Another Sister in Whore

I was gripping onto the phone so tightly that my fingers had turned white and biting on my bottom lip so hard that I could taste a hint of blood on my tongue. Finally, I'd seen confirmation that my husband Jonathon's phone call had ended; whereupon I cast the phone aside, released that lip from my teeth and voiced a scream which must've been audible for miles around.

In that same instant my back had arched and my hips jerked up from the mattress; I maintained that pose while my pelvis gyrated, grinding myself against the fingers speared deep inside my pussy. I must have held that bridge for fully thirty seconds before collapsing back onto the bed and gasping for breath as my orgasm finally tailed-off.

It had been a further minute before I'd recovered sufficiently to look to my right and enquire "What the hell did you think you were doing you daft sod? Five more seconds and we'd both have been heading for the divorce courts, never mind all the other trouble that would've rained down on us."

Tony, wearing a shit-eating grin had casually replied "What's the problem Caroline? I always give you the egg-whisk with my fingers while you're checking in with Jonathon?; I thought you enjoyed it?" That grin hadn't wavered.

While I couldn't argue with either of those statements, Tony knew damned well what I'd meant... It was his timing rather than the act itself that bothered me!

Tony's my Brother-in-Law, married to my younger sister Sarah, though how those two got together and more especially have stayed together, is beyond me. Sarah's always been a prissy little miss goody two-shoes, so I doubt that I'm the first woman that Tony's enjoyed an affair with; Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if I wasn't the only woman that Tony's screwing around with now.

I phone Jon in the early evening whenever Tony and I spend the night together; it reduces the possibility of his calling me at a less... convenient juncture. Having said that, the practice of my making those calls was originally instigated by Tony; I think the kinky bastard gets off on fingering me while I'm talking to my husband.

As to Tony's 'egg-whisk' thing, that's something which I christened: Having ensured that my pussy's wet -- not that that's ever been a problem! - Tony slides two fingers into me; hard and deep. Once inside Tony hooks those into a claw, before twisting them quickly back and forth, dragging their tips across my G-spot, while his thumb works on my clitoris from the front.

The sensation is as luscious as it sounds and guaranteed to bring me to a noisy climax within just a few seconds; which is why Tony doesn't usually begin to egg-whisk me until those calls are all but concluded. I think what made that evening different, was Tony hearing his wife, Sarah, join in to my conversation with Jon; that no doubt doubled Tony's perverse fun for him!

I'd known Jon was giving Sarah a lift home from work that evening, but I'd anticipated that he would've dropped her off at home and been back at our house by then; so he was obviously running late. There had been a problem with Tony's car so he'd been using Sarah's, while Jon and I between us had been running Sarah back and forth to work for weeks.

Not that I was given much time to contemplate my husband or my sister; Tony had already shackled my left wrist to the bed-head and having crossed my arms was working on doing the same to my right one. I knew what that portended... a minute from now I'd be on my knees with Tony's cock driving into my pussy as he slapped my arse and called me all the nasty names under the sun.

As you've no doubt guessed, this was far from my first... rodeo, with my brother in law; our adulterous -- I don't think that it counts as incestuous? - fling began one sunny Sunday in April. Oh God! That's more than six months ago, so I suppose it's a little more than a fling; I hadn't realised we'd be at it that long!

The four of us had gone out for Sunday lunch at a local pub, but on arrival discovered there had been a mix-up with our booking. After spending an hour over a couple of drinks and nibbling complimentary canapés we ran out of patience and tried elsewhere. Three further pubs -- with a drink in each -- proved equally busy, so we'd given up in disgust and headed back to our house for pizza.

While I set the oven to warm and pulled a couple of pizzas out of the freezer, Jon got everyone another drink and looked for wine. Yet another disappointment! We didn't have any red wine in the rack, or at least no bottles of the Chianti which I like to drink with Pizza; as that mix-up with the pub had been Jon's fault he offered to go to the Off-licence and get some.

Jon of course had by then drunk too much to be driving, so Sarah, our designated driver for the day, went with him. I meanwhile got those frozen pizzas into the oven and began chopping ingredients for a salad; Tony was in the lounge with a beer watching some football match on the TV. It was perhaps five minutes later when I sensed Tony standing close behind me.

