I sat listening to my sister, drinking the weak coffee she had served me, wondering what to do.

"He took off again last night, Rachel. I told him I wanted to spend a Friday night at home, not out drinking for once. Just like I told him last week. And just like last week, he went out alone, and he didn't come back. I appreciate you're telling him off last Saturday, but it doesn't seem to have done any good."

"Well, is he over at Bob's again?"

"Yes."

"Oh, so he called?"

"No" my sister replied, a sheepish look crossing her face. "I drove past this morning, early, just to make sure. His truck's parked at Bob's house. At least he's not with a woman!"

-o0o-

Exactly one week earlier, I had arrived at my sister's home, expecting to gather her up and hit the malls and outlet stores. As usual, I was dressed up for the outing, in mini-skirt, tight top, and light make-up. I always figure: if you want to be treated as high class, you've got to look high class.

However, my sister was anything but ready to go. I found her in her housecoat, crying her eyes out.

"Sandy, what's the matter?"

"It's Danny."

"What, did that bastard hit you or something?"

"No, nothing like that. He just took off last night, went drinking with his friend Bob. He was mad at me. I knew I should have gone with him. I just had to have it my way!"

"What are you talking about? Has something happened to Danny?"

"What? Oh...no, he just never came home last night. He probably hooked up with some slut and stayed at her place!"

I wouldn't put it past him, that's for sure. Although Sandy, at twenty-five, was my older sister, I usually felt that I was the more mature one. Sandy never went to college, but instead ended up marrying a macho asshole who worked off-and-on at the local tire plant.

Naturally, I was destined for better things. Perhaps it was my college sophistication, but, at twenty-two, I already knew that losers weren't for me. I had just graduated, and as soon as my boyfriend, Stewart, finished graduate school, we were going to marry. Stewart would never pull anything like this. He was kind, sweet, and willing to let me make most of the decisions. In fact, he was working towards a PhD in 'Gender and Minority Studies." I just couldn't understand women who, like Sandy, settled for less.

"Well, have you called this Bob guy? Maybe he stayed over at his buddy's house."

"Oh, that's a good idea. I think I have the number around here somewhere..."

Sandy called the number, and I saw her face light up after she asked if Danny was there -- apparently he was. It darkened quickly, though, once the jerk got on the line. Within a minute, he had hung up on her, and she was crying once more.

"He says if I'm gonna nag him and check up on him, he'll stay out the whole weekend. He even...he even threatened to 'go get some strange pussy'!"

Well, that did it. It was time I gave the son of a bitch a piece of my mind. "Sandy, give me this Bob's address. And hand me the phone. Since you're in no shape to go shopping with me, I guess Stewart will have to.

She scribbled out directions to the house as I dialed Stewart at the University.

"Stewart dear...I need you to be ready to go shopping with me this afternoon.... Well, my plans have changed...I don't care about your deadline; you love me, don't you? ...Okay, see you then...bye-bye."

I turned with a smirk to my sister. "See that? Now give me those directions. I know how to handle men!"

-o0o-

It turns out the address was easy to find. I saw Danny's pickup truck parked outside. The other car in the driveway was a Corvette, presumably Bob's. "Figures," I mused. "Jerks of a feather...."

I knocked on the door impatiently. I didn't have all morning -- just a few minutes to tell Danny off, in the fashion Sandy should have years ago, and then on to the college to pick up Stewart for an afternoon of trying on outfits I didn't plan to buy.

The man who answered the door was a big blond brute, handsome I suppose in a rugged sort of way. Not my type, though. I prefer a clean-cut guy who looks like he might own a tie or ten. "I'm here to talk to Danny. Is he here or not?"

The big guy, who I presumed to be Bob, actually adjusted himself right in front of me before grunting, jerking his head back towards the house's interior, and stepping out of my way. I could feel his eyes on me as I brushed past, probably checking out my ass. Animal!

I strode into the living room to find Danny lounging on a couch, watching cartoons in his boxers and T-shirt, unshowered, unshaven, and drinking a beer at ten in the morning. I put my hands on my hips in my best "attitude" pose and let it fly.

"You son of a bitch! Just who do you think you are, treating my sister that way?"

He didn't answer; he just looked at me with an amused expression. This made me even angrier.

"You're married to her, which means you don't do things like stay out all night. It means you do what it takes to make her happy."

