Jessica Bright

by Eva

Author's note: This story is dedicated to Jessica, a truly wonderful and brave little girl who sadly lost her long fight against severe injuries sustained in an accident. After her passing, her mum told me Jess always wanted to be the heroine in one of my stories, and here she is. I cannot of course do justice to her beauty or sense of joy and fun, but all I can do is say to my lovely Jess that I hope this helps preserve your memory in some small way. May the light be with you always.

It was the last place I should have been: sat in a room full of women and girls, watching my sister marry a girl of twelve.

I liked to think of myself as mature and liberal, but here watching this "ceremony" I felt angry and hurt. I had at first turned down Cathy's invitation, telling her I wanted none of this, but for a reason I didn't understand I had relented. I had agreed to come and see my younger sister Cathy marry a child by the name of Jessica.

A reason I didn't understand? Well, I did if I admit it. Cathy is all the family I have and I always said I would stand by her. She's twenty seven, five years younger than me, and since our parents died and our only distant relatives moved to New Zealand we felt pretty much isolated. I remember though the shock I felt when over lunch one day she said she had met someone she wanted to marry.

I hadn't seen her with any boyfriends, never heard of her talk of a fiancee or engagement. But then Cathy always seemed to just get things without trying. Good things just fell into her lap. "Whose the lucky man?" I had asked, trying not to sound annoyed that once again she had something when I didn't.

"It isn't a man, Steph," Cathy had replied a tad sheepishly.

I can recall staring at her, thinking, who on earth? Then I had looked at her in astonishment. I thought I knew my sister well but never figured her for gay. "You're going to marry a... a woman?" I asked, trying hard to be mature and liberal and get over being shocked by anyone who was gay. But it was hard when it was my kid sister and the only close member of what family I had.

"No," said Cathy, answering me with a small blush. I remember she wriggled in her seat a little as she said it. "Please don't be angry, or upset with me, Trisha. I know you're mature and sensible and always telling me how we have to accept who people are and I never thought it would happen..."

"Well, who?" I had no idea what she was about to tell me and to be honest, there was this strange blankness in me.

"Her name's Jessica," said Cathy, almost forcing the words out. "She's not a woman."

"Oh shit," I gasped. "It's a dog or a horse." For some incredibly bizarre reason I remembered once reading an article of a cult where people married animals, and I gaped at Cathy.

"What, are you crazy?" Cathy stared at me as if I was mad. "No! She's not a woman yet... Jessica's a girl. She's twelve."

Perhaps it was the relief that I wasn't going to have a pony in the immediate family but I laughed. "Oh Cathy, you had me worried. I thought perhaps you were–" I stopped. I know my sister and she was deadly serious. "A girl?" I asked, my mouth gaping even more than before.

Cathy nooded. "I'd really like you be there, next month. It's just a small ceremony, friends and family and we make vows and–"

"A girl," I said once more as the weight of it finally hit me. "You're marrying a little girl?"

"She's twelve and so she's not little. You'll like her, Trisha. She's fun and attractive and I love her."

"A girl," I repeated, now sounding stupid. "Marrying a girl. How can you love a girl?"

Cathy looked at me and shook her head sadly. "You once said to me how can anyone love anyone else, but they do. You said that yourself. People don't plan to fall in love, they just do. And it's always unexpected, like you and Daniel–"

"Leave him out of this," I said sharply. Actually, I wanted to leave Daniel out of everything. A liar, a cheat and a low-life. I spent eight years married to him, putting up with him. For three of those years thinking I loved him when I didn't – the last five trying to avoid him and leave him and start again. I thought Cathy understood that and I was angry. Angry about my wasted years with him, angry at what my sister was saying. Angry she had persuaded herself to believe she was in love with a child.

I felt sick and alone and lost. I said flatly, firmly, I would never go to any perverted wedding. yet here I was watching my sister, dressed in an off-the-shoulder pink and blue flowered wedding dress, marrying a slim, innocent faced twelve-year old girl who was dressed in a smaller version of the same-off-the shoulder dress but in white. Attractive, almost sensuous, if I could be bothered to admit it.

