Forbidden Houston

When I got home that evening, she greeted me with the usual hug and kiss — though something felt a little extra. Her lips lingered on mine, a sweeter-than-usual smile on her face as she asked if I wanted a massage later. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being buttered up for something.

After a bit of small talk and obvious tiptoeing, she finally said it.

“So… I’m thinking we should go visit my sister in Texas for a few days.”

A little context: Deby — her sister — and I haven’t exactly gotten along over the years. Nothing dramatic, just that usual sister dynamic. I always stood up for my girlfriend in their squabbles, which naturally put some distance between Deby and me. On top of that, I’m the kind of guy who values his space, and staying in someone else’s home — especially someone I didn’t really get along with — didn’t sound like a vacation.

A couple of days later, I was sorting through the mail when a looming storm made me hurry inside. I dumped the stack onto the kitchen counter: bills, junk mail, the usual trash. I was just about to toss the whole pile when a glossy photo card caught my eye — and made me stop cold.

It was from Deby.

A family photo. She was pregnant.

I stood there for a second, stunned. My girlfriend had mentioned this, sure, but like a lot of things in a busy life, it must’ve gone in one ear and out the other. Or maybe I just hadn’t seen it until now. The moment I looked at that picture, everything changed.

Deby looked… completely different.

I had never found her particularly attractive before — she was fit, a runner, a CrossFitter, but just not my type. This was different. The dress she wore was tight, hugging the swell of her stomach and her now massive breasts. I remembered my girlfriend telling me Deby had gotten a boob job years ago, but this wasn’t that. This was pregnancy fullness, and her body wore it like it had always been meant to carry it.

The photo ended up pinned to the fridge with a magnet — harmless, or so I told myself. I didn’t think twice about it until that night.

I woke up around 2 a.m. thirsty as hell, probably from running before bed. I wandered into the kitchen and began filling a glass from the fridge dispenser. As the water poured, my eyes wandered to the photo I had stuck up earlier.

I froze.

Her breasts were even more obvious now. Full, heavy — and unmistakably outlined through the fabric of her dress. I could make out the gentle swell of her areolae and the firm points of her nipples beneath the tight material. I stared longer than I should have, and when I snapped out of it, I realized I was practically gawking like I’d never seen a pair of tits before.

I shook my head, disgusted with myself, filled my glass, and set it down.

And yet… I turned back to the photo. Again.

With a nervous hand, I pulled the magnet off and held the card in front of me, studying her more closely. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I felt a flutter in my stomach — the kind you get when you’re turned on in a way you don’t want to be. It was wrong. So fucking wrong. She was my girlfriend’s sister. Married. Pregnant.

And yet, I couldn’t look away.

I imagined the weight of her breasts in my hands. The taste of her nipples under my tongue. My cock stirred in my boxers, growing heavy and thick just from the thought. This wasn’t some passive daydream. It was physical. Real. I could feel it building inside me, inch by inch, pulse by pulse.

I forced myself to pin the photo back to the fridge and head to bed, hoping sleep would reset everything. But it didn’t.

I tossed. Turned. Minutes stretched into an hour. I took deep breaths, trying to center myself, but all I could see was Deby. Her lips. Her body. Her laugh. The way that dress clung to her like a second skin. The way her nipples practically begged to be sucked through the fabric.

And then, a slight shift in the sheets brushed the tip of my cock — just enough to send a sharp pulse through my balls. I felt precum leaking, dampening the front of my boxers. I pictured Deby again, this time close enough to touch, to taste. My cock throbbed hard, desperate for friction. I imagined licking a slow, wet circle around one of her nipples until it pressed stiff against the inside of her dress.

I couldn’t take it.

Quietly, I slipped out of bed, crept down to the kitchen, and took the photo from the fridge. I clutched it to my stomach like it was contraband. Back on the couch, I pulled it into the light and stared at her — her glowing, swollen body, the gleam in her eyes.

My cock was fully hard now, pressed tight against my waistband. I pushed my boxers down, and it sprang free, slapping my stomach, already wet at the tip. I gripped it, imagining her fingers instead of mine, her palm stroking me slowly, teasingly.

The strokes grew faster. More intense. I pictured her breasts bouncing while I fucked her, imagined her lips wrapped around me, the weight of her ass pressing into my lap. My hips bucked instinctively, chasing release.

And then I came — hard.

Hot, thick streams pulsed over my knuckles, then across my stomach. I held the photo in my free hand, eyes locked on hers as the last spasms wracked through me. The mess was everywhere — on me, on the couch — but I made sure to keep her picture untouched, like some strange kind of respect.

