No hands or fingers were touching me at all, just a tongue. Oh but what a talented tongue it was. Embedded deep inside me now, wiggling artistically a...ound, it lapped at my inner walls. I opened my eyes just slightly to see that it was my brother who was tongue lashing me with such perfection. Out of the corner of my eye I could see John standing, watching, and rubbing the crotch of his jeans. I felt my hips involuntarily begin to swivel slightly and quiet moans escaped my sleeping lips. Shes. I’d just chill as he wanted me to and enjoy her love play, the tease of the balls with a palm full of crushed grapes, the feel of her warm lips tasting of cherry wine moulding mine, the tease of her tongue slithering mine in her inimitable French kiss. The gentle, so wonderfully gentle tease of my masculinity with the touch of a finger tip as she kissed me deep – then the feel of her hand grasp me so tight and wanting as, finishing the kiss, she would progress down over my chest and garnish. More

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