Reagan plopped herself down on the sofa and the boys joined her. The other two boys, Pete and James, only nodded. He had just turned fourteen last week and was the oldest of the three boys and in my judgment the best looking.
'Hey Brandon,' Joe was the only one to say something to me. My thirteen year old sister, Reagan, was walking in front of three boys from her class as they ogled her pert little ass in her favorite short-shorts. The sound of people descending the carpeted stairs into the rec room let me know my evening was about to be interrupted.
Plowing and seeding my sister's furrow would bring these guys extreme bliss. Such are the thoughts of raging hormonal boys, looking for ways to employ the tools we carry between our legs, and working it to bring us pleasure. She was pretty and flirty, and the boys flocked around her, hoping that someday they'd be the first one she'd spread her legs for. In fact I sort of knew it was some guys here to hang out with my younger sister. I heard what sounded like a group of footsteps above me.
