The woman I call my “wife” didn’t start out that way. I’m 43 now, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the summer after I turned 18. I was riding beside my dad in his crew-cab pickup. School was done; I had graduated, and Dad was grilling me on where I was going next. I wasn’t sure, and that didn’t make him happy. It was going to be a long 2-hour drive to pick up my sister from college; I was only there to be muscle. We had a small ranch, but Dad wanted better for us. Once we finished college, he planned to sell the ranch and retire.
“You could go to ASU like your sister. Not too far, but just far enough for your independence,” he suggested.
“I don’t know, Dad, I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Son, I just don’t want you to have work like your mother and I did. God bless her.”
“I know, Dad. I promise, I’ll figure it out before registration.” I turned up the radio, hoping he’d take the hint. He did. The mention of my mother usually released me from conversational obligations. She had passed a year ago after a short battle with cancer. My sister, Brittany, had just graduated; at least my mother got to see one of her kids walk across the stage. Brittany left for ASU that fall.
We arrived on campus around 1030 in the morning. Brittany ran to us from the dorm wearing a pink tank top and what looked like a white tennis skirt. Dad greeted her with overwhelming joy, happy to have his daughter home for the summer.
“Hey Brit,” I greeted her with customary indifference.
“Sam.” She came in and gave me a big hug. A level of affection I was not attuned to. “Congratulations, sorry I couldn’t make the ceremony. Mom would’ve been so proud,” she said, a little teary-eyed. There it was, but I wasn’t mad. We were all the family we had close by.
“Hey guys, this is Megan; she’s been my roommate for the last two semesters.” I looked up as Megan came through the doorway, her legs ending in pale blue Soffe shorts, topped with a blue-and-white tank top. She was a petite woman, 5’2”, with pale skin and a swimmer’s build, and small B-cup breasts that fit her frame. Her blonde hair and grey eyes were a stark contrast to my sister’s auburn hair and chestnut eyes. Brittany was taller, standing at 5’6”, and had much more on top, sporting her C-cup breasts, her dark caramel skin already well bronzed for the summer.
Now I had a second reason to be glad for my attire, a white mesh athletic shirt and blue Umbro soccer shorts. The combination was ideal for the heat that was already beginning to build, and maybe Megan would like what she saw. The shorts left little to the imagination.
“Pleased to meet you,” my father responded as I stood there with a stupid smile on my face. “Come on, kids, we have a lot to do, and we want to beat the heat.”
We began emptying my sister’s dorm and packing everything in the truck. Apparently, my sister misinformed my father about just how much stuff there was. By the time we finished, the bed was full, the front seat was full, and the backseat was nearly full.
“I’m going to have to stack the two of you in the back seat,” Dad expressed remorsefully. “I can’t have you in the front like that.”
“It’s ok. We’ll make it work, right?” Brittany looked at me.
“Can Megan bring you?” I asked, maybe a little hopefully.
“She has no car, and she’s flying out this afternoon.”
Dammit. “Yeah, we’ll manage.” Brittany and Megan said their goodbyes, and we climbed into the truck, Brittany sitting on my lap. Thank god she wasn’t too heavy, but the lack of airflow around us was stifling.
Brittany wriggled around until she found a comfortable position. “Is that o.k.?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m comfortable enough.” And so, the trip began.
The steady hum of the road, the coziness of the tight space, even the musk of my sisters combined sweat, body spray, and shampoo. It wasn’t long before I drifted off. And how sweet the dreams were. Megan, with her petite body, diving into a pool of cool, refreshing water, wearing only what she was born in. Beckoning me to join her. The heat from our bodies, heating the water around us. I could feel the difference in the water’s temperature between our bodies. The heat radiating from between her legs as I probed, her lithe young body pressing her ass against me. My balls, aching for release as my cock strained against her.
Suddenly, the earth began to rumble. I woke to find myself in a very awkward position. My left hand cupped Brit’s left breast, gently kneading it; my right hand was plunged deep inside her panties, my middle finger having separated the slick folds and now seated two knuckles deep. My cock, hard, throbbing, aching, had freed itself from my shorts and sat pressed against my sister’s thigh, waiting for attention. Brit was leaning against the soft pile of bedding that occupied the seat beside us, a gentle moan escaping her throat as her hips gyrated against my hand.
I had no time to process or react. She slowly opened her eyes and looked down at my cock. Her eyes flew open as she turned her head to look at me, then at my hands, then at me again.
“What the Fuck!” she mouthed at me.
I quietly whispered back, “I don’t know! I was sleeping!” But apparently, my hand hadn’t stopped moving, or Brittany hadn’t. Or perhaps it was the dirt road on which we now traveled. Maybe it was all three. But Brittany suddenly threw her head back as her hips thrust backward; an involuntary moan followed. She thrashed forward, gripping the seat as she began to twitch against me. She looked at me, conflicted, her face a mix of lust and irritation. She pulled my hand from her panties. She lifted up, pulled her panties aside, and slid down onto my cock. The sensation was…amazing. Hot, slick, tight, her muscles still spasming from her orgasm, she rode me with the rhythm of the road.
I want to say I gave her the ride of her life, but in my heightened state, it took only a few moments to bring me to the brink of losing control. I placed my hands on her ass, trying to lift and support her. She declined the invitation. Driving down onto me with renewed vigor. I couldn’t hold out any longer. I thrust up, seated deeply inside her as I erupted. All of my pent-up desire of the day surged into her with a force meant for anyone else. She pushed down onto me, her body humming as her face contorted into something I’d never seen before. She was cumming again. With me. Both our bodies twitching and jerking against each other.
“Why?” I asked when I could form a thought again.
“Later,” she said as she kissed my forehead. The truck rumbled to a stop.
“You alive back there?” my Dad asked from beyond the piles of my sister’s belongings.
“Yup!” my sister answered, “And just in time, I gotta pee!” She eased her way off me, then bailed out of the truck and trotted off to the house.
“Yeah, me too,” I stated, trying to sound groggy. I grabbed the bedding beside me to hide myself and went inside as well.
“I uh. I…what? You…” I stuttered as she emerged from the bathroom. She looked past me, through the window, to see Dad untying the load on the back of the truck.
“I don’t know. I panicked. I had already come twice, and it was just there, and you already looked embarrassed. In my brain, I figured this would be less awkward,” she blurted out.
“And is it?” I posed.
“I enjoyed it. I came two more times. And I feel…relaxed.”
“Two? I only counted one!” I whispered back.
She smiled knowingly. “The first was almost instantaneous. But did you enjoy it?”
“Yes! God yes!” I could feel my cock beginning to stir again.
Brit chuckled and pointed at my crotch. “Maybe you should put a leash on that; we have work to do.”
“I’m going to the bathroom now,” I said, redness creeping into my cheeks.
“Don’t beat him up too bad; I’ve got plans for later.” She gave me a smile and a wink and headed back out the door. I stood there a moment longer, watching her bounce away, then went into the bathroom to urinate and clean up. My mind raced with what she had in mind.
That was how the summer started. That was how it all started. We spent the summer sneaking away every chance we got. That fall, I joined her at ASU. We stayed off campus in a little house that provided all the privacy we needed.
Twenty-five years later, we are still together, more than brother and sister. Our dad passed a few years ago; Brit and I moved and have opened a business together. Everyone assumes we are husband and wife; we don’t correct them. I can’t imagine my life with anyone else.
