My wife Sam, and her sister Denise were practically inseparable.
Growing up they were only a couple years apart, and though they experienced their expected share of antagonism growing up where they "hated" one another, once into their 20s they were best friends.
We all got married early. Sam and I met while backpacking through Europe, and we married first. We suited each other perfectly. I'm about six foot. Medium build. The kind of guy that clothes are designed for. Some people need things tailored. I buy off the rack and make it look like it's tailored. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Not bragging. Those are just the facts.
Sam is 5'4. Petite, "fun size" I call her. My little pocket rocket. Adorable, bright pixie face. Her natural hair color is a light brown, which means she can get away with coloring it anything she wants. At the point of the telling of this story, she had it shoulder length, a bit wavy, light ash in color and typically pulled back in a girl-next-door ponytail.
She's got some hips on her, and sports a lovely c-cup. A perfect handful. Her booty matches her hips... a handful-and-a-half. Feet and hands to die for. Sparkly green eyes. There's nothing, and I mean nothing not attractive about her. Except for maybe her willingness to get wild in the sack. She's pretty vanilla. I like things a little rougher, but that tends to frighten her off, so I'm just working on her. Coaxing her into relaxing.
A year after Sam and I were married, not to be left behind, Denise and her high school sweetheart Brad were due to get married. They'd even set a date. Denise is a couple inches taller than Sam, and smaller in every other sense. Instead of c-cups she had b-cups. Instead of a healthy, bouncy booty, hers appeared to simply be nice and cup-able. I'd seen Brad grab it in both hands a few times, and it didn't quite fill them... but Brad's slightly bigger than I am, too.
Denise has long, thick black hair down to her middle back. That hair is her pride. She's always messing with it. Sam has lighter skin, lighter hair... Denise is olive skinned and likes laying in the sun to get even darker, with dark brooding eyes. She has a real Mediterranean look about her.
When I originally met Denise, I regarded her as a bit of an oddity, but a hot one. Every family is different... especially from the one in which you grew up. I just figured that Denise was the most concentrated form of their family's "difference" from mine.
Though a year older than Sam, she was juvenile, and very much ruled the roost. Most in the house let her get her way, which irritated me. The rest of the family bowed to her. I just didn't let her rule
me
... much. She'd call names and crack jokes that were intended to hurt but came across innocently enough so that she'd never be taken to task for it.
Perfect example: My name is Jack. Her nickname for me from the start was "Jack Wagon". Juvenile, right? It was irritating, but you couldn't say anything about it because if you did, she'd sense your weak spot, and antagonise you more.
I let it go, and tried to ignore her.
She was also very... free. She'd talk openly about overtly sexual topics with her friends, her sister, even her parents. Like Sam, her parents were reasonably conservative, but it's like she bucked the trend wherever she went. Whatever you thought she was going to do, or should do, she might just as soon end up doing the exact opposite.
Having said that, both girls "saved" themselves for marriage through their teens. Sam and I fooled around. Brad had told me he had with Denise, but I didn't know if I believed it.
She made it pretty clear, even openly stating that I wasn't good enough for Sam, and in reasonably short order, she became the one sticking point that could have seen me back out of a future with Sam.
But, that ship sailed. I loved Sam, and wanted her even if I had to put up with her crazy sister... and spiting Denise by marrying Sam against her wishes wasn't too bad either.
The antagonism from that point got worse. Though, instead of trying to drive me away or scare me off marrying her sister, now that we were man and wife, it seemed to become far more about just making life miserable for me when she could.
I truly came to dislike her. Even hate her at times.
A short time after we were married, but before Denise and Brad were, I was over at their house. Denise was taking a shower and Sam and their parents were all at work. Sam and I had slept over after a family supper where we'd both had a little too much to drink. Sam had to work the next day but I had it off, and we only had one car. Sam had taken off even before I was up. Meanwhile, Denise was preparing for a late start at work.
She knew I was there, obviously.
Though she'd drunk heavily the night before as she typically did, we'd "spoken" to one another that day. She'd grunted her displeasure at seeing me as she staggered out of bed, at least. I'd grunted my displeasure right back at her, but still took the opportunity to check out the bit of her ass I could see squeezing out of her panties under her sleep shirt as she wandered off.
Like I said, she was in the shower. On her way in, she found me watching TV in the lounge room.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" she scoffed.
I rolled my eyes at her. "Apparently not."
"Because you're a looo-serrrr," and closed the bathroom door behind her.
Time passed. She always took long showers. She frequently washed her hair, and given it was so long and thick, that took a while. Who knows what else she did in there, but I was happy to have a reprieve from her sour company.
The bathroom was on one end of the house. The lounge, where I was, connected the bathroom to the rest of the house. I knew she'd be out soon, because the water had stopped running about 10 minutes before and I'd heard her moving around behind the door. I suppressed a desire to make myself scarce while she crossed the living room, just so I didn't have to interact with her.
Denise most frequently just let her long hair air dry. Today was different. She exited the bathroom with her hair rolled up in a towel, balancing perfectly on her head... and nothing else on.
I nearly choked on my spit when I saw her.
The first thing I thought was how hot she was. I mean, I can consider any woman hot, even if I hate her, as long as she's naked and confidently strutting around, and Denise was doing just that. I saw her tan lines over her tits and pubic region laid bare for me. Her pale, small small handfuls of breasts were delicious, with pert, dark nipples that extended farther than average. Perfect, from the looks of it, for sucking into your mouth and rolling your tongue around.
Aside from my wife having a bit more of a booty, and Denise being slightly taller, they were exceptionally similar.
She and my wife since their teens were waxers. They hated excess hair on their bodies. They'd often wax each other. They'd become quite proficient in waxing, apparently. While my wife was bald from the neck down, Denise preferring a neatly trimmed landing strip of her natural black hair.
My mind was instantly cloudy with the sexual excitement of it all, and I wasn't thinking clearly. Not thinking things like, "Why if every other time she's left the bathroom she's been reasonably attired is she today, almost entirely naked..?"
Like I said... not thinking clearly.
I was on a big lounge chair. Leather, with great big arm rests. I lounge very well. I had one leg slung over one arm rest, lying almost horizontal with my my elbow resting on the other arm rest, propping up my head.
Instead of walking straight passed me, Denise came and stood next to my chair, facing the TV.
"Watcha watching, Jack Wagon?" As if it was the most natural question she could ask.
"Uhhh, golf. You know you're naked, right?"
She sighed loudly, "Golf is so boring... and it's my house. I'll do what I want whether you're here or not. If you don't like it, go away." She then upped the ante rested a bare knee on my arm rest, like she was simply tired of holding herself up. Her smooth, naked thigh, leading up to her ass was now right in my line of sight. "Turn on something more exciting."
My eyes were busy traipsing up the curve of her cheeks. I didn't care
what
was on the TV.
"Um, like what?"
She sighed again, like I was a little annoying, "Gimme the remote." In saying this, she reached
right over
in front of me, holding onto the back of the chair with one hand, and reaching with the other so that I was staring right at her perky, teardrop tits, and grabbed the remote. If I'd lent forward just a bit, I could have sucked one of her firm, dark nipples into my mouth.
I almost did.
I thought it would end there, but to my utter amazement she said, "Move over."
