”“And we will be home on Monday?”“Yes, of course, we will.”“If that’s what you want Jen.”Jen leaned forward and kissed me and the shee... fell down a little. She quickly recovered it and blushed.“Oops,” Jen smiled, “did you see anything?”“No babe, only a bit of flesh, no nipple or anything,” I reassured her.“We will have something special for you before we leave this cottage,” Martin promised.“Oh thank you,” I replied.I couldn’t wait to see what my treat was and I hoped it would include me seeing. “I don't know. I got a lot of nice compliments tonight,” she unbuttoned my shirt. “Oh yeah? From anyone in particular?” thinking back on the guy who wanted to make sure she came to the after party. “Mmmm maybe,” she slurred, her hands reaching for my belt buckle. I was definitely getting hard and the alcohol was no deterrent for the look in her eye. I knew she was thinking of something. “Did something happen?” “What dooo you mean?” her hands reaching into my underwear and finding my cock, semi. When it didn’t come, I decided that her decision to remain clothed was meant to convey the message that yesterday had been a fluke, a momentary break from societal norms in the wake of catastrophe. She was again just my sister, and this was again just about comfort. I rolled onto my side to spoon her, wrapping my arms around her. For comfort.Well, at first.The problem was Honest Johnson. It didn’t matter what I thought, the basics of the position, and the friction, and the inability to. He makes a decision. He is going to introduce her to clit torture, torture so severe that the last thing on her mind will be an orgasm. He will make sure that her clit will hurt with just the thought of arousal for days after he finishes. Starting slowly, deciding on layers of different types of pain as the best approach, he swings the split leather slapper upwards and slams into her crotch. Her cunt lips protectively fold over her clit. Slapping upwards three fast hard strokes, her cunt lips.