Who was I to refuse? I bent to my task. I was quite thorough. Somehow, her panties (if any) had vanished. Somehow, more wine was spilled, further up h...r body. Somehow, wine and Suzy-Q’s internal juices were mixed in my mouth. Somehow, our clothes disappeared, and we were 69’ing, and groaning, et fucking cetera. Good thing the parachute covering the couch would not stain. I did not sleep on the couch that night. We did not sleep much at all. We blearily pedaled to work the next morning. After. We didn’t exactly walk around naked in front of each other but no one thought anything about being seen in their underwear. Since I’d started having these feelings for Smita, I’d been hoping for a glimpse of my sister in bra and panties, but it never happened. I figured after a while I’d find a girlfriend who would make me forget all about my sexy sister, but no such luck. I dated alright, plenty in fact, but I inevitably compared these poor girls with Smita and they all came up lacking. You’d. And it was all a little bit kinky, too, I thought, as I felt her tug at a few eyebrow hairs. I'd worn women's clothes before, when I was younger as a kind of joke when we got into the dress-up bin at school, but I'd never tried to look like a woman. As Marcia surveyed the results of her handiwork and went back to drying off my hair I began to wonder why it was that I wasn't objecting quite so much to what she was doing. Did this mean I was weird, or what?She finished with my hair and stepped. ’ Excitement mounted, over this stealthy challenge. Faith soon discovered if she stirred a little, Bill would move his hand — sweetly teasing. Careful not to wiggle too much and spoil the secret pleasure, her fingers played between her thighs, creating the kind of internal pressure that ends in an external explosion called orgasm. Increasing the risk of indecent exposure, her hand abandoned the nipple and slid under the sheet to rest on Bill’s firm derrière. Slowly, she investigated its firm.