Maggie was so beside herself, yelling and swearing at me, that she didn’t look at me, as I had a smile on my face. I looked at Maggie, still smiling...when she said, “What are you smiling at fuck wit.” I said, three little words, “I’m telling dad.” Then Maggie just shut up, looking angry at me. I had Maggie over a barrel. I got dressed and took my plate to the kitchen, along with the tissues. When I got back into the lounge room, my sister had that pitiful look on her face, feeling sorry for. His eyes flew wide to see her reaching inside the zipper she discreetly opened. Before he could protest her hand slipped under the folds of his boxer-briefs to clutch his length. The warmth of her hand brought him closer once more as the unbelievable roller-coaster of hormones she inspired soared back upwards. He yelped quietly as his flesh scraped against the rough zipper when she brought him through the various layers of fabric. He was panting in time with her slow, gentle strokes. She knew. More

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