. . well, I guess that’s it then! Michael, thanks for coming over and . . .’ ‘Wait,’ Wendy stopped me, ‘Michael’s not leaving yet,’ as she looked at me sternly as if I was taking candy away from her. ‘Do you have to go?’ she asked looking wide-eyed at him. Michael responded that he didn’t. ‘Good!’ Then seizing on a thought in her head, ‘Hey, some of the girls at work said you’re a terrific dancer. Is that true?’ Michael told her that he had been a dancer for some years and actually taught some dance steps at a local studio before he landed the job at their company. ‘Oh my God, really? Would you dance with me, please.’ Wendy knows I’m a terrible dancer and relishes any chance to dance. She loves it. Michael willingly obliged to teach her some steps. Figuring we’d be staying a bit longer, I refreshed their daiquiris with the last of the batches–there was only enough left for two, so I went without another drink. ‘Dear?’ turning quickly to me, ‘move the table and chairs off to the side. "You look great," I told her as I sat beside her and unsnapped her overstuffed bra, peeled it off her shoulders and mouthed her luscious left tit as I tossed it away. She seldom wore the thing when we played our exciting games, and she had outgrown this one I'm sure."Yeah," she sighed, "I do, don't I? Oh, that's so nice. You're such a good brother. I took a couple of pictures in uniform, sent them out and already got responses." She lay back and I climbed halfway atop her, my knee in her hairless groin, pressing and rubbing, and switched my attention to her other globular mound with its rose-bud tit. She was fourteen and she wore a 32C bra and overfilled it; despite the weight of her dugs, which were the size of grapefruit I guess, real handfuls, she did not need it, really didn't need it.Not only did the girls envy her, so did the female teachers. Her nipples were small, just candy kisses, but when I got through with them, both were jutting upward, big as fingertips, supersensitive.
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