His hands settled gently upon my hips and he brushed his groin lightly across my bum while enquiring "So Caroline, is there anything I can do for you in here?"

I wasn't unduly concerned, inappropriate touches and suggestive double-entendres were a regular thing with Tony and to be fair Jon behaved similarly with Sarah. In the main it was Jon's flirtations with Sarah which propagated our behaviour; while I would laugh-off Tony's inappropriate joking, Sarah invariably became tongue-tied and embarrassed, to the amusement of the rest of us.

I gave a playful wave with my Santoku knife as I replied "No, I'm fine; you go back to watching the TV Tony; these pizzas look to have enough sliced sausage on them already, but I'll give you a shout if I decide we need a few more... small ones obviously, to infill any gaps."

I heard Tony laugh and he gave my bum another brush with his groin as he reached around me to snatch a slice of sweet-pepper off the chopping board. That I slapped away, growling "Keep your fingers out of my salad, your hands will be dirty."

"Well then, I'd better find somewhere a little less unsullied to put them." An instant later I felt Tony's hand lifting the hem of my cotton skirt and that was perhaps the moment when I should've slapped his hand away for a second time. I would have done, had Tony not drawn his fingernails up the inside of my left thigh, in just the way that I like best.

Rather than that slap and an appropriately sharp riposte, I instead grasped the worktop's edge and purred like a contented tiger. Tony paused for a couple of seconds, no doubt surprised at my response. That hiatus didn't last though and Tony's fingernails were soon scraping along my thigh once again; Dear God, he'd got the pace and pressure just right.

Tony's fingers must've tracked up and down my thigh for towards a minute, his other hand had slid from my hip to my belly, holding me more firmly and Tony's cock once more began to rub back and forth across my bum... The pressure from that was harder too. I needed to call a halt, slap Tony's intruding hand away, or at the very least snap my legs closed to stop it moving.

I failed on all counts: Leaning against the worktop with now trebling legs saw my bum move outwards, to press even more firmly against Tony's cock. The hand still between my thighs drifted higher with each stroke, but all that came from my mouth was that contented purring, interspersed with an occasional moan or gasp.

Eventually -- I'd lost track of time -- I felt Tony's index finger bump against my panties; that drew a gasp and a moan! It wasn't until the third tap from Tony's finger that I finally managed to move my trembling legs, that movement being accompanied by a bestial growl and shamefully, rather than their clamping together, my legs moved farther apart.

Tony was swift to accept that apparent invitation: At the pinnacle of his next up-stroke, Tony's index finger drifted to the right, taking the gusset of my panties with it and his second and third fingers pushed onward, sinking deep into my pussy. They penetrated with embarrassing ease, an incursion heralded by another of those feral growls.

With his fingers now inside me, Tony's hand didn't descend again; those two digits ground and twisted within my slippery channel, while the writhing of my own hips added to their effect. Tony's index finger also returned to the fray, exposing and then stroking back and forth across my clitoris; those feral growls were growing ever louder.

Tony's left hand wasn't idle either, it wormed its way beneath my blouse, before traversing north to snake beneath my bra; thank God that wasn't an under-wired one! Having arrived there, Tony once again got things just right with the firm but controlled pressure he applied to my breast and just a few seconds later, when delivering a wickedly-sharp twist to my by then swollen nipple.

It was that nipple-tweak which proved the final straw; a visible and very vocal orgasm ripped through me. I couldn't recall the last time I'd climaxed that hard, but as I shuddered my way through its aftermath, I did retain the capacity to comprehend that the illicit nature of my orgasm was probably a contributory, perhaps major factor.

My legs had gone; it was only with the help of my arms braced against the worktop and Tony's right hand between my legs -- those two fingers were still inside my pussy! - which kept me upright. Tony's left hand wasn't contributing; but I could hear the rattling of his belt buckle and the swish of his zipper, so it wasn't hard to guess where that had gone to.

By the time that Tony had freed his cock, my own legs -- for better or worse -- had recovered sufficiently to provide me with a degree of support. I managed to remain upright and stable during the few seconds between Tony's fingers sliding free of my pussy and the head of his cock nuzzling against the soft folds of my labia.

