Both his hands squeezed either of my breasts as I gasped loudly. My heart started hammering, as his hands went in rounds, squeezing my petite and smal... boobs. “You like that don’t you?” he spoke. As a deep sleeper, my brother thought I was fast asleep and continued doing what he was doing, in his defense; there was no one to witness what was going on. Again, I questioned my brother’s actions silently. Now, he squeezed my nipples and again I gasped as the pain sent a chill down my spine. I. She always wore an upcycled tank-top version of her husbands worn out flannels and either a left over material skirt or short pants. It was amazing what she could do with her sewing machine. The men had always commented on her unique style but I admired her for it. She could take any unwanted clothing article, no matter how holey or stained it was, and make it look new and as if it was purchased for her that way. It was almost inspiring. Her hair was a lot darker than mine and a lot longer.. More

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