Mila waggled her arm again, the saltshaker clasped in her hand, causing her breasts to jiggle and my cock to twitch as she tried to get my attention. “Didn’t you want this?” she said and dangled the saltshaker right in front of my eyes so there was no way I could miss it.
“Ah, yes. Thanks,” I managed to say and took it from her. It was my turn to stare at my plate.
Damn! How I had not noticed her perfectly round tits before now?
Because she’s your sister, you idiot! And you’re married!
Not by blood, I countered then almost groaned aloud at the realization at the inappropriate conversation I was having inside my head about my own stepsister.
But I did have to wonder, with a body like that, her curves filling that clingy dress why she never brought a date to these family get-togethers. Someone had to have been worshiping that body, right? And if they weren’t, then… damn. My thoughts strayed and I wondered if she knew her nipples were poking through the fabric, begging to be touched?
The swell in my pants grew the more I thought about what lay underneath the green material. I swallowed the thickness in my throat.
“Devan? Are you OK?” Mila whispered as she leaned over. Her thigh brushed against mine as moved closer.
Don’t look down.
DO NOT LOOK! I screamed in my mind and forced myself to make eye contact instead of glancing back down to her mammoth cleavage.
As my gaze landed upon hers she smiled, and my resolve wavered a fraction. My focus dipped to her plump smiling lips. They were moving again, sweet, pink and glistening, but I couldn’t hear her over the roar of blood rushing around my body.
I wet my lips.
What the fuck was happening to me? I knew it’d been a while since Monique and I had… but this was ridiculous.
I wanted to leave the table but knew all too well the bulge in my pants would not be an appropriate thing for the whole family to see.
“I’m fine.” I coughed and tried to unsee what I’d just imagined in my sex-deprived brain: Mila bent over the table, her hands outstretched, causing plates and glasses clattering onto the floor, as the hem of her dress was lifted over her bottom to reveal the slick ripeness between her legs.
“You don’t look fine,” Mila said and shrugged.
Her thigh was no longer nestled up against mine, and I felt a sudden loss at its departure… it had felt nice, comforting. It’d been so long since Monique had touched me that it was no wonder I was thinking all these dirty thoughts.
That was it, I told myself, I wasn’t a sick individual ogling my stepsister’s tits, or imagining her with her legs spread wide because I wanted her.
No, I was just a hot-blooded married man, who was having a dry spell at the moment. And when you think of it, it was pretty hilarious. We wanted a baby, and yet Monique never wanted any kind of intimacy. It was always on her terms, a quick boring fuck, regimented like clockwork. It was like I was back in the Navy, scheduled to perform a certain task as soon as my commanding officer told me to.
Thank god she wasn’t ovulating this week, I thought bitterly. I don’t think I could’ve handled another round of being used like a sperm bank. Maybe I was being unfair, marriages have their tough times, and maybe this was ours… but I had feelings too, and it felt like we’d been fighting since they day I slipped that ring onto Monique’s finger; I was exhausted.
* * *
I looked up from my plate and noticed people were starting to leave the table. Thankfully my hard-on had died a quiet death, and I stood to follow, only to have it return again. Mila was ahead of me by a fraction, and I watched the hypnotising wiggle of her ass. She swished her hips back and forth as she made her way out onto the terrace.
The party was always billed as a brunch, but year after year, we went well into the evening, hanging out, drinking, eating. The remains of brunch turned into dinner, and the mimosas turned into beers and cocktails. At about seven o’clock, Edwin, my step-dad, started a bonfire, and we moved chairs to sit around it. It was the perfect night for a bonfire, and we all settled in. Eddie brought the cooler of beer out to be closer, and Mom refilled cocktails.
“I’ve an idea, well Suzanne and I.” My mom came up with a gin and tonic and sat in the empty chair beside me. Monique had vacated that seat moments ago to go use the restroom, but I was more than happy to have my mom occupy it instead. “Mila, honey, come here for a minute.”
I swallowed as Mila tottered over and stood by us, her curves illuminated from behind by the firelight. Damn, the dress she wore was gorgeous on her. I thought I’d told her that earlier in the day, but maybe not.
“That dress is really pretty on you, Mila,” I said blurting it out. Maybe I’d had too many beers for one day.