My wife's younger sister, Bess (1)

Word Count: 7180
My Wife's Sister Bess
(Part 1)
I've read many articles, and I've always thought they were just stories, experiences that normal people could never have. But I have to admit, I was wrong.
My wife passed away from cancer eight years ago. We fell in love in high school and got married early. We've always been loyal to each other, and I still miss her every day.
Our home is just across the street from my wife's sister Bess and her husband's. Speaking of Bess's husband, he's a notoriously lazy and stupid guy. He never works, yet he's always complaining, ordering people around, and always looks angry. Why Bess chose to be with him has always been a mystery in our family.
I'm about to turn 50, and I haven't made any plans for this special half-century. I realize that, like the past seven birthdays without Susan, I'll spend the day lying at home watching TV. For various reasons, I haven't pursued a new relationship since Susan left. I really dislike the atmosphere of bars, and the only employees at my company are two young women in their twenties, restless and uneasy.
My wife's younger sister, Beth, called to ask about my birthday plans.
"Nothing," I said.
"You're turning fifty and you're not going to celebrate at all?" she asked.
I told her I had no interest in doing anything, maybe just taking a walk in the neighborhood on the weekend.
"No, we have to celebrate together, at least have dinner together," Beth insisted.
I've always liked Beth very much; she's charming and always been very friendly to me. But having dinner with Ranche was another matter entirely, something I absolutely didn't want to do on my birthday. I brushed it off, the conversation went on pointlessly for a few minutes, and then she told me she'd call me again later that week.
Thursday night, the doorbell rang while I was watching TV. It was Beth. We kissed on the cheek and hugged. She had just come back from work, where she and my wife had been colleagues for many years. They were both extremely serious and professional women, and very professionally dressed.
Beth, like my Susan, was stunningly beautiful. Even after years of marriage, her allure had only grown stronger. We sat down in the living room; Beth took her place on the large leather sofa, while I settled into my favorite old-fashioned chaise longue, which seemed completely out of place in my home. Susan had personally designed and decorated our home beautifully.
We started chatting about my birthday dinner. However, I gradually found myself noticing how short Beth's skirt was today. Although she had tried her best to pull it down, most of her thighs were still exposed.
We gradually lost track of time in our conversation. The topic shifted from my birthday to her conflict with Rancher. She confessed that she had a strong feeling Rancher was having an affair, but she couldn't find any evidence.
"How did you and Susan manage that? You two always seemed so perfect together!"
"I don't know, I think it's just that two right people happened to come together," I thought for a moment, then added, "We never did anything extra, it was all so natural."
I could see her eyes welling up; perhaps she was thinking of her sister.
To avoid that somber mood, I suggested we have some wine. Susan and Beth were both avid wine lovers. Susan had even converted her entire basement into a wine cellar; she was an expert. In fact, I could never tell the difference between wines, and Susan always handled the selection.
Beth came downstairs and brought back a bottle of her favorite Merlot. I took the bottle, went to the kitchen, opened it, and grabbed two glasses. Back in the living room, I handed Beth her glass and sat down. After just a small sip, I was surprised to see Beth slightly part her legs, revealing a tiny glimpse of her silky upper thighs. As we talked, I found it increasingly difficult to concentrate, my gaze and thoughts involuntarily drifting towards her crotch. I wasn't sure, but I sensed she noticed my wandering eyes several times.
"Could I have some more wine?" she asked. "Sure," I replied, "I'll get it for you right away."
I went to the kitchen and brought another glass. The moment I sat down, I noticed her legs spread wider, and now I could see her pure white lace panties between her thighs.
Since Susan left, all my sex life had been manual. It was incredibly boring; for the past year or so, I'd probably only done it once a month. But with this new visual stimulation, I could feel my penis quickly becoming erect without any physical contact.
I tried my best to look into her eyes while talking, to conceal and distract myself, to make it less obvious. Only when she looked away did my gaze flit to her legs, especially between them.
We talked for a few more minutes, then she said she had to go.
I thanked her for her visit, and as I leaned in to kiss her cheek, she turned her lips to mine, giving me a soft, wet, quick kiss, followed by a hug.
After she drove into the driveway, I sat back in my recliner and tried to watch TV. But my thoughts inevitably lingered on her smooth thighs, her white lace panties, and that warm kiss.
Shaking my head, I decided it was time to shower and go to bed; all these thoughts were meaningless.
