My Sister-in-Law Denise

My wife Sam, and her sister Denise were practically inseparable.

Growing up they were only a couple years apart, and though they experienced their expected share of antagonism growing up where they “hated” one another, once into their 20s they were best friends.

We all got married early. Sam and I met while backpacking through Europe, and we married first. We suited each other perfectly. I’m about six foot. Medium build. The kind of guy that clothes are designed for. Some people need things tailored. I buy off the rack and make it look like it’s tailored. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Not bragging. Those are just the facts.

Sam is 5’4. Petite, “fun size” I call her. My little pocket rocket. Adorable, bright pixie face. Her natural hair color is a light brown, which means she can get away with coloring it anything she wants. At the point of the telling of this story, she had it shoulder length, a bit wavy, light ash in color and typically pulled back in a girl-next-door ponytail.

She’s got some hips on her, and sports a lovely c-cup. A perfect handful. Her booty matches her hips… a handful-and-a-half. Feet and hands to die for. Sparkly green eyes. There’s nothing, and I mean nothing not attractive about her. Except for maybe her willingness to get wild in the sack. She’s pretty vanilla. I like things a little rougher, but that tends to frighten her off, so I’m just working on her. Coaxing her into relaxing.

A year after Sam and I were married, not to be left behind, Denise and her high school sweetheart Brad were due to get married. They’d even set a date. Denise is a couple inches taller than Sam, and smaller in every other sense. Instead of c-cups she had b-cups. Instead of a healthy, bouncy booty, hers appeared to simply be nice and cup-able. I’d seen Brad grab it in both hands a few times, and it didn’t quite fill them… but Brad’s slightly bigger than I am, too.

Denise has long, thick black hair down to her middle back. That hair is her pride. She’s always messing with it. Sam has lighter skin, lighter hair… Denise is olive skinned and likes laying in the sun to get even darker, with dark brooding eyes. She has a real Mediterranean look about her.

When I originally met Denise, I regarded her as a bit of an oddity, but a hot one. Every family is different… especially from the one in which you grew up. I just figured that Denise was the most concentrated form of their family’s “difference” from mine.

Though a year older than Sam, she was juvenile, and very much ruled the roost. Most in the house let her get her way, which irritated me. The rest of the family bowed to her. I just didn’t let her rule me… much. She’d call names and crack jokes that were intended to hurt but came across innocently enough so that she’d never be taken to task for it.

Perfect example: My name is Jack. Her nickname for me from the start was “Jack Wagon”. Juvenile, right? It was irritating, but you couldn’t say anything about it because if you did, she’d sense your weak spot, and antagonise you more.

I let it go, and tried to ignore her.

She was also very… free. She’d talk openly about overtly sexual topics with her friends, her sister, even her parents. Like Sam, her parents were reasonably conservative, but it’s like she bucked the trend wherever she went. Whatever you thought she was going to do, or should do, she might just as soon end up doing the exact opposite.

Having said that, both girls “saved” themselves for marriage through their teens. Sam and I fooled around. Brad had told me he had with Denise, but I didn’t know if I believed it.

She made it pretty clear, even openly stating that I wasn’t good enough for Sam, and in reasonably short order, she became the one sticking point that could have seen me back out of a future with Sam.

But, that ship sailed. I loved Sam, and wanted her even if I had to put up with her crazy sister… and spiting Denise by marrying Sam against her wishes wasn’t too bad either.

The antagonism from that point got worse. Though, instead of trying to drive me away or scare me off marrying her sister, now that we were man and wife, it seemed to become far more about just making life miserable for me when she could.

I truly came to dislike her. Even hate her at times.

A short time after we were married, but before Denise and Brad were, I was over at their house. Denise was taking a shower and Sam and their parents were all at work. Sam and I had slept over after a family supper where we’d both had a little too much to drink. Sam had to work the next day but I had it off, and we only had one car. Sam had taken off even before I was up. Meanwhile, Denise was preparing for a late start at work.

She knew I was there, obviously.

Though she’d drunk heavily the night before as she typically did, we’d “spoken” to one another that day. She’d grunted her displeasure at seeing me as she staggered out of bed, at least. I’d grunted my displeasure right back at her, but still took the opportunity to check out the bit of her ass I could see squeezing out of her panties under her sleep shirt as she wandered off.

