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Cher leaves Freddie dumbstruck.

[I only learned the expression "oral sex" much later, when I also heard about "foreplay" and understood that that had been missing with my friend.]

That evening, naked again in the bathroom, we just smiled at each other, shrugging, then nodding. I had never started with his cock that small. I had it all in my mouth, my nose buried in his hair. It was a delightful challenge to make its head peek out of the roll of skin around it. I could have pushed it back, but I want to discover if I could just suck it out. I could, then able to lick it, still small and soft. Then it was larger, and the shaft of his cock was too. Then I couldn't lick it with the tip of my tongue, just rub my tongue on it as it extended deeper in my mouth. He chuckled, apparently understanding what I was doing. Then I had to raise my head a little.

When my tongue was back where he most enjoyed feeling it, and where I liked to tickle it, he moaned, and I hummed. It was so good. Even if he hadn't initially been aroused, he then was, and, of course, he came, spurting in my mouth, like I wanted him to. We both just chuckled; we knew that we were doing more than it had originally seemed we wanted to.

Of course, I was aroused after that; he didn't have to start at "ground zero." Maybe it wasn't quite as good as it had been in my room in the morning, but a good orgasm is a good orgasm. Is there any other kind?

That was really enough for that evening. I returned to my room and slept soundly.

Another morning, breakfast and day: it had been good the evening before, but not so that I wasn't already thinking about that evening, also about our conversation the previous morning in my room. Why shouldn't we really do it? Yeah, of course, incest, but how much different was really doing it -- say it, fucking -- from what we were already doing? Hadn't he admitted that he had also thought of it, telling me not to ask if he had? Why not? And if it wasn't really better than what we did, it would have to be better than what I had done with my friend, but that had been better, because I had so much experience with my brother, also with Barbs' advice. It would have to be a lot better with Pete. Was he having similar thoughts? I hoped so.

In the evening, watching TV with the family, my thoughts wandered from the show. If I had been him, I would have had a problem with my cock, but I was not him and didn't have one, just nipples popping out, contained by my bra. If I sucked his cock or let him start by licking my pussy, we would do that. Fine, but I wanted us to do more, so I had to avoid that. How? Laugh with the others at the show, even if I hadn't understood why.

What if he didn't want to do anything after our mild night yesterday. Oh, we would go in his room, anyway. Or we could go in mine. At least, I could be sure I had handy the rubbers he had given me. Of course, it would be real nice in his room to discover that he had some somewhere, but if he didn't, or just said that he didn't, he could use that as an excuse for our not doing it. Could I take one of mine in his room, two?! I had to laugh at something in the show again.

Would he be suspicious, if I suggested we go in my room, where we had talked about it? Or would that be good? Would I be more in control in my room? But doing what to get us thinking, talking about it again? We couldn't just start talking about it; I had to get him aroused enough to make it difficult for him to deny that he wanted to. Was he almost that aroused when his cock was between my thighs? Laugh again.

But that reminded me of the first evening with my friend, straddling him, rubbing my pussy on his cock.

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