Family Skeleton

It may not be politically correct, but it is good for the male ego, and I enjoyed every moment, thrusting and screwing to my cock's content until I was ready to explode with the same violence that Laura had half an hour before.

It felt wonderful, filling her with my semen, feeling it firing through my shaft deep into her womb, to where an egg was waiting. She was my wife, but she was a woman I had just ravaged and plundered, and I felt so good for doing it.

After I was spent, I just lay there, my weight shared between her body, and my elbows, and I felt her lips, her head raised so that she could kiss my chest, thanking me.

That was just the first time that we used the handcuffs. After that weekend, staying over at Nikki's became a kind of game. At home, we made beautiful love, every which way, but without toys of any kind. At Laura's mothers, the toys came out, and Laura became more submissive than I had ever dreamed of.

She would even tell me, in advance, what she wanted me to do, so that when we went to bed, we both knew. Along with the handcuffs came a blindfold. Then she asked me not to secure her to the bed straight away, but use the handcuffs behind her back, blindfold her, put her across my knees, and finger her.

I complied of course. Another time I even improvised. Having a woman across your knees makes you do some things instinctively. I used my palm on the white globes of her delicious buttocks, just twice, one on each, hard enough to hurt and turn them red, but not so hard that they were still red the following morning when she was dressing after returning from the bathroom.

I went shopping myself as well. It is fascinating what is available on the London high street. The tawse was eight inches of leather handle, and another eight inches of leather strips that you could tease a woman with, drawing them lightly across her body, over her breasts and between her legs, or use to punish her.

Laura's white flesh marks easily. Even with gentle strokes, my palm would leave round pink red areas on her buttocks. The tawse, used lightly, still left red lines, criss-crossing her otherwise unblemished globes, but sadly, for me at least, the marks never lasted. The next day they would be gone. But then it was only ever play.

What did last, not just the next day, but ever since, because I told her that was how I wanted her, was when I shaved her. I did not warn Laura in advance. I just waited until she was fastened to the bed, got my shaving things, and carefully denuded her mons of every single blonde curl, leaving her bare and all the more vulnerable.

Looking back, that must have caused a panic, knowing now what I did not realise then. Certainly, the next morning, Laura was longer than usual in the bathroom. It was only three years later that I learned the reason why, when she cut her finger slicing carrots. A year or so after that I got a stomach bug, and on each occasion I learned a little more about the family's secret skeleton.

Before then, what was really wonderful was not just the new angle on our sex lives, but the even more wonderful outcome, that Laura did get pregnant from that weekend. To add to the family's delight, Chloe and Phil announced that Chloe was expecting. As if the twins were in harmony with one another, they had both become pregnant whether the same weekend or within days of one another, and nine months later, they each give birth, our first son arriving a week before my nephew. I became a father for the second time around, and then became an uncle.

It was then around two years after that when Laura cut her finger. The cut itself was less serious than the consequences of the injury. A simple plaster stopped the bleeding. A couple of days later the plaster was discarded. Laura was left with a red line at the end of her index finger that gradually healed totally and now cannot be seen.

A week after Laura had cut her finger, we had another family weekend at Nikki's. Everything was pretty much as usual, including the handcuffs, the blindfold and the tawse. The knife nick from the week before was forgotten. Almost.

When your wife's body is so perfect, you focus on the little imperfections, even if they are only temporary. So when I was securing Laura for the metal bed head, I was pleased to see that the little red line had gone away. My wife's body was flawless once again.

This time, I had made her kneel, facing the head of the bed, and stretching her arms straight in front of her. Laura had picked up doing yoga from her mother, so it was one of the positions she used to stretch the muscles down her back and round her buttocks, except I got her to raise her buttocks in a way that no reputable yoga instructor would ever do.

I used the tawse, teasing her with the loose strips of leather that hung loose from the handle, drawing them along her spine, and between her upturned buttocks. I held the handle so that the strips hung between her legs and made them sway so that they swung softly against her entrance. It really got to her, judging from the gasps and moans that emanated from her open mouth.