Like I said, she was in the shower. On her way in, she found me watching TV in the lounge room.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” she scoffed.

I rolled my eyes at her. “Apparently not.”

“Because you’re a looo-serrrr,” and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Time passed. She always took long showers. She frequently washed her hair, and given it was so long and thick, that took a while. Who knows what else she did in there, but I was happy to have a reprieve from her sour company.

The bathroom was on one end of the house. The lounge, where I was, connected the bathroom to the rest of the house. I knew she’d be out soon, because the water had stopped running about 10 minutes before and I’d heard her moving around behind the door. I suppressed a desire to make myself scarce while she crossed the living room, just so I didn’t have to interact with her.

Denise most frequently just let her long hair air dry. Today was different. She exited the bathroom with her hair rolled up in a towel, balancing perfectly on her head… and nothing else on.

I nearly choked on my spit when I saw her.

The first thing I thought was how hot she was. I mean, I can consider any woman hot, even if I hate her, as long as she’s naked and confidently strutting around, and Denise was doing just that. I saw her tan lines over her tits and pubic region laid bare for me. Her pale, small small handfuls of breasts were delicious, with pert, dark nipples that extended farther than average. Perfect, from the looks of it, for sucking into your mouth and rolling your tongue around.

Aside from my wife having a bit more of a booty, and Denise being slightly taller, they were exceptionally similar.

She and my wife since their teens were waxers. They hated excess hair on their bodies. They’d often wax each other. They’d become quite proficient in waxing, apparently. While my wife was bald from the neck down, Denise preferring a neatly trimmed landing strip of her natural black hair.

My mind was instantly cloudy with the sexual excitement of it all, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. Not thinking things like, “Why if every other time she’s left the bathroom she’s been reasonably attired is she today, almost entirely naked..?”

Like I said… not thinking clearly.

I was on a big lounge chair. Leather, with great big arm rests. I lounge very well. I had one leg slung over one arm rest, lying almost horizontal with my my elbow resting on the other arm rest, propping up my head.

Instead of walking straight passed me, Denise came and stood next to my chair, facing the TV.

“Watcha watching, Jack Wagon?” As if it was the most natural question she could ask.

“Uhhh, golf. You know you’re naked, right?”

She sighed loudly, “Golf is so boring… and it’s my house. I’ll do what I want whether you’re here or not. If you don’t like it, go away.” She then upped the ante rested a bare knee on my arm rest, like she was simply tired of holding herself up. Her smooth, naked thigh, leading up to her ass was now right in my line of sight. “Turn on something more exciting.”

My eyes were busy traipsing up the curve of her cheeks. I didn’t care what was on the TV.

“Um, like what?”

She sighed again, like I was a little annoying, “Gimme the remote.” In saying this, she reached right over in front of me, holding onto the back of the chair with one hand, and reaching with the other so that I was staring right at her perky, teardrop tits, and grabbed the remote. If I’d lent forward just a bit, I could have sucked one of her firm, dark nipples into my mouth.

I almost did.

I thought it would end there, but to my utter amazement she said, “Move over.”

Now, let’s recap. She’s naked, in the middle of the day, when she ordinarily wouldn’t be, and we’re the only ones in the house. There are at least three other chairs in the living room, and this particular chair is made for one, and she wants to sit on it with me.

Difficult as it was, at this point, I actually started thinking about my wife. We’re just married. I love and lust after her. She’s perfect and wonderful and I’m committed to her. And I’m now in a room alone, with her uncommonly naked sister and… well let’s just say this could get out of hand really quick.

I didn’t want to jeopardise anything with Sam. Plus, aren’t these two inseparable? What if Denise reports back what I dog I was with her, if I should act like a dog? What if this is some kind of trap? What if this was all planned and my faithfulness is being tested?

I had to put a stop to it, as delicately as I could.

“Denise,” I said looking deliberately passed her tits and into her eyes, “there’s like… three other places to sit.”

“Ohhh you think?” She was mocking me. “I’m aware moron. But, as I said this is my house, and as of this moment, you’re here at my pleasure. Plus, this is my favorite chair, and you know it. So… shove over.”

I noted that she didn’t tell me to use a different chair. She just wanted me to move over. So, I did.

