There’s a First Time for Everything


Well, this is a true story, and originally started out as a short post I made in another forum where the question was asked if anyone had any “anonymous confessions” to make that might be of interest to the group.

This got me thinking of how I first got involved with my absolutely stunning young sister-in-law and what was the beginning of a 25-year long affair of smoldering sex, guilt, love, lust and sometimes pain.

We had an on-again, off-again affair that spanned almost three decades. The affair would end, of course, every time she would invite a new man into her life… and he would then become the latest “flavour-de-jour”… at least for as long as he lasted.

Throughout our affair she dated, married, had children, divorced, shacked up and has just recently remarried once again… this time to a pretty decent guy who truly does seem right for her.

I write of this now, since I believe it really is over…the physical part of it anyways, and I honestly do want her to get on with her new man.

Regardless of all our ups and downs, there is one thing that remains clear and positive to this day.

We do love each other. An old, comfortable love now… and one that we can both reflect back on with pleasure, knowing that we were right for each other back then, that we are comfortable with what we have now, and that we did have our time together.


There’s a first time for everything… or so they say. And I must confess right now, right here…

there most certainly is…

Years and years ago my wife’s younger sister, who was about 19 back then, was going out with a friend of mine from Gatineau.

He had somehow talked her into auditioning at one of those “amateur nights” the old Club 77 used to have occasionally, way back when that sort of thing was allowed.

Well… she landed a part-time thing there and danced in secret, away from the rest of her family, on Thursday and Friday nights… all that summer until she went back to CEGEP in the fall.

Being buddies with her boyfriend I knew all about this of course… and would go watch her whenever I could… either with or without him, since we both worked down at the CIP but on different shifts.

Anyways, one night this normally nice tame brother-in-law had a face full of whiskey and his gorgeous little sister-in-law was sitting WAY too close to him… all dressed up in her short sexy baby-dolls and her 5 inch pumps.

We were family… friends… and she was just chatting away.

Well, I’m not sure she was fully aware of just how hot I was for her that summer. I had seen her up on stage about a dozen times by now, and I was absolutely panting for her.

Long story short, I just up and ask her straight out. Dance for me, Angela. Champagne room. Please. A bit embarrassed, but so drunk and horny that I just didn’t care anymore.

She looked at me as if I’m fucking nuts. Are you fucking crazy? What about my sister? You’re married to my sister, or don’t you remember? What about my boyfriend? Your good old huntin’ buddy! Known him for years! How about that? How about all that?

I felt like a total asshole and looked down at the tabletop, sheepish, unsure of what to say.

I had nothing… crossed the line, for sure.

We sat there for a few seconds I guess… felt like a fucking hour… and then she stood up.

I stood up too, thinking that was it… she was leaving in disgust.

She just glared at me… I could tell she was angry and her eyes were just flashing… just boring elazığ escort big fucking holes clean through me.

Standing there and shaking her head slowly from side-to-side… as if she still could not believe what her pig brother-in-law had just suggested. Me shuffling around like a goddamn fool, a pack of nerves now, and hating myself completely for being so goddamn stupid.

She closed her eyes, and her expression slowly relaxed. Finally… she did look at me again, but had I caught a mild look of disapproval? Even disappointment, perhaps?

And then all at once, she seemed to reconsider. She cocked her head to one side, rolled her eyes back with sheer, theatrical exaggeration and crooked her little finger at me.

To my complete and utter amazement, she proceeded to lead the way back to the rear of the club, back to where all those dirty little cubby holes lay waiting.

They smelled of old beer and cigarettes… dried semen and old stale perfume. I took my place on a cold hardwood chair that passed for accommodation back there, and was relieved to see that at least some semblance of composure and that magnificent smile had once again reclaimed her beautiful face. She seemed a little more composed now I thought, and not really that pissed at me.

Ohhhhhh alcohol… If only I had known. The downfall of soooo many.

