A half-smile formed on my face. I moved quickly down to her lips and take them in this moment of passion. My fingers worked furiously on the jeans tra...ping her womanhood. She purred into my mouth, adjusting her hips to slide the jeans away from her body. I broke the embrace, pulling her jeans down and off of her, then running my hands from her ankles her smooth legs, tanned from the sun, toned from years of running in the mountain air, up her wonderful thighs to her perfect hips. She swayed. I described how rough Uncle Evil and his wife were with me. My sister listened and smiled. When I told her about how Aunt Evil was proud of being a toilet, she didn’t even flinch or seem even mildly surprised.“So, his wife is like a human toilet?”“I suppose so,” I admitted.“Does her husband press down on her boobs or something to flush her?”It sounded like a naïve and silly question, but I wouldn’t have put it past Uncle Evil to install a flusher or have it tattooed on his wife. He had that. More

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