"So, you think you know what it takes to make a woman happy, huh?"

"What? Of course I do! Take Stewart, for example -- you know him -- he makes me happy. He always asks me what I want to do, instead of insisting on his own way. And he'dnever pull a trick like disappearing overnight."

"Nope. Listening to you right now, I can tell your 'Steew-Ahrt' doesn't know what he's doing, that's for sure. Anyway, get the hell out of here before you regret it."

"Are you threatening me? That might work with Sandy, but it won't work with me. I'll leave when you tell me you're going to apologize to my sister."

"I'm not threatening you, I'm telling you. You get out of here, or I'll give your ass a spanking you won't forget. Now go."

This was just the kind of macho bullshit I expected from a jerk like Danny, and frankly, it pissed me off. I felt my face flush in anger, and the next thing I knew, I'd pulled off one of my shoes and flung it at the bastard. He caught it with a laugh.

"Well, I guess you've made your choice. Bring her over here, Bob."

I spun around to storm out, even without my shoe, but instead I ran right into the arms of Bob, who had been watching this whole exchange. He grabbed each of my upper arms in a meaty paw, pinned them against my body, and lifted me easily off my feet, carrying me to the couch and Danny. Too late I tried to kick him, but before I could land anything effectual, I was draped across Danny's lap, face down. Danny held my midriff firmly, and Bob, who still hadn't said a word, casually held both my wrists in one hand and pulled them out over the armrest.

"You asked for this," my brother-in-law gloated, as he pulled my miniskirt up over my hips to expose my panty-covered ass. The two of them were just too strong - all my squirming and kicking only made them chuckle.

And then, without warning, Danny struck me across the butt with a resounding open-handed blow. It surprised me more than it hurt, but I yelped, which caused them both to guffaw. The second blow was not nearly as loud, but it hurt a little more. I screamed at them to cut it out.

"I'll stop when you've learned your lesson. Obviously, you haven't learned it yet."

Thwaak!. "Owwww!" Schwaap! "Unghh!" No particular swat was in itself that severe, but as they built up, my stinging ass cheeks really started to smart. Tears came to my eyes, out of either pain or frustration, and I lost count after the first ten spanks. After maybe twenty he suddenly stopped, and I found myself gasping for breath. Bob released his grip on my wrists, so I attempted to struggle off my tormentor's lap.

"Whoa, there!" he smugly chuckled, pushing me down with a hand at the small of my back. "I'm not sure I'm done with your cute little ass yet."

My face, already hot from the exertion and my frustration, must have burned brighter as I realized my skirt was still bunched up around my waist, my ass laying out for Danny's viewing pleasure with only my silk panties to conceal it. Since my hands at least were now free, I reached down and pulled my skirt over my rump. The men laughed.

"Now...are you ready to apologize to me? Are you ready to admit that a man has his prerogatives, and a woman should just put up and shut up?"

"Let me go you bastards!" I shouted, regaining my dignity. "You're already in big trouble. I'm telling my sister, and maybe the cops, now LET ME GO!"

"Tsk, tsk. And I thought we were coming to an understanding." He began pulling my skirt back up, and when I tried to fight him over the scant fabric, Bob easily pulled my hands away and securely held them over the armrest again. This time, however, Danny didn't start right in with the spanking. Instead, he caressed my buns, I'd say almost tenderly -- for someone like Danny.

"It's almost a shame to hit this beautiful ass, Bob. I can think of so many better things to do with it. Oh well, she keeps insisting." I am ashamed to admit that the gentle stroking of his powerful hands across my sore derriere didn't feel that bad. In fact, I sort of enjoyed it. When this thought hit me I suddenly noticed for the first time the lump in Danny's lap, pressing into my lower belly. His cock.

Thwaaak! "Owww!" Suddenly my attention was focused more directly on my bottom, as Danny knocked out at least a dozen moderately hard strokes. By the time he was done with this salvo, I was feeling it somewhere other than on the surface of my ass. Deep in my pelvis I began to ache, and it wasn't an ache of pain -- it was a throbbing need. Bob once again released my wrists, and I just lay there, panting for a few moments, contemplating the sense of emptiness in my loins before remembering myself and pushing my skirt back down. I didn't even bother attempting to escape.

I couldn't believe what I was feeling. I was being practically molested, and sure, I was angry, but my crotch was reacting in some pathetic parody of pleasure!

