One is never allowed to forget the maxim, 'shit happens' - because life keeps reminding us. You are just going along with your business, nice and easy or whatever, and out of the blue, like a sudden bolt of lightning slicing through a hitherto calm night, you are hit with that which is least expected - straight to the balls - figuratively, but sometimes literally, as happened to me recently.
I was having fun at a Sunday afternoon family and friends gathering hosted by a younger married sister at her home. It was an indoor and outdoor party in good old West Indian style - Reggae and Soca music blasting, unmindful of neighbours. Lively dancing, loud laughter, lots of rum and beer and even a domino game; the smell of cookup rice and black pudding in the air.
It seemed like nearly every time I looked in the direction of my older sister, Faye, who had come with her husband but was sitting by herself, she was taking a drink, which was unusual; like me, she hardly ever touched alcohol. She was looking pretty and succulent in a short, brownish orange, halter-neck dress with an eye-catching side split, showing off her dark brown, slim-thick thighs. The shape, jut and prominent nipple imprints on the bosom area, suggested that she was not wearing a bra. I strolled over to her.
"What's with de long face and regular bending of de elbows?"
"Like yuh need to ask ... is dat old cross, he really getting on me nerves this afternoon, he won't left de liquor alone ... geez, it embarrassing," she said, followed by a long sucking of her teeth.
"But you doing de same, every time I look at you, yuh taking a drink ... and yuh shouldn't be talking about yuh husband like dat, calling de man a cross, show some respect," I said, followed by a chuckle, to let her know my remarks were half serious and half jovial.
"I am drinking out of frustration ... he just making heself a damn ass, as usual," she said sulkily.
I looked in the direction of her jutting chin and saw her husband, a less than healthy looking older guy; older than Faye, that is, by fifteen years. He was dancing lewdly, with a beer bottle in his hand. Earlier I'd seen him consuming rum and vodka. He was an alcoholic, and was the kind of guy, who, when at a party, would drink a bit of everything that was on the table, until he was either staggering, passed out or throwing up. We were used to his behaviour. Other than that, he was a humble, friendly, kind and generous guy - which is why I had told Faye to have some respect.
Sitting on my haunches in front of Faye, one hand casually on a smooth, dark and shiny knee, the other on the chair, I had to literally drag my eyes away from the slight, but nevertheless enticing glimpse of light orange lace panties revealed from my vantage point. Faye was a stunningly sensual woman; letting my eyes accede to the temptation of lingering between her slightly spread thighs didn't need much mental persuasion, albeit she was my older sister, and it was only with some effort, that I managed to look away from the stimulating bit of crotch on display.
Two hours later, my brother-in-law, Melvin, was happily passed out in a chair, oblivious to what was going on around him. I heard Faye and our younger, twenty-five-year-old sister, Nelly, talking over his relaxed body on the sofa. Nelly had suggested that he be taken home.
"Home whey? to have me cleaning up stinkin' rum vomit ... you cud try wid he; he drink your rum and beer, when the puke starts to spout, you clean it up ... let he sleep it off right here. When he gets up, he will find his way home ... later tonight or in de morning."
Faye looked at me with hopeful eyes and asked me to give her a lift home in my car. I wasn't too pleased with that request but contained my disappointment. I had been chatting up one of Nelly's friends and she'd been responding nicely. I was between relationships and was hoping to get laid that night and bring an end to my two-month sexual drought.
"I hope you're not taking Mark to have he clean up your vomit," Nelly said, laughing hilariously.
"I aint that far gone," Faye said.
"You do look, that far gone," Nelly said.
Faye walked off briskly with me stepping behind, watching her exaggerated roll of the ass, while she tried hard to keep her legs steady. I looked at the bouncing fluffy butt and wondered humorously, if Melvin in his, less than ideal physical condition, could handle all that meat. I hoped he could and did ... it wouldn't do the family name good to have Faye stray. Our women were known for their fidelity and upright behaviour; but I had to admit, looking at Faye's rolling butt above the slightly bowed legs, that she didn't have to work hard to tempt any man; and once hit upon, who knows.
I quickly went over to the girl I'd been hitting on and explained the situation. We agreed to meet the next evening.
Inside Faye's house, after I had closed the door, and as we were walking through the living room area, she turned to me and said:
"Nelly was right, I am far gone,"
The words were hardly out her mouth, when her unsteady legs stumbled, and she pitched forward. Lunging to grab her, I stepped on some object lying on the floor, and fell awkwardly. The edge of a low wooden table, somehow, found my groin area. I stood up grimacing and holding my crotch.
"Oh, shit," I cried out, and hurried to sit on a sofa.
Faye, who was by then up, came and sat next to me. She looked at me wide eyed, and also grimacing as if it was her crotch that had been banged.
"Oh my god, I sorry ... is my fault ... come leh me rub it."
Maybe, due to the pain I was experiencing, what she said didn't fully register in my head, for I removed my hand and jutted my hips forward. She immediately reached out a hand and began gently rubbing my balls ... and dick ... which of course, despite the pain, began to respond to the soft hand.
After a while, seemingly concerned, she asked:
"Does it still hurt?"
"It's okay, now, I think," I replied, half-heartedly.
She didn't seem eager to discontinue her gentle ministrations, though, but I was seeing, and feeling the danger signs. So, a minute later, I told her I was alright now, and quickly stood up.
She laughed, and said, "Whoa ... I'm not gonna pull anything off of you."
She stood up and asked me to help her to her room. I put my hand around her waist and led her to the bedroom. When I released her, she seemed a bit unsteady. Leaning a knee against the side of the bed she spoke:
"Yuh have to help me get out of this dress, so I don't fall flat on mih face traying."
Bracing against the mattress, she raised her hands above her head, thereby indicating that I was expected to lift the dress up and over her head. I loosened the halter knot behind her neck and bending over gripped the hem of the dress and lifted it. Her full-sized banana breasts with stout, upturned black nipples, dropped free, inches away from my body. I gasped, and my cock began to swell determinedly as I completed the job of taking off my drunk sister's dress.
I heard her giggle and declare, "Having your brother take off your dress is much more exciting than when another man does it ... I never would have thought ..."
I looked at her smooth, dark body shining under the light and thought, undressing a sister is much more exciting than doing it to another woman ... I never would have thought ..."
"I have to go to the bathroom," she said.
She started to walk off unsteadily, and I watched, with heightened attention and stimulation, first, the bouncing bubbies, and then the retreating, jiggling ass, on the well-toned and curvaceous, thirty-five-year-old body. An image of me holding her hips and slamming my groin against that fat ass, slipped easily into my mind, and I wondered if in her condition she'd be inclined or persuaded to give some pussy. It was a nice fantasy and I smiled at the thought of fucking her.
"You can make it," I said, walking slowly behind her and taking in the luscious sight of my sister's nakedness, the string of the thong panties, out of sight in her ass crack.
When she was safely in the bathroom, I hurried to the kitchen and fixed myself a stiff drink. I also grabbed hold of my stiff dick and looked to the heavens as if begging for some guidance and a dose of self-control.
