Women: Conniving, Manipulating, Scheming...

by Jedd Clampett

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Fiction, Cheating, Petting, .

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: One man and more than one sister.

I remember the first time I saw Delwyn, that’s Del to his friends, I’d agreed to go this political seminar with my sister. My oldest sister’s name is Vonda. By the way my name is Sherry, as in Sherry Van Dyke.

All three of my siblings; I mean Vonda, Nancy and Chelsea are older than me, and like our mom and dad, they’re all right wing, conservatives. Yes, they’re Republican to the bone. I guess I’m the black sheep of the family. I’m a left wing liberal. In fact I’m about as left wing as they come.

Don’t get me wrong; this story isn’t about politics, but it was politics that got the ball rolling. Let me tell the story, and you’ll see what I mean.

We were all sitting around the table in my mom and dad’s dining room. Anyway this was three years after I saw Del at the seminar I just mentioned. My sisters, their husbands, and my parents were all riding me about the president. The president by the way is a Democrat, he’s black, and he’s a little on the liberal side.

My oldest sister, that’s Vonda, she was married to Del, and she was giving me this raft of poop about the president. She was telling me how he’s a liar, he’s corrupt, his birth certificate is a fake, he’s not really a Christian, and he well ... you know ... he’s just not like us.

Now I’d heard all this crap a hundred times before, but since I was the youngest of my dad’s ‘four misses’, I was expected to ‘tow the mark’, be a ‘good girl’, and not argue with ‘my elders’. Not this time! This time I decided to fight back. I fought back for my self-esteem, for the president, but also for another reason I’ll leave unmentioned.

My oldest sister, Vonda, was a woman I secretly hated with the kind of blind passion that would have made Osama Bin Laden proud, not that I liked him in any way shape or form She was waxing profound about how the president had committed all these ‘high crimes and misdemeanors’, and he should be impeached by the House, brought to trial in the Senate and removed from office.

I’d had enough. Vonda is the oldest and certainly the hottest of the four of us girls. She’s a cool 5’6”, weighs a taut 140 lbs.; she has light sandy colored hair, light blue eyes, and the kind of body men have gone to war over. I mean she has a classic set of hard nippled, pear shaped 36Cs that just make me want to puke. Add to that her classic wasp’s waist, a perfect heart shaped ass, and an absolutely gorgeous face and you’ve got everything I’m not.

Vonda’s a college graduate. I am too, as are my other sisters. She graduated from the local university, the names not important. Every city has a couple’ they’re the big colleges with a handful of token dormitories, but where almost everybody else commutes back and forth from home or from an apartment to school.

Vonda got her training in the medical profession, and emerged as a Physician’s Assistant. She got a pretty good job at the local hospital, and in a couple of years she was promoted to head PA. in the cardiac unit. Don’t ask me the details. I majored in English Literature and since then got a job teaching tenth grade English at one of the public schools. Among the four sisters I’m the least successful. They all say it’s because I’m the stupid one, and that’s why I’m a Democrat. Who knows? Maybe they’re right?

Well here we were sitting around mom and dad’s dining room table, and everybody was throwing dung on the wall about the president just to see what might stick. There’ve been these two senators, one from Arizona and another from South Carolina who’ve been doing it for years. Vonda was the loudest, and to me, the most obnoxious. I had heard just about enough.

I hope everyone’s still reading. This is where it starts to get good.

I gave Vonda one of my best hairy eyeballs, and asked her, “Vonda how many hours do you put in a week at the hospital?” Now this is an old song of hers; how she’s always on call, and how she has to put in all these long hours.

Vonda stiffened her back in pride, glanced at her loving husband, that’s Del, and answered, “I guess about seventy hours a week.”

I had her, “You’re that incompetent?”

She looked at me like I was really stupid. My dad started to say something, but I held up a hand and held him off. I looked back at my ever loving older sister, “This is America. In America most people put in around forty hours a week, actually thirty-seven and a half given a half hour off each day for lunch. You say you put in seventy hours so it means it takes you nearly twice as long to get done what everybody can get done in forty.”

Vonda flared back, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You...”

