My striving pike slid up her legs and across her belly to be mashed between us, throbbing with blood flow. I pushed it down and right between her legs it jutted, pressing up in her crease, anointing her tiny prick with my essence as she undulated."Please," she sighed, her head on my shoulder as I poked at her, probing hard, "be gentle. My husband was seventy, nearly seventy when he died in my bed, in my arms. He only..." She stopped as I resisted the temptation to have her where she stood and pulled her from her feet, laid her upon the bed and tucked her under the covers. She sighed, and I pulled my shirt over my head and rolled in beside her proceeded by a quivering spear of inordinate length and increasing girth, its helmeted head a ripe plum, the jolting veins on its rigid surface knotted and throbbing, its tip already moist and its long shaft oak hard. My stones had congealed into a huge ball now tight against my cock's base, pumping for release, aching for action."You are nice. It wasn't perfect, but I was able to throw games in my sister's favor.We obeyed our father's wishes regarding our bath times, though we weren't pleased. I don't think Kizuna ever forgave them for stopping our bath times, though over time she mostly forgot about it. For her, it became a general resentment of our parents.After that day, Kizuna stopped saying Mommy and Daddy and stuck to Mom and Dad. She didn't initiate conversation with them anymore. She would only respond to them. I don't think Dad really noticed, but Mom did.One morning, about two months after Dad laid down the law, Kizuna and I were eating breakfast (scrambled eggs) when Mom said, "Kizuna, are you mad at me?" No." Then why don't you talk to me anymore?" I talk to you. I'm talking to you now." That's not what I mean and you know it."Kizuna looked puzzled. I'm sure she didn't realize what she was doing. It was just her response. I could see Mom getting upset, so I decided to throw in my opinion, in the hopes it would.
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