Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Rose was her name; my next door neighbour. She’d been friends with my parents and had even come over to our house during the summer to enjoy our pool. I’d seen her in her bikini – all bouncing boobs and smooth, tanned skin. To my eighteen-year-old eyes, she was a goddess. They’d been good friends, the three of them,; often spending summer nights drinking and talking and laughing out in the garden. That was before she had fucked my dad. The lucky bastard. After that, she wasn’t invited to anything. It broke my mum. My dad had cheated before, everyone knew that. But never had it been with someone she knew. It had been faceless secretaries and personal assistants at work; not someone who had been invited into the family home. It had left a special kind of sadness, and that betrayal had been the final straw. Our family was reduced to rubble after she kicked Dad out. But the act of kicking him out seemed to start the recovery. I still heard the crying sometimes but the house was a more stable, happy environment, which made me feel all the more guilty for what happened. Like father, like son, as they say. My bedroom is at the back of the house, and although it faces onto the garden, the window also affords a more interesting view into Rose’s back bedroom. I didn’t understand why she chose to sleep in that back bedroom, rather than the larger front room – but I was grateful that she did. It was a warm night when I heard her. My window almanbahis was open and so was hers. When they were like that, it was almost as if the sounds from her bedroom were being funnelled straight into my bedroom and into my consciousness. My door was ajar but I knew enough to push it closed before I went to investigate. Closing the door wasn’t so much to contain the sound, rather it was to stop me from being suddenly illuminated should my step-sister decide to unexpectedly switch on the landing light. From my bed, I’d been able to hear faint voices talking and laughing. From the window, I could see straight into Rose’s bedroom, although there was nothing to see in there – yet. The voices were drifting up from her garden and I could vaguely see two silhouettes in the darkness. Although I couldn’t hear the words, the voices were both high pitched – women’s voices – which made what I saw next all the more intriguing. It appeared that they were embracing; hugging and then kissing and touching. I listened closely and as the minutes passed. I was sure that I could hear faint moaning: the kind of moaning that a woman makes when someone is rubbing between her legs. It was enough to make my cock hard – and my cock was soon aching enough for me to need to stroke it. I strained as best I could to see what was going on – but the design of the garden meant there was no opportunity to explain what I could hear. What I could hear was enough almanbahis yeni giriş to fuel my imagination – not that what was in my head was imagined, given that Rose was careless with her curtains. I’d watched her masturbate. I’d watched her have sex with both men and women… sometimes at the same time, often in combinations which would make a porn star blush. Going back to bed, I wrestled with my memories and my cock, coming close to making it spurt as I added flesh to the sounds I’d heard. My bedroom was flooded with a familiar light: Rose’s bedroom light was on and her curtains were open. I commando-crawled to my window, hoping to catch a glimpse of my ‘cheating slut of a neighbour’, as my mother now called her. With the curtains open and the light on, the view was better than Blu-ray. I watched as Rose skipped lightly round the bed, plumping the pillows as she went. She checked herself in the mirror and undid the top two buttons of her blouse and adjusted her cleavage. There was a squirt of perfume. I knew her routine well enough to know that she was preparing her boudoir and herself for a ‘special’ guest. My hand was pulling harshly on my cock as my eyes gobbled-up the view. Watching Rose in the privacy of her own bedroom was always enough to get me off, no matter what she was doing. The added guilt from what she’d done to my family only seemed to make the orgasms all the sweeter as I added to my mother’s almanbahis giriş betrayal. However, I was in for a shock. As I watched with my hand stroking back and forth to prepare the base of a powerful orgasm, my step-sister walked into the bedroom. Not my bedroom, you understand. Rose’s bedroom. My hand stopped and my mouth fell open. What the fuck was Angela doing in the neighbour’s bedroom? It was clear that Rose had been expecting Angela in her room. And then they came together, softly and tenderly… and they started making out. A part of me wanted to shout out, or even go over there and kick some ass: first Rose had fucked my dad, now she was making out with my deranged, demonic step-sister. Tina was a proper sister. A blood sister. Someone to care about and love. Angela was… Angela was evil. Shock kept me frozen in my hiding spot, watching and listening. At first, I couldn’t believe what was happening. But then I began to think that it was my duty to see what happened. Yes, a duty. Report back. I watched the horror show, going blind to the fact that one of the women was my step-sister; as the clothes fell away and the angles changed, I saw only two women making out. Tits and legs; hands exploring… and eventually, the familiar moans. Rose was going to come. My cock was so accustomed to getting pleasured when Rose made those sounds that it demanded to be touched. Demanded. And I couldn’t resist doing the thing which needed to be done. Rising to my knees, I masturbated as I watched my step-sister lie on the bed between Rose’s spread legs. I could see her hands on Rose’s thighs… which meant it was Angela’s mouth causing Rose to make those noises.