I had short blond hair inherited from my mother, and was peculiarly skinny. My sister in particular was very weak physically but had the graceful move...ents of a ballet dancer. She loved to spend time in the ballroom section of the gym, and has already competed in several dance competitions. She hadn’t won any yet and I had promised to help her train next time she goes.In any case, I stagger up the stairs and open the door to the sound of a k-pop band playing. Groaning, I step into the kitchen. And her breasts are hanging down. And I'm sliding in andout of her tight ass. And I'm giving her a reacharound. I don't knowhow I got here."Oh, I'm your faggot. I'm your faggot. I'm-your-faggot-I'm-your...fuck meharder!"(Did I mention we love dirty talk? Because we do.)I do. I speed up. I don't know how she did it, how she grew this. ButI don't care anymore. The three weeks of separation. The blood rushingto my heads as she worked me up with her body. The countless times we'vefucked with. More

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