Terminal Case

"I'm so sorry, Paige," Margaret called out breathlessly. "The Lord says we must 'turn the other cheek' and I just didn't do that."

Paige just nodded. It was a familiar story: Margaret hadn't done anything to hurt Paige or offend Paige. She had offended her imaginary God. It was the sort of non-apology Paige had heard her whole life. Still she ought to say something. Maybe this was a good time to stop fighting head-on. "I should just mind my own business," Paige sighed.

"It isn't your fault, dear," Margaret clucked. "I know you want to help, in your way. There are just some things you don't understand."

Paige's anger flared. She understood plenty! Margaret was the delusional one. But she reminded herself not to start the same argument all over again. She just nodded. A shiver shook her body.

"Oh, dear, you're soaked to the bone," Margaret fussed. "Here sit down and let's get you home."

Paige collapsed into the wheelchair. Margaret produced another umbrella from the pocket on the seat back, opened it wide, and handed it to Paige. She was already about as wet as she could get, but the relief from the stinging rain drops was much appreciated.

"Thanks for coming to get me," Paige said reluctantly.

"Of course, dear." The two women set off down the street. "And I'm sorry about what I said. God didn't give you that cancer as a punishment. That is not his way."

Paige just rolled her eyes. As usual Margaret missed the point. It was clear she personally felt Paige deserved a brain tumor as punishment for being ... basically for being herself. Margaret's interpretation of God's opinion was not relevant. For one thing, Margaret didn't speak for God. For another thing, Paige wasn't convinced the guy even existed.

"I'll ask when I see him," Paige shrugged. She wasn't above playing the Terminal Illness Card. Margaret didn't reply.

Back in Lucy's pink bedroom, Paige stripped out of her soaking wet clothes and wrapped herself in a big, fluffy towel. She planned to rest on the bed for a moment and then blow dry her hair, but exhaustion overtook her and she was soon sleeping soundly.

She woke several hours later, feeling much better physically if not emotionally. Paige grabbed a dry pair of bikini briefs from her suitcase, but then tossed them aside. She had a better idea. She pulled open the top drawer of Lucy's dresser and dug through the plain white underwear to find the tiny, red thong. She slipped into the miniscule panties and strutted in front of the mirror. Other than her short, blonde hair being matted down on one side and spiked out on the other, she thought she looked pretty good. She pulled on a tie-dyed maxi dress and padded out into the hall.

She could hear Margaret in the kitchen fussing over dinner. Paul was home from work and had parked himself in his favorite recliner in the living room. The nightly news was on the television, but he was staring blankly at the floor rather than watching. Paige sat down on the sofa, but he didn't seem to notice she was there.

"So how was your day?" she asked loudly.

"Wha-?" he jumped. He looked around with a scowl, but quickly pasted on a smile when he saw Paige. "Oh, hey, Paige. How are you feeling? Can I get you something?"

"I'm fine. No, no, sit down. How was your day?"

"It was good. Busy day at work," Paul said absently. "Has your oncologist given you a progress report? Do you know how the treatments are working?"

"No, nothing," Paige told him. "But no news is good news, right?"

"Yeah," Paul said skeptically. He turned back to the television. Paige felt an overwhelming urge to apologize. For what, she wasn't sure. For sticking her nose into his personal business, maybe. No, she didn't regret trying to help. She did regret utterly failing. In fact, she had probably made things worse. Margaret seemed more entrenched in her position than ever. Poor Paul was never going to get laid at this rate.

"Paul," she began. He turned to look at her, but once she had his attention she wasn't sure what to say. Offering sympathy for his marital troubles would just embarrass him. It might even seem like gloating, given their many epic disagreements of the past. Instead she just told him, "Thanks."

"You bet, Paige," he smiled. "That's what family is for."

Margaret was cheerful at dinner. She chatted incessantly about the selection of vegetables at the grocery store and intricacies of preparing Velveeta chicken casserole. Ordinarily Paige would have been bored out of her mind and ready to strangle her sister-in-law, but that evening she was relieved Margaret had moved past their blowup.

She watched television with Paul and Margaret for a while after dinner, but couldn't tolerate it for long. She made her excuses and retreated to Lucy's bedroom. She thumbed through Lucy's copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. She hadn't read that one since she was a teenager. Paige brought the book over to the window and decided to roll herself another joint from Lucy's stash. It was a risk with Paul and Margaret still up and around, but it had been a long day. She felt she had earned it.

