The Nasty Wife Pt. 02

"First things first," Miranda began after we all shuffled into the car, reaching her hand back to Katy, who'd been left with the backseat, "fork over the panties."

"What?" my sister stammered, taken slightly aghast by my wife's her assertion and lack of subtly.

Gesturing for her to hurry up, my beloved said, "The panties, as in the ones I know for a fact are in your pocket, the ones that he," she pointed in my direction, "left a disgusting mess inside of."

Although Katy had been able to take advantage of me, I realized Miranda intimidated her, despite the fact that my wife was scrawnier and a couple of inches shorter. My sibling dug out her blackmail material and handed them to the demanding woman. Satisfied, the keys were put in the ignition, the engine fired up, we backed out the driveway, and we were on our way, though none of us having a destination in mind yet.

"Alright, then," Miranda situated herself in the driver's seat, fidgeting with her hands firmly on the wheel, "now that we're on the road, no one around but us, I think we need to talk about things."

"What kind of things?" I asked, knowing what it regarded but was thrown off by the way she'd said it.

"Hun," my wife flashed me a warm smile, which was a little unsettling coming from her, though taking her eyes away from where they needed to be for only a split second, "we've already talked about it. I'd like to hear it from Katy now."

The girl in the backseat and I exchanged a look, and I could see that she was absolutely terrified.

"Whatever he told you," the dirty blonde panicked, "it'll never happen again, I promise..." She then quickly added, "I'm really sorry, Miranda."

"Hey, hey, hey now," the driver shook her head, smirking, somewhat surprised by Katy's reaction, "we're all on the same page here. I just want you to tell me what's going on."

"What's going on...?" my sister choked out.

"Why you were kissing my husband, and why, especially after last night of almost getting into it with me about how incest is wrong, he's now confused over whether or not he wants to put it in you."

"Oh my god...!" Katy slugged me on the bicep repeatedly, "That's disgusting, you pervert, you sicko, you freak!"

"Okay, okay, stop, Sis, stop..." I announced after I'd taken enough abuse. "Chill for a second; that hurt like hell."

"No," she delivered the hardest blow as a finale, "incest is wrong, incest is sickening. What we did wasn't incestuous, I already told you that." She folded her arms, angry, before finishing with, "Now you're making me regret it. I should have never had anything to do with you, you pervert brother sicko."

"Katy," the wife said after cracking up over these antics, which I didn't appreciate, as I was on the receiving end and wanted her to be on my side, "you're a university student, right? And you're what, majoring in psychology?"

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"That's called projection, dear."

After thinking about it for a second, obviously put in her place, the girl got hostile, "No, but—but... I'm not into incest, okay? Don't try to make it look like I'm some sort of deviant, some sort of disgusting... freak-o sister who wants to fuck her own brother."

"And that's denial."

Katy's eyes were transfixed upon me, and she looked like she wanted to turn it into an argument, but at the same time she was so visibly perplexed that she couldn't do it, a plethora of different emotions seizing her all at once.

"I'm not criticizing you," Miranda glanced up at my sibling through the rearview mirror, "it's just that brothers and sisters don't kiss... usually."

"But it's only a kiss," she retaliated, "it doesn't mean anything."

From the look on her face, I could see that it meant a lot to her, especially as I thought back on our conversation before we'd been caught.

"Maybe, but kissing can lead to sex."

"That's gross, I would never..." my sister's words trailed off as she looked at me, swallowing awkwardly, her voice breaking, growing quiet as she knew she wasn't telling the truth when she said, "have sex with my brother."

"Not even once, just to see what it was like?" I realized Miranda was screwing with her. "So, you've never been knuckle deep and you've never had the thought of your brother fucking you from behind, mashing your face into a pillow, pop into your head?"

Katy was absolutely mortified.

"Good god, Hun," I gasped to my borderline demented spouse, "what are you doing?"

"Sorry, sorry," the brunette shivered, "it's just that I haven't been fucked in four days."

"Oh god," the blonde's face was flustered and she looked faint, "I don't want to think about your sex life."

"You're right," the car came to a halt at a stop sign, the driver looking both ways before turning, saying as this happened, "that's a good question, whether or not I'm going to cuckquean you or whether or not you're going to cuckquean me."

"Cuckquean...?" Katy inquired, neither of us knowing what that meant.

"You're going to fuck my husband, what do you think it means?"

