The Inevitable Barrier Ch. 01: Discovery

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Blowjob

This is a complete work of fiction, any resemblance to anyone or anything is purely coincidental, all characters portrayed in this story, in relation to any sexual act, are mature adults, this story contains sexual content involving consenting adults, bi-sex, incest, anal, oral, water-sports & straight, sorry, no pain, animals or ego.

This is also my first foray into submitting a story on here. Enjoy. O.B.

*****

For the first time in seven years, I wanted a smoke. I gave tobacco the arse seven years ago. I had an episode that landed me in hospital. Pericarditis. Inflammation of the fluid sac around my heart. I’d just turned forty. My wife, at the time, was thrust into getting off her lazy arse to help out around the house. You know, actually getting up off her arse to do something other than actually going for a shit or a piss, or to grab a drink or something to eat. Actually go outside to stand in the back yard, stare at the sky for maybe five minutes or so.

Maybe even have a conversation with me.

For about four years, she took a small percentage of the load off my shoulders, I was on heart meds to help cope with the strain on my heart. I had to ease up on my hours at the yard, give up smoking, give up the grog.

I was down to two bottles of booze a year. My birthday & my Sister’s birthday.

Then, a year ago, on this same day, A small part of my Life fell out of my arse quicker than a scorched turd.

When I met Angie, I was a forky, she was a writer, I’m still a forky, I run a hardware dispatch yard. She’s still a writer, well, sorta. I was your average shmo, so was she. We hooked up when we were twenty-ish. We blended really well, initially. The sex was fabulous, initially. We explored & researched our sexuality to the umpth degree. There was a lot of shit that we never covered, because, quite frankly, there was no turn-on value for her. Which sorta put the kibosh on a lot of what I like to do in the bedroom. Ang was no prude, by any stretch of the imagination, public sex was a favorite of hers, it’s just the full value of our sex life was somewhat one-sided, her side. Whatever I suggested, was off the mark by a wide margin or never even worthy of a further mention. I ended up with a shelf full of kinked up images of wild unbridled lust to satisfy even the harshest of libidos, all locked away, somewhere in the back of my mind.

Today, I was looking at the JB Hi-Fi store across the road, maybe I needed to buy myself a

u-bewt-supa-bewt GPS device. It was time to bring those kinky puppies out into the open, breathe in the fresh air, crank up my stifled sex life, find my self a decent sex partner & basically, fuck myself to Death. That was the plan anyway.

But, Life just keeps straying down leg side, ya know.

Middle-age was tickling me under the chin, going, ‘coochy-coochy-coo’, today was my forty-seventh birthday. I was standing out the front of the courthouse where I’d just finished divorcing my wife. Fucken cunt of a woman.

Deadset, she turned out to be nastiest bitch I’d ever laid my eyes on.

To set the record, I’m Jack Smith, (talk to the hand, take it up with my parents), born in Melbourne, now living in rural Queensland.

I’m not pin-up material, neither is my wife, we’re average. Ish.

She’s Angela Bironev, Lithuanian descent, born in Berwick, Victoria.

(I wonder, how many of you thought it was gunna be Jones?)

I’m 5’10”, a tick over eleven stone, average build, minor definition (I hit the weights three times a week, religiously), six & ¾ inch x 3” thick tossle, when angry, tattoos here & there, a shaved head. Ang is three years older than me, 5’6” 34-23-35 figure, dirty blond, a poofteenth under nine stone. No tatts.

Like I said, about as average as you can get.

I’ve been a forky since I was eighteen. I make a decent quid, I drive a decent car, my P’n’J, a GTR Torana, with a 350 Chev donk. It goes like shit off a shovel. I’m also, as of this very moment, the proud owner of my house, thanks to my shifty lawyer. Ang is walking away from an average income, average husband, average kids, average life, into the fuck knows what.

I’ve just adopted D.I.L.L.I.R.G.A.F, he’s now gunna be my best mate, til the day I die.

It may not have been the highlight of her life to be married to me, but, the fact we had two kids made the difference. To me it did anyway.

******—******—******

Seven years ago, when I gave up smoking, Ang was in a slump. Her last book got panned by the critics. In fact the last three, all died horrible deaths.

Our son, Oscar, joined the army when he turned eighteen, our daughter, Zoe, joined the Navy when she turned eighteen.