Dear God I even found myself looking at their chests. Cathy's heavier bust and comparing her boobs with the nearly non-existent bumps on the child. Did this child even wear a bra yet? I wondered and blushed at the unexpectedness of the thought. Stop staring at her chest, or her bum or anything, I told myself.

Then I remembered, Cathy had said that one thing Jessica loved was panties. She collected them eagerly and had so many pairs it seemed she never had the same pair on twice. I don't know why I should remember this now, other than I was thinking what was under her wedding dress.

An odd thought to have and one that gripped me with a jolt. This, I told myself, is silly. I reminded myself she was a girl and this was all wrong. Heavens, even the fact that where the couple stood was bathed in light; even the gods were smiling on them.

I tried to look round the room, wondering how many other women here were doing the same as me; staring and thinking about the child's underwear. When I got married to the repulsive Daniel I had peach knickers and a blue garter. Which one of these two here had the something blue on? Blue panties for Jessica?

But no one was staring. A room full of women of all ages and even some kids and none of them seemed remotely troubled by this. Was that why I was here, to make trouble on behalf of the real world? To kick up some last second stink, stop all this and save my sister? I got the feeling I wouldn't be too popular if I did, so I turned back to trying to detect the child's vpl under her lovely white lace dress.

Anything to try and deal with some very strange feelings in me.

I will say one thing for Cathy: she can be persuasive, though it had been only 72 hours before the ceremony that I finally relented. At her hundred-and-thirtieth phone call. Now, dressed soberly in a navy blue trouser suit I was in a group of some twenty five or so women and about half as many little girls, watching this farce.

Well, farce is a little harsh. The room was beautifully decorated with flowers and the sun shone through the windows and the music was gentle and I could see Cathy was happy. I might not think she had done the right thing, but she was my sister. The least I could do was be here to hear her vows.

Then, I told myself, when it was over I could retreat and leave all these perverts to it. I really tried to rev up the disgust I had in me somewhere and yet I felt intrigued. One of the little girls was looking at me with her big eyes. That's right, kid, take a good look – I'm a stranger in the camp. I tried not to look back at her.

Were all the females like Cathy, married as they called it, or were they just having affairs? Was this a one-off, or did it happen all over the place. (Odd thought: can you imagine the room or the official or whoever conducted the service being double-booked? Can't get married on the twelfth as they are full, and we can't get catering for the nineteenth as they are busy. Will the twenty-sixth be okay? Oh wait, little Louise has exams that week and will be going up to big school...) I smiled to myself at the problems.

But then I didn't smile. Did these girl's mother's know where their daughters were? No, correct that: some of these women here were the mothers of the girls. I looked round, trying to decide which one of the females was Jessica's mother (hard to tell as no one had given her away in any traditional sense) or even if Jessica's mother knew where she was.

Once more I fantasised: my mind constructed a scene in a suburban kitchen, a few hours before: "Just going to have a sleep-over at my friends, mum," I could imagine this child saying. "Don't call me, okay? I'll be sort of busy."

Well, a few more minutes of this, then I could wish the bride and the bride all the best and then depart, go back to reality and my single apartment. Freedom, of a kind.

This charade wasn't too long and a sentimental person might even have found it sweet or touching. Wait; the touching comes later... Perverts all, I thought grimly. Not like me at all. Anyway whatever I felt inside the wedding – however bizarre – was finishing. The couple had exchanged rings (no best man I noted) and the woman conducting the service, if you can call it that (dressed in a white trouser suit herself with a black mandarin-collar style blouse underneath, said the brides could kiss. I tried not to look as my sister lifted her veil, and this Jessica's veil, and they kissed. Open mouthed and long. Yes, I was watching, like being drawn to a train smash – watching in muted horror. My sister was kissing a little girl, for fuck's sake.

People were clapping and cheering and taking photos and I stared, feeling the world had gone mad. My sister and Jessica had finished their french kiss and I saw Cathy look up and smile at me. I felt all sorts of things but I smiled back. Well, she was an adult and it was her choice and despite everything I wanted her to be happy. Perhaps a twelve year old girl was all she could manage, but then it was more than I could manage. If this lack of interst in me from men kept going as it was I will be forced to join a dating club I saw advertised. What was it... the 69 Club? No, stop thinking about that! It wasn't that at all.