I flicked, ever so gently, and the leather strips left a swathe of red lines on her buttocks. Laura gasped. I let the leather swing gently again, teasing her between her legs.

I flicked a second time. The other buttock, another globe turned from pure white to cross-cross red.

Another gasp.

More gentle swaying, teasing.

Then I turned the handle round, putting the end that was round and had no strips of leather emerging from it, to Laura's slit. I probed. The leather slipped inside. Laura moaned. She really does get wet so easily, and loves anything inside her, cock, fingers, tongue, and now the handle of a tawse.

There was no objection as I slid the handle further into her. Eight inches of leather. The same length as my waiting cock. All the way. The black leather strips hanging loose from my wife's slit, almost like a cropped horse's tail. She looked so cute like that. But cute was not what I really wanted. I had reddened her buttocks, and now wanted to fuck her from behind.

Doggy is wonderful. I love watching my cock sliding in and out of her, seeing her pussy stretched around my shaft, her neat pick inner labia kissing either side.

Even without her being secured, there is something empowering about easing your cock all the way out, watching her entrance close, and then putting your cock head right up against it, pushing in again, forcing her open, finding her so nicely wet from the fucking you have already done, and then easing all the way back inside, burying your shaft in her, all eight inches, the same length as the handle of the tawse. Delicious!

With her wrists fastened to the bed, it is amazing!

From behind, you can vary the style of thrusting. You can play using just the head, back and forth, just an inch either way, feeling the exquisite sensations of her tight entrance wetly grazing the taut skin of your cock head and gently pulling on your frenum.

Or you can ram it all the way home. Really hammer her. Hold her waist and slam inside, making her cry out with pleasure, your thighs hitting the backs of hers, your cock head at her entrance and a split second later, eight inches deep in her.

You can make her wait as well, and indulge your sense of macho male empowerment.

Fuck her hard for a few strokes. Then stop, with your cock head just at the point where her labia are stretched around the mushroom edge. Wait right there. She knows that any second now you will slam back hard and deep. You know she knows. You know she wants it. You keep her waiting.

She might even reach back, fingers scrabbling at your hip, trying to hold you enough to pull you in. Except when her wrists are handcuffed to the bed rail, she cannot do that. You are in control. So you can make her wait, as long as you feel like doing, then fuck her hard, not once, but over and over, so that she wants to scream, but has to stop herself, because her sister and her sister's husband are right in the next door room, her mother is in the room below, and there are children sleeping. Not that you care a fuck.

That is how I made love to my wife, and that night we came together, maybe twenty minutes of exquisite, hard, perspiring fucking later. By then both her arms had given way. Her head was sideways on the mattress, her shoulders pressed against the sheet, her long back sloping up to me, to the taut white globes of her buttocks that still showed red markings from the tawse, her spine and rib cage defined, her waist so slender, her hair splayed out over the white sheet.

She was moaning, non stop, just a little louder each time I thrust deep into her. Her pussy was, still is, in spite of our two children, deliciously tight, and her vaginal muscles were squeezing, massaging my cock shaft from within as I fucked her back and forth, taking myself to the point of no return.

Laura started shuddering first, her moans changing to little whimpers. I spasmed and felt the flood of semen force its way up through my shaft, and into her. Not just once. We had not fucked the night before. Our youngest had been unhappy with an upset stomach, and had slept with us, cramping our style. I had resisted any impulse to relieve my frustration in the shower. Instead I showered Laura's womb with the build up of semen that came from having missing a night of fucking her. It felt so good to fuck my wife like that.

Next morning, over brunch, the five adults and three children, Nikki and David, Chloe and Phil, Laura and myself, our two, and Phil and Chloe's one, were all seated around the huge bench table in Nikki's kitchen, the youngest in high chairs. I noticed the red line on her finger again. Laura was reaching for some toast. The line was on her left hand, index finger.

I knew what I had seen, or rather not seen, the night before. I had fastened her with the handcuffs to the metal rail at the head if the bed, and the line from the knife cut had completely healed, except now it was back. Meanwhile, sitting opposite me, was Chloe, buttering her own slice of toast, the index finger of her left hand stretched out as she held the toast on her plate, free of any blemish.