I cut her off. I wasn’t anywhere near finished, “Hold it,” I said, “There’s only four reasons I can think of why someone would be putting in that many hours. One I just mentioned; you’re incompetent. If it’s not that, then it must be you’re afraid of your ass.”

Vonda was getting mad, and as I looked around the table I knew no one was on my side. I was used to that so I went on, “I mean you work all these hours and you don’t complain? Come on. Seventy hours? You must be dead on your feet. You know how that works Vonda dear. Seventy hours! Hours like that must wear you down. You must be exhausted. Damn it sis, tired and fatigued people make mistakes. In your line of work a mistake could mean death! You haven’t murdered anybody lately have you?”

Now everybody was up in arms. I wasn’t finished, “OK, you haven’t killed anybody. You’re not incompetent, and you have asked for help. But I said there are four reasons why someone would work that many hours.”

My mom said, “Can’t we change the subject?”

Vonda wasn’t hearing it, “No let my little sister finish her rant.”

God did I have her now. I went on, “Reason number three. You work seventy hours a week because you don’t want to go home.”

It got real quiet. I pushed in the knife, “You stay at work because it’s less stressful at the hospital than at home. Maybe you don’t want to go home and face Del. Maybe Del puts you on edge. Maybe Del makes you unhappy,” I didn’t want to do this. Del was special, everyone will find out how special later, but I had to go on. I added, “Maybe Del upsets you? We all know he wants kids, and you want your career. Do you hate to go home because he reminds you how you let him down?

God was Vonda burning up. I think I hit some of the truth, but I still wasn’t done, “Vonda what’s reason number four?”

Vonda had always been jealous of me. I was the youngest. I was daddy’s baby. She was the oldest; dad always held her to a higher standard. Vonda glared at me and snarled, “OK smart ass; what’s reason number four?”

I had her! Gosh I really had her! I pulled out my hammer and my stake and drove it in her bitchy heart, “Vonda the fourth reason’s the worst. You work seventy hours because maybe you’re not actually working seventy hours. Damn it Vonda you work at a hospital! There are beds everywhere. You’re young! You’re hot! There are all these sexy doctors, and they’re all over the place! Doctors Vonda! What does Del do? Del is a damn camera man.”

I have to back up here. Del got his degree in some kind a communication electronics thing. He works at one of the local television stations in the news department. Whenever we watch something on TV, and we get the images and stuff; it’s somebody like Del behind some kind of camera taking the shots. No one knows he’s there; it’s the kind of job that’s important but he’s the technician, the expert who always remains anonymous; anonymous, that’s a word that is easy to grow to dislike.

I hated myself, but at that moment, that was exactly where I needed to be. I looked at Del, “Del maybe you ought to get some of those tiny voice activated recorders. Slip one in Vonda’s cell phone. She’ll never know. Slide one under her car seat. Next time you visit her at her office in the hospital hide one behind a chair. Maybe you should install a GPS unit in her car somewhere.”

I had Vonda in the corner of my eye. I knew I was being a bitch, but at that moment, at that precise instant I knew the truth. Vonda, my oldest sister, the family role model, was a lying cheating whore. I glanced briefly at Del. I felt like I’d just strangled a puppy. He knew it too!

I had to go on. I was driven. I was mad. I was insane, “Yeah Del hook up a GPS. Check on her car. Sure she’s always at the hospital, but maybe, just maybe, sometimes her little Honda might be parked in front of the Holiday Inn down on Crowell Bridge Road.”

Vonda went ballistic, “I don’t have to listen to any more of this. Sherry you make me sick!”

I knew it was time to back off. I’d done what I wanted to do, now I could go back and play the politics game. “I’m sorry Vonda. Everybody knows I made it all up. We all know you’re a dedicated worker. You do work a real seventy hours each week. You love your home life. You do love Del. You’d never cheat on him. God everyone knows you and he are the perfect couple. I only said the stuff I did to show everyone how easy it is make someone look bad. Sure I guess the president’s made some mistakes. Don’t we all? I mean look how easy it is to tear up someone as honest and as dedicated as you Vonda. Crap, think of the job the president has. I bet he puts in seventy hours each week too.”

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Fiction / Cheating / Petting /