When my wife Audrey and I were in our late 20s, settled in Columbus, Ohio, her kid sister Becky came to live with us while starting college. Their parents paid us a small “room & board” stipend each month, so Becky wasn’t mooching. Almost 10 years apart, the sisters were not really very close – they had enjoyed different schools, friends, sports. Even their upbringing was different, Aud the first child of younger inexperienced parents, Beck the baby of the family with chill, experienced parents.
Audrey and I planned to wait for our early 30s to start a family. We had plenty of time and attention for her sister, and spare room. At the same time, Becky was busy with her studies and didn’t need much of our emotional bandwidth. It helped that Beck and I hit it off from the start, both swimmers, her at school and me at the gym.
When we were dating I had never really spent time with my wife’s “baby sister”. Living with her now was like having an excellent roommate. We had so much to talk about, and college was stimulating her interest in the world outside the town in which she’d grown up. It was kind of a blessing to have her around, because she was also an emotional resource for Audrey.
There was another plus to Becky’s presence – our love life. Becky sometimes brought a date home, and the romantic noises from down the hall inspired me and Audrey more than once to make some of our own. It was hard to resist sex in our bedroom when we were blatantly aware of sex in another room. Many mornings Audrey and I got up in the AM and found a strange young man in our kitchen. At first Audrey hated seeing them check big sister out, look her over. As the months went by she became less prudish, more willing to sit and have coffee with Beck and her lover. This period of our marriage was the not-very-high peak of our sexual relationship.
Then their Mom got sick. Audrey went home “for a few weeks” to help take care of her parents so Beck wouldn’t have to drop out. Morning coffee was the two of us, feeling the hole in the house that Audrey created by leaving. Beck brooding about her parents, wanting to “do her share”, threw herself into cooking and housework. And me. We had no one else to talk to, go shopping with. Life had made us an instant couple.
We seduced each other, really. Within days of living like we were married we felt like we were. It was actually awkward at the end of the day to say goodnight but go to separate bedrooms. Becky had stopped dating. We both learned later that we both lay awake at night, wondering how we could make the leap we felt was inevitable. Of course it was Becky, bold but trembling with nerves, who crawled into my bed. The first time we had sex was pretty tense and awkward. It soon got better. Within a week Becky and I were banging each other’s brains out morning and night. Worse, we had fallen in love.
We had to act normal when Audrey returned five weeks later, and we did. Here’s the thing that made our hidden love affair sustainable – we lived together. We loved each other and had almost all the benefits of being a normal couple. Only the sex needed to be covert, the love could masquerade as deep mutual affection.
The sabbatical with her parents had set Audrey’s biological clock ticking. But very soon her previously-unknown fertility issues came to light and our marriage began to struggle. We disagreed more often, and Beck was usually a bridge between us. Either of us could endure “the silent treatment” when it happened, because we each spoke to Becky no matter how we were treating each other that moment. If Audrey noticed that Becky no longer brought men home either of us. Sex with my wife became infrequent. Our home was now devoid of the sounds of sex at either end of the hallway. Beck was always available if we slipped out to run errands, or better yet, “go for a swim at the club.” Coming home freshly showered aroused no suspicions at all with Audrey.
As is already obvious, one thing that greatly separated the sisters was libido. Audrey had always been “normal,” moderately responsive to foreplay, a willing if unenthusiastic and unexciting bed-mate. She sometimes reached an orgasm through intercourse, sometimes needed me to go down on her for dessert. Audrey was one and done. Our best sex took 20 minutes start to finish. And there had been very little of it lately.
Her kid sister Becky was a reincarnation of one of the whores of ancient Babylon. She loved any kind of sex, was poly-orgasmic, and self-lubricated at a touch. I’ve had sex in my life with about a dozen women. Beck had the wettest, hottest, tightest pussy of them all. Touch her nipples and she would ask for a pinch. Strum her clitoris and her thighs soon drenched with drippings from her vagina. Missionary was like a bull ride, her hips in constant motion, kinetic, always exhausting me. I loved her so much, and as Audrey and I became ever less connected, I began to daydream of that parallel universe in which I had married the younger sister in the first place.
It was a slow, silent process, but sex disappeared from my marriage to Audrey while love remained. It took about a year, the gradual but relentless unsexing of our marriage. I worried that my lack of enthusiasm, my rarer overtures, would be noticed, or trouble Audrey. But she no longer had much interest in sexual intimacy as well. Eventually she complained of back problems and we bought two queen beds to replace the king we were accustomed to. Audrey and I never stopped loving and caring, but we came to love each other more like a brother and sister. I often went days between even seeing her undressed.
At graduation Beck and I couldn’t bear the thought of “divorce,” so she enrolled in the graduate program. Three years later she took a job in Columbus so we could remain “sort of married”.
Audrey spent more and more time back with her aging parents. When her mom passed, she told me she needed to stay home “for a transition period.” At first the transition was supposed to be her father’s, into an adult support community. Becky and I visited Audrey and her father twice a month and it dawned on me that Audrey had found happiness caring for her parents. She was “home” there in a way she was no longer home back in the city with me.
One night when I was visiting alone (Beck had exams) we agreed to separate “until the Dad issue is settled.” I tried to object but my wife hushed me.
“Dad only has me. I have to stay.” I saw tears welling up. “He’s old and he doesn’t have long. He needs me so much more than you do.” I felt like I was going to get sick.
“He doesn’t have anyone else, and you and Beck have each other.” I was mute, beginning to tear up myself, searching for what to say. She put her index finger on my lips to silence me.
“You married the wrong sister. I’ve known that for years. You love us both and we’re both blessed. Go home to her. Make me an Aunt before I’m too old to enjoy a baby in the family.” We sobbed and fell asleep in each other’s arms for the first time in years.
We made her an Aunt the same year. The sisters were together in the delivery room and they agreed I’d wait outside. My wife held her sister’s hand as my son was born. Trevor is 3 now and Aunt Audrey and Grandpa Nathan love him to death.
Audrey took Becky aside last visit and told her that Trev needs a sibling. I’m working on it. I used to think I married the wrong sister, but now I don’t think about that anymore.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lcpbex/mf_i_married_the_wrong_sister_cheating
What a fucking wild story. This really happen?