In all the throng of people, and the general good wishes, I resolved to slip away. I could say congratulations when they got back from their honeymoon. Ibiza, apparently. I wondered; how did this girl explain to her mother it would be a very long sleep-over at her friend's house?

Cathy had asked me to stop for the reception, but it wasn't for me. Not now. I slipped away from the press of people surrounding the happy couple, trying not to think what their wedding night would be like. I had almost made it to the door and the real world when little Jamie caught up with me. The little girl – Jessica's younger sister apparently – who had been looking at me in the wedding ceremony.

"Wait," said the ten year old, looking up at me with her big blue eyes. "Please."

I didn't wait. I couldn't wait. I ran and almost turned my ankle in those damned high heels.

---

If I had felt strange about the wedding of my sister to that pre-teen girl I felt almost as strange sitting in the house of Jessica's and Jamie's mother. The woman, Susannah, had invited me over once she learned who I was from her daughter-in-law, who was still away in Ibiza on her "honeymoon" with her little girl bride.

I had agonised over whether to accept Susannah's invitation to visit, but at least it cleared up one thing: the "official" who had conducted the ceremony was in fact the mother of Jessica, so that explained why she hadn't actually given her away as such. More like handed her over with a seal of approval.

And it also made this Susannah some sort of relative of mine, if the wedding ceremony could be described as legal. I was about 99 per cent sure it wasn't. Either way, I had given in to the request to go to this woman's home.

On reflection that was the second invitation I had reluctantly agreed to in the past week. Things were either looking up or I was deep in the rabbit's hole.

I did wonder when I arrived at the neat, pleasant and wholly innocent looking house if I would walk into an orgy of women with their little girls, but as I sat in Susannah's living room I had to admit it was simply a comfortable and distinctly ordinary household.

Susannah had asked if I minded having Jamie in the room with us and I said I didn't mind at all, partly as it would ensure there was no salacious talk. I still wasn't comfortable about discussing orgasms for the pre-teens.

Jamie's mother Susannah was easy going, polite and seemed to enjoy talking to me, and as she did so I felt the little girl's eyes on me. "You looked restless at the ceremony," said the woman. She was about ten years older than me, but despite her shock of grey hair, was still a slim and an attractive woman. But as I am not into women, her looks weren't going to interest me. I did notice that the pseudo-ceremonial outfit she wore at the wedding had been replaced with a more modest striped dress. Again, I was pleased she wasn't in pvc or latex or sporting a strap-on at her hips.

"I shouldn't have gone," I said defensively. "I was only doing it for my sister. I imagined Cathy wanted me there, that's all."

"Cathy's my sister-in-law now," said Jamie with a note of pride, from where she sat next to her mother. I would have reminded them that the ceremony was unlikely to hold up in a court of law but I didn't want to offend the child, or her mother. I looked at the girl and was struck how pretty she was, how appealing. It also occurred to me that if she understood that her sister and my sister had got married, she had an idea that it involved sex at some point. I couldn't help but wonder what she knew, whether it appealed to her.

Scissoring and fingering might not be the sort of thing she was taught in biology or social sciences or whatever her school did, so someone had to tell her at some point how it all worked.

"Jessica," said the mother, breaking my thought process, "is my eldest daughter. We were very pleased she and Cathy found each other." She smiled down at Jamie. I could, if I looked closely, see the family resemblance between them all, but I didn't want to look too closely, didn't want to meet those big eyes of the little girl. I wanted this to be over with, to go.

Stupid me for coming in the first place. I took a deep breath. "Susannah, thanks for the invite. I don't want to be rude, but... It's hard for me to be here. I don't know what my sister thinks will come of her so cal– Her marriage, but..." I shrugged, as if I had no idea. Which was true.

"Perhaps she's happy. Perhaps she's in love. Perhaps they both are and want to make each other happy," said the woman, looking over to where there was a photo on the sideboard of her eldest daughter standing, arm round Cathy's waist and my sister's round the girl's shoulders, in their wedding dresses. Radiantly happy. It could be said it was the only thing on show that wasn't what you'd expect to find in any "normal" home, and even then you might just imagine they were bridesmaids instead of brides.

Her daughter Jamie, dressed today in a pretty blue dress with a lace edged hem, chimed in. "Jessica and Cathy are cool. They do love each other."

