' Now, you might think she'd get pissed-off when I call her that but she loves it. See, she really is a slut and loves it.Ever since she started getti...g really nice boobs, like around age fourteen, she's walked about naked when our parents aren't home. She's two years older than I am and she loves to tease me, loves to see my dick swell my pants out, loves to point it out when it happens. She knows it's her that makes it happen.She's boy-bait, too, of course, I know that she lost her cherry. He masturbated constantly. I masturbated too. A lot. And when I did I thought of him ("Ooohh, Danny. That feels so gooood."). One weekend afternoon, something snapped within me and I subconsciously but boldly let him catch me rubbing one out on his bed while watching an incest porno on my computer ("Um. . . Mom? Wha. . ."). I knew he was home but pretended I didn't ("Oh my god! Danny! Where did you come from?" Of course, the obvious answer was--my pussy). I looked guilty while he stared. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to me. She reached up, putting her arms around my neck. We shared a long, lingering look of desire before I leaned in to finally kiss her. Her mouth tasted like sweet heaven and I let my tongue explore hers while I tried my best not to think about when Ernie would get home."Come on, let's go to my bedroom," I pulled her toward the room but she paused to grab the last slice of pizza on her plate and shove most of it into her mouth. She tried to say. We didn't express, or maybe even consciously feel, any romantic affection or sexual attraction, but there we were.And somehow we never found girls, and always ended up parked in the woods somewhere, smoking and talking, not ready yet to go home. Two guys in a car, parked somewhere dark and private, talking about imaginary girls, and fantasy sex, getting boned. There was no good reason to be shy about opening our zippers and masturbating ourselves, because we'd each jerked off with other friends.