Cindy was dressed for a friend’s party and insisted on wearing a Kelly-green hat at the table. Mom wasn’t thrilled, but gave in at my prompting. P...p said something and my little sister laughed like only a little girl could. The older version of me remembered the inner strength she would slowly develop to handle the difficulties life threw at her, but that was the future. Right now, thirteen year old Cindy was full of innocence and joy. ‘So, what are you doing tonight?’ pop asked me as we did. ”“Yeah. I saw that your alarm was set for 10. I set mine for 11. Was it a great bother?”“It was needed. It almost wasn’t enough.”“You were awake when I phoned.” So that was the reason.“Bill, you’re sweet.”“Well, I was worried. You didn’t even stir when I got up. I checked that you were still breathing before I left.” And that was sweet, too. The shopping went well. Bill insisted that she get a solid desk. After all, she’d use it for the rest of her life. The dining room table looked nice, too,. And in this way, by diverting his thoughts into mundane channels, Roger finally began to manage his ability to remain flaccid, despite the constant stimulation of being naked and of seeing Ayame, his sister, and other men and women of all ages, nude.When they reached the beach, they noticed a beach volleyball game in progress; the players included a widely disparate group of ages, from a girl with long, blonde hair who Roger guessed to be about fourteen or so, to a white-haired, bearded guy. I remember every bit about it. Necking at a beach party, getting my hand into her pants and slit, finding her clitoris, getting her off, her taking my cock out of my pants and stroking it, adjourning to a nearby hayfield, her stripping and laying back in the hay with her legs wide open, mounting her, and oh the bliss, the indescribable bliss of feeling my cock sliding into her wet, dilated vagina. I remember her gasp as she took me, her pleas of, “Go slow, go slow,” of feeling my now tight.
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