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”Jasmyn pounds on the steering wheel in a fit of rage.Pulls on a handful of braids.Stops.Stares straight ahead,Empty as blank canvas.Then,Calmly opens door,And steps into drizzling rain.Slams door.To pace, and paceAnd pace.Up.Down.Cycling through those bullshit breathing exercises,Till she’s soaked through to bone.Door opens.Mine.She’s like one of those Greek Furies.Murder in her eyes.“Fuck you,” she growls and crawls back into the Charger, rain slick body squeaking across leather seats.‘Poor girl can’t help herself,’ Anastasia frets into my ear. ‘I know the feeling.’I pull back, still sluggish. “What the hell?” I slur.“Fuck you,” Jasmyn repeats, pulling the door shut behind her.“Fuck you.” She slides over my lap.“Fucking fuck you.” She straddles me.“I fucking hate you,” she hisses, eyes wide and manic. “I fucking hate you… and I fucking love you. And you deserve neither.”Her kiss is bruised madness flavored with all the lust and love and hate churning inside her. Except. That ain’t. Harry drew in closer, his shaft only centimetres away from her crack. He began to viciously pull to his sister's arse, taking in every ounce of flesh. Every now and then she would take a deep breath and her butt would raise itself and press against the bottom of his shaft. Harry, now consumed with lust, pulled off his sisters blue underwear and wrapped around his tip and stared as his sister pink sphincter, until a massive wad of white, slimy cum burst into the blue fabric. He did this every night his sister came home drunk for 2 months, collecting up to three pairs of her underwear. Then one night things went differently, his sister came home drunker than usual, stumbling into her room and not even bothering to turn on her lamp. Harry moved into the darkened room, lightened by the street lights staring at his sister who lay on her side in a pair of tight blue jeans and tight wearing t-shirt, the fabric stretched by her tits. Melanie had her arms stretched over her head, Harry.
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