His left hand moved down and he cupped his balls, lifting the heavy sacs as if weighing their load. He squeezed and fondled the juice-filled bags.

He folded his right fist around his stalk. It bucked like a bronco in his grip, so vibrant that it almost threw his hand off. The vein pulsated in his palm and the rod throbbed in his fist.

He pulled up. His foreskin rolled like a fleshy carpet over the ledge of his cock-head, so that only the cleft purple tip was unsheathed.

Then he pushed back down to the foot, skinning his knob out naked. That enormous wedge flared out like the head of a hooded cobra about to strike.

Ooooh, Bunny whimpered, silently.

The sight was driving her wild. She wished that she were closer so that she could see it in even more detail when he shot his wad.

Then she thought: Why not?

After all, it was her brother who was being naughty. Why should she be embarrassed by innocently walking in and catching him in the act?

She had a pretty shrewd idea that as long as she showed the right attitude, Jack wouldn't mind.

She waited for a moment, letting him get into the steady stroking rhythm, knowing that once he was in the pumping pattern he was less likely to stop.

Then the naughty peeper walked through the arch.

"Whatcha doin', Jack?" she asked impishly.

"Aw, shit," he croaked.

He turned bright red and stopped frigging his prick. He was trying to hide his hard-on behind his open hands, but it was too long. His cockhead stuck up on one end and his balls bulged at the other.

The brazen girl walked right over to him.

"Beating your meat, huh?" she giggled.

"Jeez, Sis – go away!" he groaned.

But he was starting to notice that his sexy, nubile little sister didn't seem to be disgusted or shocked – that the girl looked intrigued.