Suddenly remembering just in time… I pulled a stack of twenties from my wallet and slipped them under the dirty, chipped ashtray.

We all know those tippy small round benches, and as she mounted hers, she seemed to trip and almost landed on top of me. She reached out quickly to catch herself, and laughed out loud as her hand ‘accidentally’ brushed over the swollen prick that was now bulging between my legs. She giggled again, knelt down and simply said “Oops”, running her hot smoldering lips across my face… all soft, sexy kisses… then tracing her tongue along my cheek and up to my ear.

Just the sight of the whore-red lipstick she wore on those moist pouting lips blew me away… right into the fucking stratosphere. She’s only nineteen! I flushed with lust, my penis stiff and starting to pulse lewdly along with my heartbeat. She was so fucking close I could smell the perfume she had chosen to wear that night. Obsession, I thought… yeah, that’s it… Calvin Klein wasn’t it? … Ohhhh yeah… just fucking intoxicating when it’s worn all thick and heavy like she has it on now. Fucking slutty, really. Almost like a fucking drug, truth be told … like all the other peelers who wore it… pretty fancy for ( fuck! ) a fucking strip club where ( Fuck!! )

( Christ almighty! )

( I had bought it for her last Christmas!! I had drawn her name, and she was wearing it now!! )

She put her mouth right up next to mine, her perfumed hair now all full and in my face, suffocating me with her feral, erotic scent… and then in that smoky sweet, babydoll voice… the unmistakable voice of my wife’s younger sister… her words seared into me.

Why has it taken you so long to finally ask me to dance for you? Don’t you realize I know what you’ve wanted to do to me these past few years? That you want to fuck me? Like you fuck my sister?

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even move I was so god-damned stunned. She went on… telling me how she used to listen to my wife and I fuck late at night at her parent’s house, when everyone else was asleep. That she used to masturbate to the creaking bedsprings across from her room, imagining what it would be like to just walk in and trade places with her. What it might be like to lie underneath me in her place… what my thick muscled body would feel like pounding into her. Breeding her. Inseminating her.

As she told me all of this my now rigid, swollen prick began to leak uncontrollably, soaking my boxers through with ejaculate. The stiff cock meat suddenly engorged with what felt like a gallon of white-hot fucking lava… all burning and bunched up and crammed in with those molten, cum-swollen balls… all of this stuffed into a pair of jeans that were now way too tight to play the fuckin’ harmonica or even drive the goddamn taxi.

She disengaged from me slowly and stood up, peeling off her flimsy babydolls. They whispered a soft ‘adieu’ as they made their way lazily to the floor.

She gazed down upon this poor tortured soul and posed herself for me… directly in front of me.

My Rodin… my Canova…

So extraordinarily beautiful that my heart just thundered, raced out of control and skipped out completely… stopping dead for a few agonizing seconds before finally stumbling on with an oddly pained and troubling staccato.

Her body was absolutely flawless, perfect like only a nineteen-year-old body can be… and just a brief moment of self-consciousness flashed across her gorgeous face before it glazed over completely with lust, and the AC/DC started to thunder out of those ancient old Cerwin-Vegas.

And there… finally… my sweet young sister-in-law spread her legs for me like an erotic angel… straddled my thighs with those long sun-kissed legs and wrapped her sleek, silky arms around my neck.

And started to dance for me.

Oh yes… she danced for me.

In all her glory… her smooth tight body, clean and bronzed with the summer sun, brazenly spread open and offered up to her brother-in-law for his personal pleasure… his personal whore.

Her petite rock-hard nipples were stiff and slutty… perched up high on her firm jutting tits.

I couldn’t keep my hands off her and she just infuriated me with being so goddamned professional about it all.

Making me obey all the house rules… allowing me to touch and taste… but never below the waist, remember.

Suddenly, I just couldn’t take it anymore and I begged her to kiss me, to rub her tits against me… my prick… something… anything!

And, yes….

