This is my first attempt at writing anything other than some "adult" email exchanges although some of them were incest/taboo related. I have never stepped over the line and although the stories below do contain some elements of truth, none of which involve any sexual act. That's not to say I would refuse to entertain any offers the women in the stories might make - after all, they are only related to me because I (and they) married into the family and that doesn't make it "incest" right?
I also appreciate that the subject matter - "Sisters in Law" - has probably been covered many times before and no doubt will be covered more in the future so I apologise if readers find it "old hat". All participants, whether real or imagined, are over the age of consent.
Please feel free to comment and criticise if appropriate and I will endeavour to improve on future submissions.
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There were two good things about my wife's family. The first was that her parents ran a pub - every young man's dream perhaps ... free beer and shag the barmaid every night! The second was that her parents had been married before so she had several step-brothers and sisters, and the brothers had wives. That meant I married into a family with 4 women who would become close - and possibly closer than should be normal. This collection of stories is based partly on truth and partly on fantasy. I should also say that my wife is very much younger than any of her step-siblings so this may have had a bearing on how these stories developed! I feel it perhaps necessary also to use pseudonyms as it makes me feel more comfortable, especially if I think any of those involved could be reading these imagined scenarios.
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Two of the wives were regular visitors to the pub - one also worked there part-time and that's another story - so I got to see quite a lot of them and to find out a bit more about them as I worked and their husbands got drunk. Margaret was married to my wife's step-brother from her father's side of the family. She had married her husband when he was in the Forces and had moved from Lancashire to live in his home village.
As a family, we were not particularly close, but after our wedding, we did see much more of them than had previously been the case, partly because of the pub and partly because we also lived in the same village. Margaret and her husband were occasional visitors to our house as we were to theirs. The events that I relate in this story are as a result of such visits.
My wife and I had been round to visit her parents in the pub but because we weren't working, we could leave at a respectable time and in perhaps a less than respectable state - which is a polite way of saying we had had more than our fair share of drinks, thanks to the generosity of many of the regulars in addition to the odd "one on the house" from the in-laws.
Around 9.30, Margaret and her husband walked in and made their way over to us. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and I got them a drink, followed by Tom getting us a drink and then several more were given and accepted with increasing joviality. When we decided it was time to leave, my wife asked her brother and Margaret if they wanted to call round for coffee as it was on their way home.
They accepted the invitation and we wandered out into the night, a little unsteady on our feet although both Margaret and my wife Alison were slightly more unsteady than either Tom or myself. As we walked home, Margaret tripped and stumbled against me a couple of times and as I caught her to stop her falling, she accidentally grazed her hand across my groin in a similar way to me touching her breasts as I held her up.
"Oh, sorry," she slurred, "I didn't mean to ..." as she smiled wickedly in the light of a nearby streetlamp. Luckily the other two didn't notice what Margaret did, nor did they see my hand rest on her arse as I guided her along the footpath. Margaret seemed to push herself back into my hand, and encouraged by her actions, I moved it to between her arse cheeks, rubbing a finger along her crack and between her thighs. I tried to pull the back of her skirt higher so I could feel her arse better with just her tights and panties as a barrier rather than the extra layer of a pleated skirt to contend with but she wasn't playing that game and brushed my hand away. Margaret was quite happy to lean against me for the rest of the walk home and I was happy to continue rubbing my finger into the crease of her buttocks and almost as far as her pussy which I had the impression was getting quite wet and hot.
When we arrived at our house, my wife busied herself with putting the kettle on and making the drinks, Tom made himself comfortable and promptly fell asleep, leaving Margaret and I to put some music on and sit down together and make small talk.
She seemed more interested in making my cock hard as she slid her hand along my thigh and caressed my growing erection through my jeans. It didn't take long for me to feel quite uncomfortable, not only because of the now fully-erect organ that was straining against my zip but because of the proximity of her husband, however comatose, so I held her hand to try to stop her stroking me. Although she did stop stroking me, she took it as a sign that I wanted to touch her, so she moved my hand onto her thigh and pushed it under her skirt and against the warm dampness of her crotch. She must have been very aroused because I could clearly feel the heat of her wet pussy through her tights and panties as she ground herself against my fingers.
I didn't get the chance to do anything more because we were interrupted by the sound of clinking cups as Alison came into the lounge with the coffee and biscuits. I don't think she spotted my arm move as fast as it did away from Margaret although she might have noticed how hard my cock was as it tented my jeans. Margaret woke Tom as if nothing had happened and we drank coffee, ate biscuits and talked a bit more before he dropped off to sleep again so Margaret decided it was time for them to leave.
As they left, kisses and handshakes were exchanged and Margaret decided she would again have a feel of my groin when no-one was watching, rubbing her hand up and down as she kissed me goodnight - sadly just a peck on the lips, but with a whispered "Thank you" as she went.
My mind was in a whirl as I closed and locked the door behind them. I wondered how far I could push the boundaries with her and if she was just letting herself get carried away with the moment and the alcohol consumed.
Determined to find out exactly how far I could go, I made a mental note to engineer a similar situation the next time we met. As luck would have it, our paths crossed again a couple of days later when I bumped into Margaret as she came out of the village shop.
"How did you feel on Saturday then? You were just a bit drunk when you left our house," I laughed, "But it was a good night!"
"Err, yes, you could say I had a bit of a headache," Margaret replied, "I'm not too sure if I did anything I shouldn't have either. Was I that bad?"
"I wouldn't say you were bad, in fact quite the opposite!"
"I seem to remember touching you ..." she said, her hand coming up to her reddening cheek.
"Yes, you did. You had your hands all over me," I answered, "But you didn't actually do anything that might have got you into trouble if anyone else had seen."
Margaret looked a little embarrassed and started to hurry away.