It was just Ang & me at home. It took a few years for the effect of having a house with no kids to sink in. When it did eventually sink in, it was way too late, for the both of us. Then I began to literally push myself away from my wife. What I never saw was, ‘who’ I was pushing her to. The fact I was supporting her was beginning to get to me. Her first four books all did really well, we were able to cut our mortgage in half, send the kids to decent schools. We’d kept a little residual aside, in case one of the kids decided to go to uni. It was a good thing that the kids joined the Defence Force, because, that extra bahis firmaları cash came in handy after the three duds. Ang smoked three packets of smokes a day. Drank a copious amount of coffee, ate noodles until they were dribbling out of her arse. Twice a week she used to drive to Redcliffe to ‘catch up’ with her agent. Two hours drive away from home. She owned, (it’s now mine), a ZB Fairlane, immaculate machine, fully worked 351 Cleveland, her P’n’J’. It damn near beat my Torana. Both machines were guzzlers, her time was split between her pc, her car & her agent.

When she remembered who I was, she’d throw me a bucket of time. Occasionally.

That was her life though, wake up, sit in front of the puter for twelve hours, smoke, drive, smoke, piss, smoke, drink, eat, drink, smoke, fart, shit, drink, smoke, drink, smoke, piss, smoke, bed. Give or take a few more smokes that was pretty much her routine. 365 days a fucken year.

Welcome to MY nightmare!

I did all the shopping, cleaning, cooking, yelling, crying, driving, screaming, ironing, de-puking, doctor’s appointments, footy practice, volleyball practice, cricket practice, softball practice, raising the kids, wishing them a happy birthday, never once admonishing my wife for her behavior.

I got pissed off to the hilt & eventually exhausted making up excuses for her when the kids were little. Taking the kids to my parents house was fraught with a fine line of definitive shame.

Mum & Dad used to pull no punches when they came to see the kids, they’d get stuck into Ang from the get go. When she’d had enough of their needling, she’d disappear into her den, close the door. The next time I saw her was when she came to bed. The dead silence from her was killing me, slowly. It got to the stage that I practically waved my wang in her face on various occasions, stroked off a load onto her lap while she sat there & said nothing. She just got up, had a shower, put on a clean pair of trakky daks & clean windcheater, then locked herself in her den. That was the extent our sex life had evolved to. Needless to say, I had the obligatory stash of porn mags in my wardrobe that got a regular work out & because I did the washing, I had a copious amount of cum rags that got a spruce up once a week.

There’s nothing quite like blowing my load into a nice fluffy, clean cum-rag.

It was three years to the day that I last felt my wife’s nice, hot, wet muff, mouth, bum, hand, breath, blink around my cock. I passed ambidextrous with flying colors.

Now, I know that there’s heaps of things that were available to me to alleviate my situation, trust me, I used almost every one of those to wring out even a simple hand-job from Ang.

One night, I was sitting in the lounge, I’d had a shower, shave & shit, splashed on some smelly stuff, clean jeans, clean shirt, I was watching the start of the footy, my timing had to be impeccable, I watched Ang walk out of the den, down the hallway, I knew she was heading to the toilet. By the time she’d came out, I was standing in the kitchen. Ten seconds to spare, I took a deep breath. As she got to the corner, I exhaled, I produced a winning smile,

“Ang, babe, gotta sec?” I asked her before she had a chance to go back into her den. She stopped like a roo in a spotty, “what is it?” she snapped at me, looking everywhere but at me.

“I was hoping we might go out for dinner to that new Indian place up at the Mall, apparently they do a fantastic Rogan Josh?” I asked her, as nicely as possible. As frustrating as it was, I ignored the tone in her voice. Like I always do.

“Can’t, busy.” she snipped at me. In a flash, I never even had time to open my mouth to reply, she was goneski, straight back into her den. I heard the snick, for some obscure reason, rather loudly, of the door closing.

“Well, ok, then, all good, how about I just grab some Chinese from Wong Hut. That little Asian chick that works there, thinks I’m hot, she keeps giving me extra dim-sum.” I said to the den door.

The den door flew open, “What did you say?” Ang barked, her head reappearing.

“I said ‘I’ll just grab something from the Wong Hut then, I’ll keep it hot on the stove in the kitchen for you.'” I smiled my most effervescent smile.

“Whatever.” she retorted, as she ducked her head back in, I flipped her the bird, then her head reappeared, I pretended I was scratching my ear, “Get those egg noodles.” she murmured. Then she disappeared again. I waited until a count of ten, then I threw a mild tantrum, I flipped her both birds, throwing them at the den door, mouthing fuck you. The door snicked shut.

(cue, the sound of a deflating balloon looping around the lounge-room, & sailing out the window.)

I went back into the lounge, pulled a cone & watched my Mighty Tige’s run rings around the Frockers. When the footy finished, I pulled another cone, picked up my mix bowl, headed towards the bedroom. Flipped the bird at the den door as I walked passed, then went to bed.

At least I’d maintained my dignity, my masculinity remaining intact, the sacrifice of Friday night footy, supremely upheld.

