Sisterhood of Sin -- 13 -- The Cousin Who Isn't - Sex Stories

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Sisterhood of Sin -- 13 -- The Cousin Who Isn't

Date: 11/11/2014, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: LastWife, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

from mine. "As you can imagine, my life was a mess for a good while after that. It still is. I'm on my second marriage and if I hadn't joined our cause, that would be a distant memory. I might be able to keep this husband, but only because he's a lump of flesh. No ambition to find a better wife. "So now I am a free spirit, thanks to a novice nun who gained the nickname of Sister Twisted when a girl she probably seduced told a story to a boy from the other side of the wall." "You said probably. Maybe she didn't deserve this nickname?" "She did. I know of one other girl she succeeding in seducing. You're looking at her. Nobody else knows about this, so I'm really trusting you here, for Danny's sake. Don't get me wrong, we weren't exactly 'girls'. The other girl and I were both seniors, and I'm pretty sure the other girl was just as willing as I was. Maritha was only a few years older than us. So now you probably want to know about Maritha and Dan. I think I like you enough to tell you, but not here. Do you like the blues?" "Yes. I can't say I'm a big fan, but I like what I've heard." "Good. I know a very special place. It will be a good place for this tale." I ponder what I've learned as we finish dinner. Dan was raised with two older sisters and two younger sisters, plus Celine who is a few months older than him. His best male friend during that time was his cousin, Scott, who was also his age. Dan was an altar boy and a devout Catholic, but something or someone changed him ... before I met him. His connection to the Church became severely weakened. I think Maritha might be that someone. He would never talk about those years until I coaxed that fantasy and confession out of him. Now, I have a hint of the layers I never knew existed. We leave the hotel in a cab. She gives the cabby an address, instead of mentioning a bar name. I have heard about the many famous blues bars in Chicago, but the building we are delivered to is a nondescript old brick building that was once a slaughterhouse. The sign on the door says, 'The Sapphire Club'. Celine shows a membership card to gain entry for us. Inside is a world I never imagined existed. It is in many ways a typical bar, with Chicago style blues being played at a pleasant volume from a sound track. It is the clientele that makes it unique. The patrons, or maybe I should call them customers or even matrons, are all elegantly dressed women. Even the bartender and servers are dressed to impress. I wonder if the name of club implies a connection to sapphic love. I'm not seeing overt displays of affection, but there's a sense of feminine intimacy here. Some of the women do a double-take when they see first Lini and then me as we walk past. They must think that we are sisters, maybe even twins. "Is this your first time in a Sapphire Club?" "Yes. Are there more of them?" "In most major cities. It's international. One of our sisters is a partner in the franchise in Montreal. This is my first time in Chicago's." The ...