Afterward, I just laid there. Heart racing. Mind spinning. This was Deby. My girlfriend’s pregnant sister.

What the fuck was happening to me?

The next morning I crept like a ninja into the kitchen to make sure I had put the photo back up on the fridge exactly the way it was before. I didn’t want to have to explain why it was out of place. Not that my girlfriend would have noticed but my guilty conscience was making me slightly paranoid about it. Later that day I received a text from my girlfriend at work with an image attached. I nearly had a heart attack when I realized the image was a copy of 2 boarding passes to Houston for the following week.

Oh fuck, I don’t think I’m ready for this.  I remember thinking to myself. I answered back to her, “do we really have to go see her?” Hoping that would in some way keep my cover. She replied with a firm, “ Yes!! My sister is pregnant and I want to be there for her for a bit”.

I think I replied with an “Ughhhh” or something similar but truthfully it got my heart racing. I was definitely worried. Mainly that they would both see in some way that I was experiencing this new found attraction and it would be obvious. This trip could basically end up being the most embarrassing trip of my life. 

Just like that, the week flew by. As usual I waited till the last minute to pack my bags which made my girlfriend stress out. The day of the flight I was a mixture of half annoyed and half excited. I was starting to lean toward the annoyed a bit more due to long lines at security and trouble parking. Of course our flight was oversold which meant we had to wait at the gate until some people decided to give up their seats. After that, the flight was uneventful, and it was smooth sailing to Houston. When we landed, we grabbed our bags and made our way to baggage claim where my girlfriend informed me that Deby would be picking us up. My hands started to sweat. I wondered if in person I would still feel that level of attraction that I did from the photo? More importantly, would I be able to hide that level of attraction? My mind was racing, but honestly I didn't have much time to fret over it since as soon as we stepped outside of baggage claim, Deby had pulled right up to the curb. She popped the trunk and we loaded our bags in. I slid in the back seat and my girlfriend hopped in the front. My face instantly went flush when I saw her. "Oh my God!", I thought to myself. She looked even hotter than she did in the photo. She was glowing and had this absolutely incredible smile on her face. I couldn't believe this was the same woman I had known for so many years. The sundress she was wearing hugged her body in all the right places and accentuated her perfectly toned legs. I admired her from the back seat as the sisters chatted back and forth, catching up on all the gossip since they had last seen each other.

We finally got back to the house where her husband was grilling some food outside on the back patio. My girlfriend and I were both exhausted from the flight and honestly just wanted to call it a night but since he was cooking, it was only polite that we keep ourselves awake long enough to eat. Dinner was pretty good, steaks cooked medium and all the fixings. We made small talk for about an hour, but if I'm being honest, I was so tired, it was all a blur. I took every chance I could to check out Deby and I swear she caught me an handful of times. Just as I thought I would fall asleep at the table, my girlfriend stood up and said, "Well guys it's late and we are super tired, I think we are going to grab a shower and head to bed." Music to my ears! I took no time to help clear the table and run upstairs to get a shower and crash in bed. I was so fast asleep that I barely heard my girlfriend get into bed after her shower. I took one final look at my watch, 9:30pm, and just like that, I was out.

After what felt like hours of sleeping, I was woken up by loud yelling coming from downstairs. It took me a second to realize what was going on. Deby and her husband were having a huge fight. I tried not to listen, as it wasn't really any of my business. After all we were guests. I rolled over in bed and saw my girlfriend wide awake. "I have not slept a wink, they have been fighting non stop since you fell asleep", she whispered. I could tell by the way she spoke, she was incredibly tired. At that moment we heard the loud slam of the front door, followed by her husband yelling that he was staying the night at his friends. His car revved and squealed off into the night.