To all you relationship guru’s, you really do need to come up with some more radical ideas, I mean, being nice, calm, relaxed, flexible, reciprocal just fails to cut it, I’m afraid. Just sayin.

Especially, kaçak iddaa here, in the twenty-first century.

Three years ago: My birthday, the last time my wife & I engaged in sexual practices, Ang had finally snapped out of her funk, or so it seemed…

The latest book at the time, was due for release. She was confident of a reversal of the current trend. We went out for an expensive dinner, she was absolutely gorgeous in her little red dress. No undies. Or bra. Her nipples were hard all night. Her nipples were hard all the time.

I was horny for her all night, she tormented the crap outta me with her teasing. When we got home, we popped a nice romantic bottle of bubbly, we stripped each other slowly, heading for the kitchen, we were naked by the time we hit the bedroom. She edged me for a further hour, before we climbed into bed, fucked like bunnies for an hour.

I managed to drop a load in each hole.

Then, as per usual, she passed out. Like clockwork. One hundred & twenty minutes, on the knocker. Admittedly we’d licked half the contents of the bottle off each others body, however, she was a one pot screamer, literally. Trust me, it was never because of her post orgasmic bliss.

When she came, it was a grunt, two at a stretch, then, poof, out like a light. Snoozeville.

I was always raring to go for round two. When we first started fucking before we got married, we had three, four hour marathons. Rest for an hour, have a feed, rock around the clock again, then sleep. Our weekends were nothing but sex. That lasted all of five months, once she got pregnant with Ozzy, that strangled our sex life, considerably. I fucked her once in the twelve months after Ozzy was born. Zoe was born before Ozzy turned one. Talk about being a one pot screamer!

Once Zoe was born, sex became obsolete.

This night, two hours after she’d passed out, she got a phone call from her agent. She got up, showered, threw on her slum clothes, returned to her den & slipped away from me again.

‘Click’, just like that. On/off.

I was just turning all the lights off in the house when I reached the front door, I figured I may as well head to bed, the front doorbell rang.

I turned the front patio light on, opened the door. Cheryl, my older sister, greeted me with a huge hug. An even bigger kiss, lip to lip, wet & silky smooth, her tongue tagging mine. I widened my eyes at her, she just licked my top lip as she stepped back. An evil smile on her face.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BRO” She yelled out. A bottle of Asti Ricca-Donna in her right hand. My left bum cheek in her left hand. My left leg disappeared between her legs, her muff, grinding into the hollow of my hip, where my thigh ends. That all happened inside five seconds.

There were many occasions during each year, that my horny little sister greeted me like that.

Nonetheless, every birthday, since we left school, we’d drink a bottle of white bubbly to celebrate our birthdays. On this occasion, right behind her, her hubby, Des. Hands in pockets, staring back out onto the street where my sisters car was parked, swaying.

He turned to face me, taking a long minute to focus on my face, stuck out his hand, I gripped it, it felt like I was holding a cold, lubed up, broken dildo.

“Many happy returns, Jack.” he slurred. He was drunk. His chest lurched as he spoke, the elongated ‘a’ in ‘happy’ wavered up & down in tone, I almost lost it from the stench as he spoke. I’d never known him to be sober, from the moment I met him, til this very moment.

“Thanks, Des, come in.” I swung the door shut as the three of us trundled back down the hallway into the lounge, my sister arm in arm with me, then went through to the kitchen. My sister saw the half empty bottle of plonk on the table, she glanced quickly at me. I quickly looked into the lounge, made sure I was out of eye-shot, I glanced at the den door, then rolled my eyes, half closing my left eye swaying my upper body.

Shezz visibly winced, mouthed ‘ouch’. I shrugged.

I then realised Des never followed us into kitchen. I went back into the lounge, sure as shit, he’d flaked it, onto the couch, on the ‘Z’ train. Fantastic. Arsehole. (cue; the balloon)

I went back into the kitchen, as I hooked around the corner, Shezz was on her hands & knees, farting around the in glasses cabinet looking for a couple of glasses. Bum in the air.

Her dark blue, satin dress indicated there was no VPL.

A needle thin zap, shot through the back of my scrote. Uh oh.

She extracted two glasses, stood up, turned around, I felt the draft of her barely covered nipples, as they went past my eyelashes. She placed the glasses on the kitchen table next to the half bottle of bubbly, I noticed her dark blue clutch purse was open on the table & the barest of a glimpse of black lace. She put her bottle on the table, grabbed the half full bottle, expertly emptied the contents evenly into both glasses. She put the empty bottle back down on the table, pick up a glass in each hand, then headed off along the other hallway to the bar-room, through to the back sliding doors. I grabbed the fresh bottle, her clutch purse & enthusiastically followed her bouncing bum.

