Show , Tell Ch. 09

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This wasn’t a kiss that a brother-in-law would share with his sister-in-law! It wasn’t even a kiss that a husband would bestow on his wife. This was a kiss that lovers would share, the kind that would start something that might not end well.

That kind of logic escaped me at that moment, my only thought…., “How do I keep from, somehow, screwing this up!

Suzy’s tongue was down my throat, her hands on my ass pulling me against her.

I was now wondering how to get the $14 negligee off without ripping it! (That thought actually entered my mind!)

But then she stopped…, stopped everything, stepped away from me, picked up her robe and walked to the other side of the bed, where she slipped it on.

I was dumbstruck.

She was…, conflicted?

She spoke first.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking…, or doing. This isn’t me, I love my sister and you’re her husband. There is no way I’m going to do this…, I’m sorry.”

She turned and walked into the bathroom and didn’t come back out.

My dick, which had been three, maybe four feet long only seconds ago, had now shrunk down to, “Turtle Head,” size, my balls already starting to ache.

I knew that, sooner rather than later, she would talk to me about it, so I walked over to the bathroom door and asked, “Is your sister picking you up or am I bringing you with me?”

Now she opened the door, the robe and shoes off, sheer babydoll still on…, stepped up in front of me, stood up on her tiptoes and kissed me.

This one a kiss from my sister-in-law.

“I’m sorry…,” a sadness of some sort written all over her face, “that never should have happened. Let me finish getting my stuff together and you can drop me off.”

Walking past me, she stood in front of a chest of draws and took off the babydoll.

Looking at her naked…. Nope, wasn’t even going to think about it.

Folding it carefully, I watched her slide it into a drawer full of, what looked like T-shirts. A hiding place?

I took her to my house and waited for my wife to get home, Suzy reading in the sunroom, me wondering if ice would help my, “Blue Balls?”

The procedure went well, the “tumor,” according to the doctor, “the size of a grapefruit. Medicated to help minimize her pain, Suzy spent the next 18 hours resting, getting up only to use the facilities and to eat whatever had been recommended.

Don came home on Wednesday night, thanked us for tending to her, and took her home.

The next morning, on a hunch, my wife drove to her sister’s house, only to find her alone. “Don had to file an order and get the transcripts of the trial to his partner this morning,” her excuse for him not being there.

Suzy had all she could do to keep her sister from hiding in the closet and cutting his balls off when he went to sleep that night.

As she slowly recovered from the surgery, things got, if possible, worse between Don and my wife. While she may have been a, “bit,” overprotective of her sister, his actions were the cause of this feud and unless something changed, Suzy and I would continue to find ourselves in the middle.

About three weeks into her recovery, I had to have a, “Basil cell carcinoma,” removed from my neck, more for cosmetic reasons than anything else, my dermatologist telling me that it would continue to grow until, “…, your dog can’t stand the sight of you!”

I insisted he wanted to remove it, “…, so you can afford to make the next payment of your girlfriend’s Mercedes!” His wife drove a Toyota.

Turned out he wasn’t going to handle the procedure anyway, a plastic surgeon tapped for the duties. Suzy joined my wife that afternoon, a chance for the two of them to bust my chops too good to pass up.

When the nurse came to fetch me, we had this exchange:

“What’s another scar,” my wife told the nurse, “he already looks like Frankenstein!”

“Now honey,” I replied, “remember, scars are tattoos…, with better stories!”

“And what kind of story will this one tell?” Suzy asked.

“Cupid missed….” I answered.

She smiled a secret smile.

“If that’s the case…, he’s missed a lot. Like over your eye, (hockey stick) on your chin…,” (baseball) my wife’s comment.

“Your nose, (Basketball) your knee, your elbow…, your back, (all of the above) from Suzy.

“Time to hang’em up old man,” my bride suggested, as the nurse opened the door to the surgical unit.

Getting a chaste kiss from both of them and then turning as I walked through the door, “And that’s the last thing I’ll hear from the two of you…?” a sad look on my face, “What if she slips with the blade and cuts my throat…, how will you feel then?”

