NOTE: This story takes place back in the 1970s.
* * *
I was dead tired. It was 2:15 in the morning. I had just stumbled home after long, frustrating Saturday night of cruising around to every one of my regular haunts. The only things I had to show for it were an empty wallet, lungs full of other people's cigarette smoke, and an unpleasant buzz from the last two drinks I shouldn't have ordered.
Oh, and a string of rejections from every woman I tried to strike up a conversation with. My last relationship had come crashing down several months ago, and it seemed they could all smell the desperation before I got the first words out. What little dignity I had left would be gone if I woke up the next morning on the sofa with my clothes still on. At least I had managed to pull my boots off.
As I struggled to keep my eyes open, there was a knock on the door.
My apartment was in a modest duplex on the second floor. This had to be someone I knew. No stranger was going to wander in off the street and walk up the stairs at this hour. If I had turned out the lights and gotten into bed five minutes ago, I could have ignored it. I tried to guess who would be crazy enough to drop by at this hour as I walked over to the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's Wendy and Marta."
Wendy and Marta—let me fill in some quick background. Wendy was the ex-wife of one of my closest friends, Trent. Marta was her younger sister. Trent and Wendy had been together for about five years, counting their live-together time before the marriage. The divorce had been final for several months, but they had separated awhile back. Trent already had a new girlfriend moved in. The last time I'd seen his ex was around the time of the divorce.
I liked Wendy, although I was glad I wasn't married to her. She was sexy, fun to be around, and fit in with all the boys. But her lifestyle had devolved into sleeping late, not working, and getting high too much—and arguing with Trent about it constantly.
I had some advice for Trent when he first met her, which he never took: have sex with Wendy? Sure! Date her? Why not? Let her move in? Mmm ... be careful with that one. Marry her? Oh, no ... do you have to? Once the knot was tied, I never said anything more about it—the decision had been made.
They were really good together for several years, but Wendy was five years younger than Trent—and still in high school when they first met. When you're in your twenties, that can be a big gap in maturity; and that's what finally drove them apart. Trent was starting to get serious about his career and working hard; but Wendy still wanted to live the lay-about lifestyle. She had managed to get herself fired from every job she had worked at recently, usually for not showing up to work on time.
I didn't know Marta that well. She had her own circle of friends, but I had been around her enough over the years to sense that she was a more responsible person than Wendy. But I had also heard that her big sister hadn't been a positive influence, particularly of late. I'd never met any of the guys she went out with, although I knew she had been in at least one serious relationship. I got the impression that as far as sex went, she wasn't as experienced or as uninhibited as Wendy.
They were both reasonably attractive women and looked alike: tall, thin, with dirty blonde hair, perpetual sun tans, and modest bustlines. I think Wendy was twenty-two or so and Marta was a year or two younger.
I should mention one other thing. This was back in the era when the prescription medication Quaalude was a popular recreational drug. The US government eventually managed to harass every pharmaceutical company into ceasing production of Quaaludes, but for years they were everywhere. Vast amounts of legally prescribed pills found their way into the underground market. The drug was nominally a sleeping pill or a "downer," but it had the additional properties of causing euphoria and heightened sexual feelings—that's why it was often called the "Love Drug."
As with other substances, like alcohol or marijuana, some people used it more often than they should have. Wendy had edged into that territory. I figured that both Wendy and Marta were probably high on "Vitamin Q" that night.
"Isn't it a little late to be dropping by for a visit?"
"C'mon, Jack, let us in. We knew you'd still be up."
I had a decision to make. If I opened the door, there was a strong chance they would be high on "ludes" and want to have sex. I wasn't comfortable with screwing Trent's ex, even though he had written her off months ago and had already moved on. It felt wrong. Maybe if he and I had discussed it beforehand, but I never had plans to make a move on Wendy once he was done with her. If it were several years later, maybe I wouldn't have been so noble; but it still seemed too soon.
And let's not forget this wasn't Wendy by herself wanting to come in and "party". It was two sisters! I had never experienced a threesome before—not even close. And sisters! This was the chance of a lifetime being handed to me on a platter. I was still hesitant, though.
