s****r in Law (Wifes s****r) - Sex Stories

s****r in Law (Wifes s****r)

I really can't remember when it started. Somewhere in my 8 years of marriage, though, I had become infatuated with my wife's younger s****r. Twenty seven years old, with an athletic build and wonderful smiling eyes, Ginny was anyone's definition of a knockout. I was captivated by the beautiful shape of her ass, and I found myself stealing glances at it whenever I could. Wrapped in a skirt or barely hidden by a bikini bottom, my eyes were drawn to it like a magnet. Six months ago, while expecting our third c***d, my wife and I went on vacation to the Delaware shore. On our second weekend there, Ginny came down to join us. I can only say that it was forty eight hours of torture. Unaware of her effect on me, Ginny strolled the beach in front of me and frolicked at the water's edge with the k**s. She was wearing a stone-washed french-cut bikini. Her nipples jutted through the top, and her ass appeared wonderfully inviting in the damp, clingy bottoms. I sat in a beach chair, the latest Grisham novel strategically placed in my lap to hide the swelling length of my cock. I couldn't believe it. If my wife noticed this I could end up going without sex for the rest of the millennia. Still, I couldn't stop watching. Two months later. My wife was off on a business trip that would keep her in San Francisco for the weekend. I objected vigorously. She was, after all, now five months pregnant. She told me that Ginny had quite a few boxes to move from her old apartment to the townhouse she ...

... had recently purchased and if I was any kind of b*****r-in-law I would get a sitter for the k**s on Saturday and lend her a hand. My objections tapered off. I arranged for a sitter and told Ginny I was available to help her move in. Saturday arrived. I had butterflies in my stomach as I rang Ginny's bell. I realized this was approaching absurdity, but I didn't much care. She answered the door in faded jeans and a mans white oxford shirt knotted at the waist. She smelled . . . like spring. As I looked into her eyes, I realized they were red-rimmed and very sad. "Ginny, what's wrong?" I said. "Come on inside. I'm OK, it's just that asshole John. As boyfriends go, he's a total shit." She explained how she had walked into his apartment last night and caught him in the middle of getting a blowjob from the divorcee in the apartment below. She had really thought he was special, that he cared for her, and that he could trust her. Besides, she said, I give better head than that bitch any day. I was in some kind of state of sexual tension. She needed comforting. I was there for her. She needed to be held. I was there for her. She gives great head . . . I was there. "Sit down on the couch, Gin, and get a grip. You are a gorgeous, smart, sexy woman. If John cant see that then tell him to pack sand right now." "Andy, you are so nice. How come Janice found you and not me?" She opened her arms for a hug, and I obliged. I cradled her in my arms, gently rocking to and fro. I could smell her ...