I smiled weakly at the girl, as if she couldn't understand adults and turned back to Susannah. "Maybe they both are happy, or think they are. But she's your pre-teen daughter," I said to the woman, a little too harshly. "Isn't she a little young and immature to make her own mind up?"

Susannah wasn't upset with me. "Not immature as you put it. She thought about it carefuly, discussed it with me and told me it was her decision. She wasn't pushed into it. Do you think I want her to be unhappy?"

I had to concede a no, but there was something getting to me and I couldn't pin it down. "Look," I said, feeling bad that I wasn't being more supportive of all these females and their alien lifestyle. "That ceremony of yours... It's the first time I had seen anything like that. I didn't know it went on, and I'm not used to it. I was brought up to think weddings were for men and women."

Susannah nodded. "So was I. But when I met people like Cathy I understood–"

"Are you telling me Cathy knew about these things?" I interrupted the woman. "That my sister knew there was this... this world?"

"Yes," said Susannah calmly. "She introduced me to it, if you would like the truth."

"But she didn't tell me!" I snapped at the woman. "I know my sister–" I stopped. It would seem I didn't know her well at all. A closet lesbian; well, as far as I was concerned. Something she skillfully kept hidden from me. Whatever: she was moving in a society where women married little girls. Where they had sex with girls, as it was unlikely to be purely platonic. I relented. "Okay, so I didn't know her too well it seems. But now... Now she's (I shot a look at Jamie here, worried that I might upset her but pressed on) doing intimate things with your daughter."

"Of course," said Susannah. "They are wife and wife: sex has to be part of it."

I stared at her, then at Jamie. The child wasn't looking embarrassed, or shocked. "And you want the same for your youngest daughter too?" I asked, a little spitefully. "Even though she's younger."

It was the child who answered, from where she sat next to her mother. "I want to be happy with a wife of my own one day," she said. "Like Cathy and Jessica have got."

I didn't know what to say. It seemed so natural to them all. I felt as if I was the outsider, though in an obvious way I was. I couldn't help the next dig at the woman opposite me. "So, Susannah, when do you yourself marry a girl?"

Susannah's eyes widened a little, but she smiled. Jamie merely broke out laughing. "Mum's not like that," answered the little girl. "She doesn't want to marry a little girl!"

I stared at them both. "But you let your daughter go and marry my sister!"

"I let my daughter make her own mind up about what was going to make her happy, and then I helped her to be happy. But it doesn't mean to say I want to do it myself." Susannah was relaxed and entirely comfortable with this.

"So you've never–" I hesitated a fraction before ploughing on. "So you haven't ever touched a little girl between her legs? You've never kissed a girl like your daughter on her lips?"

"Not passionately, no," said Susannah calmly. "It isn't what I do."

"But you have no objection to others doing it?" I was exasperated. "So... so I could take Jamie out on a date and you wouldn't mind?"

As soon as I said it I saw the little girl grinning at me, sitting forward with a light in her eyes.

"I would have no objection at all if it was what Jamie wanted to be happy." Susannah looked at me coolly. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

---

I didn't know how a woman was supposed to date a child. Of course I have never done it before, and I felt self-conscious taking the little girl's hand. Rather, she took my hand: I have to say that she was acting as if she was entirely smitten with me and never wanted to let go of me.

More than once, as we made our way through the shopping mall, I wondered why I had agreed to this. It wasn't that I didn't like being with Jamie: I did like her a lot. For an eleven year old she was not only pretty but smart and lively and completely taken with me. In spite of all my misgivings, I actually began to enjoy our time together.

I did however remind myself this was how a favourite aunt would treat a niece. Shops, ice-cream, talking about what was on at the cinema, what we liked on television. Oh yes, bands and hit records of course, as well as books and other more elevated stuff. Jamie had an inquiring and open mind and was delightful to be with. I began to imagine what it would be like to be with her more often, and then reminded myself I had agreed to a "one- off" date, just to show that I wasn't biased – and that Jamie could see there was nothing special about me. I had none of whatever qualities her sister Jessica saw in my sister Cathy.

"Do you like me?" Jamie had asked as we sat for a drink in the food court area of the mall.

