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And in the process, I'd memorized the size and shape of Claire's body. 'It's okay-"Claire collapsed to the ground, weeping into her hands. I shouldn't have noticed, but the skirt rode high on her thighs. I knew where those thighs led - to a meaty pussy under a slightly rounded belly. "I knew I shouldn't have posed like that. She was trying to help, that's what she said, but she wasn't." Claire looked up with pleading eyes. "You're not going to tell Daddy, are you?" She grabbed one of my calves with an outstretched hand."No, I'm not." I tossed the CD to the ground next to her.For the first time, Claire smiled. She wiped her wet eyes on the sleeve of her blouse. I remembered the wet t-shirt photo. "Thank you." She got up, but not without lifting one leg that exposed her undies. My prick pulsed. The vision of sensuality that I'd spent hours examining in my hotel room stood mere feet away. Could she tell just how turned on I was?"My friend told me the pictures would help me become. We were in the living room at the time and soon ended up in bed as she could barely keep her hands off me. I had never seen her act quite this aggressive before, usually Sherry prefers not to have sex in the morning. It had been a wild and enjoyable weekend. The sex and closeness were wonderful for both of us. By midweek things had tapered off to our usual loving existence. I had not forgotten about the photos, but gave little thought to what they may eventually come to mean. The next week, I think it was a Thursday. I got home from work at the usual time. I entered the house through the kitchen as usual and heard the chattering and giggling right away. Sherry has friends over quite a lot and I didn’t pay much attention to the noise. I opened a beer in the kitchen and wandered toward the den. I thought I would steer clear of the hen party and relax for a while. At the doorway, my mouth flew open and my beer bottle dropped to my feet. Sherry and two of her friends were huddled around.
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Our town house is four stories high and seven small bedrooms were spread over the upper floors. My sister was about the same age as Vicky’s youngest sister, and they decided that they wanted to sleep in adjoining bedrooms on the upper floor. My sister suggested that Vicky use her room, which is adjoining to mine and accessible through a French door. In fact, that door was the primary access door to my sister’s room. So when we retired that evening, Vicky passed through my room into my sister’s room, and started to unpack her overnight bag. While she was doing that, we chitchatted about schools, music, the usual topics teenagers talk about. As I usually do, I dimmed all the lights except for the reading light next to my bed. We started to get into a good conversation. As I looked up, Vicky was laying down on my sister’s bed. I asked her if she was tired, but she said that she was not. It was just more comfortable. So, I invited her over and join me on my bed. So, we laid side by.

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