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A simple dinner with his girlfriend gets complicated.
“Hi sweetie!”

Margie lifted onto her toes for a peck on the lips before breezing past me with an armload of groceries. I scratched my head and peered up and down the street before closing the door and trailing barefoot after her.

“Thought I’d make you something healthy tonight.”

The brown paper bag was half empty and water was drumming the stainless steel sink by the time I twirled a chair and straddled the seat. I folded my arms on the back and studied her familiar form while she worked. Her hands were a blur, washing produce and pulling pots from the rack overhead.

She half-turned and batted two of the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen. “I know how you eat when left to your own devices.”

Folding one knee at a time, she reached back and slipped the straps of her wedge sandals over her heels and flicked them aside. I’d always enjoyed how she pushed her tits forward with the maneuver.

“Soooo… you’re cooking dinner for me.” This would be interesting.

“You catch on fast, Brett.” She made a racket pulling a skillet from a cabinet beneath the counter.

I lifted my chin toward a window and saw my girlfriend’s Beetle convertible in the driveway. I smiled and shook my head.

“Baby, this is such a surprise.” I stood and swung a leg over the chair. “I thought you’d be stuck on that project for another week.”

“Yeah, well… lucky break. The boss was called to headquarters today.” She was chopping vegetables with precision and velocity, the likes of which I’d never seen.

The last golden rays of the day strafed the room and lit up the little red tank dress that always drove me crazy. I pulled open the fridge with my gaze locked on the sight. The sheer fabric clung to her narrow waist and flared over her precocious ass. My fingers sunk into a week-old container of Szechuan shrimp before emerging with two longnecks.

I cracked the beers and took a long pull before deciding to move in behind her. Margie stiffened when I slid a hand over her belly and held a bottle to her lips. Her hands became still when I raised the bottom and she swallowed a mouthful of the cold liquid. I felt a familiar stir inside my jeans as our bodies molded together. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I tilted the bottle again.

“Well, I’ve been feeling verrry neglected.” I put down the beer and closed my hands over hers. She shuddered against my chest as we lifted the knife together and cut into a tomato. Margie offered no resistance. In fact, she hardly breathed.

I lowered my mouth to her ear as the blade sectioned the ripe, red flesh. “But those filthy emails you’ve been sending… my God.”

She lifted her head. “Emails.”

“It’s too late to play innocent.” I released her hands and gathered her long brown waves, hooking the thick tangle in front of one shoulder. “Do you really think I’d forget the things you said you’d do to me?”


A black tattoo emerged from the collar near the base of her neck. It was a curved Roman II with a vine woven through it. Gemini. I’d seen only one other like it. Margie’s hands gripped the edge of the counter when I lowered her zipper to the small of her back and kissed the ancient symbol.

“Mmmm… you smell so good, baby.” I crossed my arms, grabbed the hem of my tee shirt, and pulled it over my head. “I missed this.”


I spread my palms across the bare skin of her shoulders and slid them inside the straps of her dress. They slid down her arms, peeling the skimpy garment past her ribs and over her buttocks. I tasted her exposed neck while my hands roamed over her body, finding turgid nipples straining against the flimsiest of bras.

“Unngh… no, please.” Margie collapsed against me as my fingers drifted over her belly and explored the groove in her delicate lace. “Brett, I have to tell you something.”

“Mmm-hmm.” My cock was trapped and screaming for release. I ground the long, sideways lump into the small of her back.

“Ohhhhh…” Her hands reached back, groping for my buttocks when my fingers slipped inside her panties.

Margie’s breathing became deep and ragged as I massaged her folds and rolled a fat nipple between my fingers. Wet, smacking sounds and moist fingertips told me all I needed to know.

Her body was writhing. Margie grabbed my wrist and swore when I pressed my thumb onto her slippery clit and began to move in a steady, circular motion. Her desire was contagious.

The head of my cock burned against the rough denim as my shaft continued to push and expand. I had merely wanted to have some fun at her expense; to teach her a lesson. That was then.

“STOP!” She pulled my hand away and spun around, facing me in wrecked underwear. Her chest was heaving. “Buh… before this gets… I need to tell you something.”

“Uh-huh.” I pulled apart the snap on the faded Levis that hung on my hips and lowered the zipper.

“Brett, don’t.” Her eyes fell to my abdomen and the thicket of dark hair inside my open fly.

“Oh. Sorry, Margie. ” I felt my nipples harden and pulse leap as I pushed the jeans past my buttocks and pulled them off. My stiff cock swayed in front of me, warm and tingling under her gaze. “No underwear.”

“Wait.” Electric blue irises speared my eyes. Her full eyebrows knitted together and her face turned crimson. “You know?” she half-whispered.

“That you’re not Jess? Yeah.” I twisted the catch between her cups and slipped the straps off her shoulders. “I’m gonna need you naked now.”

“B-but we’re iden…”

“Identical. Yeah.” I hooked a finger inside the elastic of her underwear and peeked at the light brown cloud inside. “We’ll see about that.”

I clamped the back of her neck and guided her to the wooden, farm-style table. She wore an expression of disbelief even as she planted her hands on the thick pine surface and spread her legs. She arched her back and moaned when my calloused hands caressed her satiny skin. They followed the sleek lines of her shoulders and back before slipping around her ribs to explore her creamy tummy and breasts. My leaking cock left clear, shiny smudges on her lower back as I scissored erect nipples between my fingers.

“I still don’t… how?” she panted.

“There’s something different about you. I just knew.” I placed my mouth to her ear. “And your sister can’t even boil water.”

I kissed my way down Margie’s spine and crouched to peel her panties from the muscled globes that could have been Jess’s. Goose bumps covered her flesh and tiny blonde hairs stood at attention as she stepped out of the damp bikini.

I separated her cheeks, taking in the earthy smell of her sex. I couldn’t resist. My tongue washed her pussy and anus with long, wet laps, recognizing the savory-sweetness of her essence.

I stood and placed a hand between her shoulder blades. Margie stretched across the table, draping a knee over one corner. I gripped the base of my cock, watching veins bulge as the broad head slid between the slick, dark lips of my girlfriend’s sister.

“What are you really doing here, Margie?”

She turned her face to one side. “We… we just thought it would be fun to mess with you.”

I probed her opening with the firm head of my penis, sensing the tight fit. We both groaned when the ridge squeezed through and my shaft expanded her walls. I drew back, half my length shimmering with liquid sex.

“Mmmmmgh, please… ” She drew her knee toward her head. “Fuck me like you fuck Jess.”

Margie filled her lungs with a hiss and threw back her head as I impaled her to the core with a thrust of my pelvis. Twisting a pile of hair in my fist and bracing a hand on her ass, I plowed again and again through the resistance and heat of her vagina. My dick seemed to thicken and grow as she clawed at the wood surface.

“You wanna fuck like Jess?” My forefinger lathered Margie’s anus with her own secretions and slid inside the slick knot.

Her answer was unintelligible. Violent shudders rolled through Margie’s body in waves, her toes curling in the air, as I filled her vagina with my rigid meat. Strong contractions gripped my cock as we rode her familiar, silent orgasm together.

Moments later, Margie was in my arms, pushing open the bedroom door with her foot.

“Jess will be here at seven,” she said sweetly. One arm slung around my neck, she stroked the sticky shaft that poked between her cheeks. “Mind if she watches while she waits her turn?”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright 2013-2014 Gerard L. Johnston All rights reserved.

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