"Yes, Jamie, I like you." Suspecting where this might be leading I added: "and you are going to want to ask if I will see you again."

The child smiled at me. "That's not it... I was going to ask if you will help me choose a pair of new panties."

"What?" I must have sounded odd as I squeaked the word out.

"See if they fit me nicely. I want a new pair for a party, to go with my new yellow dress. I thought red ones with lace–"

I almost exploded. "You are not going to wear red knickers under a yellow dress!" I stopped. It was nothing to do with me what she wore and I had acted like I cared. I took a breath. "Well, red's fine," I lied. "We can go and pick up a pair from a girl's shop and get you home." I made a big thing of looking at my watch as if I had someplace to go urgently. Chance would be a fine thing.

"C'mon, Steph," said Jamie jumping off her chair having finished her fizzy drink. "There's some lovely panties in a shop over there. Cool ones." She seized my hand and tugged me after her.

Why I wondered, did I get the impression I was being led around like a willing animal?

The shop I was willingly led to was a delight and I had quite forgotten over the years how nice little girl's clothes could be. Not the slightly aggressive copies of adult clothes, with camouflage decorated trousers, torn jeans and off-the-shoulder hooker tops, but sweet little girl dresses and skirts and even panties.

I had no idea that there was such a range of colours and styles, but all of them essentially for elegant little girls. Judging by the number of people in there it was a popular place too and there was a heady delight about being amongst so much young enthusiasm. More than once I caught myself looking at some pretty girl with a nice smile, though none of them could match Jamie if I was honest.

I also wondered if any of the older women in here were some sort of lover to the girls. The thought surprised me because it didn't have any sneer or social disapproval attached to it. I even looked a few times to see if the women were standing a shade closer to the girls they were with, the way I guessed Cathy would with her new wife.

I also thought they might be looking at me and thinking I was dating a child. My God, they'd be thinking I'm one of those, whatever those are. As casually as I could I took a half-step away from little Jamie where she was rifling through a rack of cute panties. Yellow ones, as it happened.

The thought about Cathy having someone special in her life gave me a pang. I even knew what it was; a form of jealousy. My sister, however bizarre, had found someone to love and care for. She wouldn't sleep alone.

"You 'kay?" Asked Jamie looking up at my flushed face.

"Perfectly 'kay," I said. "Just a little hot."

The child grinned at me and something else tugged inside me. Not a pang, but a knot of deep, hot anticipation. Fuck, I told myself, this is stupid; I don't fancy little girls. I must be sickening for something, got a bug maybe. I most definitely wasn't in love. Even if Jamie was sweet and had picked out the most lovely pair of yellow knickers with little red hearts on them and red lace at the legs–

"Please," Jamie was saying. "Please say you like these, Steph."

I smiled in a kind, auntie-like way. "It's your choice pet," I said. "If that's what you like then buy them."

But I didn't feel like an aunty. I felt like a woman presented with the prospect of love. Oh fuck, I thought. End this now, get this kid home, say goodbye and see if some man has answered my lonely heart ad.

"The changing room's over there," said Jamie, her soft alluring eyes on me. "Come in with me please."

I stared. "Where? What? Why? Now?" If I could have crammed in another one word question I would have.

Jamie had my hand and was leading me. I followed feeling stupid. Only the lovesick follow like this. And me, apparently.

The changing room was cool, which explained why my nipples were threatening to poke through my top. Yet I was sweating slightly. Perspiring as ladies do. But I wasn't quite sure if ladies went with someone else's little girl into changing rooms and watched the child slip off her dress to try panties on.

The sign asked customers to keep their own pants on when trying panties. Most stores asked them to use a liner in knickers or bikini bottoms but this was reassuringly old- fashioned. Anyway, Jamie must have known about it as she had left hers on. Light blue, as it happened, with just the tiniest, prettiest camel's foot imaginable.

I gulped and was glad in a way to see it disappear into the new panties. What I didn't expect was the rush of feeling when Jamie wriggled them up tight, so they pressed up between her legs. A rush of pure and an unexpectedly sharp sexual feeling that took my breath away.

I even thought of how something like this must have so aroused Cathy. Seeing Jessica slip into new knickers. I gulped.

The little one must have noticed because she looked up at me and grinned a little. Nothing obvious; just a way of indicating she knew something.

