My right hand strokes his shaft, and my left cups his balls.I could do this all night I think to myself.I think I could do this again?... Am I liking ...his too much? Am I still straight?Something in the back of my mind asks why it matters.Something in the back of my mind says, "if it feels right, then do it".Suddenly, I taste something new on my tongue.It is warm, salty, i know this tastePre-cum.Have I gone too far?No, I like this taste, I've tasted it before.When ever I masturbate, When I have. "Pity," the desk sergeant commented, "I would have liked to have seen if a white cunt was any different to a black one and that wimp boy of yours doesn't look as if he has enough meat to satisfy a woman."Roger gave an embarrassed cry and he too blushed. His penis was the only one I'd seen and it looked big enough to me. "Who is going to interview us and when?" I asked hoping it would be someone like Colonel Nubaro who could sort this whole mess out and let us go."Don't know lady. Could be. I tried to calm down and control the wild thrashing my body was doing. As I did, my brother’s stare seemed to capture my gaze and I couldn’t look away. I tried to figure out what he was thinking, finding me half naked and tied up in his bedroom. I could see part of him was mad at me for being in his room and part was concerned about how I got tied up. And was that lust I saw there too?“I’m so sorry!” I cried out as my emotions erupted. Tears began to run down my face, partly for making him. Now lets go back about 34 or 35 years ago (for a little background):Karen (Kirsten's mother) and I were in the 9th grade, lived about a mile from each other and rode the same school bus. Karen was a bit provocative and precocious and we flirted on the way home from school one particular time and by the time the bus stopped at her house we had made plans. I would sneak out tonight, walk to her house and crawl in her window to have sex.Now Karen had a reputation back then of being loose and easy.
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