INLAWS & OUTLAWS
The story is total fiction. It will involve heterosexual and gay sex, incest, and domination.
Part One
My courting of Helen wasn't exactly a whirlwind romance, but neither was it a long drawn out affair. Somewhere in between, I'd say. We met at work, where she was something in middle management and I was about one step up from an office boy, and we married three months later. It was she who did the proposing, as she had the first asking out, and looking back at it from all these years later I can say that set the tone. But don't start getting the idea that this was natural for me back then and that I always took the back seat when it came to women. No that definitely wasn't the case, not then anyway, but there was something about Helen that made it seemed natural for everybody about her to let her take charge. It happened at work, it happened socially and it certainly happened and went on happening in our relationship. Does to this day, but I'm getting way ahead of myself there.
Helen was 23 when I met her, just over a year older then me, but still living at home whereas I had moved out of my parents' house more or less on leaving school and had a grubby little flat in a house full of other grubby little flats. Despite her living at home, I only managed to meet her parents once before the marriage. That was at a formal little tea party that they organised with the express purpose of checking me out. They seemed perfectly ordinary back then, although I was a little surprised that Helen's dad seemed to do all the fetching and carrying while her mum, physically a more mature version of Helen herself whom I could have well fancied had I not been so obsessed with Helen herself, sat there giving orders. Perhaps it was just because it was so unlike, my own experiences of family life, where my mother acted as if my dad and I and my brother were incapable of doing a single thing domestically for ourselves. Which was one of the reasons I had left home at the earliest opportunity, to be honest.
Helen had a sister, Liz, a gawky thing in her mid teens, who came along with us sometimes when we went out places. Back then I kidded myself she had a crush on me, and she did show all the usual symptoms, but now in hindsight I'd put it down to the predatory gleam in the eye of an accomplished predator. Both are probably true in their own ways. Then I was too na‹ve, and now I'm too cynical. There was also a twin brother, but he was in the forces, in the Royal Marines, and he was overseas the whole time I was courting his sister.
My new bride arranged everything about the wedding, and as expected it went like clockwork. She'd also arranged the honeymoon, which was to be in her parents' holiday cottage in the Lake District. And, damn, was I looking forward to it!
I should explain something here, especially for those not old enough to remember those far off times. Now it's very unusual for a couple to not have slept together before the wedding, but then it was practically law. Good girls, and Helen seemed to me the very essence of a good girl, saved it up for their husbands on the wedding night. And for a man, the sort of girl with whom you had sex was not the sort of girl you married. It wasn't a very good idea, and in my view it caused a of unhappiness for a lot of people, but that's the way it was. Of course, as it happened Helen fitted the then current definition of a good girl about as well as a glove fitted a foot, but that was a revelation that was to come after we'd signed the register and became man and wife. And she was no more a virgin that I was, but the men who had ensured that were the very last ones I would have expected. But, again, I'm getting ahead of myself.
I thought we'd leave the reception early, but she seemed in no hurry to go so I didn't push the issue. In fact, practically everybody had left before she came over to me, still in her wedding dress, and asked if I was ready to leave.
"More than ready," I said.
"Good," she replied. "Mummy and Daddy are already in the car. I'll just get Liz and see you out there."
She left me standing there with a confused look on my face, but I soon rationalised it to myself. We were going by train, I surmised, and her family were driving us to the station to see us off. As I said, she'd arranged everything.
That rationalisation lasted until we were on the main road heading north through the gathering darkness, and by then of course I couldn't say anything. I was in the front with her dad doing the driving, and the three females were all squashed into the back. The conversation back there was all about the wedding, but up front her dad said not a word to me the whole way there.
It was late by the time we arrived at the cottage, and naturally Helen immediately took charge of the sleeping arrangements. To say I was astonished when I heard them would be about the same as telling you that water is a bit damp. I got her outside into the garden on her own the first opportunity I got.
"You have me in sleeping with your dad," I said, in what I thought was quite a calm voice if maybe a little high pitched with the strain. "On our wedding night."
"Well of course, darling," she said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. "There's only two bedrooms, so it has to be boys in one and girls in the other. You can hardly expect Liz to bunk in with Daddy, can you? Or you and me?"
