The Trip to Texas

Max sat back in the cooling summer air, a cold beer in one hand and his other draped casually over the back of the chair. Though never uncomfortable with being in the middle of the conversation, tonight he just felt like being a bit apart. Maybe part of the reason was that he had just changed from being on Maine time to being back home in Texas. In fact, the party (such as it was -- it was mostly a gathering of neighborhood friends who had grown up together) was supposed to be his "homecoming" party... though he knew that it was just an excuse to grill some burgers and drink.

As he observed the group, his mind wandered to the way things had changed while he had been gone. There -- a couple that had never meant to be one, until their little boy came into the world. And there -- the couple that wasn't a couple (they had been "just friends" for about ten years, but neither had dated anyone else). Even his own family had changed. His sister, the eldest, had moved away and no one had seen her in years. The oldest brother would never leave. His younger brothers were both taken -- one by his wife of two years, and the other by someone else's.

His own love life was nothing to speak of. Women had always been interested in him, but he had always felt as though each was missing... something. He couldn't explain it, but there it was. He wasn't too good for them, no, they were usually leggy model-types with the fashion sense of Coco Chanel and the brains of rocket scientists. And yet... their cynicism matched his, and drained his energy while their ambition was boundless but tied up in "adult" affairs. He couldn't see himself doing anything youthful with any of them, and time was beginning to tug on him. Max wasn't old, but his thirties were halfway over, his career was settled, and the only thing missing was a girl.

His eyes drew back to Diana. She was most definitely NOT his type -- she was short, almost tomboyish (a self-described "one-of-the-guys-in-a-dress"), naïve, optimistic, and a dreamer. Her hair was short, not so much as a fashion but because she didn't like styling it. Her uniform was a V-neck tee and low-slung jeans that clung to her hips, ass, and thighs. She avoided sandals tonight after the warning about the ants, but wore sneakers with the laces permanently untied instead. Yet there was something about her that made him want to kiss her, to have her look into his eyes with her deep brown eyes and show him hope, and innocence and trust. He wanted to show her the world, starting with all of himself. He wanted her soft, pouty lips to discover every inch of his body and whisper warmly against his neck. Her small hands would fit perfectly in his, and her body would fit snugly against his own if he held her pressed against him. He wondered if she trimmed her pubes, or if she left them as natural and untamed as her spirit. Unfortunately he would never find out; she was his new sister-in-law.

...

Diana pressed the cool rim of the wine cooler to her lips and tipped her head back, feeling her hair tickle the back of her neck as it fell the short distance behind her. Draining the bottle, she debated getting another. The evening was cooling, but it was still summer in the Southwest, and the heat clung to her like her damp shirt. She wished she could take her bra off, but there were too many men around, and she reminded herself that she didn't have the freedom she once did. Her breasts, once small and weightless, had grown into 34Cs, and had gathered some weight that she was self-conscious of. Her peers still called her "tiny", but at 5'4" and 120lbs she was closer to average.

Deciding in favor of the coolness of a drink, she decided to head to the ice chest. This would make three strong drinks and two wine coolers -- more than enough for one night, but she didn't care. The chest was between two chairs, one of which was occupied by Max, the only brother-in-law that she had never really gotten to know well, given the distance between their homes. He wasn't visiting with anyone, so she decided now was as good as any to visit. Besides, she had seen him looking at her and figured he wanted to talk to her too. An idle conversation began as she sat on the lid of the ice chest, one knee pulled up to her chest and the other dangling over the edge. Truthfully though, she wasn't paying attention. It started by looking for family resemblance, but finding little, she began just looking at his features. He had eyes that looked almost black, and straight hair to match. His thin features were just shy of being angular and fine, and the fingers that gripped his beer were not quite delicate. They looked strong but precise, like an artist or a pianist, though not as long as a musicians. She decided that if she didn't already know his occupation, she couldn't guess. His shoulders, too, were in-between; not broad but not slim, not bony but not fleshy either. She was beginning to look at his chest and waist, wondering what they looked like without his shirt, when she noticed that the conversation had stopped.

...

What was he thinking? He remembered asking a question, and realized that she hadn't answered, but other than that, Max couldn't remember the last ten minutes. Or was it twenty? He thought he had seen her eyes wandering all over him, but that couldn't be. She was so happy, wasn't she? When she stammered -- was she nervous? -- that she needed to use the restroom, he offered to escort her, and then felt immediately stupid. She had been to this place more often than he had, she didn't need an escort. Thankfully, she declined and went in.