"Are you ready to apologize?"

"Please, just let me go," I answered weakly.

Again I felt him pull up my skirt and begin to now even more lewdly caress my bottom. His hand slid down the backs of my thighs, and his fingertips drifted between them. My breathing picked up, and I felt the lump in Danny's lap swell, and shift. To my mortification, I only came to realize that I had been offering no resistance to these inappropriate caresses when Bob gently took my wrists once more and secured them before me.

This time, the spanking was slow, almost excruciatingly so, and the ache in my body grew with every stroke. It spread to my clitoris, which tickled, and it took firm hold of my vagina, which I could feel turning into a swamp. I thought for a moment that Danny was thrusting his crotch up into me, until I realized it was me, grinding mine down into him.

The final stroke came and went, and Bob again released my wrists, but it took me a few moments to realize that Danny must be done. I lay baking in the heat emanating from my center, trying to make sense of this confusing situation. I hated Danny, and I certainly hated shit like this. I had marched in protest against just this sort of male attitude and abuse all the time at college. Why the hell was I wet?

I couldn't stand men like Danny, or this Bob character. I loved Stewart, sweet Stewart, who treated me like a partner, or even as a first among equals. Here I was, lying across the lap of a brutish lout, and my cunt was about to gush forth lava.

I was startled to hear Bob speak for the first time, his voice deep, matter-of-fact, manly. "I think she's wet, Dan."

"I am not!" I protested, realizing I had completely forgotten my state of dress. In anger, or a close approximation thereof, I yanked the skirt down over my hips. I also felt a hot rush of humiliating lust flow through my loins.

"There's one good way to find out!" Danny chortled, as he rolled me over and manhandled me bodily off his lap. My sore ass dropped to the seat of the cheap couch, my legs draped themselves over his bare, hairy thighs, and my spine pressed back against the poorly-padded armrest, leaving me in a half-seated, half-lounging position. I felt Bob's large hands come from behind me to rest gently but firmly on each of my shoulders.

"Danny, cut it out! I'm your wife's sister. You know you shouldn't be messing around like this, even if you are just kidding."

"I'm not kidding. We're going to check to see if you're wet. If you're not, I'll let you go. If you are, we'll have to deal with you...after all, you're my wife's sister, and you know you're not supposed to be getting all wet over little ol' me!"

I could feel my face burning, and could hear my own panting breath whistling through my flaring nostrils. The bastard pushed my skirt up in the front. The only move I made was to lift my hips, so he could complete the job properly with the back of my skirt, too. I glared at him.

I felt a tickling sensation rising within me, as though my pelvic bone itched, when he grasped my panties. "Fucking stop this, Danny!" I spat, as I lifted up off my ass again, this time to allow him to more easily pull them down over my hips. I then extended my legs and pointed my toes to facilitate his efforts to remove the last shreds of my modesty and toss their silken embodiment to the floor.

He slid out from under my calves and repositioned himself. "I'm going to check for wetness with the most discriminating part of my body. After all, I gotta give you a fair check, don't I?"

With his right knee on the couch, between my own, and his other foot planted on the floor, Danny pulled down his boxers to reveal a large, thickly-veined, very stiff prick, curved slightly to his left. The purple nut of his cock head was leaking a clearish fluid, and pointing right at me in an accusatory manner.

"Danny!" I said sternly, my eyebrows knitting together so tightly that I could feel them. "This is going too far. Quit joking around before it's too late!" I spread my legs.

He climbed up between my thighs, grabbed me by one hip, and dragged the tip of that fucking ugly tool right through my drooling groove. "Yep, wet."

"Don't you even THINK about trying to fuck me!" I said as primly as I could in a husky voice. Bob's hands were still on my shoulders, so I reached up and latched on to his thick wrists, using the leverage to pull my knees up to my chest and tilt my pelvis skyward. Danny guided the knob of his adulterous cock to my entrance and easily slid in. My traitorous cunt welcoming him in one smooth stroke, offering no resistance until the son-of-a-bitch hit bottom. I grunted, then sighed.

I could barely believe the wave of pleasure that coursed through my loins. I felt my pussy spontaneously clutching at the invading shaft, as though it had decided all by itself to take this opportunity for a full set of Kegel exercises.

"You know this is rape, don't you, you prick?" I rolled my crotch up into his. He had a fantastic skewering motion to his hips as he drove in and out of me.

