The broken hearts

This is a new story called “The broken hearts” let’s begin…. Let me begin by first introducing myself. My name is Jacob. I am fifty-five years of age, and now a widower as of eighteen months ago when my wife Mila died from a long terminal illness. Mila was the love of my life. High school sweethearts, we’d married right after graduation, and then had a son, Hazel…shortly thereafter. Hazel is currently serving overseas in the Navy as a career officer. I am very proud of him, though I don’t get to see as much of him as I’d like to.

I own a small auto repair business. Though I guess it’s not so small after all. I now have three separate shops that are spread out throughout the city. I’m certainly not filthy rich, not by a long shot, but I do well enough, and treat my employees well too, which has kept down the turnover, and thus kept things lucrative enough for everyone.

I’m no youngster. But I’m still in reasonably good shape for my age, better than most my age, or so I’ve been told anyway. I still have a full head of hair, though it’s almost pure white now. Had always been a fair-haired blond as a kid, by the time I was in my late twenties, it was already heading towards the snow-white side of things, something to do with genetics, or so I was told anyway.

Like my sister Sophia, I have blue eyes, stand just an inch less than six feet. Do I have “love handles?” Yeah…probably so, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone other than Mila ever wanting to hold onto them. Get my drift?

And as already stated, I have one sister, Sophia. Sophia is three years younger than I am, though she honestly looks ten years younger whenever you see the two of us standing together. She too is in great shape, far better than I am…that’s for sure. But she runs every day, and heads to the gym at least twice a week. Something I should probably begin doing myself before things get any worse than they already are. But it seems like there’s never enough time in the day to ever do that, spread out as I am amongst the three locations that I spend a couple of days each week overseeing.

More about Sophia. Like me, she’s a widower too. Lost her husband Cooper, a good friend of mine in fact, almost five years ago now in an auto accident. Not his fault. The ONLY good thing to come out of that, was the substantial settlement she received, not to mention the sizable insurance policy Cooper had on himself. As long as she’s careful, Sophia will be set for life with that and the small pension she has from her previous employer, having taken an early retirement.

After Cooper died, Sophia would very often come over to our place for dinner on Sunday’s, though we eventually ended up just taking turns going back and forth between our two homes every Sunday. After Mila died, Sophia and I saw no reason to discontinue doing that. If anything, we were both glad for it as it had in essence drawn the two of us closer together again. Sophia has two children, a boy and a girl, both married with four grandkids now between them. Like Hazel however, it’s infrequent we ever see them.

Bree and her husband live in England now where he works, so if I even see my niece, it’s once a year now. Mathew is almost as bad. He lives in New York, and though it’s at least still on the same continent, he too might as well be living over in Europe as often as we see him and his wife Suzan, not to mention the grand kids. He spends more time over there on business, than he does here where his offices in New York are. Needless to say, Bree sees her brother more than we do.

Sophia and I both look forward to their visits of course, as infrequent as they are. But we’ve come to look forward to our relaxing Sundays together almost more than that even. It gives us both a chance to have someone to talk to, to bounce things off of the way we used to do so many years ago now.

“Jacob? I’ve been thinking about something, and have a proposal to make,” Sophia told me as I entered her home already heading towards the kitchen as the delicious smell of a pot roast cooking assailed my senses.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” I said, catching another whiff of freshly baked rolls, still nice and hot, currently wrapped in a clean cooking towel, resting inside a woven basket prior to being served along with the succulent dinner I knew she had prepared for us.

“Hands off…wait until dinner time,” she said, slapping my hands away from the towel as I’d made a feeble attempt to snare one of them. “Here…enjoy a glass of wine with me until then, we’ve still got a few minutes yet, and like I said…I want to discuss something with you,” she told me.

Sophia’s blue eyes are about the only thing we share in common. Like I said, she looks ten years younger than she really is. She’s always had dark brown hair, another obvious difference between us, that she wears long, though usually in a ponytail. And not that I’d dare even bring it up, but if she does color it to hide away whatever gray might be appearing these days, I’m certainly not privy to that. And though she’s certainly in great shape,

her age and nature has certainly had something to say about her fairly large breasts. No…they’re not nearly as perky as they might once have been, not like I saw them all that often growing up as a kid…only a handful of times perhaps.

But I find her, or rather their maturity quite alluring, even if she is my own kid sister. I have to laugh. For a woman who’s in her fifties, Sophia’s never been one to have been fond of wearing a bra. Obviously she does, especially while out in public, or whenever anyone is expected over. But the few times I’ve happened to drop in on her unexpectedly, most of the time…she isn’t.

