redheads seem to have. Sensuous lips
that look like they were designed for embracing hard cock.
Cock-sucking lips.
High cheekbones and delicate chin stand in
perfect proportion to a perfectly straight nose, leaving as a net
result a girly-girls' face that guys read all kinds of sexual
desires in.
Their desires, not mine.
I'm above all that. I'm serious and dedicated
to my studies. I'm going to be a marine biologist and marry a man
who takes life as serious as me, a man with character. A man who
sees beyond the curves of my body, loving me for the woman I am,
not because I just happen to look hot when I look up at him with
his hard on in my mouth, all green-eyed and bespectacled.
Of course, I know my spectacles aren't
helping any either. Thing is, I'm blind without them and hate
contacts. Combined with the porny-curves it creates a bookish image
that guys just have to drool over.
So, yeah, I'm fucked. Used to the stares and
catcalls, not enjoying any of it. That's because I'm not a
slut.
I dress down to hide my curves best I can.
That is baggy sweaters and pants when the weather allows, and baggy
sweaters and pants when it doesn't.
My micro thong and matching top are my first
indulgence in letting go, same for Anne, and look what it got us:
my perverted stepbrother making it clear he wants to nail my virgin
snatch. Ass too.
I don't have to check how much of my fat this
are showing, the way the fucker eyes me says enough.
"Come on, Sis," Jimmy says, pushing his
shorts down another inch. "Just admit you want it."
"I'm warning you," I say, heart pounding as
badly as my aching clit, pointing a warning finger at him, another
few inches I'll crash backwards in the pool.
"Or what?" Jimmy says, a challenge in his
tone. He pushes his shorts down another inch, enough to give me a
panic attack I try to hide. Not that I'm panicking over what I see,
I already got over that. I'm panicking because the scorching heat
between my legs just went up by a million degrees.
"Anne, say something," I demand, voice not
high and shrill - the sound of the scared virgin teen - but
husky.
The sound of a horny virgin teen with a
biology that is fast gaining ground on the morality that is holding
her back.
Self-conscious, I push my spectacles up,
sweating so profusely that it slides right down to the tip of my
nose when it loses the support of my trembling index finger.
Miss Taylor Swift doesn't seem to have heard
me at all. At eighteen, she is as much a virgin as I am - and
struck silent. Her full lower lip quivers as the perverted fuck
pushes his shorts down another inch. She looks like she is
intending the fucker to drop the shorts once and for all.
That's bad. Really bad. I need support to
ward off the Viking invasion, not a cute blonde with a heated up
pussy.
But that's not the worst of it. The worst
part is the surreal size of the pole that Jimmy calls his cock:
longer than seems fit for human consumption. Fatter too. Something
that would look good on a horse, or a bull, or a moose. Or a
Viking, I guess. No wonder they made a lasting impression.
"There are no laws against sunbathing in the
nude in your own backyard, are there?" Jimmy says, his face split
in two by a perfect grin, revealing perfect teeth.
The teeth of a Hugo Boss model. The face too,
not even talking about the body.
But all I can think of is how he is my
brother, not by blood but that is a technically. I always saw him
as my one and only sibling, not just a step.
"There are when family is around," I hiss,
pretending my pussy isn't really leaking.
To think I had to turn eighteen years old -
and two weeks and three days - to witness the sight of this. He
barged in only moments ago, but it already feels like an eternity
since I was my usual cool self. One look at me and Anne, lust
flaring in his eyes, and the rest is history. Fucker.
"Puritan," Jimmy says. Before I can get a
word out he pushes his shorts down far enough for the monster to
break free. That is when I
that look like they were designed for embracing hard cock.
Cock-sucking lips.
High cheekbones and delicate chin stand in
perfect proportion to a perfectly straight nose, leaving as a net
result a girly-girls' face that guys read all kinds of sexual
desires in.
Their desires, not mine.
I'm above all that. I'm serious and dedicated
to my studies. I'm going to be a marine biologist and marry a man
who takes life as serious as me, a man with character. A man who
sees beyond the curves of my body, loving me for the woman I am,
not because I just happen to look hot when I look up at him with
his hard on in my mouth, all green-eyed and bespectacled.
Of course, I know my spectacles aren't
helping any either. Thing is, I'm blind without them and hate
contacts. Combined with the porny-curves it creates a bookish image
that guys just have to drool over.
So, yeah, I'm fucked. Used to the stares and
catcalls, not enjoying any of it. That's because I'm not a
slut.
I dress down to hide my curves best I can.
That is baggy sweaters and pants when the weather allows, and baggy
sweaters and pants when it doesn't.
My micro thong and matching top are my first
indulgence in letting go, same for Anne, and look what it got us:
my perverted stepbrother making it clear he wants to nail my virgin
snatch. Ass too.
I don't have to check how much of my fat this
are showing, the way the fucker eyes me says enough.
"Come on, Sis," Jimmy says, pushing his
shorts down another inch. "Just admit you want it."
"I'm warning you," I say, heart pounding as
badly as my aching clit, pointing a warning finger at him, another
few inches I'll crash backwards in the pool.
"Or what?" Jimmy says, a challenge in his
tone. He pushes his shorts down another inch, enough to give me a
panic attack I try to hide. Not that I'm panicking over what I see,
I already got over that. I'm panicking because the scorching heat
between my legs just went up by a million degrees.
"Anne, say something," I demand, voice not
high and shrill - the sound of the scared virgin teen - but
husky.
The sound of a horny virgin teen with a
biology that is fast gaining ground on the morality that is holding
her back.
Self-conscious, I push my spectacles up,
sweating so profusely that it slides right down to the tip of my
nose when it loses the support of my trembling index finger.
Miss Taylor Swift doesn't seem to have heard
me at all. At eighteen, she is as much a virgin as I am - and
struck silent. Her full lower lip quivers as the perverted fuck
pushes his shorts down another inch. She looks like she is
intending the fucker to drop the shorts once and for all.
That's bad. Really bad. I need support to
ward off the Viking invasion, not a cute blonde with a heated up
pussy.
But that's not the worst of it. The worst
part is the surreal size of the pole that Jimmy calls his cock:
longer than seems fit for human consumption. Fatter too. Something
that would look good on a horse, or a bull, or a moose. Or a
Viking, I guess. No wonder they made a lasting impression.
"There are no laws against sunbathing in the
nude in your own backyard, are there?" Jimmy says, his face split
in two by a perfect grin, revealing perfect teeth.
The teeth of a Hugo Boss model. The face too,
not even talking about the body.
But all I can think of is how he is my
brother, not by blood but that is a technically. I always saw him
as my one and only sibling, not just a step.
"There are when family is around," I hiss,
pretending my pussy isn't really leaking.
To think I had to turn eighteen years old -
and two weeks and three days - to witness the sight of this. He
barged in only moments ago, but it already feels like an eternity
since I was my usual cool self. One look at me and Anne, lust
flaring in his eyes, and the rest is history. Fucker.
"Puritan," Jimmy says. Before I can get a
word out he pushes his shorts down far enough for the monster to
break free. That is when I
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