A scream of 'NO, STOP!' reached but hadn't yet to passed between my lips. What'd already transpired could... in extremis, still be laughed-off as having allowed our inappropriate flirtation to go too far; but the moment Tony's cock penetrated, that option would be gone. That cry was never voiced; would Tony have heeded it even if I had? We'll never know.

Tony's cock slammed into me like a battering ram; it wasn't so much that he was bigger down there than Jon was, but in the violence of his penetration. The impact of Tony's initial thrust lifted my feet from the floor and knocked the air from my lungs; that put paid to any more thoughts of abnegation, I no longer had the breath to say 'stop'.

As Tony withdrew my feet returned to solid ground and thereafter stayed there; albeit only just, Tony was lifting me back onto my tip-toes with every stroke. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good hard shag from time to time, but in that moment, I -- and unlike Tony to be fair -- was in that post-orgasmic period of sated somnolence.

Those two combined saw me gasping for breath once more, as I lay across the worktop, compliantly accommodating Tony's barbarous fucking. And it was barbaric: Tony had one hand entwined in my hair, arching my back to meet his harsh penetrations; his other hand alternated between biting its fingers into my right buttock or spanking it savagely.

In addition to that physical assault, Tony delivered a verbal one too: I was his 'cock-hungry slut' a 'dirty scrubber' and a 'filthy whore', who wanted 'to be fucked like a bitch in heat'; there were many more besides, I'm not sure that I recall Tony repeating even one of his vulgar epithets. As for myself, I lay submissively and... accepted my fate.

OK, that's not quite true either: I may not, indeed could not, have done anything to prevent Tony's rabid assault; but my growling 'Yes' in response to every vile sobriquet that Tony threw in my direction, could only have inflamed matters. While capitulating to a second wild orgasm in the moment that Tony's seed exploded inside me, merely confirmed those appellations.

Tony hadn't lasted long, a couple of minutes at most; which proved fortunate in all respects: I couldn't have weathered Tony's assault for much longer; but more especially, I heard Sarah's car pull onto our driveway just a few seconds later. By the time she and Jon had reached the kitchen Tony was back in front of the TV and I was again chopping salad; albeit with Tony's semen now trickling down my thighs.

During our chatter over that very late lunch, I noted Tony subtly steering the conversation to Jon's work and what he was busy with. Having gleaned that Jon would be working late on the following Tuesday, I wasn't surprised to be greeted by Tony's leering grin when I answered the doorbell's chimes just after six o'clock that evening.

We didn't even make it beyond the hallway that night; having had me kneel before him and suck his cock, Tony fucked me -- once again roughly -- as I lay sprawled across the bottom few steps of the staircase. Jon arrived home earlier than expected, giving us another close call -- Tony was still between my legs when the car's headlights shone through the thankfully obscured glass of our front door!

That was the last time that Tony and I had sex at home -- his and Sarah's house, or my own! - As while we managed to explain away Tony's unexpected visit, I sensed a cast in Jon's eyes for a while, which I didn't wish to see repeated. After that, we instead co-ordinated our nights away with work via text messages; those being much easier to delete than WhatsApp ones.

Tony was away for a couple of nights every week, generally staying over in Manchester; for myself it was more like once or twice a month, though I now strove to finagle a third one in whenever I could manage it. My own over-nighters were in Leeds, but by each of us using a hotel on the cities' outskirts, it was an easy hour's drive for one or the other of us across the M62 motorway.

That worked for a couple of months, though we suffered a few embarrassing -- for me anyway -- episodes, when people in adjoining rooms pounded on the walls, one even came out to bang on our door; to be fair we were particularly noisy that night. Then and in quick succession, we had two close-calls, bumping into someone which one of us knew; something had to change:

A couple of weeks later I got a message from Tony providing the address of a pub just to the west of Halifax, handy for the M62 and about half way between Leeds and Manchester; I'd rather not say which pub or exactly where. Having each booked our respective hotels -- I did at least visit my room in Leeds to ruffle the bed covers -- we drove over to meet at that one; I assume Tony paid for it in cash?

