Valerie's Tempting Sister

Two conservative adults fall in love at a church service. They quickly become engaged, but will Valerie's sexy 18-year-old sister Carmen upset the apple cart?

Part One

I was an oddball in my family because I was a spiritual person. None of my parents, aunts nor uncles were churchgoers. Neither were either set of my grandparents. I had to go back three generations to have a relative who attended religious services even occasionally.

My name is Norman Filmore. I was much like my relatives until my mid-twenties. Sometime around my 26th birthday I began to sense a void in my life. I was doing well in the business world as a proofreader and an editor of publications large and small. I had many friends—but yet I was not close to finding a special someone to be my soulmate, life partner, and wife. The more I dated, the less optimistic I became. All the women I encountered were shallow, vapid, and seemingly obsessed with material goods and frivolous nonsense.

One day I got into a conversation with a Greek friend of mine. I told him about my dating woes. He suggested something I had never considered. “Norman, why don’t you attend a church service? There are always plenty of nice, marriageable, young women there who are well-grounded and moral. That’s the type of woman you seem to be seeking. Am I right?”

My friend was indeed right! I had never considered that option because I had only ever set foot in churches for other people’s weddings and community events. There was a small, non-denominational Christian church located just two blocks from my home. The sign on the lawn stated that newcomers seeking spiritual fulfillment were always welcome to attend services. Times were listed. I figured, “Why not?” and showed up for a Sunday evening service in March of 1976. I had recently turned 30 years old.

I was greeted quite warmly by the 40 or 50 people who made up the congregation, as well as Reverend Simms, their minister. I immediately felt welcome amongst them. I couldn’t help but notice that the vast majority of the women there were quite fetching and made a point of dressing nicely to highlight their physical beauty. Those with families, without exception, had their youngsters dressed well, too. In a way, it was if I had traveled back in time by half a century.

Reverend Simms’ sermon was titled, “Do You Think It Happened by Chance?” It focused on incidents that occur in our everyday lives that we automatically dismiss as good or bad luck, or outright flukes. Reverend Simms said that some of them undoubtedly were just that, but he argued that others ought to be attributed to a greater force that was managing the universe: God. I found the sermon utterly compelling. He spoke for 45 minutes, but it felt like three minutes. I applauded it—which seemed to be out of the norm, but then a few other parishioners joined me. Before long, everyone was clapping enthusiastically. Reverend Simms had a good sense of humor and immediately ordered the Welcoming Committee to ensure that I returned for his next sermon. I found out there really was a Welcoming Committee at Gordon Street Christian Church. One of the welcomers was a beautiful, young woman named Valerie Sheppard.

Part Two

“Please join us now for some fellowship. We have hot coffee and tea and lots of cookies for your enjoyment. What is your name, friend?”

I told him my name was Norman Filmore, I had recently turned 30 years old, and I lived only a short walk away from the church. I also mentioned I had seldom been so captivated by a speech in my life. He told me his name was Gregory Hillman.

Gregory escorted me to a large, round table where five people were already sitting. “Meet our official Welcoming Committee, Norman.” I heard everyone’s name, but I only focused on this unbelievably lovely female whose name I quickly committed to memory: Valerie Sheppard.

She was about 5’5” tall, had a beautiful face with high cheekbones, gorgeous chestnut-brown hair that dipped just below her shoulders—and a figure that could not be ignored. Valerie was the most welcoming person on the Welcoming Committee. Long after the others had left, Valerie stayed and talked to me one-on-one. Not only was she stunningly good looking, Valerie was witty, charming, and obviously intelligent. I had never met anyone remotely like her.

Valerie was a great hostess, too. She poured me cup after cup of coffee and was not happy until I had sampled every type of homemade cookie from the large serving tray in the center of the table. She told me she was 24, unmarried, unattached, and lived alone.

“That’s impossible!” I insisted. “No one with your looks, charm and personality can be possibly alone! Do you work out of your home and avoid interacting with men?” I asked.

“No,” she laughed. “I work as a receptionist for several doctors simultaneously. Think of Carol from The Bob Newhart Show. That’s the type of job I have—so I encounter plenty of males. I’m just very choosy about whom I date. So many men I meet are shallow, vapid and totally focused on unimportant things.”

I almost choked on the cookie I was eating when I heard Valerie’s last sentence. It was nearly a verbatim echo of my all-purpose complaint about the women I had dated—and I told Valerie so! She gasped at the coincidence. I thought back to Reverend Simms’ sermon about whether some greater power was now manipulating my life. I said to her, “This may sound very forward, but I think we were destined to meet today. Have you had dinner? I’d love to treat you to a meal!”

