I met Kathi through an online dating site. We both loved writing. My skills were the creative kind, hers more focused on the craft -- good grammar, proper wording, that sort of thing. We were a great match. Her passion for life equaled if not exceeded mine. The early days were like a magical trip into the world of Ali Baba complete with flying carpet and cave that opened via the words "Open Saysme." The cave in this case was her heart and the lovely cavern between her legs. The word soul mate was ever on our lips as though it was not just the way our bodies connected but our minds, our hearts, our souls.
Naturally the electricity between us was so intense, the love making so exquisite, I don't really even know if souls were even involved. Yet no arguments ever seemed to come between us. Her words seemed to finish mine and mine hers.
I was recently divorced; her exit from marriage a bit further in the past – at least a year. I had a townhouse, she a quaint two bedroom condo. I lived alone; she had two lovely daughters. One was sixteen; the other nineteen.
Carmen, the sixteen year old, was a boisterous girl, always talking, commenting about everything and possessing the most distressing of qualities – a temper. Yet she had the rare ability to connect with just about anyone, at least for a while, until her temper kicked in and she blew a gasket. I understood her almost immediately, enjoying our conversations, the occasional flirting. Yet I knew the risks of becoming too close.
Once she showed me a tattoo she had just received. "Oh Dan, please you have to see this."
Quickly unsnapping her jeans, she pulled them halfway down her thigh. With a twist of her hand, her thong underwear was pulled aside so I could see a little butterfly planted on her stomach under her belly button just a bit to the left. Only I didn't stare that closely at it because something else more delectable was nearby. Her pubic hair lay open to my view and I could almost see a dark spot just below her fingers. The smell of feminine perspiration and the trace of a more delicate scent from that spot between her legs cried for my touch.
Only I couldn't yield to such temptations. She was far too young, not my type at all, just a teenager that didn't know that her stupid actions might drive a grown man crazy. I wanted nothing to do with the kind of trouble she would bring. Besides, I was in love with the girl's mother. Kathi was the genuine article, a good woman, madly in love with me.
Her sister was a different story completely. Not exactly shy, Heather was the intellectual of the family. Rather than writing stories the way I was inclined, she enjoyed poetry. Yet she would never let me or Kathi read them.
"They're far too personal," she would say. "I only write for myself, so I can remember a feeling, an idea."
Both of the girls were blond, fair skinned. Heather was a bit shorter, thinner with smaller breasts. Even at the young age of 16 Carmen's were large melon shaped objects, hanging down just a bit from the weight. Heather's in contrast while not being particularly small were not nearly as grand in size. Even when she was braless as was frequently the case, her shapely orbs stood straight against the thin fabric of her shirt.
I met Kathi in the summer and with neither girl familiar with a strange man around, they acted and dressed as though it was still just the three of them. Most clothes were of the halter top category, bare stomachs, thongs showing every time one of them bent over. I was in this continuous state of arousal as new pieces of anatomy were revealed.
Heather tended to wear comfortable casual clothes, the type I remember around the girls I knew as a young teen, the hippy look I would often call it. The pants were always jeans either long tattered ones with holes in the knees and butt. Or the short kind, ends frayed, showing just a bit of the curve from her butt when she bent over or curled against the couch watching TV.
The younger daughter Carmen was the exact opposite. Her clothes were always elegant, expensive, smooth and soft, folding over her curves in a natural yet provocative way. The young girl actually looked older than her sister with a look in her eye of experience. Kathi and I would always laugh about her, "Nineteen going on twenty six."
Yet Carmen was the religious one of the two. Devoted to God, her actual life belied this deep seated commitment. While passionate in word and emotion, the attraction of the dark life of a sinner beckoned her so strongly that she lived a much wilder and crazier life than her more cerebral atheist sister. Alcohol and sex were her biggest vices at the moment.
Once when Kathi and I returned from a trip to the mountains, police filled the apartment. Apparently Carmen had decided that a party would be the perfect entertainment. Unfortunately one of the girls was raped by one of the boys. We were up half the night trying to resolve the difficulty, helping the police gather evidence.
Heather was a true flower child reminding me of the days of my youth when I would bounce around, no home to call my own, each day a new adventure, no worry about the future, no care for money or wealth, just wanting the world to be a better place.
Before I came into her life, Kathi had shared her master bedroom with Heather while Carmen occupied the other smaller one. As I spent more and more time with Kathi, I would often spend the night in her bed. Heather was forced to sleep on the couch.
Sometimes at night, I would wake up and go to the kitchen for a drink of water. I was forced to pass through the living area where Heather would be sleeping soundly on the couch. With the hot nights of summer upon us, she would lay with legs sprawled in her thong underwear, no bra, no covers, practically naked. I paused staring down at her slender form wondering what it would be like to lay with her, to feel her skin against me, to smell the scent of her breath on my cheek.
One night the heat was so intense that she neglected to wear her panties. As I walked by, I noticed her nakedness and stood over her, studying her, my eyes pouring over each feature open before me. Like a flower facing the sun she seemed to recognize my stare and moved toward me, her arms to her side, her breasts open, her legs spread, one falling over the edge of the couch. I kneeled down before her, sliding between her legs, my face close to her abdomen. Her smell rose in waves tickling my nose.
Recalling the stories of how deeply she slept, that an atomic bomb would barely cause her to stir, I wondered if I could indeed touch her. Her smell spoke to me in soft whispers – come to me. So, I pressed my mouth against her, kissing the lips between her legs softly until I felt the wetness seep into my mouth.
She groaned so I slipped my tongue into her, sucking her juices into my mouth. How good she was. I had never tasted anything so fine. It was more than the actual flavor but the simple fact that I was enjoying her, this little goddess. I knew I should stop before she awoke but it was as if I was frozen to the spot, the only movement possible, my tongue and hands. So I slipped my hands under her buttocks and lifted them up, pressing my mouth against her, my tongue now deep inside, my upper lip caressing her clit.
Her groans were loader and my tongue moving faster, flicking back and forth.
Then I heard her say something. The words were unrecognizable to me. I had this sense of her waking, so I slipped from between her legs and fell to the carpet.
On the floor motionless, I waited until her breathing became regular, then carefully, without a sound, crawled past her toward Kathi's bedroom. All thoughts of a glass of water had vanished. With pounding heart I stood up straight and entered the room. Kathi's breathing was regular. I slipped under the covers against her.
That night I had the most incredible sexual experience. As I pounded against Kathi, mounting her time and again, my thoughts were of Heather, of being buried deep inside her, feeling her buck and sigh and moan as I brought her to a climax.
I wondered if that would ever be a reality.
=========================
Kathi grew exceedingly irritated with Heather's ownership of the couch. Heather was a messy person, never having learned the meaning of putting anything in its proper location. Tensions began to arise each morning as the disorder around the couch grew and grew.
Finally one afternoon, Kathi erupted. "This will simply not work. The living room is no place for a young woman like you. You are returning to the bedroom."
"And where am I going to sleep? With you and Dan?" she asked. "I would think you'd want a bit of privacy."
"That's fine Kath," I said. "We'll work something out. There's lots of space in the bedroom."
"I've got it," I said. "We'll split it up, hang an old curtain across the room. We'll stay on one side, and Heather on the other."
"Dad has an old futon I could probably use," Heather said. "That wouldn't take up much space at all."
So Heather did indeed move into our bedroom. Since Kathi did not have a large enough curtain or bed spread, she was forced to use a sheet of muslum that while not transparent was close to it. I helped set up our makeshift separator.
