Sharon also dressed very stylishly, too, changing frequently to fit her mood. She had been a perfect baby, and now she was a perfect young lady. In the last year she had suddenly sprouted up quite tall for her age, and then some, with enticing young breasts, a tiny waist and flat, flat, tummy, and long sleek slender, but well-turned legs which seemed to retain their tan longer than most girls' did. Added to this was her long Jean Harlow hair but a prettier oval face than Jean had ever aspired to, with pert little upturned nose, bright blue eyes, and a small but sultry mouth. Yes, her little sister was a real princess.

But Rhonda was not jealous of the girl, for her own attributes brought a jealous chagrin from most women on the streets.

Perhaps, thought Rhonda, if Bob were to have known my little sister better – thought of her as someone other than my little innocent sister – he might have had eyes for her.

Bob… what a sweetheart! Ten days would be unbearable, thought Rhonda with a frustrated whimper, as absentmindedly she watched a politician peck his wife on the cheek in front of the television cameras. God, just thinking about Bob and his big hard cock made her want to close the door and satisfy herself right there in front of the whole Democratic party.

Then the mental image of Bob's huge, warmly pulsating penis came into her mind, as she dully watched a presidential nominee take to the podium. She tried to concentrate on the Southerners' speech, listening to him rant about unemployment and the rising cost of living, but the mental picture of that long, hard hunk of maleness refused to go away. She kept seeing his thick shaft of virile flesh vividly, as if she could reach out and touch it. The little tingling sensations had increased now and she could feel her nipples harden beneath the bikini top she wore.