Language: English / Genre:home_sex,

Two Sinful Sisters

Louis Nin

Louis Kahn Nin

Two Sinful Sisters

Chapter I. Through the Blonde Pubes and into Her Slit

I was 33, divorced, selling shoes in a shopping mall and feeling pretty lost and not all that confident. My ex-wife had left me for someone else: a woman; at 28, she realized she was a lesbian and not “a breeder,” is how she put it. This story isn't about her, however; it's about Donna and her younger sister.

I met Donna on a muggy afternoon. I left the store for a few minutes to get some air, stretch and clear my head. I walked across the street to the shopping strip. It was a lot like every other one you see: grocery store, drug store, fast food joint in the center of the parking lot and a half a dozen various stores mixed in, selling this or that. Over the year or so I had been here I made a habit of walking to the drug store for a pack of cigarettes or a candy bar, for something to do on my break. Like every other day I walked in wandered the aisles for a minute or two, picked up my candy bar and walked up to the counter.

I admit that I seem to have a devious devil in me that loves to tease young girls, particularly when they are in a work situation-a waitress or a clerk who hesitate to tell me to fuck off. I usually get them flustered, saying how pretty they are, like models or movie stars, and asking them to marry me, run away to Vegas or Paris or something grandly outrageous

I approached the counter and noticed that there was a new girl working the checkout. She was 18–20, cute, blonde hair, nice build, not too chesty but enough that you would not mistake her for a boy. What stuck out most: she had wide emerald green eyes. And braces.

I couldn't help myself. I placed my candy bar on the counter asked for a pack of whatever brand I was smoking at the time and waited for her to give me a total.

“That will be $7.45,” she said.

I handed over a ten dollar bill. “Here you go Donna.” I saw her nametag, pinned above her left breast. I smiled at her like her were old friends.

“Do I know you?” she asked, flustered by my stare.

I pouted. “Oh, Donna, I'm hurt you don't remember me.”

She blushed. “I'm sorry, you look familiar but I can't place you.”