As soon as she walked into the room, I knew I was in trouble. The way her hips swayed in her tight dress, the way her long hair fell over her shoulders, the way she grinned at me…I knew I wanted her.
But she was forbidden. She was my wife’s sister.
I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind, to focus on conversation with the others at the party. But every time she laughed, every time she brushed against me, my hidden lust grew stronger.
Later in the evening, as the party began to wind down, I found myself alone with her in the kitchen. She was pouring herself another drink, the neckline of her dress dipping lower as she leaned forward.
I couldn’t withstand any longer. I took a step toward her, my eyes locked onto hers. “You know this is wrong,” I whispered.
She didn’t back away. Instead, she took a sip of her drink and leaned in close to me. “But it feels so right,” she replied.
And then her lips were on mine, her tongue darting into my mouth. I felt her hands on my chest, pressing me against the wall. My hands moved down to her hips, pulling her against me.
As we kissed, we pushed each other’s boundaries-her dress was off, my pants were unbuttoned. We were both desperate for more.
We moved to the living room couch, lost in each other’s touch. And a few hours later, as the sun began to rise, we lay entwined, skin still sticky with sweat and desire.
We both knew it was wrong. We knew the hidden lust we had given in to was taboo, a temptation we should have resisted. But the sheer animal desire we felt in each other’s arms was too much to ignore.
We went our separate methods that morning, walking away from the forbidden love we had kindled. But the memory of that night’s taboos, of giving in to the hidden lust we shared, will linger with me forever.