I dragged him by an arm out of the room, to the door and shoved him into the stairwell, his pants were still around his ankles so he stumbled and fell three steps down before he caught himself. I slammed the door then leaned on it, calming down for a few moments. Once I got my breath under control I went back to my sister. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands. When she heard me come in, she looked up, “Was I dreaming? Was Justin here?” “He’s gone. You can go back to sleep.” She looked at me bewildered, she was still drunk and confused, she glanced around and found her panties on the bed then felt between her legs for a mess. She pulled the hand from under her skirt, look at it, and asked “He screwed me?” I let Irene down, I should have been with Justin in the room, if for no other reason than to keep them from fighting. I didn’t, I sat in the front room while the ex-boyfriend became a rapist. I sat next to my sister and pulled her into a hug then fell back to the bed pulling her down beside me. She began to cry again, “I can’t believe he did all that Brett, I thought he loved me.” I was kinked at my hips, with my legs over the edge of the bed. I kicked off my shoes then twisted around to lie completely on the bed. When I was done shifting my sister also moved until she was lying with me, her head on my shoulder. She was still grieving for her lost love indian as I drifted to sleep. I woke to the fragrance of coffee. My eyes opened and the first thing I saw was a mug, held by my sister who looked like she’d spent the night in a tumble dryer. Her eyes were bleeding, her hair a tangle of knots, and the cup shook slightly. She was wearing my terrycloth morning robe. “Take this,” she said, “I have to take a shower.” I was still fully dressed so when I sat up my pants bunched up between my legs, pinching my nuts in folds of denim. I grabbed my pants to adjust myself as Irene watched. I took the coffee, she left for the bathroom. As she walked from me in the short robe, I couldn’t help but check out her nicely shaped legs. I was changing from my day before Blowjobs clothes amateur to a fresh set when I heard from the bathroom, “Brett, where in the hell is the hair conditioner?” Wearing just a t shirt and briefs I went to find out what my sister was yelling about. I poked my head in the bathroom door so see Irene leaning part way out of the shower, she said “I need conditioner for my hair, I have to get the shampoo out, there isn’t any here.” Saying nothing to her I went to the small closet next to the sink and pulled out a bottle of conditioner. I held it to her, she looked at it for a moment, then shifted her eyes to my face. Her mouth curled up to a slight grin then she said “You do it.” “Do what?” “Rinse my hair with this, put it on, rub it in, wash it out.” Whoa, What? “You want me to get in there with you and do your hair?” Irene stepped to one side then pulled the shower curtain open for me. My feet were cemented to the floor as I stared at her nudity, I couldn’t move them. My own younger sister just invited me to shower with her? What the fuck? She watched my reaction, her eyes glinted with fun, “Hurry up, or I’ll have to shampoo again.” My mind blanked out my relationship to the woman in the shower so I stepped in, still wearing my shorts and shirt. When the water soaked the cloth, my underwear molded wetly to my body. Irene stepped back to the wall of the shower and looked me up and down. The wet material clung to, and highlighted the muscles of my chest, and the shape of my prick. Satisfied with what she saw she turned away, dipped her head in the stream of water then waited for me to use the conditioner. I looked her up and down, from the long, wet hair to the small of her back, over the curve of her butt cheeks to her feet. There was no sign of analingus infestation in the female's rear which might pointed out to a way of keeping the worm away. Rosie stands up to watch Sarah’s technique and at the same Blowjobs time she is standing behind Mike while she pinches his nipples. Well, I think my jaw would have hit the ground if I had one ounce less control (lots of poker). "YEA, LOTS OF TITTIE RINGS FOR THIS LITTLE CUNT!" shouted another. Like your mother.” She tentatively placed her small hands over my ankles. Their favorite past-time was watching other people and fantasizing about what they would look like naked and what they may be like in bed. It allowed her to do and feel things even though she amateur was painfully shy. Right across her face, her left cheek. Hey, good to see you. I could only stare at her when she said this. “Ma’am,” she says politely to me, as I indian walk in. It’s what you promised me!” “That was the best,” groaned Allie. I experimented with different ingredients and cooking styles as I prepared a few other slices of Rocky the Rattler.