"Isn't there some way we could go to your room?" Perry whined, jerking at his shoelace. It broke and he cursed and threw the ragged piece into the grass.

"I'm bored with you tonight, Perry. Here father came and accused us and you let me make up the excuse. Don't you have any creative ability at all? You're a wimp under pressure… an absolute wimp!"

"Don't be mad, Abby!" he gasped, getting up to go after her. She let him catch her at the French doors, let him pull her into his arms. She kissed him a little, giving him only the tip of her pink tongue. "I did what you wanted, didn't I?" he breathed against her ear. He smelled strongly of pussy. Her pussy. But somehow she wasn't turned on by that fact. Instead, a vagrant thought flew into her mind. Something so wild that she had no idea where it'd come from. It was her brother's face smeared with her juices. For just an instant it was Howell standing there, his big arms surrounding her, his hands moving.

"Oh! Let me go, Perry. Why don't you go home now? I think I'll go upstairs."

"Abby, for God sake!" He pulled her close. "My balls are hurting. You've got me so excited."

"Oh… you men!" She pulled his fly open and plunged her long fingers inside. She searched under the elastic of his jockey shorts until she found the rigid shaft of his cock. It felt damp and very, very hot. She began to squeeze the spongy tip and massage the skin up and down.

"Abby… Jesus! Ohhh Jesus Christ!"

"You tell me before you come, damn it, last time I got it all over my best sweater."

"Don't stop, Abby. Ohhh God, God damn!"

Abby could feel the blood rushing to his balls and cocktip. His shaft was throbbing how, pounding forcefully against her palm as she jacked him. She felt his belly go hard, watched his eyes roll in his head. He choked on a breath and fell back against the side of the small porch. The top of his slacks came unbuttoned and fell halfway down his thighs.