My Sister-in-Law, Judy


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!


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 Jack (married to Judy) and John (married to Rebecca) had already been replaced by K-9s!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 şişli rus escort 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.

The day of their mother’s passing the sisters and all but two of the brothers were present. The youngest sister, minus her husband, had come from across the bay with other family members, and had decided to stay over to visit with Judy. She could see us anytime! My wife agreed to take Jill back across the bay the following morning, a good half a day trip, and Judy would leave that afternoon for her home in Vermont.

As a more perceptive husband, the only one left I might add, I learned early on that when you’re around the ladies of the family you could to be seen but was not expected to be heard. That evening, I interjected myself into the conversation as little as possible as I read the subtitles on the muted TV.

“Must you watch “Breaking Bad” with my sisters here.” My wife scolded. “It’s violent!”

“But it’s a mesmerizing show.” I defended, but switched to the news and became invisible.

The next morning, I slipped in and out of sleep as my wife and younger sister prepared to make an early departure. The sky was just beginning to brighten when they left. I cat-napped.

“Are you a wake, Bill?” I heard Judy ask, noting that the rising sun was filtering across the backyard.

“Yes.” I answered.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go ahead and jump in the shower.” She said.

“That’s fine!” I told her. “Give me a shout when you get out and I’ll shower quickly and run down and get us a Hardy’s breakfast.”

About 20 minutes later I heard the hairdryer and knew that it would not be long before I got that shout.

I grabbed the shirt from the night before and threw it on, already having on the pair of cotton shorts.

I stood by the open bathroom door and chatted with her while she dried her hair. She wore only a towel. I had never seen her that undressed but she seemed at ease. In retrospect, I had not thought of her seeing me, using the mirror over the sink, studying her body.

“What time did they leave?” She asked.

“Just before dawn, about 6:30 I figure.” I answered, adding it was closing on 8 o’clock.

After şişli türbanlı escort blowing her hair dry and using the curling iron, she laid the curling iron on the sink to cool and told me the bathroom was mine.

I undressed and jumped in the shower and will admit that I washed a good beginning of an erection. I shaved, scrubbed and dried off in about 15 minutes.

“Bill, can you come here a moment?” I heard her call when I exited the bathroom.

“Let me grab some clean pants and a shirt. I’ll be right there!” I called back.

“Do you really have to do that?” I heard her call in an odd inquisitive tone.

With a towel wrapped around me I closed on the door of the spare bedroom. I first glimpsed her feet, toes up, at the foot of the bed stopping me momentarily. I moved slowly following her bare legs higher and higher. I was well up her thighs when I started to wonder if she had any clothes on at all. I moved into the spare bedroom not focusing on the smaller picture and indeed found her lying there on the bed totally naked.

I am not a breast man but instantly noticed that my 60-year-old sister-in-law had larger, firmer breast than my wife’s that did not sag a bit, unlike my wife’s. My second point of focus was on the lavish forest on her mound that appeared quite unruly. Her belly was only a little pudgy, if at all. She was a big stout, long-legged, high-hipped gal that wore a size 12 shoe.

I moved to the foot of the bed.

Without a word of encouragement to her, or, explanation from her, Judy brought her knees up and spread her legs.

Not really needing either, — viewing her cocoa colored, fussy labia made my heard pound and my cock rigid – I popped the towel open, let it drop, climbed over the toy box at the foot of the bed and maneuvered between her legs.

Judy acquired by peter and placed it. As the head of my cock entered her she began to wiggle her ass to assist penetration. I pushed deep into her as I snuggled her in my arms and began to stroke into her with a moderately slow rhythm. My intent was to handle her with affection and care.

With her legs wrapped tightly around me, which I had always hated as it confined me, she began to match my rhythm, pulling my ass in with her heels.

Her moans were immediate and had a hungry tone about them. I concentrated on the feel of my cock inside her, her breast against my chest as I kissed her neck.