I nearly choked on the coffee I had just taken into my mouth. I just about controlled it. No one seemed to notice. Mentally I tracked back. We had put the kids to bed a little after dinner. Then the six of us had chatted on, all going to bed around the same time. Nikki had an en suite bathroom, so we had not seen her once she had gone into her bedroom. Chloe, Phil, Laura and myself always shared the guest bathroom, taking turns, crossing each other on the landing. Crossing each other, or in reality, swopping places with one another.

Laura had gone to the bathroom after I had got back to our room, then came back to the bedroom, climbing into bed with me. That was when we had started making out. Except I now knew that it had not been Laura who had joined me in bed. It could not have been, because the fine red scar from the knife cut had not benn there. Of that I was completely certain. It could only have been Chloe, pretending to be Laura, who had come in wearing Laura's dressing gown, and whom I had fucked so beautifully.

Then, in the morning, Laura, or the twin I thought was Laura, had needed to use the bathroom when she woke. My guess was that that was when Chloe and Laura had swopped places again, Chloe returning to Phil, and Laura coming back to bed with me. Soon after that, the kids had come through to our room from their bedrooms, the real Laura now back in bed beside me, perfectly playing her role as wife and mother.

Chloe interrupted my line of thought, asking for the marmalade. I passed it to her, knowing now that she was the twin that I had fucked from behind, emptied myself into, and then slept with until she had slipped out in the morning. You could not read it in her face. These Swedish blondes all look so sweet and innocent.

That was the first time that I knew for certain. I said nothing. I needed time to get my head around what I had just found out. It was mind blowing. It was not just the fact that I had fucked Chloe, thinking that she was Laura. It was that I had not realised who it was that I was fucking, even while I was right inside her. Apart from that slight cut on my wife's finger, I might never have known that her sister had switched places with her. Realising that you really cannot tell who you are holding, or kissing, or making love to, is quite something to work out in your head.

I also had to deal with the fact that if it was Chloe that I had fucked, then Laura had slept with Phil. What had happened in the room next to ours, I did not know. Phil might have gone straight to sleep, but he might have felt randy, and he might have fucked my wife. I had not heard a sound from the other side of the wall, but I still could not be certain what had gone on inside that room.

My shell-shocked brain then started to realise that just because I had only now discovered that it was Chloe I had fucked the night before, that did not mean that it was the first time that the twins had switched dressing gowns, or bedrooms, or husbands, or their husband's cocks. I had no way of knowing. For all I knew, every time that we had stayed at Nikki's, I had been fucking Chloe and Phil had been enjoying my wife, with neither Phil nor I realising what was going on. At least, I assumed that Phil did not realise what was happening. I did not know for sure.

Like I said, I did not let on to anyone that I knew what had happened that weekend. After brunch, we relaxed, then had our Sunday walk, relaxed some more, had dinner, and then Laura drove us home. Laura always drove. She only had a single glass of wine with any meal and was always sober enough to drive.

Sitting in the car, music on the radio, the kids sleeping in the back, I pictured Laura going into Phil's bedroom, climbing into bed with him, and letting him do to her the things he did to Chloe. It gave me a totally different perspective on my wife, who she was, and what she was capable of doing. It also gave me a hard on that I had to lose before we got back home, in case she, or the kids, noticed it when I got out. I focused instead on work, on a management problem that I had to resolve that week.

Making love to Laura over the next few weeks was different. I had to assume that, whether he knew it or not, Phil had almost certainly fucked my wife. All my assumptions, that I was the only guy Laura had been with since those teenage fumblings, were ripped to shreds. Another guy had fucked her. Not just any other guy. My brother-in-law. Laura was not the loyal, faithful wife that I had assumed, but was capable of being devious. It was all I thought about, day time at my work, in the evening with the kids around, and when we went to bed.

Laura even noticed. She made a comment, a few days after that weekend, about how I was always so hard these days when I got into bed. Not that she was complaining. She liked it. In a way, so did I. We had some of the best sex of our lives, all because of what was going round in my head.

