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“I seriously want to fuck you,” read the text.
That’s how it all started.
A red wine drunken evening. A family gathering no less.
All thirteen or so members. All the generations, all getting together to celebrate a birthday (I don’t even remember who’s it was!).
I had been staring at you that night, starting to imagine what your large uncovered breasts might look like…what your uncovered mound would look like…were you shaved?…did you still get excited?…wet?
You had sprung me staring a few times and had fixed your large eyes on me, in a ‘what-the … are you staring at me for’ kind of way.
I returned the gaze, but not for long…your gaze could be quite unnerving especially considering the thoughts I’d been having.
My mind, however, kept drifting. Kept what-iffing, and I began to get quite horny.
I’d been your brother-in-law for more than 25 years and after that night, in a wine sozzled state, as my wife was driving our half asleep family back home, from the passenger seat I’d dangerously texted those infamous words…or rather I hadn’t stopped myself sending the text…and everything had changed. I even remember the ease with which I’d responded to my wifes question of who I was texting, “Oh, just thanking them for a lovely evening.”
We got home. It was kind of late and there’d been no reply, (not sure I expected one or was even in a state to expect one!) and I settled back to watch a bit of telly while my other family members made their ways to bed.
“Don’t stay up too long Bob…You’re drunk as a skunk!,” said my wife, as she kissed me goodnight and then went upstairs herself.
10mins later, probably around 11.30pm, my phone text sound went off and I scrambled to hit the mute button, aware that my house had very thin walls and a very light sleeping spouse.
“OMG! OMG! That was a very out there text you sent. You can’t send things like that to me Bob. I’m your sister-in-law!!!”
I immediately texted back, feeling vey righteous as only a drunk can, deciding that I was going to completely expose myself; no dithering, no holding back. The unvarnished truth and nothing less…Ah, the power of red wine!
“It’s the truth,” I texted, as if that was justification enough.
“You’re drunk,” you replied. “You need to go to bed.”
“Drunk, yes. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you though,” I restated, and there was a lot of power in those words. I had NEVER written anything like this before in a text message. I was a complete novice and the thrill of committing real thoughts to print was completely intoxicating, even for a drunk!
“What are you talking about? Where’s this coming from? You don’t know what your saying. We’ve known each other for 25 years! You’ve never acted like this before. Go to bed, you drunk sod. Goodnight,” you texted again.
With the courage born of no tomorrows, I ignored your rational attempt to kill the conversation, and continued.
“I’ve always thought you were attractive…but yes, you are my sister-in-law so when would I ever act like this?…I’m just sick of pretending and not saying what I think and being good…Shit, I’m 50 for gods sake! I want to be bad!!!!”
Yes, lots of exclamation marks, and then I searched my phone for the relevant emoji (again something I’d never normally use), found a horny devil face, which seemed as appropriate as any, added it and pressed send. I really didn’t think I’d hear any more from you after your goodnight sign-off, so I sent another missive.
“Don’t you ever want to be bad…?'”
Quick as a flash, “Yes, but I’m the grown up. I’m the good girl who always does the right thing…I’ve always been a good girl,” came back, with a little angel face emoji attached.
Wow! Now that kind of response, I hadn’t expected. ‘Yes’!!!!!!!
That was, even in my state, a go-button to a place I’d really never been to before.
“But you want to be bad too?,” I texted, needing confirmation before my mind got away from me.
“I’m a good girl, who has evil thoughts…Goodnight Bob.”
“Is your husband awake?”
“No, he went to sleep about 15 mins ago. Just me in my bed. With my evil thoughts…Goodnight Bob.”
“Do you want to fuck me?”
“OMG! Goodnight Bob. delete delete delete”
Here’s some background.
Carol was about 5 years younger than my wifes brother, her husband. She was indeed a ‘good girl’ and had been for as long as I’d known her. I’d never seen her drunk or out of control in any way. She would always write thankyou notes to people after attending dinner parties, always check on sick family members, always do the right thing. She was that kind of person.
She was also always ‘dressed.’ Done up to the nines. Makeup on; big coiffed hair; nails done; the right piece of demure jewellery to go with the right jacket. It wasn’t over the top, but you could see she spent a lot of time on her appearance, and pearls and twin sets were definitely in her future. Anyway, you get the picture.