"Holy shit, Miranda, you're talking as if it's about to happen."

"Of course it's about to happen," she blinked behind her thick frames, "where the hell do you think we're going?"

"Not to the movies," I knew that for sure, at least.

After a pause, she announced, "We're going to a motel."

"We're going to a motel..." Katy was piecing it together, trying to come to terms with the situation we were in, "so I can fuck my brother...?"

"That's the plan."

"I think I'm going to be sick," she announced, clutching her stomach.

"Miranda, don't you think you're being forward?"

"You're going to fuck her," the fact she wasn't looking at me as she talked was dehumanizing, even though I knew it was to keep her eyes on the road, "maybe it wasn't going to be today, but maybe it'd have been our next visit, or the one after that. One day, someday, whenever, whatever happened between you two is destined to repeat itself, but you'd take it even farther, eventually leading to sex. So, if I know you're going to fuck her, at least I'm going to be there to watch when you do it."

"Please stop..." Katy was shaking.

"Stop what, giving you what you want? I know it's going to happen. Maybe after a bit of wine, and I'm not around for some reason, you finally come to terms with the fact you've always wanted to fuck his brains out. So you do it, either by seducing him and riding on top, or by stringing him along until he bends you over and—"

"Oh... god..." my sibling squeaked before clasping her hand over the crotch of her jeans, squeezing tight, going spasmodic for a few moments. "I-I..." she stuttered when her brief convulsions ceased, her voice lowered in shame, "I just came a little bit."

"Wow," the wife exclaimed, grinding her thighs, "that's fucking raunchy."

I was silent in the passenger's seat, my eyes going from staring at Katy to watching Miranda revel in her perversions. Going to say something, my relative beat me to it.

"Don't look at me," she shoved her hand in my face, forcing my gaze away from her direction, "I have to... Oh god, I can't help it, so please don't look."

There was some shuffling around, and I heard the jingling of a button undone, then a zipper unzip. After the rustling of clothes, I realized Katy had shoved her hand down her pants, and from the way she was panting, her fingers curling against my cheek, I knew she was touching herself. Although I couldn't glance back, the rearview mirror was overhead, and since she was sitting in the middle, I could easily just look up and plainly see what she was doing. Miranda was doing just that from time to time, her expression so excited, but I couldn't do it, despite the fact I had a curiosity brimming inside.

"Oh shit," the blonde swore as I heard a squelching, knowing that it had to be her vagina. "I'm so creamy. I can't believe it, what's wrong with me? Ugh, I'm so fucking wet, why is this happening? It feels so good, but it's so wrong, it's so nasty. Please, for the love of all that is holy," she was clawing the side of my face with her manicured nails, the tips of which painted with pink, intricate designs, "don't look at me when I fuck myself... I can't stop, it feels too good. Why do I think about you when I do this, why am I thinking about you while fingering my filthy hole? Ugh, I hate you, you son of a bitch. I hate you for making me finger-fuck my pussy so nasty like this. You're a bastard for being my number one fantasy. Looking at you while I do it is making me close already..." Her voice had long become breathy and higher in pitch, her every word moaned and not spoken. "No, please god, I can't stop! I'm about to cum; I'm about to cream myself thinking about my big brother...! Fuck me, I wish my fingers were your dick right now. And I can't believe I'm about to confess this, but the reason I heard everything that happened between you two, about Mom and everything, is because I was masturbating with my ear to the wall, hoping I could hear you fuck..."

This confession was what caused me to look into the mirror. Our eyes locked through the silvered glass, and my gaze was sympathetic, for she was helpless with her hand down her jeans, which I could see as a swift moving bulge as she furiously frigged. She shut up, biting her lip, though a few muffled vocalizations escaped anyhow, when she knew I was staring right at her. Then, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her face pink in the places it wasn't bright red, she went limp upon her side, and groaned, periodically shaking out her climax.

"Please tell me this is just a dream," Katy whimpered when it was over. "Please tell me that my brother didn't just watch me... as I... oh god..."

"It'll feel a lot better," Miranda informed her, "if you let go of the shame. Either that, or you start getting off to it."

I almost didn't notice that the vehicle had come to a stop. Out the front window, I could see an unblinking sign, for it wasn't that late in the evening yet to be dark and for the lights to be turned on, advertising a motel. We'd arrived.