So there we were, me feeling incredibly aroused and a very pretty pre-teen in her new knickers and a heart-grabbing smile. At that point I wondered where my life was going. I was heterosexual, independent, intelligent, logical, sensible and I would have said something if I hadn't been so busy sweeping the child up and planting my lips on her hers.

It was about the longest kiss I had given anyone for years, and to my shock and delight not only did Jamie not wriggle or fight but she put her arms round my neck and her tongue – that little sensuous wet tongue – into my mouth. I felt my sex both explode and turn to water. I could feel my juices almost bubble in my pants and I knew this was the best moment I'd had for a long, long time.

We parted lips noisily and, stupidly, I said "Sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Giggled Jamie. I still hadn't put her down but she felt no weight at all.

"Sorry for not knowing... how I felt," I said and even blushed.

"It's okay," said the girl and she leaned in to give me an even longer, wetter kiss. On cue, it got wetter between my legs.

"Jamie," I whispered when we had done again. "My pants are... well..."

"Gooey 'n' wet!" She laughed gently at my discomfort.

I nodded and finally set the angel down. I had never in my life felt such a torrent down there and I knew these pants were as good as ruined. Without thinking I hitched my skirt and peeled them off.

"You need new ones," said the girl with a twinkle in her eyes.

I nodded as I deposited the sopping wet ball of fabric in my handbag, conscious my skirt was bunched at my waist and my cunt on view. Jamie was studying it carefully, fascinated by my puffy, glistening lips and the way I had shaved myself.

A sort of rough stubble that she reached out an touched. I flinched and she smirked. "That hurt, Steph?" She asked.

"No," I said and flushed a little. "Just wasn't expecting it."

"You mind if I just stroke it?" Jamie asked, and started before I could say anything, gently feeling the stubble. I thought, 'Why didn't I shave properly today? If I'd only known...'

I was aware of Jamie's light touch, and the way my legs were apart. I was aware her fingers were sliding down, drawn to my burning cunt. I eased my legs wider, pushed my hips forward. Ten minutes ago I wanted to go home, leave this kid and her weird family to their strange ways. Now I wanted her little fingers in me.

Like my sister had done with Jamie's sister. I was gasping as Jamie was there, working her slim but athletic fingers up into me, the slurp of my cunt lips opening, the smell of my arousal like a pungent perfume. Surely people in other cubicles would notice, but I didn't care.

I needed to cum, hard. I heard myself moan: "Make a fist please, darling... Please, make me orgasm."

I had no idea if the child understood what I meant and needed but she somehow clenched her hand inside me, making me almost scream with pain and delight. "Fuck!" I gasped through clenched teeth. Jamie may have been young but she laughed at my outburst. She also, unbidden, began to pump her hand in and out. Small strokes, but the effect was electrifying and my whole being was alive and shaking. My breathing was ragged and I knew I was about to experience the climax I had so long denied myself.

I came with a strangled shout, and at the same moment I knew with stone cold certainty what – and who – I most wanted in life.

---

The wedding was a success. Well, they had all done it before, hadn't they? The mother took the service perfectly, smiling at me and her youngest daughter, while I knew my sister and little Jamie's sister were watching – radiant and happy together – from the congregation. I could even feel their eyes on me.

It was still slightly strange all this, but nowhere near as weird as the time I was back there watching Cathy marry Jessica.

This time it was excitingly strange and totally euphoric. I was light headed with pleasure and excitement as I gave my solemn vows to the little girl standing next to me, dressed all in white.

I was dressed in a peach suit for no reason other than Cathy always said pastel shades suited me more. And Cathy knows me; she said when I told her I was getting married to Jamie that she knew I was a lesbian all along.

I admit I had got a little cross with her then. I still don't think I am gay as such; I just happen to be very much in love with a small girl and tremendously aroused when I have sex with a girl. I mean, it's not like I look at other women and want them.

I only look at one person and really want her.

Of course I had denied it all along, I knew that. I had known it from that first wedding, when I saw her. Oh I admit now I had actually gone home after the ceremony in a somewhat flushed state. My cunt was already making juice as I hurried away from the wedding, thinking of her.