We went to a popular diner and stayed there eating late-night specials and sipping on coffee until it closed at 1 a.m. (Valerie later confessed she had already eaten a large meal before the church service, but she did not want to turn down a date offer from a kindred soul that might not come again.) We held hands most of the time as we chatted. Slowly but surely, there was a void in both our lives that was disappearing. We shared a very passionate, lengthy kiss when I took her home. “When is our next date?” I asked her. “I intend to marry you, and I want to speed up the courtship process.”

She calmly said, “I’m busy tomorrow night, Norman, but I’m free on Tuesday. Yes, Norman, I want to marry you, too. Consider yourself engaged.”

That was what I called a successful first date. However, I mentally criticized myself for never having attended a church service before.

Part Three

Valerie and I were inseparable for the next three months. We discovered we shared the same type of quirky humor, liked the same genres of music and movies, and had a shared passion for playing board games. Our similar religious beliefs did not allow for premarital sexual activities, but we got as close to it as possible. Groping and caressing were permitted, to a point. One night our kissing and cuddling became so passionate I had to excuse myself for five minutes to masturbate in my bathroom behind a closed door lest I soil my trousers with my own semen. Valerie thought that was hilarious. I suppose it was—but what a waste of a great ejaculation!

In July, Valerie received a visitor who would be staying with her for a month. It was her younger sister, Carmen. At 18, she was impressively a junior version of Valerie, perhaps an inch shorter in height and not quite as busty. Nevertheless, she was a real looker. Apparently, she was a sexually uninhibited gal, so her parents had shipped Carmen 200 miles westward to spend all of July and a bit of August with her morally upright older sister in the hopes that Valerie’s good qualities would rub off on her. Carmen and I, a frequent visitor who never stayed overnight, got along splendidly.

One night, about two weeks after Carmen’s arrival, the three of us were about to begin a game of Monopoly, when the phone rang. One of the doctors who employed Valerie as a receptionist had mislaid about eight urgent letters that my fiancée had already typed for him. He believed he had accidentally left them in a taxi. Whatever the case, the doctor was going to re-dictate the letter so Valerie could retype them in time to drop them off at the post office where they had a very late pick-up time. Valerie explained that she would be paid a huge bonus if she returned to the office to take the letters down in shorthand, retype them, and get them to the post office before 11 p.m. “I’ll have to pass on Monopoly tonight. Sorry!” she apologized, and scurried out the door.

The Monopoly game board had already been set up, so I helped Carmen put all its pieces back into the box. I then prepared to go home and find something to watch on TV for that night’s entertainment.
Carmen had other ideas. “Hey, just because Valerie had to go back to work for a few hours, it doesn’t mean you have to leave, too, Norman.”

I innocently asked, "Oh, do you want me to stick around, Carmen, and play a game just with you?"
Carmen laughed and said, "Only if the name of the game we play is called Screw Valerie's Fiancé."
“Huh?" I uttered loudly. I was in something akin to a state of shock by what I thought I had just heard.
"Yes, you heard me correctly, Norman," Carmen expounded. "I'll gladly let you fuck me tonight. I like sex—a lot. I'm good at it, too. Besides, you're okay with me and you're really not a bad-looking adult male. I've certainly bedded worse than you, Norman. That's beyond dispute!"

There was a compliment hidden in there somewhere. Nevertheless, I was still amazed by the content of this conversation. "This certainly takes me by surprise, Carmen," I stated.

"That's par for the course," Valerie's little sister explained. "You're used to being around my virginal sister and her high moral standards. Valerie and I are biological sisters. We look almost identical, but we are total opposites on the morality spectrum. I'm a hedonist. I enjoy having fun. I’m sure Valerie does, too! However, her idea of a fun date is a Yahtzee marathon for two. Mine is fucking entirely for the purpose of personal pleasure. So, are you in, Norman? I'll tell you what: You can come on my face, if you like. I enjoy it when I can make a lover ejaculate there. It proves that I'm good in bed—which is exactly what I strive to be."

I honestly did not know how to answer Carmen. She was undeniably desirable, almost being a copy of her spectacular sibling. However, sleeping with my fiancée’s little sister would be a horrible breach of trust—and it would also violate my own strict code of morals. Nevertheless, a wild sexual romp with the uninhibited Carmen would be an enjoyable break in an otherwise dull routine. There was no way I'd be getting a similar offer from Valerie anytime soon.

"Alright, Carmen. Let's do it!" I affirmed.

Carmen said with a cheeky grin, "Well, Norman, I must say you pleasantly surprise me. I suspected you might be as dull as my sister about things like this. I applaud you for recognizing a good thing."

