She kissed me hungrily. I reached up and grabbed her tits, momentarily wishing they were bigger. She shoved a nipple into my mouth and I feasted. I switched from nipple to nipple, all the while loving it but also wishing there was more.

You know," Lauren's voice broke me from my memories, "if you keep staring at them like that, Abby's going to get pretty upset." She was grating some cheese, the motion swaying her breasts beneath the sleeveless blouse she wore. She finally looked up and said, "you are such a letch sometimes." For a moment I thought I had crossed a line, that she was pissed off at me. But she gave me a knowing smile, glanced over her should to make sure Abby was around, and shimmied for me. "How's that?" Hey Lauren." Would this be awkward? I wasn't sure what to say. After all, she quite obviously flirted with me. More than flirted, actually, she came on to me. Even worse, I got off on it. "Thanks for coming yesterday. We had a great time." A hoped-for response from your wife might have been something along the lines of “I’m so sorry that this terrible thing happened. Thank you for telling me. I love you and want to support you in any way I can. Let’s talk about where to go from here.” When people don’t get that kind of empathic response from the person they’re closest to, they either futilely attempt to get the person to validate what happened or they simply retreat into their own denial (for instance, your idea to “let it go but keep my distance,” which isn’t really possible and puts you at risk of something like this happening again). Especially when sexual assault occurs in a family, other members of the family will often seek to minimize it by saying that you’re exaggerating or misinterpreting, or by blaming you for being “too sensitive.” Sometimes people will even suggest that you had a role in inviting the sexual behavior. We woke up the next morning and Jill prepared breakfast. I thanked her profusely for her understanding and she said it was fine. I then, as an afterthought, mentioned that it was very cold on top of the comforter but still was very comforting to me.Because all of these things occurred with other family members around, I did not feel like I could snap at her or push her away. I wish I had found a way to quietly tell her that she was making me uncomfortable and ask her to please stop, but I was still new to the family and not sure of myself with them. Also, she seems to have my wife emotionally bound to her to the point that my wife gets angry at the slightest criticism of her sister. My wife seems to alternate between being intimidated by her sister and feeling as if she has to protect her. Denying abusive behavior creates a toxic stew of collusion and shame, all while normalizing the abuse and enabling it to continue. And this, over time, can lead to depression, anxiety, insomnia, substance use, and a pervasive feeling of numbness or unsafety for the person in your position. I felt like I had let her down and I realized I began to panic. "No, it's not that, it's just that, well, I wanted to make sure I got it done for you so I wouldn't have to...I mean so you would have it all, you know, set up."

When I complained to my wife, she did not seem surprised and made some feeble excuses, ending in “Well … that’s my sister.” She has refused to confront her sister about this or even ask for an explanation. She is worried that this would change her relationship with her sister. She now says that her sister “didn’t mean anything” by what she did, and seems to be trying to blame me for being offended. That night as we were getting ready for bed I stated that it seemed very cold in her room. She offered that as long as I was fully clothed, it should be ok for me to sleep under the covers. I slid into bed under the covers and again kept a discreet distance between our bodies, yet still with one arm around her waist.Oh? What would you like to say?" She lowered herself onto the other end of the couch and stretched out, looking conspicuously like a lioness on the veldt. I couldn't help noticing that the buttons on her blouse strained against her breasts. I listed carefully to my wife's tone as she spoke to her sister. She carried on what seemed like a perfectly normal conversation. She was smiling. She laughed. Her tone was light and upbeat.