She squeezed in next to me, practically resting her left thigh on my right thigh. I had no idea what to do with my hands so I put them in my lap. She kept wiggling and shifting like she was trying desperately to get comfortable.

“Ugh!” She sounded genuinely irritated. Though she was now naked with me on the same chair and signals seemed a bit green-for-go, she was still treating me like trash. “This isn’t comfy!”

And with that, she slung that silky tanned leg over my legs, and it actually landed on my hands.

Now, when you dislike someone, you spend a lot of time not touching them. At least I do. This is by far, the most Denise and I have ever touched… certainly the most skin of hers I’ve touched. So there she is, her legs parted, one of them slung over me, and she finally seems comfortable. My hands are trapped under her leg, and she starts flicking through the channels, staring intently at the TV.

“Move your hands,” she ordered.

I moved my left to the left arm rest, but with my right, where was I to put it?

“There’s nowhere to put my right hand.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “You’re such a prude.” With that, she grabbed my right hand, pulled it out from under her thigh, and laid over her thigh. My hand was now draped exceptionally close to her black landing strip. I could feel the silkiness of her inner thigh. My fingertips were brushing against it.

She was now lounging, but I was sitting bolt upright. She kept her eyes on the TV, seemingly ignoring me, but my eyes were roaming all over her.

She had legs just like Sam. Shapely, lovely. Sam had lighter skin, and I liked that. But I also liked Denise’s tanned skin. Their tits were almost identical. As I said, Sam had more booty, but Denise had a little more height.

I wondered if their pussies felt the same. How far did the similarities go? But, it was like she could read my thoughts. She turned her head and glared at me.

“Don’t get any ideas, pervert.”

I was first off indignant. She was the one who was draped naked over me. It’s not like I barged in on her. What the hell was this girl even playing at?? I’d truly had enough. I was being gaslit on a whole new level. So, I decided to antagonize her right back.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, as I deliberately stroked her soft thigh with my fingers.

She got irritated with holding the weight of the towel on her head and took it off, drying her hair with it as she went. Her tits bounced with the motion of it.

“Knock it off, Jack Wagon.” When she was finished, she threw the towel onto the floor.

I smirked at her. She glared back. “Or what?”

My touching got more deliberate, closer to her snatch. I could feel the heat of it.

“Stop,” she ordered, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

“Okay,” I kept stroking her. Slowly, gently, but always deliberately closer. Now I could feel the soft, but bristly curled hair of her landing strip against the top of my hand. I could also feel the skin of her pubic mound.

We held each other’s gaze. Neither one backing down.

Her voice lowered. Though we were the only ones in the house, it’s like she didn’t want to be heard. “If you touch me, I’ll scream.”

“I’m already touching you Denise.” I now put my hand directly over her landing strip, resting my forearm on her belly. My fingers hadn’t touched anything, yet. But they were about to.

“You know what I mean,” she growled, but even as she did so, she slouched in her seat, giving me better access. I could see her starting to breathe quicker. She was either really angry, or getting aroused. She certainly sounded angry.

I started… slowly… shifting my hand down her pubic mound, fingers getting closer to her opening, wondering if I’d find it slippery.

“You want me to make you scream, Denise?”

“Don’t, Jack!” she whispered at me, like I was an impertinent child in church. But, I noted she didn’t call me ‘Jack Wagon’. Her hand that was holding the remote was shaking slightly. Her breathing fast. But still, her eyes looked like she wanted to murder me.

“Ready, Denise?” I mocked.

“FUCK-…” She started…

And in one move, I cleared the distance and ran my middle finger down the wet, bloomed slit of her pussy. She inhaled sharply twice, clenched the remote and her hips bucked, but she kept her eyes on mine.

“…-YOU!” Her voice veritably shook with rage.

“Mmmm. Nice and wet.” I was now stroking her plump lips, up and down the length of her pussy, smearing her copious lubricant around and over her steaming cunt. Her pubic hair stopped at her clit hood. Everything else was bald. I liked that.

And from what I could tell, she did feel just like her sister.

With her close hand, she reached out and grasped the upper arm of the hand stroking her pussy, poised to dig her nails into me. “If you don’t stop, I’ll scratch the fuck out of you.”

