Author's Note: This story was inspired by a story I read several years ago and enjoyed. All the characters and situations are entirely my own.
Paul Clarke strolled confidently up the sidewalk leading to his girlfriend's home. He and Jesse were supposed to be married in a week, and he felt torn and conflicted about it.
He'd just received a major role in a successful off-Broadway play, and the salary boost was the reason his lovely blonde girlfriend and he could finally afford to be wed. He was about to ring the bell, when the door opened and there stood his lovely Jesse.
She took his breath away every time. She was tall and slender, with long blonde hair that reached all the way down her back. Luminescent blue eyes lit up her lovely face. She had soft, round breasts that were a perfect mouthful. A soft, downy patch covered her sweet, pink pussy. She was tall, nearly as tall as he, and legs that he loved from the first time he saw her in that short skirt in the shopping mall. He must have followed her around the mall - discreetly - for over an hour.
He'd summoned up every bit of courage he possessed, acting suave and debonair while feeling like a babbling idiot around her. Luckily, she liked him enough to accept his invitation to dinner. It had been the best dinner of his life, the conversation light and bubbly. It was the first of many dinners.
A few seconds later, he saw her sister Anya standing behind Jesse. Anya had been the reason for many of his recent visits to the home the sisters shared.
The sister's parents had died in their late teens, leaving them alone, but with more than enough funds to provide for themselves. They both came out of the life-shattering experience with few scars.
Paul had become intoxicated with Anya's decadent sensuality after only a couple of unplanned meetings alone. He felt crushing guilt over cheating on his lovely fiance, yet he couldn't seem to help himself. In bed with Anya, he was wild and free. She encouraged his kinky side, she wanted him to indulge all his wildest fantasies and she let him tell her things he'd never told another soul, not even Jesse.
Like her sister, Anya was tall, with ash-blonde hair and stunning eyes, although hers had flecks of green in them. Soft, small apple-rounded tits and great legs that, like her sister's, went on forever. She favored long dresses and heels, with sexy lingerie underneath. Unlike his Jesse, Anya shaved her pussy bare.
Both of his women were knockouts that night. Jesse stood before him, her hair braided. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of him. She was attired in a short, black cocktail dress, under which she obviously wore no bra. She teetered, ever so slightly, in the black stilettos he'd bought her for her birthday. She wore black pantyhose on her long legs. Jesse kissed him hello, hard, and with passion.
