The same size, in everything except out tits, mine were a D cup, hers a C. Not a lot of difference. She was nineteen, I was thirty six. She was the sa...e as me, a slut. A tart. Two sluts together.“Dad got home last night while you were having your brains fucked out,” she said.“He must have got an early flight,” I said, sipping my coffee.“Hello, I’m sharing with you, while my bedroom has an en-suite fitted!” Alex pointed out.“Oh yeah, had put up with Dad snoring then! Well welcome to my married. She now wore an almost electric blue Mandarin gown, again decorated in silver patterns, edged with black. Her jet black hair was long, down past her shoulders, waving with every step she took. She passed the bar, now fully into view, and I recognised the dragon pattern that snaked down her side, woven into the material. It was undeniably exquisite. The sight of those patterns gave me thoughts of tattoos. A few happy, solitary seconds were spent in the dark recesses of my imagination, wondering. More

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