I kissed my brother on the mouth, my pussy sliding up his hard dick. I didn’t need foreplay. Not listening to him with Ava while masturbating myself... My sticky fingers stroked his whiskered cheeks, smearing my musk on him.I groaned, feeling his cock nudging at the entrance to my pussy. I grinned, wiggling back and sliding my pussy down his cock. I loved the incestuous union of our body. He grunted into our kiss, his strong hands grabbing my ass.“Sister dear,” he groaned as I rose on him,. Sexually, the great John Barton was a grade A wimp. Maybe that was what drove him to outcompete everyone who crossed him, to prove that he had more balls than everyone else. Because in fact, he had less. Much less. His tiny prick could hardly be seen in his pubic hair when it was soft. When it was "hard," it was barely three inches long, was thinner than his index finger, and, in truth, was not very hard at all. His balls were tinier than marbles. He had trouble coming more than two or three. More

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