Pointing to the cupboard under the island, she surprised me by saying, “There’s a bottle of red wine in the island that should go great with the lasagna.” Neither of us had ever really been big on wine, Rheta rarely having any alcohol at all, so the fact that she was suggesting it in the first place was compounding shock upon shock for this evening.
Giving her a raised eyebrow, I asked, “And what will our other date say about that? And I’m not sure that, if you don’t want to have tonight get too crazy, having wine is a good idea.” Despite my words, I still fetched the wine and the corkscrew to open it.
“It was Mom’s idea to have the wine,” Rheta responded. “And as for not wanting to get too crazy, the wine makes for a great scapegoat.” The look in her eyes was like she was daring me to challenge this, while also saying that tonight was going to get a little crazy. If we only knew.
Popping the cork out of the bottle, I gave that same dashing smile that I’d given when I’d returned to the kitchen, and said, “Well, if my dates wish it, what kind of gentleman would I be to deny the two beauties who deigned to spend their evening with me.”
Hearing me call her a beauty made my sister blush. Bringing over both her glass as well as the bottle to pour both mine and Mom’s drinks, I sat down. “Well, my date said that it was expected that we dress up nice, so I’m just being a good date and dressing nice.”
“Nice is an understatement. When you walked into the kitchen just now, I think my heart stopped for a minute.” I made sure that I looked deep into her eyes as I said this.
“Well,” she said, blushing, “turnabout is fair play, right? I mean, when I picked out that outfit, I didn’t realize how we-I mean, how good it would end up looking on you.” The blush she was giving at this was from the embarrassment from revealing that she thought I looked good; if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought she was about to say how wet she’d gotten seeing me.
Before I could think of a way to tease her about my hypothesis, more high heeled clacking came from the hallway as Mom rejoined us for dinner. Walking into the kitchen, I was slightly confused at first, for it didn’t look like Mom had changed. Turning her back to us, she gave a sexy grin over her shoulder as she dropped the silk kimono to the floor. The dress Mom was wearing, if it could even be called a dress, was a little black number. And I do mean little, for it barely came past the curve of her ass before stopping just past the tops of her stockings. Where Rheta’s were a sea of kaleidoscopic floral patterns, Mom’s were simply plain, but still had the noticeable seam run up the back of her legs. Like my sister, Mom’s dress hugged her upside-down heart shaped ass perfectly; so perfectly in fact that I was even able to make out each cheek through the clinging material. When she turned to face us, I again had to brace myself to keep from falling over. Her massive breasts were being hugged equally as tightly as her ass was by the dress, that I swear I could make out every bump of her areolae as well as see that her nipples were clearly hard. Looking to her face, I first noticed a tight string of pearls around her throat, then her fire hydrant red lips (which just screamed to me: your cock goes in here), her eyes also had a smoky eye but hers were more a midnight purple, and then finally her hair. Unlike Rheta who’d kept her bun, Mom’s hair was let fully down with the exception of two braids that started just behind her ears, running down the inside of her shoulders, stopping with the rest of her hair at her belly button.
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