She'z bout 5"4 an ok bod wit decent B cups & an unmistakably huge cunt. we grew up as close as lose can be. we used to shower together, discover lil things or changes in us..we used to play wit ea others play thing. i stayed sexualy interested in things wyl she..she's easily convinced. so back to the future. the first night we had lots to drink. so we were wasted..she got d habbit of wearing over sized shirts no bra & a granny panty, from my sexy mum..so before u know it, her beaitiful womanhood started pushing out of her panties..i then playfuly pulled her & sat her legs open on my lap..we were alweiz sweet & affectionae siblings. so she grabbed my hand & wrapped it round her tummy..i could cup her tit in my hand. which i eventualy did. she then blurted, "they got bigger huh?! they been seein action lately..hehehe" @ this point my s*s' crotch is already a bit moist. so i told her to move back a lil before she falls.. she hopped bak & found my 8 1/2 inch semi juz welcoming her. She looks into his face, a twisted mask of rage and shrinks back against the metal railing of the veranda. He steps closer, crowding her, cornering her. His breath fans her face, the stink of alcohol. Ah, she thinks, the bottle of wine. She should have known. ‘Michael?’ her voice is unsteady, traitorous, betraying her fear. ‘Michael, what’s wrong?’ He takes her by the arms, fingers digging into her flesh, and shakes her. His eyes are wild, pupil’s dilated, empty blank holes in a contortion of the visage that was not his, a visage she once did not recognise, but was now all too familiar with. Her head snaps back and forth, her back slamming painfully into the railing. ‘Whore,’ he is muttering, ‘Whore!’ His voice rises. ‘Who is he? Who is he, huh?’ Drops of spittle fly from his mouth and land on her face. ‘What?’ she is gasping, fighting panic. A staccato stammer. It seems to enrage him further. ‘Michael, what are you talking about?’ His face twists, contorts. Abruptly, he stops.
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