I tripped down the stairs and my dick fell in your sister.
I’m not proud of myself. But I won’t spout that ‘it just happened’ bullshit. I take full responsibility for my actions. I’m not dumb enough to try to sell my wife some flat out lie where I tripped down the stairs and somehow my dick landed in her little sister. Oops. Of course I am hoping the issue never comes up at all, but these things have a way of coming out.
It’s not like I don’t love my wife. I do, but…well, let me explain. I knew Chelsea from high school and while we didn’t date back then we did eventually hook up after I went through college and she went through a shitty marriage. I guess we both got an education. I ran into her three separate times, completely out of the blue, and by that third time we both needed a little bit of saving; her from said shitty marriage, and me from a psycho girlfriend. I figured the universe was trying to tell me something, so I married her.
Of course, along with a wife comes a bunch of in-laws. Enter Chelsea’s little sister Callista, Callie for short. Callie had been dating this guy Byron for a long time and apparently her older sister’s wedding prompted them to go ahead and get hitched, because they were married about eight months after us.
Chelsea and I decided to wait on kids so we were living the high life, going on cruises twice a year for vacations, staying out late and partying and all that. I’m glad we made that decision because those were damned fun years. Callie, on the other hand, got knocked up right quick.
Now here’s where it gets interesting. Byron went completely bat shit crazy when he found out he was going to be a father. Suddenly his childhood was over and the weight of the world was on his shoulders, yadda yadda yadda. Any parents out there know the feeling. Only he chose to deal with it by essentially running away. He ran off to live with some friends in Seattle ‘for a while.’ This was in the early ’90s so the grunge thing was still big and he was throwing himself into that scene with a vengeance trying to party himself to death or something. I never understood the idiot. He’d call every couple of days and weep like a baby or berate Callie for getting pregnant or claim he’d be home in a week, or never, or any number of crazy things. He really screwed her up when she needed him to do exactly the opposite.
So now Callie is alone, abandoned and hormonal as hell so her mood swings are positively epic. Any parents out there know the feeling. I got the job of being her substitute husband, even (at my wife’s prodding) going to the Lamaze classes with her. I think Chelsea was scared of the whole pregnancy idea like it was a disease she might catch so she stayed away from her growing sister and made me go over and help all the time. So you see how this could happen, right?
The first time was just some kind of perfect storm. Callie was having lots of back pain, even at six months. Callie is a skinny thing and her weight was all right up front in her belly. She didn’t gain an ounce anywhere else. Well, her tits swelled up a bit, but she didn’t get all sloppy wobbly big like a lot of pregnant women. Plus, she glowed. I don’t know how else to explain it, but not all women do that when they are pregnant. Callie did in spades, even though she usually looked like a wreck with her mousy hair a few days away from a brush and this frazzled look in her eye. My wife Chelsea was the pretty one, but Callie’s slightly long face and sharp features weren’t in any way unattractive. Anyway, one night after Lamaze she had a request.
“Ow! My back is killing me. Hey, I know I ask a lot and I really appreciate all your help, but do you suppose you could give me a back rub for a little bit? Just right here.” She indicated her lower back, just above the waist.
“Sure, of course. Um…couch?” My mind naturally shied away from taking her to the bedroom, just because it would be improper. But she was thinking comfort more than propriety.
“No, the bed is better. I can just stay there and relax.” I followed her to the bedroom, only mildly uncomfortable about it. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy putting my hands on a pretty girl as much as the next guy, but as you can see there were complications here.
She crawled right up on the bed and started to flop down on her belly, then got back up on her knees and whipped her top off. She was facing away from me and she had a sport bra on so it’s not like it was slow-jazz time or anything, but it was just one more step down the road I didn’t realize I was on. She settled back down and I stood next to the bed and did my best to work out the tension in her lower back.
“Ohhhhhh…that’s nice,” She groaned into the quilt atop the bed. “I’ve needed this for weeks. Ohhhhh…mmmmmm…” She moaned and groaned appreciatively as I put my hands to work. I tried to keep it very civil and friendly, but I might have strayed an extra half inch too far here or there. After a while she got chatty.
“Byron used to give me backrubs all the time. He has really good hands.” I wanted to say something nasty about the guy but I didn’t want to get her started. Sometimes she defended him, sometimes she hated him – it was a crap shoot and I didn’t want my crap shot so I just shut up. “There’s a spot just a little lower that gets really tight, like a few inches below the belt on either side.” Yeah, and that would be what we call ‘the ass,’ but sure, fine, I’ll hit that too. I obliged her request and went a few inches south of her belt line, working the muscles hard. Again she groaned.
“Ohhh, yeah, that’s it!” Ohhhhhhh…”
I’ll admit, I was enjoying it. Backrubs do often lead to more than just backrubs and I’m not immune to that fact, though I wasn’t planning anything. Still, there might have been the slightest of stirring in my boxers at having my hands roam a lovely young woman’s body.
“I’m glad Chelsea lets you come over to help me. It’s been really hard with Byron gone.”
“Nobody should have to go through this alone, darlin’. We are both here for you.”
“She’s not. She treats me like I’m sick or something. She barely talks to me anymore.” I could hear a bit of a weepy whimper creeping into her voice.