To those who read the original "My sister-in-law, Judy", I would like to apologize for some jumbled letters that apparently set the "anonymous" crowd into frenzy! Please note that capitalize, anonymous, as it would only empower them, in their minds.
If they weren't so mean with their comments, I could say that they keep us "writers" on our toes. It's a shame they don't have power to double my salary!
Using new technology (I hope it works), I have tweaked and added to this story. Enjoy!
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My wife is one of 11 children. She has three sisters and it has been a long-standing theory of mine that they, like their mother and including my wife, would discard their husbands for a hound-dog in a heartbeat. Jack (married to Judy) and John (married to Rebecca) had already been replaced by K-9s! One had to be careful I had warned Hank, married to the youngest sister, Jill. He had laughed at my hypothesis but he recently called me to tell me I was right and he was in the process of probably being ousted by a puppy.
Judy, two years younger than my wife, Barbara, is 60 and the longest divorced at 11 years.
I remember seeing her husband five years after their divorce and meeting his new wife.
"Damn! Seeing her from the back, I thought she was Judy!" I commented to my wife at the marriage of Judy, and Jack's, daughter.
"Me too!" She agreed. "I guess there is something to be said for the old adage. A man's taste in women never changes."
At 6'1" tall, Judy has dirty blonde hair, a big boned sturdy, long-legged frame and a very nice ass. Her pretty face and overall attractiveness has stayed with her in her older years. Her statue, the way she holds herself, is awing.
I have heard the stories of her suitors and her inevitable shunning of them. I would typify her as a headstrong loner, concentrating on her grandchildren and preparing her home for old age. She has a high stress job and a colorful vocabulary to match. Her use of the word "fuck" always seems to come out naturally but instantly subdued in volume around family, like she caught herself but couldn't stop.
Over the years, Judy and I have had a love, or, at odds, relationship according to what was happening within my wife's large family. At the "at odds" times, I had no doubt in my mind that she had a hound dog in mind that could very easily replace me had she had the control to do it. My conservative viewpoints really pissed her off! During the "love" periods I often felt her touch on my shoulder and we hugged as often as we could get away with it without arousing anyone's attention. She generally initiated such things as I was never really sure where we stood -- love -- or, at odds. Our conversations were stimulating and often flirtatious - for me, anyway. As example - not knowing how we got on such a subject:
"Hey, the only reason I wear these cotton pants at night is because you're here!" I said one late night sitting at the kitchen table during her most recent visit -- my wife conveniently in the bathroom.
"I hear you!" She returned. "I do enjoy the feeling of sliding between cool sheets."
Giving me the impression that she too slept nude, I wanted to tease, 'now there's a vision I'm going to find hard to shake!' but I didn't. -- I was scared.
"I'm always afraid the house will be on fire." I joked. "And I will be running around trying to find pants to put on."
"I keep," she laughingly explained, "a house coat near my bed for such emergencies."
Later the same even watching the news, Judy sat in a big lounge chair at about 110 degrees to my own, only three feet separating us. She wore silk-like sleepwear: black pants and a black & white flowered matching shirt. She sat with her left foot on the coffee table, her knee high, leg dropped back slightly. Her right leg was draped over the right armrest of the chair.
My eyes spend more time watching my sleeping wife and Judy's long, shapely, but covered legs. With her legs so spread, I wanted desperately to view her crotch from the front. Covered was ok!
My wife lay snoring on the sofa only a short six feet. I bravely said, in a subdued volume, "Your PJs are very pretty. It's a shame you don't wear them." I cut off the thought hoping she understood that I knew there was not a man around to appreciate them.
She looked back over her shoulder and smiling replied lowly, "Thank you."
I often thought that it was lucky that Judy lived in Vermont and not in Virginia. I might have made a serious move on her. And if I'd been rejected, as I was certain I would be, there would have been hell to pay.
I write this a week after Judy's latest visit. Their mother was dying and it was a sad time within the family.
Judy was staying with my wife and me. Five days of dire expectancy had passed.
