I detest Family Politics. It’s like living in a soap opera that you can’t escape. But there are times when the pressures of the family can have some benefits if you look at it right.
Madeline is the matriarch of my wife’s family. The old bird is slightly to the right of Atilla the Hun and a little more rich than William Randolph Hearst. She kept the purse strings pulled tight, dangling them over the heads of her children from the time they were born and always threatening to remove them from her will if they caused her any grief.
Despite a few scrapes with the law and never finishing anything she started, my wife’s sister Anne maintained a tenuous grasp at staying in her mother’s good graces. That could all change, though, if Madeline learned of who Anne had been spending time with. Anne was strictly forbidden (the way a five year old is forbidden from touching the stove) from having any contact with her former finance.
Like I said; a soap opera. And, like all soaps, this story needed a villain. I was more than happy to step in.
I approached her one night at her apartment–inviting myself over with the ruse of needing to discuss the perfect birthday gift for my wife–armed with photographs of Anne and her ex-fiance taken only the week before.
It’s not that I wanted to cause Anne any distress. It’s just that I wanted her.
“What the fuck? You followed me!?!” she screamed.
“I did. You’d been acting… differently, lately,” I replied as calmly as I could.
She collapsed onto her couch, her head in her hands, and started crying. “Can’t you fucking see? I was happy! Happy!”
It was always a drama with Anne.
“You can still be happy, Anne. But I want to be happy, too.”
Her tears, half crocodile/half genuine, began to recede. “What do you mean?”
“Simply this; I’ve been attracted to you since the day I met you. I’d be willing to make sure Madeline never sees these pictures as long as you’d be willing to, uh, fulfill my needs.”
“You mean… you want to fuck me? That’s sick! You’re my sister’s husband!”
“I don’t see anything sick about it, Anne. Your sister’s a wonderful woman, but she doesn’t satisfy me in the bedroom. I know you’re a hot piece of ass, and that’s what I need. Think of it as saving her marriage and saving yourself a lot of grief by putting out for me.” I was amazed at how calm I remained while pleading my case to her. I’d thought these words so many times before, pulling my pud in private or banging my wife while imagining Anne instead.
I could hear the wheels turning in her head; I practically smelled the smoke. Anne had a lot going on with her trim, toned body but there wasn’t much happening above the neck, so to speak. She stood and came closer to me. The look in her eye was one of smoldering hatred. I would have preferred smoldering lust.
She grabbed the photos out of my hand and violently shredded them into tiny pieces. The look of satisfaction and defiance on her face when she was done was priceless. I began to laugh, stepping closer to her and putting my hand on her shoulder.
“The originals and the negatives are in my safety deposit box, Anne.” She turned away from me. I put my mouth to her ear and whispered, “You don’t have to give me everything, Anne. I just want one part of you. I don’t want your heart, just your ass.”
She spun around and went to hit me. I caught her wrist with one hand and grabbed the other. I wanted her to realize that I had the upper hand. “It’s the thing your sister won’t do for me,” I hissed. “A man has needs. I can find a whore who will let me fuck her ass when the need arises and break your sister’s heart or you and I can come to an understanding. You can still give your pussy away to whoever you want, but I need your ass, understood?”
She was scared now; her eyes were wide. The arms slowly went slack with what I could only describe as resolve. She looked down and quietly muttered, “Yes.”
“That’s ‘yes, Sir,’ Anne. Show a little respect.”
Her temper flared again but I held tight to her wrists. I’m sure she’d see bruises there later. I didn’t divert my gaze, staring her down until she finally capitulated. “Yes, sir,” she spit out.
“Good.” I released her wrists, almost expecting her to take a swing at me.
“Take down your pants,” I told her. She nodded and slid undid her button fly jeans, taking them off over her shapely hips, showing me the plain cotton panties beneath. These were the kind of panties that a girl wears when her brother in law is coming over to talk about birthday presents for her sister, they weren’t the scanty underwear one dons for a lover. I made note to tell her to wear better undies the next time I came over to fuck her.
I reached down to her plain underwear and felt the rise and fall of her labia. I wanted to feel the soft fur that lined them but a promise is a promise. Instead, I turned her around and pulled her panties down. Her ass looked delicious; completely creamy white and absolutely inviting. Moved her to her living room couch and bent her over it, not necessarily caring if she was comfortable.
I had been hard from the moment I entered the room, knowing what was to come. I let my pants fall to the floor, spit in my hand, and began slicking my dick. I thought briefly about using a condom but didn’t want to take the time to dig one out, nor did I want to go without leaving her something to remember me by.
I spread her cheeks and I hear her gasp. I placed the head of my dick against her opening and pushed, waiting for her to open up to me and give me entrance. Finally, she did and I savored the sensation of her muscles working against me, feeling the heat from deep inside of her. She moaned, more from pain than pleasure. I held on to ass, one hand on each cheek, slightly pulling her apart while pushing into her. Feeling her body give in; making it accept my girth as I entered her deeply.
“This is what I wanted,” I said to her. “This is all I’ve wanted from you since the day we met. Do you remember that day? Do you remember the cute little skirt you wore? The way you bent over was divine. Ever since then, I’ve been dreaming of putting it to you like this. I even thought about it on my wedding night. When I came in Sarah, I was thinking about cumming in your ass, Anne. I’ve been fucking your ass for years, but only this time it’s real, and, shit, it’s so good. And, to think, I can have this whenever I want. Isn’t that right?”
She squealed in anguish from the pain and from my words. I was balls deep inside of her, now, just feeling her spasm around me. Feeling her guts grasp and release at my cock like the violent intruder it hoped to expel. That fight was wonderful… It practically shot me out of her as I pulled back, and fought me twice as hard as I pushed back inside. I watched her hands grasp tight before spreading her fingers wide, her mouth gasping for air like a land-bound fish.
I began thrusting in and out, my body soon taking over, my eyes rolling back into my head as I neared the precipice. With one last grasp from her ass, I began cumming long and loudly inside of her. It was better than I had ever imagined it could be. Her ass practically coaxed every last drop of satisfaction from me before pushing me back out again, leaving her with my milky white fluid dripping down her thighs.
I left the room to clean up, leaving her laying over the arm of the couch, sobs wracking her body. I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw that crying was pushing out a flood of my cum. I almost grabbed a washcloth to wiper it away but decided against it. I wanted her to know where she stood with me or, rather, where she lay.
When I came back from the bathroom, she was huddled up on the couch, still naked. I stood at the door and gave her one final look. Even in such a state, I admired the shape of her body and looked forward to the next time I would take advantage of her.
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