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She is even more beautiful than Helen, my wife of seven years. Helen's younger sister Debbie, a vision of human physical perfection, is standing before me about to step out of her only remaining article of clothing. She is blushing with down-turned, smiling eyes as she slides her dimpled knees back-and-forth against each other in a manner that suggests intimate sexual promise, to assist the downward fall of her white silk panties toward her slim ankles and then, with a modest kick of her pretty foot, up and over to the waiting pile of her other clothes. I am resting, wearing my white shirt and black slacks, with my feet crossed on the coffee table, gazing in awe at this spectacle of beauty and love, nervously standing before me. Even in her apparent embarrassment of presenting her nakedness to my rapt attention, she still possesses a kind of grace that is almost intimidating. While smiling back at her I raise my hand and, with a circular motion, I silently request my angel to turn around so that I might feast upon all of her charms. As Debbie's red, beautiful face turns from my view I quietly ask her to stop so that I can enjoy the sight of her graceful white back below her long red hair which points to her perfect bottom. She has a slimmer waist than her older sister, with slightly wider hips which taper downward past her lovely round, firm rump to soft, shapely legs and finally her small dainty ankles and feet. My heart, like hers, is racing in anticipation. I know that she can feel my gaze travel slowly back up from her pretty feet to her lush, inviting ass. And she knows that her intimate, sensitive, and now wet lips hidden between those lovely cheeks will soon sing to ...

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