Sister Act

It was 2006 when I first met Arlene at a Christmas party at a mutual friend's house in Seattle's Queen Anne neighborhood.

Across a crowded room, with Leonard Cohen's "First We Take Manhattan" playing discreetly in the background, I spotted her leaning against the fireplace, lips curled in a half-smile, tall and full-bodied in her late 40's. She had shoulder-length wavy brown hair with little blonde highlights and wore a green silk cocktail dress that bared her well-rounded shoulders and arms. She was nursing a champagne flute and nodding with barely concealed impatience as a 50-something doctor -- whom I knew to be a crashing bore from my work at Swedish Medical Center -- tried to chat her up. Something about her stirred a chord in me.

Finishing off my crantini, I excused myself from the little circle next to the Christmas tree and made my way through the other revellers over to the fireplace. Ignoring the doctor, I approached her from the side and boldly laid my hand on her warm, soft shoulder. "That dress looks lovely on you," I said with a smile as she turned her head.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed with a delight that surprised me. "It's so good to see you. When did you get here?"

"About an hour ago," I said, bemused but not arguing as she wrapped her arms around me. Her full, heavy breasts felt incredible through the silk.

"Would you excuse us?" she said curtly to the doctor. "It's been lovely, but I have to catch up with my girlfriend." He grunted something inaudible and headed for the canapes.

She gave me an unabashed once-over. I could feel her eyes devouring me. I was dressed to kill in new Italian leather boots, black diamond-patterned stockings, and a round-neck, sleeveless black Calvin Klein lace sheath dress. I'd already been propositioned by two married men, one of whom was a former national rowing team star. My friend Janine, the hostess, was well-aware of my habits and had told me I could use the guest bedroom on the second floor if I met anyone I wanted.

"So...do we know each other?" I asked after a long, delicious pause.

"Ha! No," she said, brushing her hair off the side of her face. "I just had to get rid of that guy. And I think I spotted you before you spotted me. You look like a lot of fun. I don't know what it is. Something about you."

"You've got that little sparkle in the eye," I said. "I can always spot a like-minded woman. I'm Frederika, by the way."

"Arlene," she said. "It's a pleasure. You know, I don't know anybody here but Janine."

"Really?"

"Do you remember she used to own an apartment in Bellevue?"

"Oh yes, not too far from one I own, actually."

"Well, I sold it for her a couple of months ago for a very tidy profit. I'm an agent with RE/MAX."

"All makes sense now. Janine and I work together at Swedish Medical Center. Probably 10 years now."

There was something about Arlene that made me feel very comfortable around her. With a flirtatious touch of my hand on her right elbow, I guided Arlene toward a couple of free seats on the leather couch in the corner of the living room.

As we sat down together, thighs touching, Janine bustled over toward us with a tray. "Can I offer you girls another round?"

"Just water for me," I said. "Perrier would be lovely."

"Same for me," said Arlene.

"I'll be right back," said Janine, who always loved to play the gracious hostess.

The music got louder, something by Gwen Stefani. I leaned in to murmur into Arlene's ear. "I'm not much of a drinker, really. I like to save my energy for other pursuits."

"'Other pursuits'?" Arlene said with a sly smile. "I wonder what those could be."

"My job gives me considerable latitude as far as driving around this city -- I suppose much like real estate would in your case. Let's just say that I have my fun when I'm out and about. A lot of fun."

Arlene shifted her body toward me, her ample cleavage on full display. "Well, now you've definitely got my attention. I have a pretty good sense of when someone is making an offer. Very necessary in my business."

Wow. Things were escalating even faster than I'd dreamed.

I smiled at her and was about to reply when Janine returned with our glasses of Perrier. "Look at you two! So cute together. I wish I had my camera. I think Robert took it downstairs. You look just like sisters."

We laughed, exchanged glances and clinked our glasses. Janine bustled off again.

"She's got a point," I said. "Do you have some Irish blood, Arlene?"

