And I grew up. I knew I couldn't run away. I had to go back and confront Les. And do whatever I could to make it right.I spent the ride back coming up...with questions. Would Les ever talk to me again? Would I have to explain why I raped my sister to my parents? Would they send me away somewhere? Have me arrested? What if Les was pregnant? Or if I'd caused some kind of damage to her? And most important, how could I do this to my sister?It started raining the last 15 minutes or so and I was soaked. It was probably pretty kinky of me (we all have our particular takes on our fetishes and what gets us off) - I got dressed in his clothes – the wrinkled, sweaty shirt he wore that day to work, his favourite pit-stained smelling tweed sport coat and crusty, crotch cum-stained, coarse-grained wool dress trousers. Commando. I just had to feel where his hot male balls had been all day and the friction of that tactile fabric riding against my cock made me half hard in the elevator as I rode down. More

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