“Emancipated,” with a beautiful Irish lilt, the nurse answering for them, then adding a wink. “But…, güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri unfortunately for the two of you,” taking me by the arm, “Dr. Stevens is the best in the business, so she’ll make sure she returns this boyo to you in one piece.”

I was back in less than 10 minutes.

While she was waiting, Suzy had taken that time to pick up a brochure explaining the, “Pros & Cons” of, “Breast Augmentation.”

“There’s some serious reading,” I quipped, as she read from the pamphlet on our way home.

The return visit to the Dr. Stevens office took place five days later, Suzy again accompanying my wife and I, this appointment to remove the stitches and have the doctor check her work. “Three weeks, and you’ll never know the basil cell was there,” she pronounced, satisfied with the job she’d done.

That was when Suzy ambushed her, a quick, “behind closed doors,” survey, which found Dr. Stevens offering, “…, I don’t see a problem. Let’s have you recover from the previous procedure for a little longer, get your strength back, and then set up an appointment. By the way, is your husband on board with this?”

Suzy set up an appointment for herself and Don with Dr. Stevens where she would explain the procedure, recovery times and consult on the, “Size improvement.”

Needless to say, my wife wasn’t on board with this, “You’re perfect the way you are,” her opinion on the, “Size improvement.”

When asked, I had no opinion…, until backed into a corner by both of them. Then I ventured an, “I don’t see a need to improve anything.”

Which was true.

They, “consulted,” with the good doctor and scheduled an appointment in a month, provided that Suzy’s gastroenterologist approved that timetable.

There was no indication of the size, of the “Size improvement!”

During the month wait, Suzy signed up at a gym, worked with a, “Personal trainer,” (a female) and continued to recover from the “tumor” operation. By the time the, “Size improvement,” came around, she was nearly fully recovered from the first operation and ready for the next. Don actually took her to the hospital, stayed for the day and returned the next day to bring his wife home.

My wife still wasn’t convinced.

Two weeks later, they went back for a consultation, to unwrap the, “improved size,” check on the swelling, the incisions and make a general determination on her progress.

“Dr. Stevens is happy,” Suzy told her sister the next morning.

“How about you, are you happy?” the follow up.

“Uh huh…, yes…,” the, not so enthusiastic, reply.

By now it was early September and we found ourselves in the middle of an unseasonably HOT spell. Since I owned a boat, along with access to the ocean, I asked if my bride would like to play hooky with me and take a ride out to Martha’s Vineyard. “Sure,” a smile of appreciation, “but can we take Suzy with us?”

I’d seen very little of her over the past two or three months…, actually since the incident in her bedroom and the two visits to the doctor’s office. It hadn’t been on purpose, more a function of time and opportunity, so how could I say, “No?”

We invited Don too, but he had, “A million things to do,” so, with a picnic basket packed with the usual…, fresh fruit, cheese, a couple of sticks of fresh bread and, this time, a big cooler full of margaritas…, off we went.

The southwest corner of Martha’s Vineyard is dominated by a nearly one hundred high foot, mostly clay cliff that drops to a beautiful beach. It is called, “Gay Head,” and the beach continues along the entire south facing side of the Island.

It is, for all intents and purposes, a, “clothing optional,” beach. Always crowded, by both beachgoers and boaters, it is a beehive of activity.

But that’s during the summer. On this beautiful, “Indian Summer,” day, we were pretty much alone.

As soon as we were anchored, the girls, both wearing beach cover-ups, stripped off the garments to reveal…, the same bathing suits they’d been wearing on the day we’d been visited by the local, “entertainers,” on Orient Beach in St. Maarten. My wife in her one piece, monokini and Suzy in her tiny, “Triangle,” string bikini.

Two things were immediately obvious:

Suzy’s breasts HAD been augmented.

Suzy’s ass had been augmented too!

The triangle bikini top, which was overburdened before the, “size improvement,” was now being woefully abused, her nipples themselves the only part of her tits not exposed. The bottom triangle, which had a habit of being swallowed by her labia whenever she moved…, now disappeared even when she was stationary, the strings holding everything together actually covering more of her than the triangles!

“JESUS güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri Suzz!” my wife exclaimed, “why bother wearing anything…, and what did you do to your ass?”

Suzy, who’d been smiling since she’d pulled the cover-up over her head now laughed, “Surprise!!!

