After All, We're Family!

This is a work of fiction. If you are under eighteen or do not wish to read sexually explicit material, exit now. All rights reserved.

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I argued vigorously against it with my Uncle Mike. It was just wrong, and I didn't want any part of it. However, my big, burley uncle with the killer good looks and matching personality finally wore me down. The clincher was when he put his arm around my shoulders, gave me a hearty squeeze and said, "After all, we're family." Against my better judgment, I agreed to make the call.

At that time I was fresh out of law school, had passed the bar exam, and was recently admitted to practice. I was fortunate to snag an associate's position with the largest and most prestigious firm in the state and was assigned to the insurance liability section of the firm's trial division in the main office in Miami.. The firm represented a number of large insurance companies, and the trial lawyers defended the companies' insureds when they were sued. On the plus side, it was exciting work, and I loved it. I was assigned to a team working under one of the best lawyers in America, and the experience that I was accumulating was invaluable. On the down side, it was highly stressful work, and I had to put in long hours at the firm. All of the young associates, including myself, were expected to sacrifice their personal lives upon the altar of "billable hours", and it wasn't at all uncommon for me to put in six twelve to fourteen hour days per week at the office. During a trial where I was involved, the work days often stretched to sixteen, eighteen and even twenty hours.

So here I was, a young, relatively good looking professional guy with a good wardrobe, a nice car and a great apartment, but I had almost no social life. Oh, I sometimes downed a few drinks with my fellow associate-slaves after work and had an occasional date or attended a party on the weekends, but, for the most part, my personal life was a virtual desert. The only oasis in that desert was my Uncle Mike's home on Sundays. I spent almost every Sunday afternoon there with Mike, his lovely wife Jennifer, and their three year old son, Jason. I would join them after they returned from church, and usually Jennifer would then cook and serve the most marvelous meals. Sometimes, however, we dined out at a restaurant. Afterward, Mike and I would watch a ball game, play with Jason, or we would all do something together. It was a welcome break from the daily stress of my life.

Mike was my Dad's youngest brother. He was the baby of the family and was about thirty-four when I took the job in Miami. His intelligence, good looks and personality had made him a rising star in the firmament of the power company where he was already a vice-president. People just gravitated to him, and I'm told that Mike had been quite the ladies' man prior to his marriage to Jennifer. Ah, Jennifer! She was the perfect compliment to Mike, for she was loveliness incarnate. She had been a model until she became pregnant with Jason, and after he was born she and Mike decided that she should stay home and be a full time mother. Yet even at thirty-two and after the trials of pregnancy and childbirth, Jennifer had not lost her model's figure. Her long blond hair flowed onto her shoulders like honey, and her creamy complexion was offset by her azure eyes and full pink lips. Her smile was like the sun bursting through an overcast, and when she laughed the gods sighed. Her figure was, in a word, "succulent". Although moderate in size, her breasts were full and insolent. As Jackson Browne wrote, "She had points of her own, sitting way up high". Her hips were trim, and only God could create something that could move the way that they did. Her shapely legs went from here to eternity, and her ass...... her ass! Helen of Troy's face may have launched a thousand ships, but Jennifer's tight, heart-shaped buns could have launched at least ten thousand more. Moreover, her beauty was matched by her intelligence and wit, and her very best feature was her kind, generous, and loving personality.

As you may have guessed by now, I fell hopelessly in love with Jennifer the moment I first saw her notwithstanding the fact that she was at least six years my senior and was my Uncle Mike's wife. However, my fall was nothing unusual. There wasn't a heterosexual man alive who, after having met Jennifer, didn't fall in love with her or at least lust after her in his heart. I did both, but as beautiful and sensual as she was, Jennifer never even hinted that she was anything other than a loving and faithful wife. And until that fateful Sunday, I was content to worship her from afar.

I slept late that Sunday, a luxury that I permitted myself one day of the week, but when I awakened I felt uneasy. I felt guilty, and I hadn't even done anything wrong yet. I tried to drown those feelings in coffee and distract myself with the Sunday paper, but it didn't work. I'm basically a very honest person, and I was very unhappy that I had agreed to do what Mike had asked of me. But there was no way out. Finally, around eleven, I showered, shaved, dressed and otherwise prepared to go over to Mike's place. Around noon, just before I left, I made the call. Mike picked up the phone.

