“Will you come over again?” I sheepishly asked. I just slithered out of my bed and into his. Our house didn’t have enough bedrooms and so we had to share. We messaged back and forth and finally we decided to meet with the idea that if either of us became uncomfortable we would call it quits and part ways. My father died when I was eight years old leaving my mother alone to raise six young children. A sensation I had never felt before began to come over me. This became a ritual with my brother and I; if I wanted to go along with him, I had to pay the price. With my free hands I reached over and grasped his hairy ball sack. Usually he just grabbed my shirt collar and forced me to my knees clothes and all. Not quite sure what to do next, I unzipped my pants and grabbed two bottles of water. Soon my step brother got up the courage to enjoy the feel of his teenage cock violating my terrified