Seems Don had been telling her for some time that, “…, you ass is nice, but…!”

Dr. Stevens had outlined a, “Buttocks Lift,” on the same day they’d gone for the, “Size Improvement,” consultation and Don had sprung for the two surgeries.

“Doesn’t it look great!” as she did a slow pirouette, “I fucking love it!”

I kept my mouth shut.

Taking my wife at her word, Suzy untied the top, her breasts looking, not totally fake, but not hanging naturally.

“They look great,” my wife admitted, “but a little hard.”

“Well they aren’t,” Suzy answered, “and it could take up to six months for them to fully drop. But they really aren’t hard…, feel them.”

Since she was standing more in front of me than her sister…, they both looked at me.

“Ahhhh, that wouldn’t be polite,” I said, backing up against the gunnel.

“Let me see,” said my wife, putting her hands under her sister’s new tits. “Jeez, they do feel natural…, and they aren’t hard at all.”

Turning again, Suzy looked at me and smiled.

“Feel them,” my wife insisted, “she’s my sister for God’s sake!”

That would not be a good idea. What if I liked the feel and didn’t want to stop? What if I started to get excited and it showed up as a, “tent,” in the front of my shorts?

But…, with the two of them still waiting, I reached out and touched the right side of her right boob with the fingertip of my left index finger, pulling it back so quickly, they both howled, my wife actually taking my right hand and putting it on Suzy’s left tit and holding it there until SHE was satisfied I’d gotten a proper feel.

Clearing my throat, I rasped, “Feels soft to me.”

It took me a few seconds to catch my breath.

Suzy put her top back on, why I didn’t know, and then the two of them climbed onto the front sun deck, picnic basket and margaritas in hand. We sat there for an hour, waiting for more people to show up, but when hardly anyone did, I suggested we move a mile north to Tarpaulin Cove, on Naushon Island, the largest of the Elizabeth Islands, which lie west of Martha’s Vineyard. Tarpaulin, which was also a favorite destination for boaters, was also the location of the only brackish tidal flat in the Elizabeth’s, a favorite shellfish area also.

Surprisingly, we ended up the only vessel in the cove, which was a good thing as far as I was concerned, no one to watch me dig. Once I got the girls settled on the front deck again, I threw my small paddleboard overboard, put the shellfish basket on it and swam ashore.

Thirty minutes later, with the basket half full of, “littlenecks,” I figured I had enough for a quick, “snack,” for the girls and myself. While I’d eat them on the half shell, neither of the sisters had ever tried them raw…, and never would. However, throw a can of beer, a couple of tablespoons of olive oil, fresh garlic and parsley, along with the rest of the quahogs into a pot to steam them open and you had an appetizer that would make both of them very happy!

Since I’d been engrossed in the digging, I hadn’t been paying any attention to them at all. That ended when I heard a boat horn and lots of shouting coming from the direction of my boat. Looking up, I watched as a big Sportfisherman cruised past the mouth of the cove, two guys on the flying bridge shouting and waving…, at the two sisters, who were standing on the front deck…, topless and waving back at them!

That was not like them, or should I say not like my wife, not like her at all!

“Hey,” I shouted, “you two trying to cause an accident!”

They looked back and waved, both doing a little shimmy shake before settling down once again.

Since I’d been kneeling and sitting in the sand and mud while digging, I decided to take off my bathing suit to rinse it and myself off. Don’t know which of them saw me first but it was now the two them yelling, “Hey, you trying to cause an accident.

Standing up, I waved, gave them the, “Full Monty,” before pushing the board, basket on top, back towards the boat. Treading water when I got there, the paddleboard in front of me, they were both in the cockpit, my wife hanging over the side saying, “You’d better cover up or my sister is going to see your little pink thing,” her words slurred, Suzy nearly falling down laughing.

How much of the cooler of margaritas had they consumed?

Finally recovered, Suzy blurted out, “It’s too late…, I’ve already seen his little pink thing,” followed by another güvenilir bahis şirketleri bout of laughter, the two of them falling against each other, both ending up on the deck.

Then, my wife finally realizing what her sister had said…, she whispered, or tried to whisper, “You did…? When?”