These things bahis firmaları are normally a turn-off for me BUT, the other thing about her, that her many scarves and jackets couldn’t hide, was that she was a BBW, in it’s truest sense.
A Big Beautiful Woman.
Big tits, Big arse, Big eyes, Big lips.
For me, a real turn-on.
Overweight yes, but in a give-me-as-many-handfuls-of-that-as-I-can-get kind of way. I’d always asssumed she had issues with her size: she would never expose her skin or body at any time, wouldn’t go to the beach or jump in her own pool (at least not when any of her extended family were there, and on a hot summers day that’s some kind of restriction to put on yourself!). She would always say it was her ‘pale skin’ and ‘keeping out of the sun’ that caused this behaviour but…anyway each to their own. The point is there were never any ‘wow-look-at-carols-plunging-cleavage-I-need-to-get-me-some-of-that’ moments in the 25 years I’d known her, and our only physical contact was the polite peck on the cheek whenever we greeted each other. Given my disposition for the big breasted woman, I had natural curiosity about what lay beneath her many scarves, jumpers and jackets, but she had never encouraged that and it seemingly wasn’t in her DNA. Its like she was embarrassed by her attributes, rather than proud…
She was also very, very prone to exageration. Everything was the ‘best thing’ she’d ever eaten, the ‘worst film’ she’d ever seen, the ‘most outrageous’ thing anyone had ever said etc., but as the years had gone by and her children had grown, she’d mellowed a bit and would now only occasionally shock with the things that came out of her mouth.
She, like me, had now been married for a long time and whereas my marriage was happy (but a bit stale), she’d had more obvious relationship isssues that had finally been overcome, but you could sense there was underlying tension in their resolve. I got on with her husband Ted very well, and he and my wife Alices relationship had always been strong.
We had two kids, they had two kids. etc.
It had been this last summer that I’d first really seen her other side.
Christmas day actually.
There was a large family gathering at their house and we all had dutifully hauled ourselves up there. This was a typical Carol-shining-as-hostess kind of occasion. A full house, all generations, making sure the canapes were all out, everybodies glasses were full, small talk abundant so that no-one felt left out. When we arrived however there was no Carol to greet us at the front door, no Carol to take our coats, offer us a drink, inquire about our childrens presents.
Instead there was Carol, sitting at the dining room table, with her sungalasses on. Her hair was out there and wild. She had a loose fitting soft woollen top on and it became abundantly clear to a person with my predelictions…No Bra!. Whenever she moved, a rolling swell would flow under her top, her unencumbered breasts swaying freely. Who is this woman and what’s she done with Carol?
Again completely unlike the Carol I had known, she also appeared completely oblivious to how she presented and was recounting her Christmas eve adventure as we entered the dining room.
‘…I’ve never been so drunk in my life!…Still am!…Didn’t get to sleep until 4am!…Had such a goooood time!…Probably still be in bed if it wasnt Christmas!….ouch my head…”
Her husband Ted also looked like he’d enjoyed the neighborhood dinner party they’d attended, but he was a bit of a party animal so his slightly glazed demeanour wasn’t as surprising as Carols. Carol…loosened up…not caring about what others thought…really sexy!
That thought had lodged in my brain…
There had been numerous family gatherings since then and even though the old Carol resurfaced each time, the memory of that christmas conversion, that sneak peek into who Carol could be, never left me. It sort of made sense that Ted, the party animal could have been attracted to her, that she wasn’t all presentaion, that if you only dug a little you might find… Yes, she was my sister-in-law but she was also a sexual being, and my mind couldn’t stop wandering down that dark path…
The morning after was a Monday. With head throbbing, I packed the kids off to school and said goodbye to my wife as she set off for work. Luckily for me, I work from home for an artsy-type magazine, so didn’t have to present myself to anyone else that day. I headed to the kitchen to make a strong coffee and take some headache pills, hoping that I’d soon be able to vaguely launch into the day without collapsing.
As the coffee brewed, the sobering daylight started to trigger my anxiety and then remorse. What the fuck had I done last night?
I sat down at the kitchen bench and wrote a text off to my sister-in-law, hopefully trying to come back from the precipice, but not really thinking that I could.
“Hey Carol. Look I am very sorry about last night (!). Yes, was very drunk. Not an kaçak iddaa excuse (well maybe(?) but anyway I want to apologise profusely and hope you can forgive me. xxbob”
No more than 2mins later, Bzzzz….Bzzzzz
My phone jiggled mutely on the kitchen counter.