As we both sat upstairs in bed in awkward silence we could hear Deby quietly crying and sniffling down in the kitchen still. My girlfriend feeling bad but exhausted and slightly drunk from some wine she had at dinner, quietly said, “ugh she’s gonna be upset all night, I can’t believe we can’t be here one night without them getting into a fight.”  “There is no way I am going to be able to function on another night of no sleep”, she continued. I myself am never sure what to do in these types of awkward situations. It’s always weird when couples fight when your in their home. It’s not like we can just bounce out either, we are staying here. I mean I very well would feel comfortable bouncing out but I know my girlfriend wouldn’t want to, especially after what happened. After what felt like an eternity, the crying finally stopped and it sounded like my girlfriend had fallen asleep next to me. I rolled over to close my eyes when a half asleep whispered voice asked, “Can you go down and check on Deby?”  For a second I pretended that I didn’t hear her. “Huh?” I said a few seconds in. Then one final sleepy whisper “Just check on her real quick.”  It was followed by a slight snore that was muffled by the pillow she was hugging. I went back and forth in my head for about 5 minutes on what it is I should do. I was beyond nervous but I began to rationalize it to myself. I’ll just go down and ask her if she’s ok then I’ll head right back up and get to bed.  Simple and easy. I need to just forget this silly crush I have going on here and be an adult. Nothing is going to happen anyway and it’s just some dumb fantasy I had cooked up in my head. After a few deep breaths I slid out of the covers and felt the floor beneath my feet. I softly stepped out of the bedroom and looked to remember where the stars were. It’s always weird navigating someone else’s home. I turned the opposite way and saw the stairs down to the living room. As I approached them I could hear Deby slightly shifting on the couch below. In that split second I decided that I’d use the excuse of needing some water from the kitchen as to not make her think I was coming downstairs just to check on her. Each step down felt like it took forever. I got more nervous with every one of them. As I got to the bottom Deby turned and noticed I was coming down. “Hey, just grabbing some water”, I managed to say. “Yeah, we got some in the fridge, just help yourself”, she replied. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a water. As I closed the fridge door I saw that she had a copy of the photo she mailed out attached to their fridge as well. I purposely forced the thought out of my head and took a sip from the bottle. “You doing ok?”, I asked as I twisted the cap back on. “Yeah, ugh just always some drama. I was hoping it wouldn’t come up with you guys here.”  I could hear in her voice crack a bit as she sniffled. She started to explain that things had been really difficult lately and that she was getting really frustrated.  

She was still sniffling when I sat down next to her, but not as much. Her shoulders were drawn in, arms crossed over her chest like she was trying to fold herself into a smaller space. I didn’t say anything at first. I just sat there, let the silence stretch for a moment. Then I reached out and gently placed a hand on her back.

She flinched, just a little—but didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into the contact.

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that,” she said softly, voice hoarse from crying.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I do, though. I feel like a mess.” Her eyes finally met mine. They were wet, puffy—and beautiful. And something else was there now, flickering behind them. Something sharp, raw.

She uncrossed her arms slowly. Her chest rose with a shaky breath, the tight fabric of her tank top clinging to the round fullness of her breasts, her nipples hard and unmistakably visible beneath it.

“I’m just tired of pretending like everything’s fine. I feel… like I haven’t been touched in months. Like I’m disappearing.”

I swallowed. Hard. Her words felt like a knife slipping under the skin of whatever moral boundary I’d been clinging to. I shouldn’t be looking at her this way. I knew that. But it didn’t stop me.

She shifted slightly on the couch, her thighs parting just enough to send my heart racing. Her hand landed on my knee. Light at first. Then a little firmer.

“Do you think I’m still pretty?” she asked, her voice trembling—not from sadness now, but from something else entirely.

I didn’t trust myself to speak. I just nodded. That was all she needed.

She leaned in, and our lips met—soft, unsure at first, then firmer, hungrier. Her kiss tasted like salt and guilt and need. I felt her hand on my chest, sliding under my shirt, nails scratching lightly over my skin.

When I pulled back, she was breathing hard, eyes wide. Her hands reached for the hem of her tank top. “Can you… will you?” she asked, her voice suddenly small.

I helped her pull it up. Her breasts spilled out, full and heavy, her areolae huge and dark, nipples stiff and begging for attention. My mouth went dry. I leaned down and took one into my mouth.

She gasped—so sharply it almost sounded like pain—but her hands gripped my hair, holding me there. I sucked gently at first, letting my tongue flick over her nipple, teasing the sensitive skin until she arched her back, pressing more of herself into me. The taste of her skin was intoxicating—clean, warm, slightly salty from her tears and the heat of the moment.

“God… fuck, yes,” she moaned, her thighs shifting beneath her, hips starting to roll against the couch. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop…”

I latched onto the other nipple, wetting it thoroughly before closing my lips around it and sucking harder. She whimpered, grinding against the cushion now, her pussy clearly aching for friction. I slid a hand between her legs, felt the heat radiating from her core even through her shorts. My fingers found the edge of the fabric and slipped underneath.

She was soaked. Completely, achingly wet. My fingers slid between her folds effortlessly, the heat of her slick pussy coating me instantly. Her hips bucked into my hand as I rubbed her slowly, teasing her clit with soft, deliberate circles.