However, lying in bed, I couldn't fall asleep. I couldn't stop thinking about Bess.
Did she really have feelings for me? Or was it just wishful thinking because I'd been alone for so long?
Anyway, I soon found my hand on my penis and began stroking it. Almost instantly, I felt a throbbing in my penis; orgasm was coming. I closed my eyes, thinking of Bess, and then ejaculated—the best orgasm I'd had in a long time.
I can honestly say I slept like a baby that night.
The next day, Bess called while I was at the office.
"How about dinner tonight?"
Though I still couldn't imagine a night with Ranchet, I agreed.
"Eight o'clock then!" she said. "We'll pick you up."
Ah, that confirmed it; Ranchet would be there too.
I spent the day with a heavy heart, going home early to prepare.
They arrived on time, and we went to a renowned restaurant not far from home. Ranchet, as usual, was as unpleasant as ever. He constantly mocked everything and seemed to enjoy it. I really couldn't understand what Bess saw in him.
But, as usual, I controlled my tongue and began to engage in friendly conversation with them.
Dinner was the same, but I noticed Ranchet was drinking significantly more than usual, and his behavior became increasingly unpleasant with each sip. While waiting for dessert, Ranchet got up and went to the restroom. Bess immediately took the opportunity to apologize for his behavior.
"It's not your fault, Bess," I said. "You just shouldn't keep forgiving him like this."
She nodded in agreement as Ranchet walked back.
We finished dessert, and Ranchet drank two more glasses of wine. As we got up, I knew he absolutely couldn't drive. To avoid an argument between him and Beth, I stepped in and said, "Ranchet, let me drive home. You can relax. Why risk getting a DUI ticket?"
Ranchet gave me his signature look and said, "It's still early before I get home. Let's go to the club!"
As a sober person, I refused. The drive home was quiet, and I could sense Ranchet, as usual, was very angry. I felt sorry for Beth; I knew she was the first to bear the brunt of Ranchet's anger. When we entered my driveway, I thanked them and quickly got out of the car.
It was late, and I decided to go to bed immediately. I had probably been asleep for several hours when my phone rang. Half-asleep, I picked up my phone and saw the message: "Beth."
“Brother-in-law,” she said, “it’s me, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, “I just can’t sleep.”
She told me that Ranche had dropped her off at their doorstep and left immediately; he still hadn’t gone home.
I glanced at the clock; it was 3:44 a.m.
“Does he often do this?” I asked. “Yes,” she said, “especially recently.”
Then she told me almost everything about her marriage to Ranche and how they had reached this breaking point. Somehow, at some point in this conversation, she started talking about her sex life. She told me that she used to talk about these things with Susan, but now that Susan was gone, there was no one she could trust.
She told me that in the past few years, the only thing that could interest Ranche was himself. She implied that she often had to relieve her stress herself.
“I know,” I said. “I understand how it feels.” She chuckled for a moment, then stopped talking after a minute or two. I glanced at the clock; it was five in the morning. There was no need to go back to sleep. It was Saturday, and as a single person, I had to go grocery shopping, wash the car, and tidy up the house a bit.
The day went by quickly, and I accomplished quite a bit. In the evening, I went to a local Chinese restaurant and ordered a lot of takeout to take home. I took a quick shower, then sat down to eat and watch TV. About five minutes later, my phone rang again. Once more, it was Bess.
I struggled with whether I should answer the phone. I really didn’t want to be a confidante again tonight, listening to her pour out all those years of bitterness.
But after two rings, I picked up the phone anyway.
“Hey, Bess, how are you?”
“Not so good,” she replied. “Rancher and his friends went to a basketball game and won’t be back until late.”
“Want to go out and get something to eat?” she asked. I told her I had just come back from a Chinese restaurant with a pile of food in front of me.
She let out a delighted laugh and, before I could react, exclaimed, "Great! I'm coming right away!"
I couldn't say anything. "Okay, no problem."
About forty or fifty minutes later, the doorbell rang. It was Bess.
As she passed by me, I immediately caught a fresh, pinkish scent with a hint of perfume. I realized she had just showered. She was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, which I had never seen her wear before. I got her a sofa table and plates and settled her at the other end of the sofa. We watched TV, ate, and chatted for a while. The TV programs ended at eight o'clock, and there was really nothing else to look forward to.
"How about some wine?" Bess asked.
I told her that the wine we had opened the day before was still on the counter.