"No," he replied, his own breath coming more heavily as he continued to plow into me without missing a beat. "This is just a badly needed fucking, you slut." I moaned, as I felt a crescendo building in my belly.

This is not how a woman of my stature has sex. A woman like me makes love; she doesn't fuck. She gets pampered -- not spanked, stripped and screwed. But this was nothing like making love. I hadn't been kissed. I hadn't even been cuddled. Hell, my top was still on. And I had about seven inches of my hated brother-in-law's cock buried in my guts.

I came.

Hard.

It felt like a prolonged electric shock. I dug my fingernails into Bob's wrists, I drove my crotch up into my assailant, and I let slip an "Oh God yes!" before I managed to hiss out a venomous "I hate you, you asshole!" and shuddered though a second climax.

The cocky bastard kept screwing me, fully in command of his own pleasure, humiliating me with his control. "My God," I thought, staring through my lust glazed eyes into his intense face, luxuriously sliding my slutty hole up into and around his masterfully hammering thrusts, "I can't stand this handsome son-of-a-bitch."

Then I spoke aloud, in a besotted tone and through gritted teeth. "Don't cum in me, Danny. I'm not on the pill."

"What...you...think...I...care?" he replied, punctuating every word with a distinctly ungentle fuckbump against my cervix.

"Sandy...wants...kids...right...away...Me?...I'd ... prefer ...a nephew...or a...NIECE!" He thrust in hard, and held himself imbedded within me, as his incestuous cock belched forth its probably-potent seed directly into my unprotected womb. I came again.

Eventually he climbed off me, and I came down from my lust craze. I sat up, and angrily spewed forth invective as my eyes scanned the floor for my tossed-aside underwear. I saw some movement to my right, and when I turned my head I found myself staring at a sight that made me gasp. Bob was totally naked, and a prick even larger than Danny's was pointed right at me. I'd never seen an uncircumcised penis before. I felt my pussy twitch, and some of my brother-in-law's cum bubbled out of me.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, climbing up onto all fours, knees and elbows on the couch, and waving my whorish ass at him. "You don't think you're gonna fuck me too, do you?"

-o0o-

About an hour later, as I dressed myself in utter shame, the previously taciturn Bob was exchanging one-liners with Danny. I don't remember them all, but I know that they volunteered to tell Stewart how to really make a woman happy. And they suggested that if I had just gotten pregnant with a boy, we'd be able to tell which one of them was the father by whether the kid came out with a foreskin. They thought that was pretty funny. Actually, so did I.

I never did find my panties. I left in a hurry, cum dripping down my bare leg. I had come over to give my brother-in-law a piece of my mind and I wound up giving him a piece of my ass.

I didn't pick up Stewart to go shopping that afternoon, which really made his day a total waste since he dropped his research to come with me. I felt sort of bad about that. I also felt bad for being so bitchy to him for the rest of the weekend. Jesus, he just sat there and took it. Sometimes I guess he can be wimp!

But still, this Danny thing was just a big mistake, the kind of thing you just forget and never repeat. Those kinds of losers were not for me. I'm lucky I went to college and escaped that sort of life; instead, I could look forward to a sharing, partnering relationship with the soon-to-be Dr. Stewart Panderwaiste, PhD.

-o0o-

So there I was, exactly one week later, and Sandy was once again bemoaning the treatment she was getting from her son-of-a-bitch husband.

I sat listening to my sister, drinking the weak coffee she had served me, wondering what to do.

"He took off again last night, Rachel. I told him I wanted to spend a Friday night at home, not out drinking for once. Just like I told him last week. And just like last week, he went out alone, and he didn't come back. I appreciate you're telling him off last Saturday, but it doesn't seem to have done any good."

"Well, is he over at Bob's again?"

"Yes."

"Oh, so he called?"

"No" my sister replied, a sheepish look crossing her face. "I drove past this morning, early, just to make sure. His truck's parked at Bob's house. At least he's not with a woman!"

"So let me get this straight: he disappeared last night, went drinking, and spent the night at that retread Bob's house again?"

"Yeah, just like last weekend," she sniffed.

"Well, Sis, I know just how to handle this. He just needs a little more of what he got last Saturday. And that Bob needs some straightening out, too. I'll tell you what -- I'm going to go over there right now and give them both another piece of my mind!"