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Thankyou for what we did before." I saidwith as nice a smile as I could."AdiÃ³s. See you tomorrow." Mark said before turning on the tv andturning his attention to it.I went home (next door), and even though it was close to 11:30PM by thistime, my mother wasn't home. Oh well, it was Friday night, and it figuresthat she would be out late again.I crawled into bed with the taste of Marks cum still in my mouth, and thebutt plug filling my tiny hole. I squeezed it with my ass muscles, andfelt it push up further inside of me. It took me a while and I finallydrifted off to sleep. I was one tired girlie-boy.I woke up the next morning with a very stiff clittie. The butt plug waspushing up against something deep inside of me that seemed to be causing myclittie to remain stiff. It felt strange and exciting. Memories of lastnight started coming back to me, and the taste of Marks cum in my mouthbrought back even more memories. I recalled feeling all sexy and girlieafter Angie dressed. I had to agree they were very sexy panties and couldn?t wait to feel them.I headed down the hall way to my sister?s room, knowing she was not home yet. Hell she was probably giving some lucky guy I nice look at her heart covered panties right now. I went straight to her panty drawer to get my prized possession. I took them out and ran to my room, putting them with my other panties. I took the tape out of the box and placed it in my Walkman, ready for the action. I couldn?t wait. *************************************It came time for bed and I was excited with all the anticipation. I had raced away from the dinner table, wanting to get to my treasures as soon as possible. I picked up the little pink panties with blue elastic and brought them slowly up my body, imagining being a sexy girl, imagining being my sister. I got in to bed with my walkman and pressed play on the tape.The tape was dead boring. It was a story told by some guy with a very monotone voice. But I had to play it to.
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The Finklesteins had infested my every thought. They were all I could think about. Then I heard the garage door again.“Hey Mishhhter Parker, what are you doing?” called a sweet, chirpy little voice that chilled me to the bone.I turned around to see Becky Finklestein, in baggy corduroy pants and a baggy pink sweater. In the baggy, ill-fitting clothes she looked like a round, fat little girl, but I knew better. If I looked closely I could see the slabs of muscle move beneath the fabric. If Rachel was trying to dress Becky to conceal her Olympian physique she had better start buying circus tents. “I’m doing some whittling, Becky,” I said.“Well you better shhhtop,” she said. “It’s time for me to beat you up.”“Becky-”“You will call me Princess Becky, Queen of the Univershhhe,” she ordered. “Now come over here!”I walked toward the four-fout-tall muscle girl, slumping over in shame as I did. Becky held her hand out, locked her middle finger in place with her thumb, and flicked me in the.

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