She had a woman's figure, one that wouldn't quit.I could hear my heart beating in my ears, a rapid staccato beat. Those curves; so beautiful, so Ruben...sque. I had to get my hands on them, feel them.She made her way to a lone stool at the bar, deep in the corner, away from the crowd. Her sway, to and fro; womanly hips moving beneath her dress hypnotized me, drawing me to her shapely thighs, my gaze caressing her through her stockings.Suddenly breathing became difficult when I saw her shoes.. I kept away from the occasions where I could've gone with my sister to play again in her room. Night after empty night. I refused to let her hear any sound of myself alone. I refused to join her. And I maintained that standard.It was another night of the folks out and us on the couch with t.v. and pizza. We were both getting a bit itchy.I broached the subject, totally out of the blue, "You know the reason I don't go in your room anymore is I'm tired of just jacking-off. To a beautiful sight, no. More

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