Paige sat and read in the window, savoring the sharp taste of the marijuana. She heard Margaret's slow, soft footsteps going off to bed. A few puffs later she heard Paul's long, heavy footsteps. Muffled voices floated in from the hallway. She had several good drags left on the joint, so she set it carefully on the windowsill, clicked off the lamp, and hurried over to the door.

Ever so carefully, she eased the door open and pressed her ear to the gap.

"...prayed on it and I am better now," Paul was pleading.

"Better?" Margaret was barely audible. She must be behind her own bedroom door. "You never admitted anything was wrong!"

"What do you want me to say, Margie?" Paul asked sadly. "I'm just a sinner like all of us. Can't you forgive me?"

"Goodnight, Paul!"

"Goodnight," Paul whispered softly. Paige closed the door. Her heart went out to the poor guy. He seemed absolutely heartbroken. She didn't know what she would do in his situation.

Actually, she did know. She would divorce the nut job and start dating a bisexual circus performer who would want to screw twice a day in a variety of exotic and challenging positions. Paul, however, wasn't going to do that. She wished he would - then they could finally have some interesting discussions at family dinners.

She picked up her joint, but she had lost interest in the book. She sat in the window, puffing smoke out into the night and thinking about life. People are stupid, she decided. They make themselves miserable following all these stupid rules. They're so miserable they never take the time to realize the rules are just made up anyway.

Paige finished the joint and closed the window. She pulled her long, flowing dress over her head and tossed it aside. She crawled under the fluffy, pink comforter wearing nothing but the borrowed g-string. Was there any way to avoid all that bullshit? Not for Margaret, obviously. Better to just mind your own business. Don't lose sleep over other people's self-inflicted wounds.

She put the craziness of the day out of her mind and tried to relax. She wished she had someone to hold her, kiss her lightly on the neck, tell her it was going to be all right. Then maybe they would start kissing lower, down to her small but firm breasts. Paige slipped her hand into her tiny panties and felt the heat of her wet center.

God, pot made her so ridiculously horny! She slid a finger inside, moaning quietly. With her free hand, she tugged at one hard nipple. It felt so good she pinched harder. The delicious pain made her squirm. She could feel her pussy convulse around her fingers. It was hot, but she knew immediately that it was not enough.

"Fuck it," she threw off the covers and strode across the room. Wearing nothing but the tiny thong she pulled open the door and walked boldly into the hall. She didn't care who saw her or what they might think. To hell with everyone and their bullshit rules.

The door to the guest bedroom was slightly ajar and she pushed it open and slipped inside. She heard her brother snoring quietly somewhere in the darkness. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she made out the big double bed and felt her way toward it. Paige pulled back the quilt and crawled under.

It was warm in Paul's bed, the way only sharing a bed with another person can be. His heat was comforting and Paige snuggled up to him, pressing her bare skin against his warmth. She nuzzled her head on his broad chest where she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was safe here with his powerful and calm presence, and in a matter of minutes she was asleep.

She didn't know how long she slept, but she awoke slowly. Her dream had been sexual and although the dream quickly faded away the sexual feeling remained. Someone was kissing her, his tongue exploring her mouth hungrily. She opened her eyes slowly but could see nothing but indistinct, dark contours. Even so, the kissing was lovely and she kissed him back eagerly.

There was more. Something was inside of her. Something twirled around and around the sensitive walls of her pussy. Was she getting fucked? No, it was too small and flexible to be a cock. It was a finger. No, it was at least two fingers. She was being fingered. Holy shit, it was Paul! Her brother was fingering her in her sleep!

Then the finger was gone. Just when she was starting to enjoy herself! He stopped kissing her also. That was all? She wasn't expecting fireworks, but more than a little finger bang would be nice.

He grabbed her short hair and pulled her head back. That hurt! She started to cry out, but something was stuffed into her open mouth. Fingers, she realized. They had a musky but sweet taste that was somehow familiar. He let go of her hair, but shoved her head back with his hand on her lower jaw.

A heavy weight settled on top of her and her legs were being forced apart. She squeezed her legs together - she needed more foreplay than that! - but couldn't resist his superior strength for more than a second. Then he was lying between her legs and she understood that she had no control over what happened next.