“Always forgiven xx…but that WAS a very out there text you sent last night!”
I felt immediately OK. Maybe we could carry on as normal…but Carol was bringing it up again…Why?
“It was only the truth,” I responded again, the truth serum seemingly still running through my veins. My penis immediately began to stir. The reality of confessing my taboo desire was like a switch being flicked on in my libido.
“I’m your sister-in-law! You are bad!”
What was going on? I had deleted all the previous nights texts but I did remember that ‘good girl’ and ‘evil thoughts’ and being ‘bad’ had all been part of our conversation.
That there’d been an intimation that there was a dark side. That there might be an itch that needed scratching…that might want to be cajoled out of hiding. I was glad Carol had forgiven me, but I never really thought she’d want to re-address the things I’d written to her. With these thoughts rushing through my foggy brain, I let the side of me that I’d unleashed the night before have another go.
“Do you want to be bad with me?” I pushed, emboldened by our renewed contact, and the rushing of blood to my cock.
“NO. Don’t you think of our families? I love your kids. I love Alice. I can’t be bad…even if I have evil thoughts. No this must stop now. bye bob.”
“…and delete all this pleeaase. double delete it,” she texted immediately after.
But my mind had suddenly gone to 11, and I completely ignored the warnings of both Carols texts and my own mind.
I texted, my heart now racing, not thinking, just feeeling, “But I want to touch you…caress you…finger you…lick you…”
“Stop it bob”.
She responded!!! Surely the fact that she’d responded completeley overshadowed anything she might be saying. I decided to keep going, playing my hunch, letting my arousal have the better of me…
“…suck your nipples…feeel your wetness…put my fingers IN you…”, I was gone and so hard I could feel my prick begin to leak into my underpants. I kept texting.
“I’m so hard right now…be bad with me…you know you want too…”
Who had I become? I pulled my pants down, freeing my now dripping erection from what were now really quite damp underpants. I felt like I was on fire. This was all kinds of bad, but I felt SO horny! I kept going.
“I know it’s wrong but that’s why it feels so good…give in…tell me your wet…tell me…”
At that moment I confess I was just getting off on myself, letting my mind run wild, expressing things I’d never said to anyone. It was too exhilerating but I had now sent three very explicit texts and Carol still hadn’t replied. For a moment, as hard as I was, I paused. Had Carol given up on her sex-addled brother-in-law and…just gone back to work.
The sudden sound of the phone broke my minds sexual spiral and made me actually jump. It was Carol. Of course. Oh shit. Reality.
“Hello…,” I said timidly, expecting a tirade down the line. It’s all very well being bold when texting, its like you’re in another world, another person. Standing in my kitchen with my pants around my ankles, holding my very erect cock in hand, expecting a real person to start tearing strips off me was something else entirely. I put it on speaker, hoping to lessen the intimacy of the dressing down I was expecting. The idea of her voice right next to my ear was too much…my wilting erection, the first casualty.
“BOB. You have to stop!” came Carols exasperated voice, “Just Stop. I’ve had to leave my office so I could ring you…it’s open plan Bob…What are you doing?”
“Bob…Where is this coming from?” Carol finally inquired, in a school maam dont-lie-to-me kind of way.
I was momentarily tempted to stay silent, as the flush of embarrassment filled my cheeks…but hey, in for a penny. I decided to just keep going with my confessional bravado.
“Im attracted to you Carol.”
I don’t know why but just saying that, actually voicing it to her, felt huge: Maybe that’s why catholics do confession. Blood immediately started to flow back into my cock.
“I want to touch you…inappropriately…I don’t know why now…I’ve just decided to not hold back…I’m sick of holding back.”
I began stroking my cock which was leaking again, a few long strands falling to the wooden floor.
“…but we can’t Bob” Carol replied, not as stridently…a little questioning.
That little questioning lilt was all I needed.
“I want to run my hands over your arse…I want to feel your breasts…feeel your nipples harden…I want you to feel how hard I am for you…I’m so hard for you.”
