Bane of my existence
i love this story from : QSQuinn

I loved being home for the summer. At least at the beginning of the vacation, while my parents were both still at work and Casey still had another week left of school.

I had the house to myself, which I celebrated, as you might expect, by stripping naked and walking around the house with my cock and balls swinging freely in the crisp morning air.

I strolled around the house, making myself breakfast and watching a bit of TV, occasionally playing with my semi-erect member. It was a very pleasant way to spend a morning and I can highly recommend it.

In truth though, I was actually trying to put something off. I was trying to distract myself from an itch in the back of my mind. I kept pushing it away or trying to ignore it, live amateur girls at szaab dot com but it grew more and more insistent. I knew that I was k**ding myself that I could hold back from the painful urge building inside of me. I already knew where my little naked walk would eventually lead me.

My sister’s room was down the hall from mine, and I had avoided the place ever since she hit her teens and developed something of a nasty streak.

Casey was a senior now, recently turned eighteen, and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t begun to notice the way her flourishing body had begun first to fill, and then overfill her clothing.

It was hardly my fault that I could not stop staring at her. She always seemed to be close to spilling out of her clothes. Every corner I rounded in the house she was there, bending over, showing me a sliver of plump ass cheek in her tight little gym shorts, or far too much butt crack to be considered decent when she squatted to get a book out of her school bag. If she dressed that way for school every day, I am surprised that she has not yet been suspended.

Cautiously I entered her room. For some reason this felt riskier than parading around the rest of the house naked. Almost thoughtlessly I found my hand resting atop the laundry hamper by her door.

I wouldn’t have done anything really, but they were just sitting there, right on top of the pile. A pair of soft cotton panties. The panties were a pale pink, the very color I imagined her nipples to be. They were light in my hand, barely there, a tiny scrap of a thong that would not cover very much at all.

I lifted them gingerly from the laundry basket, rubbing the thin material between the pad of my thumb and my forefinger. I imagined I could still feel heat where her pussy had snuggled up against this soft material.

I knew what I was doing was bad. But really I blame her. Since I had come home from college and found her metamorphosed from a chubby teenager into a stunning curvy woman, how I saw her in my mind had shifted dramatically. The way she spoke, dressed and acted seemed deliberately intended to provoke a response in me.