"My grandparents are from County Kildare. We went over and visited them a couple of times when I was growing up. Then they moved to New York for my grandfather's work. How about you?"

I produced my driver's license from my purse and showed her my clearly Irish surname. "Any more questions?"

"Actually, I'm bursting with questions," Arlene said. "We're coming up to Christmas, and it's the season to be jolly, so I'm wondering just what kind of fun you like to have in your spare time."

"The kind almost every woman in her 40's would love to be having," I said saucily.

Arlene pressed her thigh hard into mine, aware of but unconcerned with the glances that the nearby men were giving us. "Are you married?"

"Yes. But my husband doesn't know one-tenth of what I get up to. Everyone thinks I'm the quiet one. But I have a very strong, secret, 'fuck-you' side of my personality."

"I'm much the same," said Arlene. "Married five years. But very, very non-monogamous. And bisexual. Does that excite you?"

My cunt was soaked from our low-voiced conversation and I put my arm across the back of the couch, almost cradling her. "I've known I was bi since I was very young. You know what excites me? You do, Arlene."

Her breasts brushed against me as she replied: "The feeling is mutual. And I just have a hunch that you'd be excited to learn that there's more to what I do professionally than sell real estate."

"I want to know all about this," I said. "I want you to tell me about it in the guest bedroom. Meet me there in five minutes."

I rose and confidently maneuvered my way out of the party.

A month later, Arlene and I had gotten to know each other much better. We'd become passionate lovers, regularly meeting for illicit sex in the houses she was selling.

Making out under a heat lamp on the deck of a three-storey 1920's mansion in Madison Park. Sucking each other's big tits for long, lazy, delicious hours on a red velvet chaise in a 25th-floor luxury condo overlooking Elliott Bay. I once got fingerfucked by her in the huge marble bathroom of a beautiful Tudor-style home, where I'd hidden inside a vintage armoire, waiting for a prospective buyer to leave so I could cream like I deserved to.

But that wasn't all. Arlene had tapped into one of my longest-held secret fantasies with the revelation that she worked as an escort on the side. In fact, she told me directly: "I love escorting. I want to do more of it. There is nothing better than acting like the nastiest slut you can imagine and getting paid for it." And when she invited me to join her on an outcall with a shocking premise, I was more than eager to join in. I told my husband I'd be working late that night.

The elegantly dressed older woman slid the envelope across the table to me, and I placed it in my purse and put my arm around Arlene. I'd taken the pseudonym of "Emma" for this outcall, while Arlene was "Ingrid." We were in a spacious, intimately lit suite at the Seattle Airport Marriott. Across the room on the king-sized bed, the woman's husband reclined, wearing just his Donna Karan briefs, a thick partial erection visible through the fabric. Trim with toned muscles, he stroked his length as he listened to us talking.

And no wonder, for Arlene and I were both fully nude. The only thing I had on was a small gold crucifix dangling from my neck. It felt so good and so exhibitionistic to be this way in front of two anonymous strangers who were paying to watch us.

"Thank you for your discretion," the wife said. "So, you two are really sisters. I can see it. How did you two...get together?"

"Ingrid gave me my first orgasm when I was a teenager," I told her. "I was the aggressor. We used to share the same room since we grew up in a small house. One night, after our parents had turned in for the night, I got out of my bed and climbed into hers. I cozied up from behind against this beautiful ass" -- Arlene stood and pivoted to show the woman -- "and I put my arms around her. For a moment, she thought I just wanted to cuddle. But then, when I slid my hands inside her pyjama top and began fondling her nipples, my sister realized I wanted a whole lot more. I'm proud to say that she ate my pussy out for the first time that night. I was sitting on Ingrid's face, and at the very same time, I could hear the sounds of fucking coming from the upstairs bedroom. I came unbelievably fucking hard."