Not one to just lie around, Paige wrapped her lips around the fingers in her mouth and gently sucked. What was that taste? Of course! It was her pussy. She tasted pretty good, Paige thought as she hungrily slurped her juices off the hard digits filling her mouth.

In the meantime Paul was shifting around on top of her. Soon there was something round and hard pressing against her wet entry. How big would he be? She had no idea. She had never seen him undressed - even as toddlers they had been taught that their bodies were evil and should be hidden. He was such a big man, but that didn't always mean a guy was big where it counted. It looked like she was about to find out!

With a grunt he slammed into her. His full length penetrated her at a single stroke. Big! her mind screamed. He was big! And taking her much too fast! Her body struggled to adjust to the invasion. It was pleasure mixed with pain and it was too much at once! She moaned against the fingers stuffed in her mouth. Paul pulled back and rammed into her again, shoving her down into the mattress. Paige held her hands against the wall of muscle on top of her in a feeble effort to slow down the ram plundering her delicate insides.

Paul pulled his fingers out of her mouth, gathered up her thin wrists in one meaty fist, and pinned her hands up above her head. He placed his other hand on her chest and resumed rutting on her in earnest. She was helpless to stop him. Fortunately, his thick tool was soon coated with her freely flowing juices and slid into her easily. He slipped in and out of her moist canal, caressing her delicate nerve endings and pushing all thoughts of stopping him out of her mind.

"Oh, holy fuck!" she cried out. "Fuck me!" Later on she would consider that it was a miracle they didn't wake the whole building, much less Paul's wife in the room across the hall, but at the time she was lost in the moment.

Without warning, Paul released her. She felt the cool night air on her sweat-dampened skin and wanted his heat back on top of her. Mostly she wanted him back inside of her. Strong hands grabbed her around the hips and lifted her off the mattress. She groped around in the dark before being dropped onto her stomach.

Paul again lay on top of her, pinning her down to the bed. She felt his hard cock press against her ass as he maneuvered himself between her legs. Paige arched her back and spread her legs wide to give him easy access. She definitely wasn't ready for any backdoor action, so she did her best to tilt her hips and shove her pussy toward her brother. Asking nicely for him to put it in the right hole didn't seem like an option.

The tip of Paul's cock found its hot, wet target and he shoved it home. Paige gasped. God that felt good! In that position his fat cock would smash into her G-spot, driving her wild with pleasure. She moaned into a pillow, not because she had the presence of mind to worry about making too much noise but because Paul's relentless pounding had thrust her face down into the bedding.

After several explosive minutes of furious thrusting, Paul froze. Paige felt her brother's cock swell inside her and then jerk and buck as he sprayed his seed into her womb. The pulsating cock drove her over the edge and she climaxed herself. The room seemed to spin and she saw little pinpricks of color at the edge of her vision.

"Holy fuck," she panted. She hadn't had sex in weeks and hadn't been so thoroughly fucked all year. It was long overdue. "Holy fucking fuck."

Paul collapsed on his side with an arm and a leg draped over Paige. He was snoring softly almost immediately. Was he really asleep? Had he just done all that while sleepwalking? Sleep ... fucking? She felt a little sorry for him - that was some epic sex and he slept right through it. Of course, it was just as well. He was probably too inhibited when he was conscious to get in touch with his wild side. Hell, she was surprised as shit to find he even had a wild side.

Paige slithered out from under Paul and got out of bed. She was tempted to stay the rest of the night - it was so cozy and comfortable sleeping with the big teddy-bear - but no excuse in the world would save her ass if they woke up in bed together, naked, and coated in each others' bodily fluids. She adjusted her thong - it was shoved up into the crease at the top of her thigh - and went back to her own room.

The next day was back to routine. Paige spent the morning hanging around and watching Margaret clean. She made her regular appointment at the clinic and then came back to the apartment feeling like walking death. After a short nap, she went to the kitchen to nurse a cup of coffee while Margaret got dinner ready.

"Hello, everybody!" Paul burst into the apartment. He was home from work and apparently in a good mood. "It's a beautiful day!"