I had rushed home and thrown my self on the bed and rubbed my wet cunt and hard clit through my already soaked knickers as my whole cunt pulsed and throbbed and ached for the child. It was only when I came I managed to gasp the words: "I want you."

Oh I was ashamed then. How could a woman like me do that?

But I could do that. I came round to understanding how a woman like me could so much want a small girl, how the feeling of a young girl in me, kissing me, loving me was such a turn on. I was excited and aroused by the whole idea, and now I had done it – now I had bedded a girl and made love to her, felt her sender, young body on me, her lovely light weight resting on me as I came. Well, the answer was clear. It was I had always wanted.

It just took my sister's wedding to Jessica to show me.

This time, this wedding, there was no running away. I would cum later – or I even expected I could even cum now maybe – and I didn't have to retreat anyplace. I had little, lovely Jamie as mine, and everyone was congratulating me and my child-bride.

And Cathy gave me the biggest hug and Jessica the sweetest kiss on my lips.

At that moment I was in heaven, and there was still the honeymoon on Menorca ahead of me with my lovely little wife Jamie.

---

I admit I am not the nicest person in the world. Some of the things I have done I am not proud of, but I am assured by others that this is the human condition. Someone once said this is how we learn, and they are right. My problem was I didn't know what I was supposed to learn.

And I wasn't sure if I was supposed to love Jamie.

Oh, don't misunderstand me. I did have a lot of love for Jamie. After two weeks in bed and on the beach with a sexy eleven-year old girl how could I not want her so much?

I made love to Jamie like it was everything I had ever wanted. The release after so much denial. She was hot and sexy and knew how to please me. Small hands maybe, but busy hands. Her lips and tongue were exquisite; her energy limitless.

Adventurous too, as my bum can testify.

But back home, two weeks after the honeymoon, privately I wondered. Oh, I still knew what I wanted; I still knew what was in me. I just didn't expect to get it so quickly.

Jamie was at school, I had the day off work, Cathy was away on business.

So I was surprised that Jessica showed up on my doorstep, looking really good in a pair of low cut faded jeans with a broad white hipster belt and a thin, tight pale pink top that showed she had no bra on. More, it showed her nipples were hard. Maybe it was all the sex she was getting from my sister, but she looked so alluring. Ready, and eager. She came into the house and had a sultry air about her and I knew what was coming.

She should have been at school but had cried off with illness. She wasn't ill, but she didn't want to be there. Now she stood in front of me and was sending off waves of lust – at least that was what was coursing through me.

You see, it was Jessica I had always wanted. When I had dashed home from the wedding of Cathy and this twelve-year old, it was to finger myself over thinking of Jessica. It was her name I called out as I came, her voice that I heard in me saying "Yes, I do!"

So why did I marry Jamie? For the sex naturally, for the companionship of course – and so I might one day get the chance to be close to my "sister-in-law" in the hope I could have sex with her.

It was the older sister who really turned me on. It was Jessica I always yearned for, even when I was fucking the younger sister I most wanted to fuck the older sister.

Was I jealous of Cathy? Yes, I am ashamed to say so. But then I always had been: she was younger and more vivacious and fun to be with and I had always wanted what she had. She always had first pick, always was allowed to go first. She got the privileges, and I always had to select after her. Yeah, it hurt me.

I never could stop desiring what she had because it was always slightly better. My parents always insisted my younger sister went first, that she got the bigger, fresher, tastier portion. It was a gnawing, silent pain that ran through my tender years, and from it something prevented me being what she was. She had become confident and able, and I hadn't.

Now her young wife was in my home, and she was hot. She kicked her trainers off and I could see her pink painted toe-nails. My heart leapt.

"Jay's not here?" Asked Jessica casually, knowing full well the answer that her younger sister Jamie was at school. She padded in her bare feet towards me, not waiting for my answer. She leaned in close to me and I could smell her aroma. A hint of perfume, the smell of her freshly washed hair.

Her gorgeous eyes were on me, on my eyes. "Hi big sister-in-law," she whispered and stretched for a kiss. It should, being family, have been a gentle peck. Nothing salacious at all.

Should, as they say, is shitty.

I clutched Jessica to me, the way people do when they haven't had sex in years. My lips were open, my heart thundering, my belly on fire. My tongue straight into the girl's mouth. I was clawing at her like I wanted to tear her clothes off, like I wanted her so much.