“Remember…?” Suzy “whispered” back, “in St. Maarten…, in the water.”

“Oh yeah,” starting another spasm of laughter, “but the picture didn’t come out!”

“What picture?” I asked, not whispering, but covering Suzy’s tracks.

“What picture?” they both sputtered, now rolling off each other on the deck.

Suzy stood up, her tits having fallen out of her bikini, what with all of the rolling around, and they were looking better every second!

“If you two are through fooling around, I could use a little help here,” wanting to have them lift the basket into the boat.

“I can’t help…, my back,” my wife from somewhere on the deck.

“And I can’t help,” Suzy joined in, thrusting her chest out, hands on hips, “Dr. Stevens told me not to lift anything heavy!”

With that, she dropped out of sight too.

Slipping my bathing suit back on, I paddled the board to the stern, gently pushed the basket onto the swim deck and hauled myself aboard. Standing, I found the sisters sitting face to face on the deck, my wife trying very hard to get the tiny bikini to cover Suzy’s tits. It was an exercise in futility.

Climbing over the transom, I picked the basket up and put it on the deck.

“Look, he’s brought us food,” my wife observed.

“Look, he’s put his bathing suit back on,” Suzy observed.

“I told him to…,” my wife.

“But that’s not fair,” her sister, pulling the bathing suit top down again, “I showed him my tits!”

Quiet for a moment…, and then a spasm of laughter, the two of them knocking against one another…, followed by my wife’s reply, “Yes…., she did show you her tits…, along with everything else!” as they continued to crack themselves up.

Remembering my paddleboard, I looked back into the water and saw it had already drifted fifty feet away.

Shucking my suit off, I stood facing them for a second and then

jumped off the transom to retrieve the paddleboard. I was back in

barely a minute, the girls still laughing, Suzy’s hoarse refrain, “It really is pink! I can’t believe it… it really is pink! You said it was pink…, and it is!”

Thanks Suzz, for covering my tracks!

Everyone got dressed, or as dressed as she could in Suzy’s case, and we finished the picnic lunch and skipped the quahogs.

They’d left me a glass of margarita.

Both were asleep when I got my boat back to the marina, giving me a chance, pervert that I am, to check out my sister-in-law’s, “new ass,” up close.

Yes…, Dr. Stevens had done a great job, nothing, “fake,” looking about it at all.

I waited until almost 9:00 PM before calling Don, telling him that, “…, the girls crashed on the way back to the marina and I figured that it would be best for them to, “…, stay here for the night.”

“Not a problem…,” he replied, as he’d been working on an appeal and had to go to Connecticut, “…, early tomorrow morning.”

I took a shower, threw on a pair of gym shorts and grabbed a glass of wine. Sitting down in the salon I watched the rest of a Sox game on TV.

Later, just after 11:00, Suzy stumbled out of the master bedroom…, looking for somewhere to throw-up.

Since she’d walked past the master bath on her way, my only option to get her out onto the deck, her head over the side!

A couple of minutes later, she was curled up on the couch with me, her head in my lap, still feeling like she wouldn’t make the morning.

Rolling her head to the side, “What time is it?”

“After 11:00,” I answered.

Eyes wide, an effort to pick up her head…, “Shit, I’ve got to get home.”

“I called Don, he knows and he’ll see you tomorrow. You ready to go back to bed?”

“Not yet,” another roll of her head, this time her whole body following, until she was on her left side, her face in my crotch.

She said nothing for a little while, her body so still I thought she’d fallen back to sleep.

“Thank you,” her head sliding back until it was on my knees. Eyes open, she looked up at me.

“For what?”

“For taking care of me,” now a smile that contradicted the green edge to her complexion, “but you always do don’t you!”

“You’re easy to take care of,” I offered.

“I know,” a big yawn that was followed by a bigger smile, “and so are you.”

With that, she ran her hand up my thigh, under my shorts and started to massage my cock. Before I could remind her that her sister…, my wife, was in a bedroom not twenty feet from where we were sitting, she slid her head back down into my crotch, pushing the left leg of my shorts up as she moved, my dick now out and slipping between her lips…, and further between her lips and still further…, until she threw up all over me, the couch and then the rug…, as she rolled backwards off me and onto the floor!

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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