"Hey Uncle Mike," I said cheerlessly.

"Hello Bob," he responded. "What's up?"

My name's not Bob, and I knew that I didn't need to reply. However, I said, "I'm about ready to leave to come over there."

Then Mike went into his litany of lies. He went on about generators and emergency procedures and asked about the extent of the power outages, etc. It was total bullshit, and I was helpless to do anything about it. As he went on, however, my anger rose in my gorge, and I finally interrupted him to say angrily, "You know, Uncle Mike, you really are a pluperfect prick! I can't believe that you're pulling this bullshit on Jennifer."

His only response was, "Okay, I'll be there in about an hour." Then he hung up.

As I drove to his house I was shaking with anger and fear of discovery by Jennifer. However, as I parked my car in the driveway of Mike and Jennifer's happy home, I pulled myself together and put on my best trial lawyer poker face before knocking on their door. Mike answered the door with a big smile on his face, and Jason came running and wrapped himself around my legs. Jennifer came up behind Mike and welcomed me with her usual hug, but she wasn't smiling. I held my breath, but Mike quickly interjected, "There's an emergency down at the Turkey Point nuclear plant, and I have to go down there. Hopefully, you don't mind entertaining Jennifer and Jason for the day. I hate like hell that I have to go, but it's my job."

He then turned to Jennifer, lifted her off the ground in a bear hug, kissed her on the lips and told her not to look so glum. When she questioned him about how long he would be, he shrugged and said that he didn't know, that it could be several hours or it could be all night. Then he was out the door and gone. When I turned to Jennifer, she smiled wanly and told me to come on in the house while she put the meal into the oven. I felt very uncomfortable under her piercing blue gaze and said, "Jen, I don't want you to have to entertain me all day. Why don't I just go on back to my apartment, and we can do this another day when Mike is home."

With that, she gave me a genuine smile and swatted me gently on the face with the dish towel that she was holding. "Don't be silly," she said. " I'm cooking your favorite, homemade lasagna, and I enjoy your company. Besides, Jason will be heartbroken if you leave now, and Mike will be angry if you leave me all alone. You heard him; you have to entertain me until he returns!" At that point, I relaxed and followed her down the hall. As I tagged along behind her, I couldn't help but notice that she had changed out of her dress that she wore to church and was wearing jean shorts and a halter top. While she padded along in her bare feet, my eyes were glued to the sensual movements of her sumptuous ass. Hey, a guy can look can't he?

I offered to help her in the kitchen, but she declined. Instead, she suggested that I play with Jason to keep him out of her hair while she prepared the meal. She said that she hoped that I wasn't too hungry, because the lasagna wouldn't be ready for a couple of hours. I told her that I was starved, but that I would wait until hell froze over for her lasagna and went to play with Jason. Shortly thereafter, she came into the living room and indicated that she wanted to feed Jason and then put him down for his afternoon "n-a-p". I joined her in the kitchen and sat down at the dinette table while she fed him. We talked and laughed, and I tried to keep up my end of the conversation in order to impress her with my intelligence and charm, but I fell silent several times. I couldn't help it. I was entranced with her beauty and sensuality even as she did something as uncomplicated as feeding her son. During one pregnant pause, she caught me looking at her breasts and the impression of her nipples in the material of her braless halter top, and something strange happened. She looked back at me, and her eyes softened. For a millisecond, electricity flickered in them. Then she blushed and lowered her eyes. I was embarrassed; she was embarrassed; but we both knew that something happened between us at that instant. I realized that she had just looked at me as a man for the first time..... not as her husband's nephew, but as a man, a man who desired her. Then the moment was gone, and she went to put Jason down for his nap. When she returned, I was still sitting at the table in the kitchen. She acted as if nothing had happened and offered me a glass of wine.

"Only if you join me, I replied.".

"Of course," she said and asked me if I preferred a Merlot or a Chardonnay. I responded that I would prefer the Chardonnay even though the red wine was more properly served with the lasagna. "Me too," she laughed. "I guess that neither one of us is very proper."

She retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator and handed it and a corkscrew to me. For the next hour and a half we talked, and the chilled white wine flowed along with the conversation. I was in heaven. I was more hungry for her company than for the lasagna, and believe me, I was damn hungry for the lasagna. The wonderful smell of the baking pasta dish filled the room. Until that day, I never considered the smell of lasagna to be sexual, but, mixed with the sights and sounds of Jennifer, its odor was absolutely erotic. Finally, as the lasagna came out of the oven and was cooling on the counter, Jennifer asked me to set the table while she prepared a salad and some Italian bread. I suggested that we eat at the kitchen table rather than in the dining room where we always ate when Mike was present, and she agreed. . When I stood up to get the silverware, etc. I realized that I had a nice little buzz on from the wine, and I mentioned it to Jennifer. She simply said, "Me too." However, our respective highs didn't stop us from opening a second bottle of the Chardonnay and having more wine with the delicious meal.

When we finished eating we talked and laughed and drank some more. Then, for the first time Jennifer fell silent. A look of intense sadness appeared on her face, and a tear rolled down her cheek. The hand holding her wine glass began to tremble, and she set the wineglass down on the table. Alarmed, I said, "Jen, what's wrong? When I spoke the dam burst, and Jennifer began to sob uncontrollably. I immediately arose and quickly rushed to her side. I pulled her out of her chair and into my arms in a comforting hug. She reached out for me, and her sobbing increased as she buried her head into my chest. I felt helpless and just held her as she cried. Ultimately, the tears subsided, and with considerable trepidation I again ventured the question, "What's wrong?"

Jennifer pulled her head from my chest and said, "I think that Mike's cheating on me." I felt as if I had been struck by lightning. My guilt washed over me like a tsunami as I groped for something to say. I released her, and we both resumed our seats.

"What makes you think that, Jen? Mike would be a fool to cheat on you."

Jennifer raised her eyes and looked steadily at me as she recited the litany of clues that typically raise the suspicions of spouses everywhere. She recounted that during the past year, Mike had become increasingly disinterested in her sexually. While they formerly made love at least five or six times per week, it suddenly dropped to once or twice a week and sometimes not at all. As I squirmed , she told me that Mike hadn't made love to her for almost a month. She also recounted that he always seemed to be working late and made excuses about meetings that he never used to have. When she tried to talk to Mike about their decreasing sex life, he just brushed her off with remarks about the stress of the job, patted her on the head, assured her that everything would be all right, and acted as if nothing were wrong.

I told Jennifer that I had a lot of personal experience with work interfering with one's personal life without actually vouching for Mike's fidelity, and I asked her if anything had happened recently to arouse her suspicions. She looked sadly at me and said that during the past month she had answered the telephone numerous times and found no one there. I offered that such calls could just be coincidental.

She then fixed me with those blue eyes and said, "We have 'Caller-ID' on our phone, and all the calls have come from two phones. One is at Mike's office. It's his secretary's direct line, and the other is her home phone. I know because I went to a pay phone and tried both numbers. Alice answered the line at the office, and her answering machine at home picked up the other call."

"Oh, shit," I thought as I recoiled at this last little bit of information. I wondered if Jennifer checked the call from "the office" that Mike received earlier that day. Hopefully, Mike had erased it.

Just as I was recovering from that shock she hit me again, "And I'll bet that Mike isn't at work now. I'll bet he's fucking Alice." She began to sob again as I cringed with shame at the thought of my participation in Mike's fraud.

Although I was afraid to hear her answer, I asked,"What are you going to do about all of this?"

"I don't know," she sobbed. "I really love Mike, and I'm afraid to confront him with my suspicions." She sighed and said, "Hopefully, if I wait awhile, this whole nightmare will just go away. If not, I'll have to confront him with my suspicions."

I was at a loss for words, so I just said, "Maybe it's best to wait. Maybe everything will just work itself out."

