“It’s just a little bad. This is really bad. My dad is married to your aunt. We’re kind of cousins.”I kept working my hands in her pussy. ...’d been fingering girls for a long time. I was confident in my ability. “But we aren’t cousins,” I said. “Not really. Just by marriage.”“They’d kill us,” she panted. She was squirming on the bed. “They’d disown us.”“But they’d be ok with you giving me a handjob?”“Yes,” she moaned. “I mean no. They wouldn’t.”“We’ve already crossed the line,” I. Two weeks ago, Victor posted on Facebook that he’d got a pair of tickets to a Bon Jovi at the Boston Garden and was looking for somebody to go with. I have no idea why — I'm not a fan of the band — I wrote that if he couldn't find a date, I’d go with him. My husband posted about teasing up my hair and how bad the music was and I replied with other funny posts. As the day grew closer, Victor asked via a message if I was serious as he hadn't found anyone and he would love my company. I repeated. More

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