Master was a sex god and he knew it. I couldn’t wait to have his hot loads of cum running inside my tight pussy and filling up my ass. I was Master�...�s slut and was proud of it. One of his fingers grazed my pussy. He pulled me off of him. ‘On your back slut. Get yourself off.’ I lay down. I started to touch my wet lips slowly, massaging them. I saw Master watching me intently and blushed. I slid my finger upwards towards my clit. Almost as good as Master’s tongue could do it. I pinched my clit. Like I stated before, we had been sheltered growing up. And while the noises emitted from his room could be easily ignored, it was a bit harder to ignore a shirtless, 65, 17 year old soccer player prancing about your house. I had never had a boyfriend, let alone seen a boy shirtless, so this was quite a predicament for me. And, for some reason unknown to me, I started to savor the images in my head. And not long after did I discover masturbating. I stopped listening to my music when my brother. More

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