"Just give in, sweetheart," my wife went on, turning off the engine before she pried the key from its slot, her voice strangely full of warmth and empathy. "Once you accept it, you won't feel so guilty anymore."

"But it's incest," the girl fought, sitting up in her seat. "I don't want to be some sort of weird... incest-whore... brother-fucker, or whatever this makes me."

"Well, you technically haven't fucked him yet."

"Miranda," I spoke to my estranged spouse, "don't you see this is tormenting her?"

"It's only tormenting her because she's yet to fulfill her fantasy."

"But what if it's just a fantasy, that she doesn't want the real thing?"

"If I hadn't have busted you two, if your mom and I hadn't have come home when we did, and you pounded her ass to pieces, like I know you both want, what do you think her reaction would've been instead? My being here is the only reason she feels the burning eyes of judgment. Without me, there's nothing stopping her, and there'd certainly be no shame, even if you had the wettest, nastiest sex fathomable. The presence of another person, a third party of any kind, is the only reason she feels guilt. If you hadn't have been caught, instead of worrying about the morality of the desire itself, you two would be focused on making sure no one found out about your incestuous affair. But, since it had already happened, you would find a way to keep it consistently happening, or at least so long as you could keep anyone else from discovering your relationship."

"I think you're reading too much into this," I told her.

"No," Katy had her head in her hands, "she's right. I think I probably would've had sex with you if they didn't stop me, and most of this horrible feeling I have comes from knowing I can't have you. Then, I feel even worse knowing you're someone else's."

"You poor thing," whilst her words might sound mocking, I was pretty sure Miranda meant them.

"We're here..." my sibling noted aloud. "What happens now?"

"Well," the wife was grabbing her purse, unbuckling her seatbelt, "I am going to pay for a room. Since it took a while to get out here, and because I do have work tomorrow, we only have enough time for a single hour."

"Is this really happening?" the dirty blonde was zipping and buttoning her jeans, diverting her eyes from my direction as she did. "I mean, are we really going to go through with this?"

"You're making a big deal over nothing, Katy," Miranda was matter of fact. "It's just sex. But yes, we are, since the only reason we're at this seedy hellhole is because we need a private, anonymous place for you to sate your taboo urges. Otherwise, we'd be at a theater right now, catching some forgettable new release like a normal family would. Now," she popped her car door open and stepped out, "prepare yourself, because, after I pay for this, your brother is going to put a limp in your step."

When the door was slammed shut, my sibling and I watched the brunette casually walk toward the entrance to the front desk.

"What's wrong with her?" Katy asked me a second time.

"She's kinky, I guess," that was the only genuine rationalization I could conceive.

"I think Miranda's literally a demon," she whispered, her tone soon becoming humorous. "You know, like some sort of succubus that crawled out of hell to make strange, fucked up things happen on earth. Your wife is the devil, that's what I'm trying to say here," she continued to joke, though her voice partially filled with concern.

"You don't have to do this," I assured her.

"But she's right," she touched my face, "it'd happen eventually. And I want it, even though that must make me some kind of sicko. Her hazel eyes peered into mine, and she then, figuratively naked and vulnerable, asked, her voice expressive of the fear that I would deny her, "You want it, too... right?"

I didn't have a choice, but I couldn't tell her that, so I said, "Yeah, of course."

"Do you know what would make this easier for me?" one side of her bottom lip was bitten.

"What?"

"If you kissed me..."

It was eerie how Miranda had predicted her behavior so accurately. She hadn't been absent but for a few minutes, and already Katy was as if picking up from where we left off. There was a certain guilt that overtook me, where I felt responsible for my sibling, her emotions for me, and the circumstance we found ourselves therein. I leaned in and she went the rest of the way. Again I tasted what I would come to recognize as the taste of my sister, and felt the slick gloss which caused her lips to wetly glide across mine. She gripped the back of my neck and took advantage of this opportunity, not letting me escape from her needy embrace. Each kiss expressed not just enthusiasm, but desperation, where I realized she really had been waiting on me for years and years, now finally able to have me to some extent.

The driver's side door opened with a metallic clunk and our faces pulled quickly apart. My sibling suspiciously coughed and I was obviously wiping my mouth upon my sleeve. Fingernails tapping against the window, standing in the entryway with no intent on joining us inside, just trying to get our attention, my wife stared in at us, a surprising lack of jealousy in her facial expression and body language. She seemed more impatient, antsy even, than anything.