The husband was glued to my every word. He'd now taken out his cock and was stroking it urgently, trying hard not to come but wanting desperately to do so.

"My husband has wanted this for a long time," the wife said. "This is my birthday present to him. One of his biggest fantasies. Two gorgeous sisters who can't get enough of each other."

"We're both bisexual," Arlene said with calm assurance. "We both love taboo. And we both love to perform."

I took her hand and we paraded -- sisters side by side -- over to the bed, and reclined on the duvet, showing off our beautiful, voluptuous, nude bodies.

Smiling with pure pleasure, Arlene turned to me. "Kiss me, Emma."

I slowly extended my tongue from my mouth, making eye contact with both the wife and her husband, before starting to French-kiss her. The husband leaned over us to get a good view. I could feel his fat erection rubbing against my back and I didn't pull away. My hands roamed all over Arlene, and I loved it when she began to squeeze and caress my ass shamelessly.

As previously agreed, the wife took out an old Polaroid camera and took some tight close-up shots as Arlene leaned up and began to suck my left tit. I was groaning with how good it felt. And the audience made it even more exciting.

I reached down and opened my slit so that the wife could photograph that too. I was soaked from Arlene's knowing tongue and the way she manipulated my other nipple with her free hand. I was also on fire from the knowledge that I was cheating on my husband and getting paid for it.

Arlene pulled back for a second. "God, you smell so good, baby. Emma always uses satsuma body cream. Every time I smell it, I think about touching, caressing, and eating her. But first, I'm going to play with her with my fingers."

"I've taken a lot of cocks inside me," I told the husband, looking him in the eye. "I love getting off any way I fucking choose. But nothing feels better than one sister masturbating another sister."

I lifted my ass up to show everyone that I had a thick butt plug inserted firmly inside me. The feeling of fullness was exactly what I deserved. "Like what you see?" I asked the husband challengingly.

He nodded, wide-eyed, pre-come dripping from the tip of his cock.

"Why don't you put that dick in my mouth, you motherfucker?" I said. "I want to be filled completely. Your wife can bring over my purple vibrator, and Ingrid will put it up my cunt. Then my sister will frig me off."

I opened my engorged, unshaven cunt lips wide to accommodate the thick vibrator. I groaned loudly to show everybody just how good it felt as Ingrid thrust it inside and turned it on.

Then I lay back as the husband straddled my face, and I took his cock as deep in my mouth as I could, feeling his heat and the veins standing out.

Arlene squirted a dab of lube on her fingers -- almost unnecessary since I was completely soaked -- and began to rub my swollen clit with a rapid motion diagonally across my bead.

It felt unbelievably good. The wife snapped another Polaroid. Jesus fucking Christ. I was moaning on the bed, writhing like a wild animal.

Everybody was totally focused on me. I began to stiffen up. Arlene was encouraging me on with filth as she masturbated me knowingly: "Come on, that's my little sister. That's my good girl. You like it when your big sis plays with your cunt in front of everyone? You like having me suck your tits like sisters do? Remember how you used to spy on me fucking my boyfriend and I caught you, and invited you in so he could fuck you from behind while I licked your clit? There's nothing better than fucking and sucking with your sister, is there? Is there?"

Arlene's words sent both me and the husband over the edge. I heard him yell out and then he ejaculated straight down my throat, hot, sweet, and thick. I swallowed it all and let out a cry of my own as my climax hit hard. Arlene continued to rub my clit furiously, milking one orgasm after another out of me. As the husband pulled out of my mouth, I let his come trickle out on the pillows -- another nasty sight for his wife to photograph.

We all lay there for a while recovering. Afterwards, the wife ordered orange juice mimosas for all of us from room service. She then consulted briefly with her husband in the other room of the suite, before coming back to inquire: "Would it...be possible for me to join in with you and Ingrid?"

What a way to start off 2007. That turned out to be one of our most exciting outcalls that year, and after that experience, I was lusting for more. And believe me, I got it.