“Jesus,” she groaned, breath catching. “Your fingers… oh my god…”

I slipped two inside her, feeling her walls clench hard around them. She was tight—so tight it made me ache just to feel how snugly she gripped me. I kept sucking her nipple as I fingered her, slow and steady at first, curling my fingers just right to hit that sweet, tender spot deep inside her.

Deby’s whole body trembled, her legs falling open wider as she chased the feeling. Her hands clutched at my shoulders, fingernails digging in as I fucked her with my fingers and kept my lips locked on her nipple. Her moans grew higher, more urgent.

“I’m gonna come… oh fuck… I’m gonna come just like this…”

I bit down on her nipple—not hard, just enough—and pressed my fingers harder into her soaked pussy.

Her whole body convulsed. A low, desperate cry escaped her as she came, gushing around my fingers, clenching so hard I could barely move inside her. Her thighs quivered, her stomach tensed, and her hands clawed at me like she needed to hang on or fall apart.

I held her through it—lips on her breast, fingers still working her gently until she finally collapsed against me, limp and trembling.

“I haven’t… I’ve never come like that,” she whispered into my neck. “Not in years.”

Her hand moved down between us again, and I knew what was coming next.

Deby’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of my sweats with no hesitation, her fingers wrapping around the base of my cock like she already knew exactly what she was doing to me. I hissed through my teeth as she stroked me—slow at first, letting her grip adjust to my length, her palm smooth and warm. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, pupils wide and glassy with lust.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Haven’t you?”

I nodded. No point in lying now.

She bit her lip, then leaned forward, her breath warm against my stomach. I could barely believe what I was seeing. My girlfriend's sister looking up at me with those gorgeous eyes, only this time filled with lust. Her fingers gave me one last slow stroke before her lips replaced them—soft, wet, impossibly warm. The first glide of her tongue along my shaft made my hips jerk.

“Fuck,” I breathed, gripping the edge of the couch.

She took me deeper, inch by inch, until her lips brushed the base and I could feel her throat tighten around me. Her moan vibrated through my cock, sending a shiver up my spine. One of her hands braced against my thigh, the other cupped my balls with just enough pressure to make my legs tremble.

Every slow bob of her head, every swirl of her tongue, every obscene, wet sound she made was unraveling whatever self-control I had left. I ran my fingers through her hair, guiding her just a little, watching the way her cheeks hollowed with each pull. She looked up at me, eyes heavy, mouth full, and that image nearly finished me on the spot.

When I finally pulled her off me, a strand of saliva connected her lips to the tip of my cock. She looked dazed and flushed, lips red and swollen.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said simply. “Right here. Right now.”

I paused, breathless, heart pounding. “Deby…”

“She left you downstairs to check on me,” she whispered, guiding my hand between her legs again. “And I need this.”

Her shorts were off before I even realized I was pulling them down. She pulled her shirt up over her belly, exposing her full, heavy breasts, still glistening from my mouth. Her legs spread and I knelt between them, my cock pressed against her entrance, slick and throbbing. Her eyes fluttered shut as I pushed in—slow, deep, stretching her inch by inch. She was impossibly wet, impossibly tight.

The first few thrusts were slow, deliberate. Her hands gripped my back, nails dragging down my skin as she bucked her hips into mine.

“Harder,” she whispered. “Don’t hold back.”

And I didn’t.

The room filled with the sounds of wet skin, her breathy moans, my low grunts as I drove into her over and over. Her tits bounced with every thrust, her legs wrapped tight around my waist, pulling me deeper. Her lips found mine—desperate, hungry, her tongue exploring mine as we moved faster, rougher.

“I’m gonna come again,” she gasped against my mouth. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come…”

Her whole body shook around me, legs locking up, nails biting into my skin as she came hard, her pussy clenching around me with every wave. The way she gritted her teeth, the desperate way she moaned my name—it pushed me right to the edge.

I buried myself deep inside her and came with a low groan, pulsing hard as I filled her, our bodies locked in that final, frenzied moment.

For a few long seconds, we didn’t move. Just heavy breathing, the slick sound of skin on skin, and the pounding of our hearts.

Then the guilt started creeping back in.

But Deby just smiled, eyes still closed, chest rising and falling. “Now that,” she whispered, “was worth crying over.”

I was intoxicated, completely overcome by what had just happened. Deby slowly got up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen. She returned with a warm wash cloth. She began carefully wiping what remained of our mixed juices off my stomach and still pulsing but relaxed cock. She leaned in and whispered, " You better get back to bed before she gets suspicious."