"Great!" she said, and immediately went to get it and brought back two glasses. We talked about his work, his family, everything I could think of—except for what happened with Lancer.
Then, out of nowhere, she blurted out, "Brother-in-law, can I ask you something very personal?" I thought for a moment, then said hesitantly, "I think so." She took a deep breath, her face slightly flushed, and asked, "Have you had sex since my sister... left?"
"No," I answered quickly.
She seemed surprised and said, "You mean it's been almost eight years and you haven't had sex?"
I answered yes. In my mind, I hoped this unfortunate topic would end there.
But before that fleeting thought could leave my head, Bess came again, "Do you masturbate a lot?"
I think my face turned liver-colored because she immediately added, "Oh, that's not a problem. I know all men do it and most women do it too," she continued, "If I don't release myself often, I can't stand it."
She told me about many, many nights when Ranche would just get into bed and turn over to sleep, and she would bring herself to two or three orgasms.
I guess Bess must have realized that I'm not that open-minded, and if this topic continued, it would surely end with her putting on a masturbation show here.
“Brother-in-law, my sister often talks to me about sex, and she tells me what a tender and considerate lover you are,”
she added. “In fact, she also told me that many times, even when you’re very tired, you still go to her and make her orgasm, without asking for anything in return.”
I was shocked. What Bess said was true, and I knew that only Susan could have given him this information. I shrugged, stammering slightly, “I guess so.”
Then Bess asked, “Did you like what you saw that day?”
I tried to pretend I didn’t understand, “What did you say?” but I knew the tremor in my voice had given me away.
“Oh, come on, brother-in-law,” Bess said, “I know you were looking up my skirt.”
The situation made me very uneasy. Although I felt extremely embarrassed, I was also “aroused,” or at least seemed to be aroused.
“It’s okay,” Bess said, “Actually, I get excited when men look at me.”
I knew she was exaggerating. Bess was extremely beautiful, and I knew that men had always been easily captivated by her beauty.
"Then I strongly suspect you sometimes suffer from a lack of attention."
"Oh, of course I get attention, but not from decent men, it's all from those tasteless guys who just want to sleep with me. I can give myself that anytime."
I noticed her body starting to shift slightly, and she wrapped her legs tightly together. I felt he might be as uncomfortable with the conversation as I was, or at least I hoped so.
This wasn't a conversation I'd ever had with any woman other than my wife. The truth is, I've only ever been with one woman in my entire life.
Once again, she revealed information that could only possibly come from Susan: "I know watching a woman masturbate to orgasm is an important item on your arousal list."
I told her I couldn't believe Susan had revealed so much to her.
A devilish smile crept across her face. "Ha, I know far more than that."
Without much hesitation, she quickly asked, "Would you like to see another woman orgasm?"
My mind began to race, trying to process so much new information. Both heads were thinking, the larger one futilely chasing the smaller.
"Bess," I tried to organize my thoughts, "you're my wife's sister, you're married, and we're still family."
She looked at me, disappointed. "Don't you find me attractive, brother-in-law?"
My facial expression probably already gave the answer, because she immediately said, "So, what's the problem?" "
I quickly considered all possible answers. 'Bess, I just feel like this is going to mess everything up, now and in the future,'
she looked at me with her soft eyes. 'I'm not asking you to do me. We can just take our clothes off, have our own orgasms, and we're all in this room. What's wrong with that?'
I was thinking, and before I could reach a conclusion, she added, 'How about I start? You can join in if you want, and if you start to feel uncomfortable, tell me and I'll stop.'
I thought about it again, perhaps a little longer than she hoped, and then said, 'Okay. But I still think it's a bad idea.'
Bess took another sip from her glass and then lay down on the sofa. Her eyes were fixed on me." Her hands trembled slightly.
Before I could confirm with her that this was truly what she wanted, she suddenly bent down and began unbuttoning her jeans.
Maintaining eye contact with me, she slowly pulled the zipper all the way down and opened the waistband. I could see a glimpse of black lace peeking through the jeans.
One of her hands deftly slipped inside, and I could pinpoint exactly when she touched her genitals. Her head jerked back, as if reacting to an electric shock. At that moment, my penis was harder than it had been in years, yearning to be released.
But I was still unsure what to do, or if I should do it at all.
Beth then lifted her hips and gently pulled down her jeans. As if someone had hit me with a baseball bat, I began to breathe heavily, and I knew I was starting to tremble.
