I have always looked forward to Thanksgiving. It is a special time for our family. My wife and I have been married for ten years and every year, we always go to her family’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. (We have Christmas at out house.)

I like Thanksgiving, if for no other reason than I get to see family members we don’t normally get to see but once a year, like my wife’s younger sister, Tammy.

Tammy is three years younger than my wife and while she is happily married, I couldn’t help but secretly admire Tammy, who was a head-turner. Tammy and I had a great relationship. She once confided to me that had I not married her sister, we would be married, but that was before she met and married her current husband, Jim.

Stepping into the familiar surroundings of the house where my wife and Tammy grew up was always a joy. My mother-in-law and father-in-law were both retired. I found my father-in-law in his usual attire, and sitting in his recliner, watching the end of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, while my mother-in-law was slaving away in the kitchen.

My wife headed into the kitchen while I settled into a chair to chat with my father in law. A few minutes later and Tammy stuck her head out of the kitchen and peered into the living room.

“Hey you!” Tammy exclaimed, looking my way, “Do I get a hug?”

I stood up and opened my arms as Tammy made her way over to where I was standing. Almost immediately, I noticed she had lost some weight.

“Oh wow!” I remarked, “Look at you!”

Tammy blushed slightly as we hugged. Her perfume was intoxicating.

“Where’s Jim?” I asked.

Tammy took a step back, taking hold of my hands in hers and said, “We divorced.”

I was shocked. Tammy and Jim had been together for years.

“It was a mutual thing,” Tammy said. “We both wanted to go separate ways. We’re still friends, but he does his thing and I get to do mine.”

Tammy proffered a wink as she let go of my hands.

“Let’s catch up on things in a bit,” Tammy remarked as headed back to the kitchen.

I was still in shock as I say down next to my father-in-law.

“Shit happens,” he remarked.

I told him I was shocked.

“I was talking about Green Bay losing its first three games of the season,” my father-in-law extolled. I had to smile.

Lunch was a light one, in anticipation of a big dinner. My wife and my mother-in-law decided to go for a walk after lunch. Tammy said she wasn’t up for a walk and wanted to take a short nap. I settled back into my seat next to my father-in-law who was glued to the football game on the television.

My wife and mother-in-law headed out the door and Tammy headed upstairs for a bedroom.

Nature ran its course. I headed for the downstairs bathroom.

“Use the john upstairs,” instructed my father-in-law. “That one is broken.”

I headed up the stairs and into the shared bath between the bedroom Tammy claimed as hers and the master bedroom. I closed the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. I did what I needed to do and washed my hands. As I stepped out of the bath, I was met my Tammy standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

Her presence startled me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I remarked as I looked in her direction.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Tammy remarked. “I need a good back massage.”

I had once tried to bust a move on Tammy years before, by giving her a back massage, but she stopped my advances. At the time, she was married to Jim and she said it wouldn’t be right.

“Just a back massage?” I asked.

“Yes,” Tammy replied, stepping back into her bedroom.

I stepped into the doorway of her bedroom. Tammy was lying face down on her bed, her head cradled in the crook of her folded ups. I closed the door behind me and slipped on to the bed beside her.

“This works better,” I said, “If you take off your top.”

Tammy turned on to her side and sat up. She silently took off the soft fuzzy sweater, leaving on her white lace brassiere.

“This too?” she asked, looking down at her bra.

“It’s up to you,” I replied.

Tammy turned and silently resumed her prone position, laying on her stomach. As she did, she reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. I repositioned myself, straddling her, sitting on the back of her thighs

I gently worked my hands up and down on Tammy’s back as she hummed her approval. I purposefully kept our conversation light and off the topic of Jim.

“You look good,” I said.

“I am trying to keep my weight down,” Tammy replied as I pushed harder against her shoulders.

“Well, it looks like it is working,” I replied, moving my hands to her lower back.

“That feels so good,” Tammy remarked. “You can go lower.”