I sat down in one of the somewhat comfortable oversized armchairs as she sat down in the identical one across from me. We both took a sip of our wine while I waited on hearing whatever it was that she had to say to me.

“Ok, here’s my proposal Jacob, and hear me out first before saying anything, will you do that for me please?”

She was using her condescending voice, so I knew better than to joke around with her, or tease her at this point. She was obviously being serious. “Go for it,” I answered, my equally pat answer, telling her that she had my full and undivided attention here.

“I think you should move in here with me Jacob. It’s just plain silly for the two of us to be managing two homes, especially when they’re both much, much larger than either one of us really needs, living alone.”

We’d sort of toyed with the idea once before, though never getting into the specifics of it, like now as I sat listening, so this wasn’t really all that new of an idea, though now as she continued on, she’d obviously given it a great deal of thought, with plenty of well thought out reasons for doing so.

“And it would be better for you to move in with me, as opposed to me moving in with you,” she’d begun. “For one thing, this is a little newer home, so not as many things could go wrong living here as opposed to your place. Eventually, you’re going to have to start making improvements, and what’s the purpose behind that? Secondly, you’ll be closer to all three of your offices, almost equal distance to all of them commuting from here.

Thirdly, there’s plenty of room..but you already know that. You’ll have your own room, which is almost as big as my bedroom, not to mention your own private bathroom. Even at your place, you really don’t have that, having to go down the hallway from your room in order to get to it.”

I wasn’t really in any disagreement with my sister here either. She already had me at “commute” though I wasn’t about to interrupt her just yet either. Let her sell it to me a little more.

“I only ask one thing Jacob,” she said as she finished with a rather lengthy list of reasons why we should do this.

“And what’s that sis?” I asked her curiously.

“Well…just remember. I’m not your mother…or your wife. I’m your sister. And as such, we should treat one another as equals, though in your defense, you always have. Just keep that in mind. Sure, we’ll both have separate responsibilities, you have the business, and taking care of whatever needs the property and house might have,

or that might arise. I’ll keep it neat and clean, keep fresh clean sheets on your bed, and clothes in your closet, not to mention a good home cooked meal waiting for you when you come home at night. Things like that. But…we’re equal in every way outside of all that. We share expenses equally, and we discuss everything equally before ever making any major purchases or decisions. So…how’s that sound?” She asked.

I looked at her. “So…when should I move in then?” I asked.


The house sold faster than either one of us thought it would. I owned the place outright, so that helped, letting it go at far less than it was really worth. Though neither one of us, like I said, really needed the money. It just made it easier to get rid of the place. And even easier was the fact that the new owners were delighted to keep most of the furniture. I didn’t really want…or need it. What they didn’t want was given away to charity.

All I really wanted, and brought along with me, was my own recliner. A small compromise in bringing it over with me, as it did…well sort of, go with the furniture in the den. A bit of rearranging, and I was all set, and comfortably moved in.

After about two weeks of actually living together, things were just starting to settle into a bit of normalcy for both of us. And admittedly, living closer, and thus cutting down on my commute time between the three shops, had me getting home earlier at night too. That, and coming home every night to a good home-cooked meal as opposed to take out, or bland tasting TV dinners had a distinct advantage. But…even as good as things really were, I could see that something was still troubling Sophia, so after we’d retired to the den to watch some TV, and relax with our evening coffee’s together, I decided to ask her what was actually on her mind.

“You noticed huh?” She said, smiling just a little.

“Kind of hard not to Sophia. I’ve seen that look before, so I know something’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours…so you might just as well spill it, and tell me now as opposed to stewing over it, and telling me later anyway.”

She gave me a look. One I was all too familiar with. “Ok Jacob, here it is…and I expect you to be open with me, the way you used to be when we were still living together under the same roof growing up as kids.”

That was indeed the one thing I really had missed. Sophia and I had been close as young adults growing up together. She might have truly been my kid sister, but I was always the one she could come to, and talk frankly about anything and everything…which back then, had even included sexual situations from time to time.

“Go for it,” I told her…letting her know that I too was serious once again, and ready to listen.

“Well, a couple of things really. But for one, let me ask you this Jacob. When you got home at night after working all day…what was the first thing you enjoyed doing after you did get home?”

I thought about it, and answered her easily. “Pretty much what I’m doing now,” I said.

“Pretty much,” she responded, repeating to me. “Meaning… not everything right? So be specific Jacob. What aren’t you doing now, that you were doing? That would help you and I both better assimilate into this new position we’ve found ourselves in. What would make you feel more like at home? More comfortable with yourself?”

