First she thought she had wet herself, but there was no scent of urine. Her fingers confirmed: Her vagina, not her bladder, had produced the puddle. T...e last night’s cruel jokes about her scent on little brother’s shirt echoed in her dulled brain before being replaced by the memory of what caused the wetness. She marveled, and unconsciously reached under the shirt to touch herself, making sure her maidenhead was still intact. She was quickly rewarded with another orgasm, small, gentle, not like. Sarah chuckled. "Yeah, she sure does look like Ginny, doesn't she? I just hope she doesn't turn out like Ginny did. Go ahead, talk to her. Maybe she'll listen to you, but I doubt it."We had ended up at the tree house. I started to climb up, and looked at Sarah. She had that evil look on her face. I smiled inwardly. She could read my mind! We got up into the tree house, and I was astonished. It was decked out like an apartment with pillows, a cot, and chairs. I looked at Sarah with a question on. More

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