Rodrigo and his new war brides.

"It'll be good to see Rodrigo again," Michelle commented.

"You mean it'll be good to fuck him again," Sharona responded.

Michelle rolled her green eyes. "Don't be too eager to jump his bones, sis; we don't want to keep him from making up for lost time with his husband."

Her twin shrugged, "I suppose. Well, in that case we'll be getting to know his new wives, then."

Michelle paused and turned to face her sister. "Right, how many of them are there again?"

Sharona refrained from needling her twin about her difficulty remembering new people. Instead, she pulled out her phone, and pulled up a photo. Michelle leaned over her sister's shoulder to get a good look; Sharona for her part admired the view of her voluptuous sister's magnificent cleavage; she'd be jealous if her own body wasn't equally luscious.

Michelle said nothing at being leered at, and instead took in the photo of tall, dark, and handsome Rodrigo surrounded by a trio of dark-haired Afghan beauties, their loveliness displayed by the skimpy harem outfits their religion required.

"OK, which wife is which?"

Michelle pointed to the one kneeling at Rodrigo's feet, a busty older woman in her 50s, her face still lovely and her body thick in all the right places. "That's Laila. The curvy teen he's motorboating is her younger daughter, Fakhira. The thin one is her older daughter, Rashida. Aren't they yummy-looking?"

Sharona nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to enjoy having them around."

She suddenly looked up from the phone as another member of the family entered the room.