"Like I said, I paid for only an hour, so we should probably get to it."

I reluctantly scrambled out, and Katy, upon seeing my exit, followed my example. The car was locked and we trailed Miranda as she led us to the room. It was almost on the entirely opposite end from where we parked. We had to pass door after door before finally coming to the one whose number was synonymous with those stamped on our key, and it was promptly opened after some tedious fiddling. Standing out of the way of the threshold, my spouse waited for us to enter, and we did. With an automatic locking mechanism, no one would disturb us, and the blinds were shut to ensure no one would voyeur on what was to soon come.

The place was a little run down, though it was tidied enough. I was positive, however, that everything was obscenely stained in various bodily fluids if seen from under a black light. At least the bed was a massive king sized monster taking up practically the entire space of the main room, the only other commodities being a television across from it, and a jarred door to a small bathroom in the corner.

"Because I am technically sharing my husband with you," Miranda turned to my sibling once we settled in, "I think we have to lay some ground rules." She then looked to me, "And because I am technically allowing you to fuck another woman, granted that it is your sister... likewise." When Katy and I nodded in agreement, she continued with, her eyes still in my direction, "You're not turning me into a cuckquean, so, while I am going to watch, don't even think about it. This experience is just as mine as it is yours. And you," her attention was turned again to the blonde, "if you think that my man's dick being inside you makes him yours, you're dead wrong. You can touch, you can kiss, you can fuck, but you see this?" She held up her wedding ring, perfectly adorning her finger, saying, "This means he's mine. Now, do we understand each other?"

"Yes..." the girl's eyes were on the floor, almost like she was being punished.

"Hey, you're not in trouble, Katy dear. This is what you wanted, remember? Come here, I already tasted you on my husband's lips, now I want the real thing."

Hesitant, my sister approached, and her face was pulled to Miranda's. Her hand had clutched the back of her head, then, when they were in close proximity, she proceeded to run her fingers through the dirty blonde locks, the assertive gesture dissolving into a gentle one. Thick framed glasses messing up once she started kissing Katy, and I could see her own lips were smeared now with pink-silver sparkles, she pulled them off, and I took them to hold onto for her. Adrenaline coursed throughout my veins at the sight of the awkward, lesbian display before me, where my sibling didn't quite kiss back. Miranda didn't seem to care, and was pulling up on the coed's shirt. When Katy tugged it back down, the brunette became frustrated.

"If you're worried about whether or not this makes you gay, it doesn't," my sister was informed, her cheek kissed before her neck received the same treatment. "Just think of it like I am preparing you for him, and think about how great it'll be once he has you, once you have him."

These were the words which seduced Katy. Her top was pulled up, and I stared at her abdomen when it became bare. All that covered her torso was a bra now, and that was slowly unhooked, her bosom stained by hardly noticeable nude color lipstick. I looked away when her chest was revealed, but judging from the sounds I heard, I knew my wife had one of my sister's breasts in her mouth, suckling loudly and aggressively at her nipple. Whilst I was incredibly discomforted by my sibling losing more and more clothes, even being groped, fondled, and teased, I was ever so slightly jealous of the woman I married being with someone else, regardless of the fact it was in a contained environment, as well as with another person of the feminine sex.

"I should've worn darker lipstick," the lither of the two girls declared, "so then you could see my love decorating your luscious body. Maybe a dark red or a bright violet... It's a shame, because that would've been so hot."

Her jeans fell to the floor, and I glanced up to see Miranda's hand stuffed inside the coed's panties. I was a witness to the clockwise motions made as she pet her clit, and I felt an uneasiness that came from the taboo of watching my sister be touched in such a lewd, erotic manner, ashamed that I had to do it, that I had to chaperone the event, lest Katy be alone with the horny hell cat I was wedlock to. The wife was descending to her knees, slipping down that skimpy pair of underwear as she did. I couldn't stop quivering when I saw two, fat vaginal lips tightly clinging together, though parted almost like flower petals from having been titillated, beneath a perfectly shaven, smooth pubic region. Despite the puffy plumpness of her vulva, which only made me think about that photo of our mother in the one-piece, her labia wasn't stretched, revealing that she was fresh, nearly virginal. While she wasn't overweight by any means, I noted that my sister's femininities were very ample and fleshy, there being handfuls of her bust, thighs, and backside to grab at, in contrast to the more compact, firm body of who I was married to.