My breathing was getting a little laboured as my hand went back and forth up my slick cock, the copious kaçak bahis amount of precum tempting my mind to wander to Carols wet channel…how turned on she might be…
“Bob, Stop…Stop please…Bob, what’s that sound..oh your..your NOT playing with yourself, are you?…Bob?…I can hear breathing”
“Yeh..Yes…I’m so hard for you…I’m…I’m…stroking myself…I’m going to cum…(nghh)..Tell me your wet too..,” I literally panted.
My hand was becoming a blur as I engaged in (admittedly very one sided) phone sex for the first time in my life. The whole situation. Imagining Carol in her car, hand under her skirt, rubbing her swollen puss, getting off on the wrongness and the sheer sin of the moment…
“No,no, Bob don’t…”
I ignored her and continued, “I want to stick my…I want to stick my cock…in your mouth…and…” I was so close.
“No, this is wrong…I’m going now Bob. Bye,” and with that Carol hung up…but I was too far gone.
I grunted at the dead phone, the first explosive jet of cum absolutely flying from my slick prick about a metre away from me onto the floor…actually splashing…making the first puddle of what was one of the most draining ejaculations I’d ever had. I just kept cumming and cumming. The floor was awash with my seed and it took forever to just come back down from, my body heaving with the sheer force of what I’d just experienced.
It took me a while to fully realise that Carol had indeed dropped off the line…That she hadn’t been enjoying the same experience as me…That I may well have blown our relationship up.
What had I just done?
I didn’t hear any more that day and didn’t send anything either. That night I could hardly sleep with both worry and excitement. I hadn’t felt like this for a long time. My penis was constantly hard. Different scenarios kept going through my mind, ranging from Carol confessing to her husband Ted and our worlds fallng apart, to Carol and I sitting in a hot tub sliding and fucking ourselves stupid without a care in the world!
The next day the scared and hesitant side of me sent Carol another text.
“Clearly I went over the top yesterday and again I’m sorry…My lustful feelings are genuine but I don’t and won’t want to do any more if I’m the only one feeling them…too weird stalkerish pervert by me and not fair on you…Hope you can forgive me (again!) xx bob”
I waited a good half hour and was almost about to accept that I’d completely blown it when Carol texted back.
“Only just forgiven…Clearly ringing you yesterday didn’t stop you!”
Wow. Carol knew that I’d jerked myself off the day before. That I’d pleasured myself while talking to her…while thinking about the things I wanted to do to her…while telling her that I wanted her to suck me off.!!
And I was forgiven!!!!! The surge of blood into my aching prick was like an injection.
My world was turning upside down. My new evil mind immediately thought, ‘what else could I be forgiven for?’
I decided to go back to the tell-it-like-it-is, no-holds-barred, mind running free approach.
“Stop me!!! I havent cum that hard in a decade…went everywhere…I’ve been dripping all night in my bed thinking about you…haven’t felt like this since forever…almost aching…so hard for you”
I then texted, “Did you get wet yesterday…did you touch yourself…did you think about me as I was sliding my fingers up my slick cock…tell me how you feel…”
I was on full-bore. I’d completely lost perspective on what was right or wrong. It was all about the lust and the feeling and just giving in to it. Sin, I think people call it.
I knew there was someone deep inside Carol, desperate to get out, to be let loose. Would she let it happen? I waited, and again my phone buzzed.
“I’m flustered…hot and bothered…I don’t know what to do…yes, I have evil thoughts but I don’t do those sorts of things”
My mind goes into overdrive and my other head completely takes over. I pull down my pants again and I take a picture on my phone of my engorged dick still inside my underpants, showing the wet spot that’s formed at the head, my precum actually forming a droplet on the outside.
I warn Carol that I want to send her a picture (just a mild one, I say)
“NO. Dont bob no ..”
Not surprised at her response or my complete ignoring of her pleas, I write the text, “This is how I’m feeling about you right now,” and attach the picture.
(A dick pick. I’d never done that before. Unbelievable thing to do. So exposing and liberating at the same time)
10 seconds later.
“OMG OMG OMG. That is not a mild picture NO PICTURES!!!! Bob, No. You must stop this!”
Carol had just seen my erection (albeit covered in thin cotton) and she’s still responding, admittedly negatively, but she could just stop. Turn off her phone. Cut me off.
Instead the texting wih her was like a confessional. I could say and do anything that I thought and the person at the other end wouldn’t judge me (might profess to be shocked etc) but would still allow me to indulge. I wanted her to feel the same..to be free to talk…to feel encouraged..to even..join in.
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