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She and Jane became good friends in pretty short order and spent a lot of time with each other. Although I was a nodding acquaintance only, Ann had confided in Jane that I seemed to be a very nice man which is what most of my wife’s friends say about me. Talk about damned with faint praise!Anyway a few weeks ago Jane was going to the USA to visit her son from a previous marriage and her new grand daughter. She reminded me to go up to the cottage to do a couple of little household jobs while she was away and to be sure to call in on Ann while up there.The day I arrived, after I had unpacked, I knocked on Ann’s door and told her that Jane had asked me to pay my respects. She invited me in for a cup of tea and a scone. I hadn’t been in her house before and was struck by the number of photographs on the walls. I asked her about them and she explained that her husband had been a keen photographer and had even assembled some books about the town using old postcards. One of the photos was. I closed my eyes for a minute and just let the feeling of that last orgasm wash over me. My finger twitched a little as I saw the scene play out in front of me again with my boyfriend's dick in my mouth and my brother fingering my clit...Shit! No! Fuck! My boyfriend fingering my clit. My boyfriend.There was only one way to wash away that image and my fingers rubbed furiously as I read about how she mounted him and sank all the way onto him in one move.I came.You know how when you suspect something, you see the evidence everywhere? I could feel my brother watching me. Looking at me. I could hear a classic scene of two kids riding in the back seat of a car dividing the seat between them. "You're on my side." "Stop touching me." "I'm not touching you." "Mom, he's looking at me."Only I was sure my brother was looking at me. He had to be thinking those same thoughts about fucking his sister. How could he think that?I had to have a plan. I had to get him to stop thinking of me that way. We.
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