Without her around, he could finally start thinking, and reflected that he should maybe apologize for not being attentive. She had clearly come over to talk to him, and his mind had been entirely focused on the way that one of her breasts had been almost pushed out of her shirt by the knee pressed against it. Add to that the fact that the crotch of her jeans was worn thin with age, washing, and wearing, and he had been tormented with the perfect combination of tantalizingly pale skin on her breast and the promise of more down below.

Setting his drink down in the cupholder of the chair, he made his way inside. The bathroom door was open, and no one was there. It had been a few minutes, so she might be done, but there was only one way back outside and he would have seen her. A sniffle drew him to one of the bedrooms, where he saw her lying on her back on the bed. All thoughts of apologies flew from his mind as he saw her legs spread wide and her shirt pulled up to expose a thin strip of her stomach, the skin pulled tight by the arch of her back over a crumpled sweater.

"You know that sweater's probably not clean." He said, cursing himself silently. What kind of opener was that? Diane moved her arm off her brow and she chuckled "Neither am I."

Puzzled, he sat next to her head. "What do you mean?"

She scooted up to put her head on his lap, startling him first with the motion, and second with the tingle that jolted through his body. This was not erotic, he told himself, but his groin refused to listen and his hand automatically went to her hair, stroking it softly. She purred in her throat, encouraging him, then chuckled again.

"Nothing, silly. Jus' means I'm... not. My mind isn't. Y'know? I'm supposed to think things, but I don't, and I'm not supposed to think others, but I do. Ok?"

"Sure." Max said as she opened her eyes and looked straight into his. "That's ok, though."

...

Diane noticed when she opened her eyes, even in the darkened room, that Max's eyes were not black, but were flecked with color -- gold, brown, even a tint of dark green.

"What do you mean, it's ok?" She asked. "There are some things that aren't." Like the way I'm noticing your lips, slightly parted while you breathe, she thought, or the way you've started leaning closer. Or the way I want you to start caressing me the way you're caressing my hair. She shook the thoughts away. He couldn't possibly think of her that way. He shouldn't. For that matter, SHE shouldn't. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw a question, and before she could help it she knew that her eyes had betrayed her.

Her hand reached up of its own accord to rest on top of his, and her other hand traced his jawline, which was rough with stubble after his day of travel. His free hand reached down and landed on her side, then worked its way down to her waist. She briefly wondered how many women he had been with, because his movements were so smooth and effortless, but then she decided that she didn't care. She wasn't as innocent as she looked, either. His lips were almost on hers -- she could feel the heat of them and of his breath -- when he stood up suddenly, placing her head gently back on the bed.

For a moment, she panicked. What went wrong? Other than the obvious, of course -- the whole situation. But she relaxed when she realized that he had gone to close the door and lock it. He took his shirt off there, and she saw what she had wanted to all night, his chest and stomach and the V leading into his pants. They were toned, but not ripped -- just the way she liked them. In two steps, he was back toward her, and kissing her fiercely. She hadn't even had time to register his leaning down and scooping her off the bed, but she was on her feet and clawing at his back hungrily as she felt his tongue dip into hers. Her blood felt as though it would boil and her skin was crawling with electricity. She had heard of sparks flying, but had only felt it a couple of times before now. His hands pulled at her shirt, and she soon saw it thrown on top of his.

Taking that as a cue, she pulled at the button of his jeans and yanked the zipper down, tugging his pants and boxer briefs down so that he could step out of them. Her jeans and shoes followed, and she was suddenly grateful that she had been forced to wear a thong and lacy bra due to a lack of clean laundry.

...

Max was deliciously surprised at the treat that he had unwrapped. Diana was gorgeous -- not in a fake pop-star kind of way, but in a real down to earth tangible kind of way. Her hair now seemed to frame her face, and her body was incredible. Underneath the jeans and v-neck was a sexy set of lingerie that he never imagined could be there. Her thong was almost as tiny in the front as it was in the back, exposing a closely cropped patch of hair covering her sopping wet mound. He could feel it when he dipped his hand down to her crotch, and could smell it on his fingertips as he reached back up to pinch her hard, pink nipples. She gasped, and he mischievously put a finger to her lips to shush her.