On a practical level it wasn't a good idea for them to be driving while "quazy"; the drug certainly impaired one's motor skills. The safest place for them to be was staying put at my apartment. One scenario would be letting them have the king sized bed, and I'd crash on the couch. I'd have been kidding myself if I thought that was how it was going to play out if I opened the door.
"Who else is out there with you?"
The one thing I didn't want to see was strange guys come traipsing in with them and starting some after-hours party. I put my ear up against the door and listened for whispers or other noises.
"Just me," Marta said.
"Are you sure?" I didn't hear any tell-tale sounds. "If there are other people out there, I'm sending all of you away."
"No, it's me and Marta," Wendy pleaded, "Let us in."
I recognized the lazy cadence of Q in her voice. There could be some serious regrets about this, I thought, as I turned the deadbolt and opened the door.
Wendy and Marta marched in. They were alone.
Wendy put one arm around my neck and gave me more than a "hello" kiss. "We thought you might need some company on a Saturday night."
Marta said, "Hi," and put both hands on my face and gave me a long, suggestive smooch. I had never kissed either of them before, and neither had ever been that forward to me.
Wendy was wearing tight jeans with a thin, gauzy blouse knotted in front that looked like it had about two handkerchiefs' worth of material. It displayed her bare, tanned midriff to great effect. She had on high-heeled leather boots outside her jeans. Her layered shag haircut was just above her shoulders and had a slight wave.
Marta was dressed more conservatively: a long denim skirt, cap sleeved peasant blouse, and wedge sandals. Her hair was longer and straighter. Both had on lots of silver jewelry with turquoise, beads, and feathers.
Marta headed for the bathroom. As soon as she shut the door, I turned to Wendy.
"Wendy, I don't feel comfortable having sex with you. It's too soon after the divorce."
"Oh, come on, Jack! The last time Trent and I did it was long before the divorce was final. I haven't fucked anyone since. I wanted my first time to be with someone I know, not some stranger I picked up in a bar." She put her arms around me and gave me a very sexy kiss, letting her roaming tongue hint of things to come.
I was firm. "No, Wendy, I can't do it. No intercourse."
"No? You don't think I'm sexy enough? I'm really turned on right now. And Marta has been through a series of bad dates recently. She hasn't wanted to screw any of them. So she's really horny, too."
I tried to negotiate. "With Marta, anything's OK."
"Well, I don't just want to watch you fuck my sister. I need to get off, too. You could make me cum without putting your cock in me, right? Can't you finger me? Or go down on me? Or both?"
I convinced myself that wouldn't technically be "fucking" her. Perhaps setting a firm "no penetration" boundary up front would be the best guarantee that things wouldn't get out of hand later.
"OK, Wendy. I promise you'll get off—but no dick in pussy."
"Alright. Whatever you say. I really don't think Trent gives a shit at this point, but I understand. Either way, I think you'll be glad you let us in," Wendy said as she slipped her fingers behind my belt buckle and teased my hair with her other hand. She gave me another intimate kiss. "It will be noted on the record that I wanted to fuck you, but you declined."
* * *
When Marta came out of the bathroom, Wendy said, "Remember, we promised to put on a 'show' for Jack?" I sat down on the sofa to watch.
Marta's recollection seemed to be hazy about the plan, but she was game when Wendy stepped behind her and started caressing Marta's hair and stroking the front of her blouse. She closed her eyes and leaned back against her sister. I watched Marta's hands slide over her skirt as she moaned softly. Wendy lifted up her sister's blouse a little so I could see her stomach. Very tan and very flat, just like hers.
"Like what you see, Jack? Want to see more?" Wendy teased, as she reached around Marta's waist and unfastened the denim skirt, letting it drop to the floor. She had on little blue lacy panties that barely contained her thick, blonde bush. I watched as Wendy stroked Marta's bare hips; it was very arousing, to say the least.
Marta opened her eyes and gave me a provocative look. "I want to you to take Wendy's clothes off now."
Looked like we're getting right into it. I suppose there was no point in any of us being coy about it. Marta's voice revealed the slurring effects of Q, just like her sister.
Wendy flopped down on the sofa next to me and started to remove her boots. I had to get up and help by facing away and straddling her leg so I could pull off each boot as she wriggled her foot loose. She stood up and let Marta take her place on the couch.
"Take her jeans off," Marta demanded.
