I am certain that she can feel my fingers gently toying with her thick red strands, or feel my opposite hand gently caressing her pale warm cheek. Yet...does she present that Mona Lisa smile because of my loving actions, or because of something in her mind? Does she dream, and if so, does she dream of me, of us? My eyes focus on her eyelashes. Long and thick and painted in darkest black, they flicker slightly in her sleep, tempting me, beckoning me, demanding my attention. When we had first met. I angled myself carefully, so that his first waking sight would be my naked torso, dedicated to pleasuring him, dedicated to getting him off ... He stirred, but didn’t wake up. A part of me was tempted to crawl under the blanket and start blowing him, but I knew that would be crossing a line. I couldn’t blow my brother ... even if it would help him with his problem. No, it would be ... wrong. I could never do that.Not unless things got desperate.After a few minutes of me slowly pumping his hard. My hard cock was making tent in my pants and I was afraid she would notice or rub her foot against it. So I quickly grabbed her foot closest to the tent in my pants and began massaging it. She quickly begin gently moaning saying how good it felt. The soft nylon felt so good in my hands I just wanted to whip out my cock and rub it against it. After a couple of minutes she whispered it felt so good how about I do the other one. I noticed as I was working on the other foot her legs were trembling. She walked past me to our tent and said she needed to get something, without offering any more explanation. She went back and sat next to him again, getting back under the blanket. Then I saw him fumbling around a bit, and appeared to have pulled his pants back up. I imagine she had gotten him something to clean up with and now he was putting himself back together. She got up from under the blanket again, and said she needed to pee. The campground bathroom was a far walk, so she said she was.
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