That was actually pretty easy too, though I laughed as I mentioned it. “About the only thing I don’t do is come home, take off all my clothes and just sit around in my boxers and fart half the time,” I informed her jokingly. Though I certainly had farted on occasion around her even here.

Now it was her turn to laugh. “That’s what I thought. You sit here dressed until it’s time for bed, and then you undress. But doing that, makes you continue to feel more like a guest here Jacob, and not actually at home. Your home…my home. OUR home!” She finished. “I want you to feel free in doing that,” she then added. “Though I would appreciate your holding down the fart thing just a little if you wouldn’t mind,” she then added, making me laugh once again.

“Ok sis, fair enough. And I’d appreciate that. But now tell me…what aren’t you doing that would make you feel more comfortable?”

She answered that question in action as opposed to speaking the words, though she did that magical trick thing that most women have for some reason, come to quite naturally do. She’d been sitting there in one of her standard usual tee shirts and a pair of shorts. Suddenly she reached behind herself, undoing the clasp on her bra, in seconds she was pulling it through and then out of the sleeves of her shirt without ever taking it off. Once in hand, she tossed it off to one side, and for a moment at least, caressed her now freed breasts, soothing them with her own touch.

“Much better!” She said, grinning at me. “I wasn’t sure if that would make you feel uncomfortable or not,” she then added.

“Hey, if you don’t mind having your own brother walking around in his boxer shorts, I certainly don’t mind if my sister walks around without a bra,” I leered at her teasingly. The fact was though, her nipples were clearly evident, pressed against the almost too tight tee shirt they way they were. A reminder of what I’d caught a few glimpses of as a kid from time to time. Sophia, as I recalled, always had fairly large, dark areolas. Not to mention her actual nipples, which even now looked thick and hard-pressed against the material of her shirt.

And like I said, maybe they didn’t stand up nearly as much as they once did, but they were mature and full looking, just the way I liked them. Mila too had fairly large breasts, and I had always enjoyed playing with them, seeing them. Something I had sorely missed. It had been that long, since her death, that I’d even seen a woman’s breasts, now sitting here not quite seeing exactly, but certainly noticing my sisters.

“I’m no different than you are Jacob. I like being comfortable at the end of the day.” And then she did surprise me, as she stood up, unzipped the shorts she was wearing, and let them suddenly fall down around her ankles where she promptly kicked them off to one side, sitting down once again.

Ok. She wasn’t wearing a thong, or anything like that. But she wasn’t wearing granny panties either, which would have likewise surprised me if she had been. What she was wearing was a simple pair of white cotton panties that covered her modestly enough without showing or hinting at anything.

“Ok Jacob, your turn. Get comfortable.”

OK…so it did feel a little strange. But I stood, first removing my shoes, and then taking off my shirt. I did turn as I undid my belt, next unzipping my pants, sitting down again as I took them off, folding them and temporarily hanging them over the back of the chair I was sitting in.

“Please tell me you don’t sit around with your socks on either,” she laughed looking at me sitting there in my boxers and socks. “If you’d like a nice pair of slippers, I’ll go out and get you some.”

I leaned forward, taking off my socks as well, though as I did, noticing the open fly of my boxers part, the tip of my cock suddenly appearing, though I quickly closed the opening with my hand, having removed the socks now, adding them to my neat tidy pile. The problem was, I had actually stiffened a little. Just a little mind you. Nothing to write home about, or even make a fuss over really, certainly not with my sister sitting there.

But it was because she was sitting there in nothing more than a pair of panties and a tee shirt with her nipples pressing against it that had even remotely stimulated those now long dead urges and thoughts. Even being my sister and all, this would still take some getting used to.

Worse however…my quick, unexpected, unanticipated emergence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“And that raises another question Jacob, something else we should probably discuss here,” she said, sitting back, taking a long pull on her wine, pouring herself another, and then offering me the bottle. There had been no attempt at masking where her eyes had been for a moment either as I saw her look away from my crotch after having closed the opening again. I felt my face flush upon realizing that if I leaned forward to accept the bottle from her, we’d have a repeat performance here.

Maybe she realized it too, so she stood, walking over to actually refill my glass herself. The problem with that was, as she leaned forward in pouring it, her blouse gapped considerably, giving me a clear and unobstructed view of her now bare breasts, not to mention those same erect nipples I’d been looking at as she did that. She soon stood however, as I purposely averted my eyes from what I’d seen, though I now took a look at my sisters still near perfect ass as she made her way back over towards her own chair, sitting down again.

“And what question might that be?” I finally answered as I too took a long sip of my wine.

“Sex.” Came her one worded answer. “We should probably talk about that too.” She said, And then we both took another drink.


The broken hearts will continue on the next page

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