I stop and shoot up while turning my head to see what it was. FUCK! It was Marian! And there I am, standing there with a hardon, my hand around it, an... looking at my sister. "Oh no." I thought. "She's going to fucking freak and tell everyone, SHIT! God fucking damn it all!" To my surprise she just stands there, staring at my swollen organ. "Quickly! Say something!" I thought. Then she goes, "What are you doing, wait, don't answer that." and giggles a little. Wham... what a fucking pain. My. She wasn’t wearing panties. Her wet pussy was open and available under her skirt. I fingered her as we made out like horny teenagers. I don’t get spontaneous erections, but if I did, we would have fucked right there in the car in the rain. I think that was the night, when back in our room, she stripped and danced for me by candlelight to soft jazz on the radio. She looked so sexy and desirable as the light flickered on her lovely naked body. I told her so as I played with my hard dick, then. .while she was rinsing the soap off her face, she felt a presence behind her, and he began to kiss her neck, and down her spine, to the spot where her tattoo ended just above the crack of he ass. She was sighing, he gently kissed his way back up her back, and she turned her head so that when he reached her neck, he felt lips instead. She began to kiss him softly, and he kissed her back tenderly. He took her arms and turned her to face him. She could see that he was already erect, but no matter,. L'occasione propizia non ci mette molto ad arrivare : dopo un racconto che avevo scritto mi manda una mail dicendomi che secondo lei la storia che avevo scritto pareva vera o per lo meno verosimile, allora le dico quella che è la verità , cioè i miei racconti prendono spunto da avvenimenti reali successi a me o ad altri a cui aggiungo elementi di fantasia. A questo punto decido di provocarla e di chiederle come mai legge i miei racconti e soprattutto perché li commenta così spesso, forse le .