I nodded my thanks to Carmen. "Shall we head up to your bedroom?" I politely asked my soon-to-be bedmate.

"We could do it right here if you prefer," Carmen offered. "That's a big, comfy leather chair over there in the corner of the room. You could sit on it with your dick pointing up, and I could ride you until you lose your load. Does that sound like fun to you, Norman?"

Yes, that definitely sounded like fun--and I told her so. Carmen and I both moved swiftly across the room toward Valerie's enormous black leather chair to have a fun fuck together.
Part Four

My conscience was still bothering me, but I dismissed its opinion when Carmen began disrobing. For an 18-year-old fresh out of high school, she had been well put together. I was sitting on Valerie’s black leather chair with a full-fledged erection aiming skyward, as suggested by her sister as Carmen gave me a bit of a striptease act in case my penis needed any further encouragement to reach its maximum length. It didn’t. The grand finale included Carmen sexily dropping both her panties and her bra on top of my head.

“Do you want me, Norman?” she asked in a sultry voice that reminded me of Lauren Bacall.

I answered Carmen by pointing directly at my strong erection. Carmen seemed uninterested in foreplay as she immediately climbed onto my lap and dropped her pussy directly onto my manhood. She was obviously not new at this sort of thing.

Carmen was tighter than I imagined she would be, so the sensation of the tip of my phallus probing her pussy was quite pleasant. I helped things along by placing my hands on Carmen’s hips and guiding her up and down my shaft. Carmen provided her own natural lubrication
.
My face was well positioned to enjoy Carmen’s tits once they stopped bouncing. They may have been the least appealing part of her body—which indicated how wonderfully attractive Carmen was in her birthday suit. Her nipples were definitely first rate, however, with their stiffness and slightly upward tilt. I moved my hand from Carmen’s waist so I could give her tits a good squeezing while I sucked on them.
“Are they better than my sister’s boobs, Norman?”

“How would I possibly know that?” I answered honestly.

“That’s the answer I wanted to hear!” joked Carmen.

I laughed along with Carmen and then surprised her by lifting her off my stiff shaft and changing positions with me. Now she was the one sitting on the chair. I was towering over her. “Spread your legs so I can fuck you this way,” I said assertively.

Carmen complied. Her pussy looked marvelous, so I quickly filled it missionary style with my throbbing erection. I gave Carmen about a dozen strong thrusts, and I knew an ejaculation was on its way. I remembered Carmen’s enticement and positioned my penis at the tip of her nose. Two tugs produced a massive ejaculation that landed all over Carmen’s pretty face and in her hair. A few wayward drops struck the wall behind the chair. Carmen had drawn the best out of me! Once she had wiped her face clean with a towel, I passionately kissed her and praised her as the best fuck I’d ever had in my life.

“Geez, Carmen, that was wonderful! Where were you when I was 18?” I asked rhetorically.

She gave me a serious answer. “Since you are 12 years older than I am, I would have been enrolled in Miss Kenmore’s first-grade class.
”
I tidied myself up in the bathroom, got dressed, and vacated Valerie’s home shortly thereafter. I was feeling guilty at violating my moral code and cheating on my fiancée with her sexy younger sister, but Carmen was such a great sex partner that I headed for my car as happy as a lark.

I had a date with Valerie scheduled for the next night. We had tickets to a play, but we dined out before we went to the theater. I asked Valerie about her unexpected evening of work. She told me that she had kept her original dictation notes, which saved repeating a lot of the work, but her boss dictated three new letters to her, so she ended up typing about a dozen letters in total and taking all of them to the drop slot at the downtown post office before 11 p.m. Valerie’s boss generously paid her $400 for about three hours of work—a fantastic sum for a receptionist to earn in 1976.

Just to make polite conversation, Valerie sneakily asked me, “Once I left the house last night, did you leave right away too, or did you stay for a while and have sex with Carmen?”

I figured I must have had a guilty face. I was seconds away from confessing the truth when Valerie laughed. “I’m just kidding, Norman, but I wouldn’t put that sort of thing past Carmen. When I was 18, she slept with two of my boyfriends within a month.”

“Is that really true?” I asked, knowing full well it likely was.

“Yep,” was all that came out of Valerie’s mouth.

Then the arithmetic hit me. “You are six years older than Carmen, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Valerie agreed.

“Valerie,” I said slowly, “that means when she had sex with your two boyfriends that Carmen was only…”
“Yes, Norman. Let’s change the subject, please. I’m sorry I even mentioned Carmen’s name. She’s incorrigible and has been for a long time, I’m afraid.”

I was tempted to add that she was also a fabulous fuck, but I wisely kept silent instead.