Sandra Christenson

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By the time we hit our late teens, that love—brotherly love, I had—morphed into something dark and obsessive. I was jealous. Every guy who looked at her, every friend she made, every moment she spent away from me—it burned me up inside. I found myself watching her when she didn’t know. Thinking about her riding my cock, her titties bouncing, when I should’ve been doing something else.
Noel of Sin
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