been in was calling it to attention and it snapped to like a true soldier.
"Oh, Bubba," she sighed, drawing back and putting her hand between us to fondle my hard organ. "God, it's been a long time! Where's your wife?"
"Bowling, but quit that, will you? We know better now."
"Don't be a square all your life, brother mine. Take me in the house and give me a little of this thing! "
"You always were a nut," I said fondly, taking her hand and leading her toward the house. "What about, Arturo? Just leave him there?"
"Art. Call him Art."
"What if he wakes up, though?"
"So? He knows about us. He's a free soul, like me."
"Well, Willa doesn't know about us ... and I don't want her to," I said as we passed through the kitchen.
"Willa," she said, lingering over the name. "Sounds pretty."
"She is ... very pretty, Becky."
"Call me sis. You used to call me sis when we made it."
"Okay, sis ... but we shouldn't make it. . . not really."
We were in the bedroom by then, and Becky had her long-sleeved shirt off. She backed to me so I could unhook her bra, saying, "Feel guilty later if you have to, Bubba. But not now. Jesus, I've been wanting you something awful for months!"
Then the bra slid down her arms and I had the first tits I'd ever sucked in my hands and her soft butt was grinding into me as she undid the fly of her snug men's Levi's.
"Oh, sis ... sis!" I gasped, squeezing my fingers into her big tits, finding them every bit as good as I'd remembered. My face rubbed her hair of its own volition, and I suddenly realized where my thing about Willa's hair had started.
"Still love me, Bubba?"
She chuckled as she pulled away from me and sat on the side of the bed. "Help me off with my boots."
Becky stuck out both legs and I tugged her boots off, then her socks. My hands trembled as I grasped the cuffs of her Levi's and pulled them down her legs, leaving her clad in only a pair of lacy panties. She raised her hips and smiled, waiting for me to take her panties off too. I couldn't get them off her fast enough. She'd put on a few pounds since I'd last seen her, and it looked very good on her.
"Bubba, Bubba, sweet Bubba," she chanted, obviously liking the sound of my childhood nickname, sitting up quickly and working at my belt and fly as I unbuttoned my shirt. Then my pants and shorts fell around my ankles and she grabbed my throbbing rod with her hands, asking, "Shall I kiss it for you? You used to like that."
"I like it even more now," I sighed, feeling her lips and the tip of her dainty tongue going at me as I spoke.
I let my shirt slip down my arms and fall silently to the floor, then stood there with my pants bunched around my ankles, watching Becky's head move lazily as she licked all over my dick. I'd been fifteen and she eighteen the last time we'd balled each other, and her tongue was better educated than then.
She looked up at me, talking with the tip of my glans between her lips, "I'd have married you if you weren't my brother, Burt. I'll always love you ... always!"
I caressed her face with my hands. "I know, sis. I still love you, too."
"Oh, Bubba, Bubba," she sighed.
Then she couldn't speak, because she was clinging to the cheeks of my ass and taking my spit-covered rod deep into her hungry little mouth. Her lips distended softly around my shaft and her cheeks hollowed in suction as she bobbed her head faster and faster.
Glad that she hadn't asked me if I loved her more than my wife -- the way she used to with my first girl friends -- I shut my eyes and let her go. I didn't love her more. I could never love anyone the way I did Willa, but I didn't want to have to tell Becky that.
Her mouth was too good. I don't know if she intended to take me all the way, but she kept right on sucking when my dick started twitching, so I buried my fingers in her hair and held her face against my body as I groaned and inundated her gulping throat with squirt after squirt of my load.
A string of come fell on her lower lip as she slurped off my limbering dong. She looked contented and happy as her pink tongue reached out and licked it into her mouth.
"That was sweet, Bubba ... so sweet!"
"Mmm."
"You're a man now. God, you really gave me a big, sweet drink!"
"I didn't intend to go off in your mouth, sis."
"I didn't plan it, either. But I couldn't stop sucking your delicious peter."
"You want me to kiss you? I still remember how you like it done."
"Oh, you sweet thing! Yes ... but maybe I'd better clean up first. I haven't had a bath in two days -- we've been roughing it -- and Art made love to me in my sleeping bag this morning. It's up to you."
"Lie back, sis," I said, trembling with the memory of how thrilling it'd been that night long ago when I ate her fresh from a heavy date and her cunt still tasted of sex juices.
"It's like old times, isn't it, Burt?" she asked dreamily, scooting to the center of the bed and lying down with her legs wide apart.
I kicked off my wrinkled trousers and lay down with my face in her crotch. Her fingers crept in and spread her hairy lips for me. The smell was strong but not unpleasant. I inhaled it, then moaned softly as I covered her cunt with my lips and thrust my tongue in as deep as I could.
"Ohhh ... oh, Bubba! " she gasped, tensing at first, then hunching my mouth and clasping her slender fingers around the back of my head in an effort to get even more tongue.
The taste of her pussy was stronger than the smell. It excited me terribly, and I sucked so hard part of her insides were drawn into my mouth.
"It'll always be this way with us, won't it?" she panted.
I grunted and kept right on sucking and tonguing. By the time I pushed her into her first orgasm, my penis was up and ready for more action. She was right in the middle of her come when I smacked a wet kiss dead center of her spasming twat and leaped on top of her. Remembering how my sister liked it all at once. I slammed in hard, driving it to the hilt and hearing my balls splat snugly into her hot anus.
She gasped brokenly, "Bubba! Sweet, Bubba!" Then she threw her arms around me and hooked her calves over my legs, rotating her pelvis as she plunged nonstop into a second and more intense orgasm, moaning through it all, "Oh, darling ... good cock ... best I've ever had!"
Sis liked it rough, so I gave it to her that way. I waited till she stopped coming, then screwed her fast and hard till both of us broke out with sweat and we forgot about everything in the world except the bliss of our abandoned union. She sounded as if she'd die when we hurtled into the total bliss of a simultaneous climax. Right at the height of our joy, Willa came tripping into the bedroom asking:
"Whose motorcycles are those out there? Whups! Well, goddamn it! I hope I'm not interrupting anything!"
When I could, and it took several seconds, I imagine, I rolled off and introduced my wife and sister.
For a moment Willa stared dumfounded at us. The dazed expression on her face made me wonder if I'd just crapped in my nest. Then she smiled and came toward us and my fears drained away. A sigh of relief escaped my relaxing throat as Willa shook Becky's hand and bent to kiss her damp forehead.
As I've said, Willa is a truly wonderful girl. Her reaction to catch my sister and I in the act proved it again. She merely shooed us out of bed and into the shower, asking what we'd like for supper as she laid out towels for us to dry each other with. And after supper, at which she made Becky and Art feel right at home, I'm damned if she didn't take Art back and have a shower with him. Becky and I could hear them laughing and having a gay old time as they soaped each other. Then neither of them was laughing, and I could hear a rhythmic thumping I imagined was my wife's butt against the shower wall. Becky and I smiled and left them alone.