“Ha! And?” I scoffed at her, continuing the parade of my fingers up and down her slippery slit.

“My sister will find out what you did,” she threatened. But with each stroke of my fingers, her hips slightly rose to meet them, almost coaxing them further in.

In control I had total clarity, “You could just tell her, you know. No need to get violent… unless you like that.”

For a brief moment, a look of fear, of being ‘found out’ passed over her face. I leered back at her as my deviant engines fired up.

“Ahhh. I see.” I reached over with my other hand to an exposed nipple, gently gripped it in between my index and thumb… plunged my middle and ring finger into her sopping pussy, curling them up to grind my palm against her clit and massage her g-spot… and pinched her nipple… hard. Twisting it in my finger.

“Ahhhhhaaaahhhhhh!!” She threw her head back and dropped the remote, exhaling long and slow, like she’d been waiting forever for relief, gripping my arm, but not with her nails… just trying to hold herself up.

She was shaking, almost convulsing. She sought control over her body, but I pumped my fingers into her and grabbed her other nipple, doing the same to it after leaving the other red and swollen. Under the towel she bucked her hips to meet my hand.

I released her nipple and slowed my fingers, allowing her initial shaking to subside.

“Get up,” I ordered.

“Mmmph!” She moaned, throwing off the towel and standing like she couldn’t obey quick enough. I repositioned myself to the middle of the seat. She was standing in front of me, facing away, ass in my face.

“Sit!” I commanded.

Down her bare ass came, right on my lap. My cock was hard. I was wearing some loose fitting basketball shorts, and my cock was now sandwiched right between her plump cheeks.

“Grind it,” I cooed.

“No!” She shouted in defiance. She could have left at any time, and she knew it. I told her to get up, she could have just gone out of the room. She could be screaming. She could be calling the police, her sister, her parents. She wasn’t.

She was just being a defiant little bitch who needed to be tamed.

I reached up and gripped her around the throat, pulling her back against my chest and forcing her head to lay on my shoulder. I gently slapped her exposed tits and gripped her nipples roughly.

“Ahh! AHH! AHH!” She wailed in painful ecstacy.

“Grind. My. Cock.”

This was an order she could take. She grabbed the arm rests and began working me, back and forth, slathering my shorts with her pussy juice.

She was breathing heavy… I was still restricting her breathing… she was exerting herself, grinding her cunt into my cock through my shorts. She was definitely stimulating the both of us in doing so, but I had other plans.

With her head on my shoulder I could now whisper right into her ear. Her back was arched, her tits thrust out, nipples ready for whatever I might want to do to them.

I wanted to flick them. Hard. Like I was flicking a marble. My fingernail hit her sensitive tits one after the other a few times.

“Ahhhrrrr..!! MMMM! OHhhhhh!… FUCK… FUCK…Ungghh!”

Her breathing was heavy, fast, ragged. I opened her air passage slightly.

“Youuu…” she panted, “..fucking… bastard…”

“Mmmmm,” I purred in her ear, “Don’t try to pretend you don’t love it. You could be clawing my face right now. Your hands are free.”

Almost as if she remembered at that point she had hands, one of them shot up and grabbed the back of my head. But she wasn’t clawing me. She was running her fingers through my hair, holding my face to her ear like she never wanted me to stop.

“Now…”

“MMMmmm?” she moaned.

“Spread your legs.. wide.”

She responded so quickly to direct, authoritative orders. It’s like she’d been in charge of the house for so long… even Brad she kept under her thumb. She just needed someone to come in and dominate her for a change.

She frantically spread her tanned legs and hooked a knee over each armrest.

Keeping my hand around her throat, my other hand roamed her body. I felt the smooth breast tissue of her upper chest, down to her lovely soft globes, massaging each one in turn. Changing from rough, to tender. My cock throbbed between her cheeks.

But it wasn’t tender she wanted. Her hand on my head gripped my hair and her other hand slapped away my touch.

Next to her face, my eyes hardened. “Fine, you bratty little bitch. You want it rough, huh?”

“Yes!”

That was her first affirmative statement about this whole experience. She wanted me to be rough with her.

I tightened my grip on her throat and she let out guttural, delighted laugh.

I began slapping her titty flesh, hard, one after another. She squealed with every slap.