To his surprise, her eyes glinted with an impish sheen as her tongue darted out to lick her own juices off his fingers. His cock, already hardened and a bit sore, jumped as a shiver of anticipation ran through him. How did he ever imagine her to be naïve and innocent? She must have noticed the motion, because she took it as permission to wriggle her body against his, pushing her hot pussy against his groin until he began to wonder if her panties could actually light on fire.

"Why is it that I tasted me before you did?" She purred seductively into his ear, before crouching down in front of him. She grasped his ass in her hands and pulled his hips forward, taking his cock into her mouth all at once and sucking hard. He bit his lip to hold back the moan of surprise and sudden pleasure as she continued to lick her way up and down his shaft, moving one hand to his balls. Her hand massaged him gently while her mouth seemed to devour him completely, alternating between long, slow pulls and quick flicks of her tongue. A moan rumbled unbidden in his chest, and he looked down to see her lips quirk into a grin as she licked him one last time and stood.

He picked her up, and threw her on her back on the bed, kneeling down to eat her out. Sucking him off must have turned her on nearly as much as it did him, because her juices were soaking through her panties, and were almost running down her thighs. He took her panties between his teeth and pulled them off, tasting her salty sweetness through the miniscule material. When his tongue went back to her pussy, he felt her jump -- she was perfectly sensitive. He began with slow circles around her swollen clit, enjoying the taste of her and committing it to memory for future nights alone. When she began writhing against his mouth, however, he began licking her more aggressively, flicking his tongue along her lips and into her delicious hole. It seemed that everything he did made her react, and he enjoyed eyeing her body over her mound. He pinched her nipples while he drank her freely flowing juices, and pulled on them while she arched her back. When her hands dug into his shoulders, he knew she was about to cum. Sure enough, he thrust his tongue inside her just in time to receive a wash of cum pouring out of her.

Before she came down from the high of orgasm, he stood, pulling her legs over his shoulders and thrusting his throbbing cock deep inside her. Her pussy was so hot and so wet, he had no trouble pushing all the way in, and was rewarded with another gasp when the tip of his cock hit the back wall of her soft vagina. After a few thrusts, he pushed her legs down around his waist and lifted her up to eye level, holding her soft ass and playing with the rim of her asshole with his fingertips. Her wide eyes told him that this was a first for her, and he enjoyed watching the surprise on her face as she felt the combination of hard thrusts from his cock and gentle swirls from his fingertips. He turned, pushing her back against the wall while still holding her up with her legs around his waist. The new position hindered his ass play, but allowed him to pound her harder by using the wall as a brace.

Almost immediately, she came again, her cum flowing hot around his cock and down his balls. He could tell that she would have been content with that, but watching her try something new had turned him on too much, and he continued to slam his cock into her mercilessly. Her legs squeezed around his waist, making it difficult to get leverage, but she relaxed when she realized that the only result would be a rougher time on her back. Her pussy betrayed her desire as it seemed to pull his cock further in. Soon, she was pulsing against him and he could tell that she was close to another climax.

Again, he changed positions before she could cum, this time positioning her on her knees on the bed. He knew he was close, and wondered if he could last long enough to make her cum one more time. Just seeing her tight ass in the air, curving down to the arch of her back and down to her shoulders made him want to shoot his load all over her body. He wanted to watch it spread over her ass and drip down her spine into her hair. Distantly, he remembered that she wasn't his, and that he would have to wait for that fantasy to come true.

Frustration made him jam his cock back into her pussy with a force that surprised himself and her as well if her gasp was any indication. He pitied her for a moment, and then took out all of his desire and all of his frustration at not being able to enjoy her like this every night on her still-soaked pussy. As he felt her shudder beneath him, he realized that he couldn't cum inside her, and while the last waves of orgasm crested through her, he pulled out and aimed for the ill-fated sweater.

Diana turned over, looked at him and laughed tiredly "I guess you were right -- that sweater's not clean."

He had to laugh too, though his was tinged with regret. Not regret that he had just fucked his new sister's brains out, but that he wouldn't be able to do it again anytime soon. She reached up and kissed him softly. "Thanks, big brother, but I think we should hurry up and get out of here." she said with a wink.

For some reason, the words "big brother" turned him on all over again, and he allowed her to leave the room first just to buy himself some time to calm down again. To keep his mind off of her body and off her scent that still lingered in the room, he started planning his next visit back to Texas.