..and I'm complaining. I actually feel better just rambling about it. I think I'll go for a hot bath. I'll talk to you later. I love you." ...I love you, too. Feel better." "Thanks." I had to end that conversation. I hated my own 'woe is me' liturgy before I began it. I couldn't bear that I was suddenly in the uber-cute situation of my mother not understanding my description of feeling misunderstood. It's ironic, in a Care Bear, Rainbow Bright sort of way. It's also. The boys loved this, which provoked another round of approving whistles. Knowing that my sister’s husband was enjoying my breasts excited me a little, and soon my nipples grew hard. I know this distracted him from his game, as he quickly lost the next hand. He had to pull off his underwear, which I must admit was something I had been looking forward to since the beginning of the game. My sister had often told me of his endowment, in both length and girth. At times, the stories were of the glory. More

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