Put like that it did sound sort of reasonable, if you had lost complete leave of your senses. And if you'd completely forgotten that this was our wedding night.
"But, Helen," I said. "This is our first night. We should be.well, you know."
She giggled at me. "Darling," she said. "We've got the whole of the rest of our lives for that, so what's one night matter?"
One night. So they were leaving tomorrow. That sounded alright. You could hardly expect them to travel all the way back home again after driving us up here. And I could certainly wait one more night. But the idea of sleeping in the same room as her father, a man I'd only met once before today, still did not appeal.
"But Helen," I said, grasping for any available straw. "I can't bunk in with your dad. I sleep naked, and I don't have any pyjamas."
"That's alright," she said. "So does he."
Oh joy, I thought. This just kept getting better and better.
"And it's a good way for you to get to know each other," she said, as if that clinched it.
Half an hour later, exhausted from the day, I went up to bed and got two shocks in rapid succession. The first was that he was already there and pottering about the room stark naked. The silly thought passed through my head that I was getting to see Helen's father's nude body before I'd even seen hers.
"Hello, son," he said, in quite a friendly tone. "Which side do you prefer to sleep on?"
That was the second shock. There was only one bed. I suppose I should have been relieved it was a double.
"I'm easy," I said, which I immediately realised could have been phrased a lot better.
"Fair enough," he answered. "I'll take the window side then."
I was finding it hard to know where to look, and couldn't help taking the odd glance out of curiosity. He was in very good shape for his age. Stocky, but all of it muscle by the look of it. And his cock was long and thick and heavy- looking, like a pendulum hanging there between his legs.
He went to the bed and climbed in, but stayed sitting up watching me. Feeling incredibly self-conscious, I began to undress. He watched me with a sort of vague interest, until I got down to my underpants. I'd decided to leave them on, and started to get into bed beside him.
"Isn't that a bit unhygienic?" he asked, gesturing towards my pants.
I gave a little embarrassed shrug. "I feel more comfortable this way," I said.
"Fair enough," he said again, a phrase I was to come to know as one of his favourites.
I finished getting into bed and turned my back to him, laying as close to the edge as politeness would allow.
"Goodnight, son" he said, using the cord above the bed to turn off the light.
"Goodnight," I replied as he lay down on his back behind me.
Sleep, of course, didn't come easily for a whole variety of obvious reasons. I lay there for what seemed ages, and so it was that I was awake to feel that hand pushing down the back of my pants. I mentally froze, knowing that this wasn't a dream but still praying that it was. The rough skin of his hand moved across my buttocks, fondling them. Then the bed began to shake in a quite unmistakeable way. He was laying there wanking as he felt me up.
Part of me was just enduring all this, wanting it to stop but unable to think of a way of making it so without causing a scene that could quite easily pout an abrupt end to my new marriage. But I have to make an admission. Some other part of me, some dark little corner I had never explored nor even suspected, was excited by all this. The strong manly hand caressing my buttocks, the man doing it naked and masturbating right next to me and, most of all, the knowledge that this was my bride's father doing it. I'd never felt any attraction at all to other men, but it was the sheer kinkiness of this situation that was getting to me. And exciting me, as evidenced even had I not anted to admit it to myself of my own cock slowly growing down there and pushing against the material of my pants.
Eventually his breath became harsher and his grip on one of my buttocks tighter, and I suddenly felt something hot and wet splash across my back. After a while I heard him start to snore, and gently extracted his hand from the back of my pants. Slipping out of the bed, I made for the bathroom.
The mirror in there showed me the line of his cum across my lower back and shoulder. I used a flannel to wash it off, and then stood looking at myself in the mirror. My cock was still hard, and a little guiltily I quickly brought myself off thinking about what had just happened. Then I went back to bed. He was still laying there on his back snoring, the sheet pushed down to his thighs and revealing his spent cock laying across his thighs. I climbed back in next to him, and immediately he grunted and rolled over and flopped an arm across my boy. He snuggled up, and I could feel his cock pressing against my arse.
I fell asleep wondering what I could possibly tell Helen about this, if anything. I should have saved myself the heartache. As it turned out, he told her.
To be continued. As with my other stories, Family Debt and Family Secrets, comments and messages always welcome and always answered.