Everything was so relaxing - so right. I don’t even know when I started stroking my wet, exposed pussy. Everything was in sync - my hands, my pussy,...my brother’s cock. Even his hands were stroking my hair to the same rhythm.Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. I loved helping my brother get off. I loved pleasuring him. I loved being... Talk, I suddenly told myself. Talk to him - it’ll help him get off.“I love being your little pleasure slut,” I said, barely even listening to the words sat they. But, there was a memory, a recent memory, that shone across my mind's eye like a limelight. The wedding ring was the first thing I saw, moving up and down the length of my long shaft, as a long flow of gelatinous sperm erupted from the purple tip, and soaked my aunt's delicate hand. This image, this echo of what had taken place earlier that morning, I found far more pleasurable than any sweet fantasy I could conjure of that college girl. I was soon at the edge, the point at which the millions. More

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