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Cumshots

My little Sister turns the key and swings open the door to her room at State U. I’m astonished by what I see. One wall is devoted to photos that Manda has taken of me–hundreds of them. They’re dominated by a poster-sized enlargement, captured in our basement during a drunken game of teen-age strip poker. I’m wearing cotton briefs that leave nothing to the imagination–and a bashful grin. Another wall is covered with snapshots of Manda and her foxy friends. Several show her wound into the kind of sexul embrace that suggests her female friendships may involve a whole lot more than girl talk and shopping.An hour ago, I might have been shocked by Manda’s sexual interest in women–and in me. But that was before we broke too many taboos to count at Ruby’s Massage Palace. Ironically, the only thing that really troubles me now is my failure to report Ruby’s many Fire Code violations. If the Massage Palace burns to the ground and someone is maimed or killed, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it. But, frankly, fire prevention isn’t on my mind right now. Quite the istanbul travesti opposite.While some would consider it wicked, our encounter at Ruby’s has merely fanned the flames of forbidden desire, and left me burning for more. I need to taste her, to feel her climax in my mouth, as I did in hers. And even that may not be enough to quench the lust I now feel for Manda.As usual, she reads my thoughts.”I’ve always loved you in that way too, you know,” she says.”A sexual way?” I ask stupidly. “Yes, Sweetie. Sexual. Ever since my panties started disappearing.””Oh, my, God!” I exclaim, more to myself than to Manda. “Busted.”She laughs, eyes sparkling in amusement and affection. “You were never half as crafty as you thought, Charlie. I saw you jerking off with my panties. I always knew when you were getting started. Your bed would rattle the wall like you were trying to knock it down. May not have sounded loud on your side. But in my room, it was like the percussion section in ‘STOMP!'””Oh, my, God!” is all I can say. “But how… how did istanbul travestileri you see?””I’d just opened your door an inch or two, Big Bro. You were always way too occupied with whippin’ it to notice,” she says, an almost wistful look on her face. “You have no idea how much that excited me. How badly I wanted to burst into the room and help you.””Manda… Manda….” I stammer. “I had no idea!””Don’t go all ‘Manda, Manda’ on me, Charlie. How many nights did you peek through my window, Big Bro? Dozens? Hundreds?””Oh… My… God….””Sweetie, you’re repeating yourself. You’re way too young for Alzheimer’s,” she teases. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to embarrass you. I just want you… to… to know how it was for me.””You know…. about me… your window?” “Of course, Sweetie. Not exactly when you started, but I couldn’t miss that gap in my curtains. I’d close it and by the next night, it would be right back again. Peeping poltergeists? I don’t thinks so. There had to be a better explanation. Like my horny Big Bro.””But you… travesti istanbul you… never….” I can’t even manage to choke it out.”Never stopped putting on a show for you?” she completes the question for me. “Of course not, Sweetie. You have no idea how much it excited me too. As soon as I’d see your shadow peering in, I’d start undressing. Usually I had to change my panties twice before I actually went to bed, it made me so wet.””You never…” I choke up and try again. “You never…””Never masturbated for you?” she asks bluntly.”Yes…””Oh, Sweetie, I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. But I was so young. Mostly, I would turn off my lights, pull the covers up to my neck and rub myself off after I knew you were gone,” Manda whispers with THAT glint in her eye. Even through her bulky sweat shirt, I can see the arousal in her nipples.She takes my hand. Guides me to her bed. “Get comfortable, Charlie. I’ll be back in a minute,” she tells me, snatching a towel and vanishing out the door. It’s an invitation no sane man–or woman–would refuse.Ten minutes later, Manda returns, a towel wrapped around her torso–just like all those years ago in high school when I visited her window at night. Except she has changed in so many subtle ways. Her breasts are heavier and fuller, and everywhere her curves are softer, yet more pronounced.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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