Dave sat quietly at the table, trying not to look up. Next to him, his girlfriend, Joan, was mercilessly massaging his crotch as she carried on a long conversation with her mother. Dave's rather large tool was now at full attention, but that was not the part that bothered him.
To Dave's left at the table was Joan's younger sister, Renee. Dave was sure he could feel Renee's foot sliding up and down his calf. He couldn't look at her to make sure. She had said nothing since he arrived with Joan for Christmas Eve dinner. This was his first visit to the Jennings' home, and he was extremely nervous.
He had been dating Joan for a few months at NYU and their relationship was little more than that of "fuck-buddies". But when he had told her that he wouldn't be able to make it home for the holidays, she insisted that he come to Connecticut with her.
When he first arrived, Dave had noticed the striking resemblance between the Jennings women. All three were fairly tall, about 5'9", very slim with nearly white blonde hair and fantastic legs.
Dave shifted slightly as Joan grabbed his dick hard. She enjoyed these little games and hoped he would fuck up somehow. Joan relaxed her attacks momentarily, placing her hand on his knee.
Suddenly, Dave felt a hand on his other leg. Without changing her expression in the least, Renee was dragging her fingernails along his thigh. Dave began to squirm and Joan took this as a cue to begin fondling him again. He sat paralyzed as the two sisters' hands inched towards his crotch.
Since he dressed left, it was Renee's hand which won the race to his manhood. Her fingernails moving along the outline of his shaft before she gripped the now rigid tool through his khakis. Dave sat up with a start, causing Joan to remove her hand from his leg. Yet Renee continued to coolly massage Dave's turgid member without hesitation.
"Is there something the matter, David?" the girls' mother questioned.
"He's just a little jumpy," Joan giggled. David was still amazed how at 22, Joan still behaved like a 12 year old 90% of the time. His mind, however, was quickly brought to the events at the table as Renee pinched his cockhead hard.
"Joan, we really should get going if we're going to get to the mall," Mrs. Jennings announced, standing up from the table. She shot an icy glare at Dave, who merely shifted uneasily in his chair until Renee released him.
"Will you be okay without me, baby?" Joan asked, rubbing against him, pressing her stomach into his crotch.
"I think I'll be fine," he responded, walking her to the door. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Renee standing in the kitchen archway, hands clasped behind her back. Dave noticed that her expression never changed as she stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"Don't worry about her," Joan insisted, kissing him on the ear. "She's harmless. She's been this way since Daddy left. She'll probably lock herself in her room until we get back."
As the red tail lights disappeared down the road, Dave turn to face Renee once again. She now stood at the base of the main stairs, hand on the banister. For the first time that evening, Dave felt he could look at her without fear of being caught. At 18, Renee was ever bit the physical specimen as Joan or Mrs. Jennings, for that matter. She wore a long black dress, slit on either side a few inches above the knee. The dress accentuated her young, firm curves very nicely while remaining far more modest than the skin tight, low-cut outfit Joan had worn to dinner. Renee's long blonde hair jutted out from the back of her head in a severe ponytail, accentuating her somewhat elfin features.