"What the hell are you so happy about?" Paige mumbled into her coffee. Then she recalled their little adventure of the night before. Even if Paul had no memory of it, the sex hormones could sure change his outlook. She smiled to herself in spite of her pounding headache.

"Welcome home, dear," Margaret said. "Chicken and rice for dinner."

"Sounds delicious!" Paul gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, Paige! How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good, actually," Paige answered with some surprise. She did feel pretty good. Paul's new enthusiasm was infectious.

"So I was thinking," Paul grinned like a kid in a candy store, "after dinner we could go the Met. There's a new rooftop sculpture exhibit. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Oh, I don't know," Margaret clucked. "Paige really needs her rest."

"No, I could go for a little while," Paige insisted. Anything to get away from mind numbing channel surfing for an evening. And her big brother voluntarily visiting an art museum? That was too rare to pass up.

The art museum was amazing. The rooftop garden was filled with installations of dramatic, avant garde sculptures. And all around, the panorama of the city spread out in every direction. The light of the setting sun glinted in a hundred sparkling windows.

"Holy fuck," Paige mumbled in awe of the view.

"What was that?" Paul jumped as if startled by something.

"Sorry," Paige shrugged. She was never going to get the hang of watching her language around Paul and his family. "I don't even realize I'm saying stuff like that. I meant, wow. It's an amazing view."

"No, I just thought ... well ... it seems like I've heard that particular expression ..." Paul trailed off. He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. "Anyway," he shook his head and continued. "It really is an amazing view."

"Good heavens," Margaret clucked at a ten-foot-tall, stylized female figure in bronze. The statue had no face and no arms but thick voluptuous thighs and a protruding belly and breasts. "What passes for art these days!"

Paige opened her mouth to reply. If Margaret would just stop being so narrow minded and judgmental she might actually see what was right in front of her! Before she said a word, however, Paige stopped herself. Was a scathing rebuke of Margaret's lack of artistic sensibility really going to make a difference? Probably not.

"Actually," Paige said mildly, "I think it's quite lovely."

"Well, I can't see how. It doesn't even have ..." Margaret protested.

"Say, Margie," Paul cut in, "I bet there's a lovely view of the park from over here." He graciously led his wife away. Paige gave him a thumbs up when Paul looked back over his shoulder. Paige wandered alone around the exhibit. At least, as alone as one can be in a crowd of art lovers. She enjoyed the time, however. The exhibit was lovely and the evening was pleasant.

Even more, she enjoyed being among people who appreciated art and culture. She soaked in their quiet comments of respect and enjoyment like the roots of a plant soaking up nutrients out of the soil. She hadn't realized how much she had missed this type of company. Even so, being on her feet started to wear on her and she was soon ready to go home.

"I could've made this," Margaret was complaining when Paige found her and Paul standing underneath a sculpture of a giant, mangled paperclip.

"I'm ready to go," Paige told them. "But I've had a really nice time. Really, I have."

"That's great, Paige." Paul smiled at her.

"Yes, it is wonderful," Margaret agreed. "Let's get back home."

That night Paige crawled into bed and intended to stay there. She really was tired from the trip to the museum. Besides, she'd had her fun with Paul. He was happier, she felt better. It was time, she decided, to quit while she was ahead.

If she pressed her luck, Margaret was going to catch them. It was a miracle she hadn't caught them last night! The sight of Paige and Paul fucking like wild animals would probably give her a coronary. Paige thought she would enjoy the look of shock on Margaret's smug, little face. On the other hand, she would feel a little guilty if the bitch dropped dead. No, she definitely was just going to go to bed alone and stay there.

Her body, however, had other plans. It started with a warm feeling in her mid-section. That got her thinking about Paul, sleeping just down the hall. His big, strong arms. His long, hard cock. The sublime joy of just surrendering to his power and letting him do whatever he wanted with her eager body.

"Oh, fuck," she mumbled and crawled out of bed. She wasn't getting any sleep this way! She pulled her night shirt over her head and tossed it aside. She tiptoed out into the dark hallway wearing nothing but a pair of blue bikini briefs.

She slipped into Paul's bed and snuggled up next to his sleeping form. It felt good to be there pressed against his powerful body, but her own body wasn't satisfied. She didn't want to cuddle, she wanted to be fucked silly. She held on to Paul and pulled herself close. She had to resist the urge to shake him awake. She didn't want him awake!