Our room was clean and boasted a small en-suite bathroom, but otherwise it, indeed the whole place, was scruffy and... basic; the pub served food, but that too was nothing to write home about either. I don't know how or from whom Tony had learned of the pub, but those points aside, it suited our needs perfectly:

Not just discreet but downright isolated and save for the few locals who drank there and who invariably greeted my arrival with knowing leers, the only guests seemed to be couples looking for a similar sort of privacy as ourselves. That impression was underscored by a seemingly unspoken rule, whereby nobody ever complained or enquired as to what was happening in an adjoining room.

And by some of those sounds that we heard... That was a lot! More than once Tony got hard for a second or even third time while we eavesdropped upon and tried to interpret, what was occurring in the room next door. Ooh, the bedroom furniture deserves a mention too:

Besides being scruffy, that was all substantial and part of that scruffiness we came to realise, arose from much of it having been abraded by ropes and handcuffs. That realisation arrived on our third visit, when the room we were allocated had ring-bolts in one wall and the ceiling. Wow! We couldn't resist giving those a try using Tony's belt and tie to secure me.

On our next visit Tony had arrived better prepared, with a selection of soft ropes and two pairs of hand cuffs amongst his luggage. The latter were in leather, lined with pink satin and as we soon discovered, worked equally well on my wrists or ankles. That turned into quite the night, only enhanced by the sound of perhaps similar games being played in an adjacent room.

There was only one other table occupied when we went into the restaurant for breakfast the following morning; a chap who looked a few years older than ourselves, with an elfin black girl of no more than twenty two or three. We didn't speak to each other beyond polite 'good mornings' but judging from the small smile which the young girl wore, I was fairly sure that they'd been our neighbours.

So with the explanation as to how I found myself shackled to the bed in a an isolated no-tell hotel finally concluded, I suppose I'd better tell you the rest: Having finished securing my wrists to the bed-head, Tony now produced and fitted a blindfold over my eyes -- that was a new kink! - it too was made of pink-satin lined leather; had Tony bought it from the same shop as those hand-cuffs?

I made to enquire, but was promptly silenced by a firm slap to my left buttock, followed by a growled "Keep Quiet Bitch!" My responding yelp was soothed by the sensation of Tony's hand gently caressing my sore bum, though he drew a second, albeit smaller yelp when I felt the chilly touch of lubricant dribbling between my buttocks.

Tony was silently working that cool unguent into my pussy and bum with his fingers when I heard a knock at the door; that sound made my heart miss a beat. It missed several more when Tony continued to probe his slick fingers into me while calling out "Come on in... It's not locked." What the Fuck?

I didn't scream, there would have been little point in that place; but I pulled against my bonds and voiced an expletive filled enquiry as to what the hell Tony thought he was doing. The response wasn't reassuring, not least because it wasn't Tony who voice the replied: "You're Caroline I believe? What we're going to do is have some fun... Hopefully all of us."

I heard whispering, but it was too low for me to discern what was being said and the intruding rattle of my shackle chains probably didn't help either; I was still tugging against those. I then felt the mattress move as someone climbed onto the bed beside me; I couldn't see who, but the degree of movement told me that it was someone much lighter than Tony.

An instant later I picked-up an aroma, it was perfume and I recognised it in seconds; not the perfume itself, but when and where I'd smelt it before. It was two weeks ago, here, in the restaurant downstairs... The young black girl had been wearing it; butterflies took flight in my belly and I began to tremble and make a noise which fell somewhere between a hum and a squeal.

The sound was continuous, but it wasn't loud, I easily heard the man's voice above it: "That's the way Jasmine; introduce yourself to Caroline, show her that there's nothing to be afraid of." Was my fear that obvious? I'd never... been involved with another girl in my life! OK, there was that one pash with a girl at school, but that was years ago and had been kids stuff.

I felt Jasmine's fingers grasp me by the chin and turn my face towards her own; the act wasn't aggressive, in fact she was quite gentle; so why didn't I try to resist her? I felt the brush of Jasmine's breath against my cheek and a moment later, the brush of her lips upon my own; once again, it was a light, yet somehow irresistible touch.

Emboldened, Jasmine continued with the kisses, each one a little firmer and a little more protracted than the one before. It was the fourth or perhaps fifth one that I ultimately responded to; my returned kiss drew a squeal of delight from Jasmine, before she kissed me once again and this time her tongue traced it's way across my lips before slipping inside my mouth.