"That's a lot of cum," she said, looking at the condom. "Does a big dick produce more cum?" I don't know. We can research that." He kissed her on the ...heek. "You are a lot of fun. Your husband is a lucky man." He's not a bad man, and I suppose I love him in a way, but my life has not been....fulfilled. " Why not leave him for someone more....fulfilling?" Maybe I will -- when my children get a little older. In the meantime, I want to drink beer and eat octopus and have sex with you. With men.. “Umm, like stockings, I don’t know. Here feel.” She innocently picked up my hand and placed on the inside of her left knee of the leg that was tucked up under her. At the same time it had taken very little movement on her part for her skirt to ride up enough to again show some panty. Trying not to look, I caressed her knee to get a feel of the stocking.“Wow that is really soft and smooth.” Despite my efforts not to look at her panties and remember that she was my sister, my hand as if. Each blow was slightly different in intensity and position. Some blows would strike sensitive skin and I would scream in agony and throw my head to the sky and pray to God for mercy. Other blows, however, were somehow sexually oriented. They would strike me and I would thrive on them, lurching up, every pore in my body sensitive and tense, my sex dripping. These blows never seemed to satisfy me, never seemed to quench my desire, the fire between my legs. I craved more, more whipping, harder. “Actually, it was you getting off to me; I’ve been at this for about thirty minutes.” She chuckled. “You, thirty minutes? What the fuck ever!” I looked at her silently, expecting her to return to her bunk, but instead she kept looking at me without moving. An awkward silence ensued. “What?” I asked. A sparkle flashed in her eyes. I could tell she was at a loss for words, but my own dirty mind began to figure out what she wanted. I said nothing. “Well, goodnight then,” she said, apparently.