After that weekend, I noticed that every month, each time we stayed over at her mother's, Laura would head to the bathroom after me. The next time we stayed over, I was waiting in the bed, not knowing who would join me. That in itself was mind blowing. Having someone climb into bed, not knowing if it was my wife, or if it was her sister, but holding her, kissing her, making love to her, exactly as before.

And I really did not know. That made the whole situation incredibly arousing. If I had known for sure that it was Chloe, then I guess I would have still made love to her, and it would have been a turn on knowing it was her, and that my wife was just next door with Phil. Not knowing made it ten times the rush. Nothing about her body gave me a clue. Even her shaven cunt felt just the same.

Thinking about her shaven cunt reminded me of when I had first shaved Laura, and then she had taken so much time the next morning in the bathroom. That had been years before. The thought of what she might have been doing in the bathroom made my stomach churn, but it now made sense.

If, and I still made myself just think of it as if, Laura and Chloe had switched places way back then, Chloe coming to bed with me, thinking that we were simply going to make love and then sleep together until she could switch with Laura again, except I had prepared a razor and some shaving oil, so that water would not be needed, and had shaved her pubis finger-tip smooth, then in the morning, when the twins had met in the bathroom opposite our two bedrooms, one would have had a smooth shaved pubis, the other not.

Laura had to come into my room and dress in front of me. She would have had her own razor, the one she used for under her arms. She would have used it in the bathroom, shaving herself smooth, since I had already shaved her, or so I thought, and then joining me, pubis devoid of hair, just as I would expect. That could explain why she had taken that extra time that morning.

I also thought of Chloe, returning to Phil's bedroom. You cannot put hair back where it once was. I wondered when she would have let him see, what she would have said, to explain why she had shaved herself, since that was what she must have done. I wondered if, like me, he liked her smooth.

What made my stomach churn was the thought that Laura and Chloe could have been swopping places ever since then, with neither Phil nor I knowing about it, and possibly for years before then.

So as I fucked Laura, that night, or Chloe, if they had switched again, her noises, grunts, moans, little cries, none of them told me which twin I was fucking. None of them told me who was with Phil, whether it was my wife in bed with him, or whether she was with me. When I came that weekend, I came massively.

Things carried on like that, except five months later, Chloe's stomach was no longer concave. She was expecting her second. Even in her jeans and blouse, she was showing. When you have a slim as a model, perfect body, you cannot disguise what is going on. That weekend I knew that it was Laura who I made love to, slept with, and woke up to in the morning.

A few days later, Laura told me that she had missed a period. She took the test. Our third child was on its way, our second son, born two months after Chloe's baby girl. Phil and Chloe were delighted that they now had both a boy and a girl. Laura and I had wanted one more, to make a perfect three, and when he arrived we felt our family was complete. We discussed how to go about ensuring no accidental surprises, without Laura having to take the pill indefinitely. My getting circumcised would have been the easy way to go, but Laura offered to have the alternative procedure. A conversation I had already overheard by chance meant I knew the reason why.

Sunday afternoon walks were a regular feature of our weekends at Nikki's. Laura's mother was a health fanatic, and insisted it was good for us. Sometimes we all went, but not always all of us. Nikki herself frequently still had food to be prepared. Sometimes Laura or Chloe would stay behind to help, sometimes both of them. Phil and I got on fine. He is a natural dad, and even before they had their own children, he was great with ours.

As they got larger, Laura and Chloe both opted out of going for the walks, and stayed with Nikki, sitting in the kitchen as she worked, helping if she needed help. Phil and I both pushed buggies to the park, my daughter tagging along at my side.

The park had a play area where once they were old enough, the kids could entertain themselves, and Phil and I could talk man talk, work, politics and sport, but nothing that might come close to feelings or relationships. Besides, I knew that once at least, and perhaps much more often, I had fucked his wife. He had almost certainly fucked mine. He might have known. He might not. Feelings and relationships are best not talked about at any time, but when family life is complicated like it was, staying well clear was the best way not to rock the boat, or rattle any skeletons.