Crossed wrists held under my hand, my sister bucked hard against me, her eyes squeezing shut, screaming hard as I finally allowed her to join me in cl...max. Shuddering, back arched as I released inside her, we collapsed together, gasping. Around us I could hear sounds of activity as the camp rose with the dawn.“So good...” Zuri moaned, her tongue forcing its way into my mouth as her released hands stroked the breadth of my shoulders with loving tenderness. Beneath me her wetness slicked the. “Oohh. Good. Again” he said. He pushed and lodged into my throat again. I swallowed and he pulled out. I caught on and got into his rhythm, cycling my breathing with his strokes. Every time he lodged into my throat I made a swallow motion with my throat, controlled the reflex and breathed again. We developed a rhythmic cycle where I swallowed every time he hit my throat. He started moaning quickly and speeded up his pushing. I made a swallow action every time and he quickly erupted. Thus, keeping true to my pledge, I refused myself all nourishment.Although I swear that before I had embarked upon my enterprise, foodhad meant nothing very much to me, I developed a positive lust for it.In any of its forms: pastries, sweetmeats, stews or puddings, pottageor a simple crust of bread, all seemed equally desirable to me.I even suffered recurring dreams in which I gorged myself on a varietyof dishes heaped upon a long table groaning with comestibles. So greatwas my appetite in. I call across and she gives an exaggerated wave in my direction. “Eh, Bonitinha! What a surprise!” she calls. My acquaintances in this world are superficial, hedonistic. I don’t have her number, she doesn’t know my surname. She was openly hostile the first time we met, but we bonded outside the club - sharing a cigarette, reminiscing about Rio – and since then, when we bump into each other, it is all air-kisses and exaggerated excitement. Her gaze wanders off to somewhere over my shoulder as I.