After long minutes, I pushed myself up. Her legs released me, but she placed her hands behind her knees and kept her legs pulled back. I stretched out onto my toes. We stared at each other, for long minutes, as I pumped into her with the same slow to medium disciplined rhythm.

She began to lift her head to study our coupling. I slowed my rhythm considerably, pushing my dick deep with each inward stroke, causing her to gasp with each penetration.

Her ass lay still but I knew she was far from passive.

Wanting to see exactly how far I could push this straight-laced, solitary living woman with a powerful position in the company she worked for, I eased out of her and applied a little bit of pressure to her right hip to roll her on the bed. She accepted my directions and I soon had her on her knees. Knowingly, she gathered up the two pillows to lay her head and torso on.

I entered her slowly. She pushed back on my cock and I knew it was not her first time in such a position. I felt certain her former şişli ucuz escort – and only – husband, from French ancestry, had no doubt wanted her in such a position, but I would it took book that it never happened.

Even more surprising, was her self-gratification. As I took my leisure fucking her doggy style, she played with herself a minute or two. When her hand dropped from between her legs, I took it as a cue to pull out of her. Throwing her right leg over me as I ducked, she maneuvered to her back and we coupled again with her guidance.

Again, reaching behind her knees, she pulled her legs up and back, holding her feet wide.

I maneuvered in close, upright, my knees against her ass and displaced her hands and pushed her legs further back. I immediately began to fuck her with a more determined rhythm. With limited mobility, she matched my rhythm as best she could, becoming quite delirious as I hammered her pussy.

Her moans were robust and continuous. I was beginning to wonder if she was going to orgasm with such intercourse, my shaft not stimulating her clit. My upright stance was keeping my 64-year-old back from aching. I moved my left hand and she quickly reached to hold her leg. I placed my hand on her bushed mound. My thumb sought her clit. Her amplified moan told me I’d found it without even missing a stroke. We fucked on.

Finally, the orgasm seized her and she bellowed like a wounded animal as her body quivered, her eyes closed. It was so like Judy! She eventually pushed my hand from her pussy, but I continued to pump into her. Her eyes soon opened. She beamed a smile, lifted her arms and bid me come down.

She morphed with me as I reached to gather up her ass with both hands. She placed her hands on my chest, slightly pushing up to ease the weight I placed on her. So like her! There were no complaints though. Her moans were now more like grunts and synced to my thrusts

I lost myself in the lust for my sister-in-law’s ass and to own her pussy by ejaculating into it. If but for a moment, she was going to be mine.

Sadly, about a moment was all it took. I ejaculated hard, filling her pussy abundantly.

I morphed into cradling her again, remaining inside of her, her legs draped over the back of my thighs.

A few short minutes later my old limp cock popped out of her. She squirmed from under me and headed for the bathroom. A minute or two later I entered the bathroom. She was in the shower as I washed my cock in the sink, then, I dried my cock and the perspiration off my body. I had all day to re-shower, wanting to get dressed quickly and get our breakfast. No longer needing to impress, I retrieved my barely soiled clothes off the floor from beneath the sink.

Judy was dressed and drinking coffee in the kitchen when I returned.

There was much on my mind, but I was once more scared of my strong-willed, opinionated sister-in-law. I remained silent, not even muttering, “I’m back”.

I removed the contents of the food bag and placed them accordingly.

We sat silently eating our pancakes and sausage.

“That didn’t happen! It’s never going to happen again. You understand? ” She finally stated, then, queried, speaking the first words since I had responded to her call.

“What’s never going to happen again?” I said with a grin, then, a few moments later. “I’ll treasure what didn’t happen forever!”

We finished eating and I watched TV as she packed up her belongings. Not really expecting her to linger, she informed me that she wanted to get an early start home. Understandably, I figured, she thought, me being a man, I might want to talk about what had happened between us. In the end, and with her threatening attitude, I stopped caring to know the why. Just that it had happened, was sufficient for me.

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