And... she could have run. She had a moment to wrestle free, to push me away, to do the right thing by my sister. She could have said 'no'

She didn't. Jessica kissed me right back, her hands on my tits, feeling how hard my nipples were. Then one hand slid down and I sucked my waist in; there was one place it was going and it found me, sliding down the top of my shorts and inside my already wet pants.

Jessica had the chance to reject me, and she didn't. She didn't have to finger me, didn't have to rub my hard clit, but she did. My God, how she did it. If my sister had taught this child one thing it was how to tease that hard, protruding centre of a woman's lust. How to make a swollen clitoris happy.

I was happy; happier than marrying Jamie. I broke the kiss and mumbled something about I was sorry. A stupid mumble, I grant you, and Jessica knew it.

"Not sorry," said the 12 year-old, grinning and opening her mouth for another long, wet kiss. "Not sorry at all," she breathed when we broke that one.

"Not at all," I breathed and wedged my hand inside her jeans to start to bring her off.

It was later, when the pre-teen and I lay naked on the floor of the kitchen, arms and legs enmeshed, our discarded clothes scattered, that she asked me when.

"When?" I was puzzled.

"When did you want me?" Jessica had her head nuzzled to my cheek and I could feel her breath on my face. Gentle and warm, as I always imagined.

"The wedding. You and Cathy," I said. "I thought it was wrong at first, and then I thought it was wrong you were marrying her and not me." I paused, not wanting to ask my question. "When... when was it you wanted me?"

A faint shrug from the child. She had my breast cupped in her hand and she was stroking my sore nipple; she had bitten it hard when we had cum together earlier. The second time, I think. Not the last one. "Dunno," she replied. Then she said: "I saw you at the wedding, saw you leave. I sent Jay after you, to get you to stay... I wanted to talk to you."

"Sister-in-law to sister-in-law, I expect," I said. I kissed the top of Jessica's head. She responded by pinching my nipple a little.

"Fuck," I said at the sharp little stab of hurt.

"Yes," she grinned up at me. "I hoped you'd say that too."

---

"Jamie will be home soon," I said later as Jessica and I lay among the crumpled sheets on the bed. I wasn't sure I could take any more orgasms and the bedroom stank of climaxes. Deliciously so.

Jessica nodded and climbed out of bed. I lay and watched her move. So much like her sister, but that tad older and – if I was honest – more sensuous in so many ways. Not more desirable, but as far as I was concerned, just that little more thrilling. Jamie would get there in time, but right now it was about Jessica.

It was then I asked the other question that had bothered me ever since I first fucked my sister-in-law Jessica. "Why me, why now?"

The girl smiled at me. She went to a drawer and opened it; Jamie's underwear drawer (the younger child had her older sister's love of panties) and extracted a pair. My heart flipped when I saw them, even more so as Jessica stepped into them and drew them up her slender legs.

They were the ones I had bought for Jamie, after I first kissed her. Yellow with little red hearts and red lace at the legs. As her perfect young hips disappeared into them Jessica grinned at me.

"This, Steph," she said gently, "is why."

"I don't understand," I said as I stared at the vision in front of me.

She was so radiant it made my whole being pulse. And then she said, quietly as if repeating something she had learned: ""The love that I have of the life that I have is yours and yours and yours."

"I still don't understand," I said, but there was something between us that wasn't going to disappear.

Jessica came to me as she was, leaned across the rumpled sheets of the big bed and kissed me. Then she smiled, bright and warm. "Sisters share," she said. "Jamie knows I am here, she knows we share things. We always shared panties, and now we share our loving wives."

I understood. Jamie would be with Cathy, fucking as Jessica and I fucked. And it was all okay. Actually, better than okay; it was the best thing ever.

Jessica, so lovely in her sister's delightful panties, had opened my eyes and my heart. I pulled my little sister-in-law to the bed and kissed her deeply, slipping my hand down into those gorgeous panties of hers, feeling for that wonderful little cunny of hers. Jamie's panties, Jessica's... it didn't matter much whose they were, providing they wore them.

Providing we came together and would never be parted. Me and Cathy and Jamie and Jessica.