<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em><strong>Name:</strong> Reese Spalding <strong>Location:</strong> Home <strong>Tags:</strong> Soaking wet sis</em></span></span><br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/72/b8/d1/72b8d15e083e3b072de0066151588a2e.jpg)</div><br/>Deliberate. Exquisite. A tease beyond compare.<br/><br/>Only the very same circumstances had played out to a glorious culmination only yesterday. And the day before.<br/><br/>"<strong>Not talking, are we</strong>?" a sly grin decorates my face as I lean against the doorway,  wolfish eyes raking down my older sister's promiscuous form. The spray from the shower elevates her allure, as if such help was ever necessary. Yet there is an undeniably sensational desire that wells inside me. I like seeing her wet.<br/><br/>It is hard to place when these sinful urges first struck me. My memory simply clouds when it reaches a point beyond that surreal night when reality and fantasy exchanged places. A touch that ignite the soul, a kiss that charred what was left and a fuck that left nothing behind. We were born anew.<br/><br/>Anyway, why must I tax myself to exhume the mundane when I have the exotic in my fingertips?<br/><br/>Waiting. Hoping. Lusting.<br/><br/>The threshold lies behind me now. Sure, but slow footsteps have brought me to the edge of the shower. She had been kind enough to leave the sliding glass open. An invitation. One I recognize and rejoice in as the hair on the back of my neck bristles.<br/><br/>My curiosity demands I check if you suffer from the same. So I step behind you, not caring if my thin, cotton slacks bear the brunt of the water sprinkling down, and my lips close around the bridge of your shoulder.<br/><br/>A sensual re-acquaintance. A sinful recurrence.<br/><br/>"<strong>You feel so fucking good, sis</strong>"