I slipped my fingers just under the waist band of her stretchy yoga pants at the bottom of her spine. As I did, Tammy spread her arms out to her sides and parted her legs ever so slightly. I pushed down with the palms of my hands.

“Oh yeah,” Tammy breathlessly whispered. “THAT feels so good!”

I could tell Tammy was getting turned on. I readjusted myself, so I was lower on the back of Tammy’s outstretched legs. I pressed down on her gluts, pushed the palms of my hands against her luscious buttocks.

Tammy gripped the covers of her bed in her hands. Her head was turned to the side and I could see her red-faced, her mouth open, as I pushed down on her buttocks. I slipped my hands to the lower portion of her gluts, my fingers digging in deep on the inside of her well-toned thighs. I could see a wet spot that had formed between her slightly parted legs. I smiled.

“This,” I said, looping my fingers into the sides of her stretchy pants and pulling downward, “would work much better without the impediments.”

Tammy arched her buttock upwards, silently allowing to pull her stretchy pants down, exposing her bare ass. To my surprise, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. I gently stripped her of her yoga pants, as she re-cradled her head in the crook of her folded arms. I resumed my position on the back of her outstretched legs and gently worked my hands over her bare buttocks, needling them and working my fingers ever closer to her honey pot.

Tammy repositioned herself, sticking her hand under her abdomen and them lower, towards her honey pot. When she silently lifted her buttocks, and slipped a lone finger into her vagina, I knew I was good to go.

I repositioned myself by spreading Tammy’s legs open, fully exposing her shaved vagina as I settled back on to the bed, between Tammy’s widespread legs. I slipped a lone finger into her moist pussy. She let out a soft purring sound, almost like a cat.

I was hard as a rock.

“Hang on,” I said, slipping off the bed for a moment to disrobe. As I disrobed, Tammy flipped on to her back and smiled.

“Put it in me,” Tammy ordered as she spread her legs wide, right in front of me. She didn’t have to tell me twice. I slipped my tool straight into her shaved pussy, as I leaned forward across her lanky and well-toned body, looking down at her.

I had always wanted to fuck my sister-in-law and now I was doing the unthinkable. With each push, I grunted and she let out a deep and soulful “Ohhh!”

We had to be quick, because I knew my wife and mother-in-law would be back at any moment. Tammy grabbed the bed covers as I pounded her pussy in a rhythmic manner. She stiffened and her entire body shook. I could feel the cum welling up inside of my balls and my inner thighs tightened. I shot my load deep inside of her as she cried out, “I’m cuming. You’re cuming! Give it to me!”

I collapsed forward on top of Tammy. We rolled on the bed and she ended up on top of me, her hips gyrating in a circular motion, as she worked her pussy back and forth, the palms of her hands planted on my chest. Once again, she stiffened as a massive orgasm shot through her.

The doorbell rang.

Oh shit!

I grabbed my clothes and darted into the upstairs bathroom. I quickly got dressed. Exiting the bathroom, I heard my father-in-law talking to someone downstairs. Fortunately, it was a neighbor.

I made my way downstairs and said hello to the neighbor, an older couple who I had met on several previous visits. As we chatted, my wife and my mother-in-law walked up and joined in the conversation. A few minutes later and Tammy wondered down the stairs. Her hair was a complete mess.

“How was your nap?” I asked upon seeing Tammy.

Before Tammy could respond, my wife, always the one to joke, injected, “Damn sis, the least you could do is comb your hair. You look like a punk rocker.”

Tammy smiled, then replied,

“I might be a punk rocker.”

I had to smile. “Punk rocker.”

Now, every time I think about Thanksgiving, the nickname “Punk Rocker” and our secret little tryst comes to mind. Christmas is in a few days. I told my wife we should invite her sister. She has agreed. I have the perfect gift picked out. It is a sweat shirt that has the words “Punk Rocker” emblazoned on the front. I can’t wait to give it to her.