I slid it over until I brushed the edge of her small breast. My nipples were hard, throbbing. I was so aware of high lithe she was.She was grown up. E...ghteen. Not a little kid any longer. She masturbated. She had breasts. A pussy.My sister was cute. Sexy, even.I kissed her harder. My clit-dick throbbed. My pussy burned. I groaned into the kiss as my hand squeezed the edge of her budding mound. I felt her little A cup tit. She shuddered beneath me and whimpered.But not in delight.I broke the. I knew this to be true from the times that I would play along with my Dad. Ann was an expert, very much in the style of Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull, and I was playing like I’d never played before. Our tunes swirled around each other, sometimes growing further apart, sometimes in unison, like two tongues caught in a musical kiss. First Ann would set the direction and then I would follow, then we reversed roles. Each of us trying to get the feel of the other’s musical inventiveness. I was adding. More

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