She waited for me to get there to open the door. She stepped out onto the wooden deck, I followed her, kaçak bahis closing the sliding door behind me. Yes I was drooling. (& you’re not!)

She kicked off her shoes, groaned loudly, handed a glass of the bubbly to me, plonked her bum down on the deck lounge.

She pulled her feet up underneath her bum, then she tapped the vacant area next to her bum with her left hand, palm down. The motion caused the right side of her dress to ruck slightly sideways. The neck of her dress gaped & I was able to see the top of her right nipple.

I sat down, my left thigh pressed against her right knee, she clinked my glass,

“Happy Birthday Jack,” she said.

“Thanks, Chee.” I said quietly. I only ever called her Chee to her face. That was my private little name for her. When we were in company of other people, I called her Sis or Shezz.

The moon shimmered on the pool water. The wind was up, from the north. It was hot. Occasionally, her black hair whisped in the gentle breath of wind.

“Why do you stay with her, Jack?” my sister started on me. I stood up, started pacing.

I took a sip of my drink, the bubbles creating an orgasmic one-way road of sublime smoothness down my throat. When it hit my stomach acids, I felt the fizz behind my balls. Sparkling white wine did that to me. Shezz knew that, my wife was clueless, D.A.D.S.

I was pacing languidly. I was in no hurry to go anywhere.

I just wanted to assume the alpha male position, for a little while anyway.

Shezz knew me as much as I knew her. Little was I to know, that tonight was to be her little treat for my birthday.

“Leave it alone, Sis. I got my once a year fuck, I’m all good for another 364 days. It’s really not worth the effort to get into this now. It’s my fucking birthday for fuck sake. My wife is locked in her den, your husband has passed out on my lounge, I’m so horny, I’ll fuck mud.” I blurted.

“Jeez-us Jack, will you listen to yourself? There is no need for you to live like this. Go to a brothel, ring an escort, have an affair, get out & meet people. There’s heaps of women out there that are fanging for a good fuck. There’s plenty of dating sites on the web, there’s even that Ashley Madison chick, that does discreet affairs.” She threw back at me.

“You’re incredible, you are, you’re endorsing infidelity to me, your baby brother?” I squeaked.

“From where I’m sitting Jack, you may not have any other option, other than divorce, of course.” she said quietly. That stung. I looked at my sister. She knew I knew she was right. As usual.

Then I saw something in my sisters eyes that I’d not seen in a very long time.

“You’re giving me that look, Chee, we’ve been down this road, many times.” I got in first.

“And you’re gunna stand there & tell me you never consider it?” she challenged.

I opened my mouth, I was struggling for an answer, I looked everywhere…nope, I had nothing.

The silence was deafening. I glanced at my sister. She was looking at me over the top of her glass. Her silvery grey eyes punched through my core like a sledge-hammer breaking an egg.

******—******—******

Shezz & I were born in the same year, her birthday was in January, mine was in December. She was the female version of me, only I reckoned she was better looking, because she was a girl. Mouth wateringly better looking than me, to be brutally honest. Her most notable feature was her eyes. Her body, although showing the signs of motherhood, was magnificent, toned, long legs, tight arms, handful size boobs, delectable bum, a little bit bigger than a handful. Her muff was always a highlight for me. Her outer labial lips were still nice & tight, when she got real horny, those lips used to puff up slightly, a truly remarkable thing to watch take place. The texture of her girly bits had me entranced from the very first time I touched them. Straight up, I just, simply adored my sister from every aspect. That might seem like way far too much information to know about my sister, trust me, it gets better.

She got her beauty from Dad, he was a handsome bugger, tall, manly, a truly amazing man. I had mum’s style & grace. She was a stunning woman to look at. Naturally proportioned. Body wise, I was almost as tall as my Old Man, his tossle was slightly bigger, we both had large hands. Shezz was almost like Mum, her boob’s were slightly bigger than Mum’s, Mum had larger nipples. They both had long, straight black hair. More often than not, it was hard to depict which one was which when we were all out in public. Shezz & I always reckoned Dad & Mum were super horny for each other, not long after Shezz was born, that’s why they had me so soon after. The shit was though, Mum developed complications giving birth to me & she was forced to have a hysterectomy. Apparently it shattered both of them, they were planning on having six kids. Nonetheless, they gave me & my sister the best possible life they had to offer. Mum & Dad are full of Life. They’re still gorgeously attractive in their own unique ways. They’re also both heavily attracted to one another, I love them with everything in me. Shezz feels the same way. They were still sexually active, they were in their mid sixties, enjoying their twilight years traipsing all around the globe. They were also very liberated about sex. Nudity was a normal part of life until Shezz & I left home. They never hid their sexuality from us & they never tired of displaying their affection for one another & to be brutally honest, Me & Sis enjoyed every moment too.

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