There was a beautiful young woman, wearing black lace panties, slowly rubbing herself, pulling down the thin fabric.
"Does this excite you, brother-in-law?"
I nodded without hesitation.
"Then why don't you do something?"
I shrugged, muttering something I couldn't quite make out.
"Well, looks like you need a bit more visual art," she said.
She bent down again, slowly pulling her panties down to the level of her jeans. She spread her legs, showing me the most beautiful thing I'd seen in eight years.
Her vulva had full, pink lips, and even from where I was sitting, I could see the wetness between them.
She extended a finger of her right hand, placed it on her swollen clitoris, and began to make small, quick circles. Her breathing became shallow, and I could see her cheeks turning slightly red.
A few seconds passed, and she said to me in a very soft, very deep voice, "If you want to orgasm with me, you'd better start, because I can't last very long the first time." The first time, I heard?
My hand, extremely hesitant, reached for my pants. Then she gave me a smile. It wasn't just any smile. It was a smile that told me, "This is okay."
I unbuttoned my shirt and, in one swift motion, pulled it down along with my underwear. My penis was rock hard and already standing at attention.
"Oh, brother-in-law, let me see how you caress your penis," Beth moaned.
I cupped my penis tightly in my hand and began to thrust slowly. Her eyes were fixed on my penis, while mine were fixed on her genitals. From my gradually increasing frequency, she guessed I was flustered.
"Don't go too fast," she said, "Enjoy it, slow down, let me go first, then we'll climax together."
I nodded in agreement, slowed my movements, and looked at Beth.
Her hand movements began to quicken, and she gradually arched her back. Although I hadn't practiced in years, I still knew she was close. I told her to look at me. She turned her head and stared intently into my eyes, as if trying to meld her into me.
"Come on, Bess, come on with your beautiful hands!"
These words were like a light switch being flipped. "Oh, my fucking God!" she screamed, "Fuck, it's coming...!!"
She suddenly arched her back, her whole body contorted, her hands tangled together, and it took her about a minute to return to reality.
"Oh God, brother-in-law," she moaned, "this is the best orgasm I've had in years," "but," she almost whispered, "I apologize for the swearing."
I shook my head and replied, "It's nothing, Susan's language during her orgasms is simply colorful."
"Can you orgasm again?" I asked innocently. "Oh yes, maybe a few more times,"
this was new to me. Even though Susan had never had problems with orgasms, she definitely couldn't orgasm multiple times in a short period.
"And you?" Bess asked, "Do you want to ejaculate with me this time?"
I nodded.
She put the two fingers that had just entered her honeypot into her mouth and slowly sucked on them.
Then she lowered them between her legs and began rubbing her clitoris again. It started slowly, then gradually quickened, though not as urgently as the first time.
My penis began to throb, my scrotum swelled, and I was showing signs of ejaculation.
"I want to see you ejaculate closer," Beth said. "Come sit next to me."
I got up and sat close to her on the sofa. As I sat down, I felt her warmth radiating from between my thighs, igniting me. We gazed at each other until she realized I couldn't hold back any longer.
She leaned closer to me and whispered softly, "Would you like to switch hands?"
I couldn't think straight at that moment. "Oh God, yes,"
she said, taking her right hand out of her vagina. I could see the sticky fluid dripping from her fingers.
She enveloped my penis and began a slow, methodical motion. I reached my left hand towards her vulva, and easily slipped my fingers inside. She was already soaking wet.
After a second of searching, I found her clitoris.
"Oh, yeah," she whispered, "right there."
I began the rapid circular motions that Susan used to like, but I hadn't practiced in a long time. After a few seconds, I seemed to get the hang of it. Beth began to thrust my penis faster and started to wiggle her hips.
"Oh God, I'm almost there again," she turned her head to look at me, and I finally had the upper hand.
I moved closer to her and pressed my lips to hers, a long, deep kiss. Her tongue quickly found mine, and then, she reached another climax.
"Fuck!" she screamed, "Ahhh, it's coming!" She pounded my penis like a baseball player. Beth arched her back again, sobbing softly, "Oh God, this is so wonderful."
Before she finished speaking, my body began to spasm, and then my penis ejaculated wave after wave of hot semen. Beth continued to caress and squeeze my penis until it was completely dry. She lifted herself up and kissed me again, a long, deep kiss.
When our lips parted, she gave me a charming smile and asked, "Do you think this could become a regular thing between us?"
For some reason, I couldn't find a reason to say no.

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