Yes!! I spilled my guts to her. Yes, I had the hots for her and Yes, for years I had masturbated thinking about her. Yes, I had spilled my seed for her so many fucking times I lost track… everywhere… anywhere… in my car after her shows, at home, at her mum’s house, everywhere.

Yes!! I had jacked off into her panties and Yes!!! Fuck it!!! Whatever!!!

And that I wanted her…

Right … Fucking … Now

She listened to all this with that smoking hot, amused little smile on her face… then told me Sorry… we just couldn’t do anything more… there were rules after all.

She might lose her job… and what about college and all that? All the while she’s grinding that hot little stair-mastered tush across my aching prick and letting me suck her firm delicious tits.

All of a sudden, she leans in close and say’s there is one thing that clients are sometimes allowed to do… but only if they’re good clients, and they promise to behave.

That she sometimes lets them to do it… if she finds them attractive enough.

And not like it’s really breaking the rules… technically.

She leans in even closer, and whispers into my ear exactly what I will be allowed to do.

I am too fucked up to care.

I am a lot older than her… married… and I know that I really shouldn’t be doing this.

But really folks… at this point in time I’m right there… right there at half-past give-a-fuck.

So, I unzip myself in that filthy little booth and pull my jeans down around those old work boots. Yeah… right there, right in front of my sweet little sister-in-law.

My prick is harder than it has ever been before and actually hurts when I wrap my hand around it and start jerking off for her… exactly as I have been told to do.


It dawns on me that the music ended a while ago, or so I remember… but can’t exactly say when either. Where did the time go? What’s wrong with me?

She looks down at me and her eyes are flashing again. This time she is haughty and aloof.


She has become my Queen.

Another thought, hard and solid.

She owns me now. She knows it.

I whimper as I realize this, and can hear my balls slap obscenely against the wooden seat. The lewd, coarse cadence now an audible, rhythmic affirmation of her complete and utter control over me. They are swollen and heavy with cream and they hurt as they hit the solid, unforgiving wood but I don’t care. My ejaculate running free now… a steady flow from the angry inflamed slit… drooling uncontrollably over this rough, hardened, Millwrights hand.

I am a thirty-two-year-old, fully-grown adult male and this new and totally unexpected revelation comes as a complete shock to me… and it staggers me.

I belong to her now… I have become a piece of her property.

The entire scene has become indecent and almost offensive, but I continue to masturbate for her.

I am beyond care.

Brutish, primitive growling… and my hips begin to pump to that ancient prehistoric rhythm.

I am coarse now, and vulgar… I’m going to cum.

( for her.. )

She smiles down at me and slowly runs one of her high-heels up the length of my prick.

( i spray.. )

I spray like a barnyard animal, thick liquid ropes of semen jet from my penis.

She reaches down and places her hand on top of mine, guiding me… helping me jerk off as if I were some pimple-faced teenager getting his first hand job.

I am absolutely enraged by this, almost choking with fury… but unable to do anything but pump my hips obediently in time with her strokes.

I squirt shamelessly… and I empty everything I have left out into her hand and all over her legs.

I collapse, almost losing consciousness, but no… ohh no… she is not done with me.

She slowly milks me then… and it will take her a minute or so to pump the very last drops of essence from me, leaving the center of my aching, hollow body utterly and absolutely empty. She has drained me completely.

Bad boy, she scolds tenderly… Look at the mess you’ve made… all over my nylons.

She slides her hands along those honey-kissed stockings … coating them completely with my seed.

I watch as my gorgeous young sister-in-law covers her long, suntanned legs with my semen.

She places her sweet, pouting lips over mine and slips her tongue into my mouth.

Suddenly, I am French kissing my beautiful sister-in-law. Our first time. Ever.


She breaks the kiss and whispers to me softly. That was absolutely awesome… and we can do it again whenever you want.

She gets down from her bench, picks up the cash and struts away, never looking back.

I feel filthy, dirty and absolutely degraded.

I fucking love it.

Ottawa, August 2015

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