Isabelle is four years older than me, but as an adult, when I think of that small difference in age it seems incredible that the difference in our age...is so insignificant. As a c***d I thought Isabelle was a wise old sage. She seemed to be a grown up as she stared at me in curiosity at my apparent perfection of limb.I was born after her, and even though she was a girl and I a little boy, I always wanted to hang with her. That was fine with her. Because of her condition not many people took time. ‘I want you to do bad things to me. I want to be your dirty little kitty.’Those were my last ‘human’ words for a while, and she took them to heart, using me as I needed and wanted to be used. Roughly, she turned me over, pushing me into the mattress with her weight, her strength fueled by lust.‘Don’t move!’ she commanded, and I obeyed, laying there, her legs straddling my waist, the warm wetness of her pussy rubbing against the small of my back as she reached drew her nails over my shoulder. More

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