She began crying harder. I arose and drew her into my arms again. As I held her and rocked back and forth, her warmth and the scent of her perfume began to work upon my libido. Suddenly my horny cock began to rear its lustful head, and just as suddenly it was pressing firmly against her belly. As I started to pull back in embarrassment, Jennifer lifted her head and looked questioningly at me. At that moment, my brain left the launch pad. For what happened next, I can only plead temporary insanity.

I leaned down and kissed Jennifer. At first, it was just a tender, sympathetic, and loving kiss, but it flared almost instantaneously into passion. My lips devoured hers, and my tongue was rapier quick, probing into her moist wetness. And then, wonder of wonders, she kissed me back. Her hands came up behind my head, and her lips and tongue reciprocated delightfully. I almost fainted. "Oh, Jennifer," I moaned.

Almost as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Jennifer put both of her dainty hands on my chest and pushed me back forcefully. "No! No! No! Stop! No more. Behave yourself." She was trembling with what I took to be fear and anger.

I turned every shade of red in the spectrum and quickly apologized to Jennifer as I cursed myself silently. "This never happened." she said, composing herself. "Let's just forget about it and get this kitchen cleaned up."

Grateful that she hadn't thrown me out of the house, I nodded in agreement and turned to clear the table, but by now I was burning with lust. Jennifer went to the sink and began rinsing the plates and cookware and loading them into the dishwasher. Neither of us spoke, but there was a palpable tension in the air, a sexual electricity that had infused both of us. I had tasted her, and I wanted more. My growing lust gave me courage. I rashly walked up behind her and pressed my body against hers, pinning her against the counter. As I reached out with my hands and began stroking her arms, Jennifer stiffened. Again she cried out, "No!" She struggled and strained to get away, but I had her trapped. I was much stronger than she, and she couldn't move unless I permitted it. "Leave me alone," she cried. My cock came alive again, and I pressed its hardness between the cheeks of her lovely ass as I leaned into her and began worshiping her neck with my lips and tongue.

"Stop it," she moaned. "We can't do this. I'm married, and I love my husband. Don't do this to me!"

She might as well have asked the Sun to stand still in the sky at high noon. I was a runaway train, and I ignored her pleas while I continued to devour her neck. As she tried to lean away from me, my probing tongue reached her ear and began to explore its interior spaces. Jennifer whimpered and moaned, this time almost in a whisper, "We can't. We can't."

As I nibbled and sucked upon her earlobe I whispered back, "Yes we can. I want you, Jen, and I'm going to take you."

I reached around Jennifer's shoulder with my left arm and hand and held her upper torso tightly against me as my right hand cupped her right breast. As I kneaded the softness beneath my hand, the nipple hardened, and I tweaked and tortured it through her halter top. She whimpered quietly as I worked the now stony nipple and the fullness of her breast. I could feel her resistance to my touch fading with each passing moment, and gradually her movements changed from a struggle to get away from my touch to a slow pressure of exploration as she pressed her body back against mine. When I released her shoulders, and my left hand imitated my right by caressing her left breast, all resistance evaporated. With another whimper, Jennifer surrendered her body to the pleasure that I was inflicting upon it. To this day I'm not sure exactly what caused that surrender. It might have been the fact that Mike had neglected her sexually for almost a month after they had previously enjoyed sex almost daily. It might have been the fact that she knew that he had been cheating on her, and she wanted some measure of revenge. It may have been the catharsis of bearing her soul to me, or it may have just been the wine and the heat of the moment. It probably was a combination of all of these things. In any event, at that moment, I didn't care why she surrendered. I was just grateful that she had and that she was mine for the taking.

I tugged upon her halter, and she silently lifted her arms above her head while I stripped it from her and dropped it on the floor beside us. My hands were trembling as they seized her naked breasts for the very first time. Her whimpers became more plaintive as my hands molded themselves around her naked flesh and my fingers pulled insistently on her nipples. She arched her back and offered her twin orbs to my adoring hands, and her luscious ass began grinding against the hardness pressing between the opulent cheeks contained in her jeans.

I whispered into the ear that my tongue had been exploring, "Do you like my hands on your breasts? Do you like the way that they feel? She nodded silently. I pressed the issue, "What's that? I can't hear you."