The Page of Wands

A ZEBRA STORY

Are you enjoying my tales? I'm going to light some fire, I will not excuse myself. Good, huh? Yeah, I can see the big marker letters on your face that say you don't smoke.

What other story I can say? Oh well, the one with Quentin. He was Lisa's brother. She invited me to her apartment downtown one night. Lisa was a girl of wine goblets and imported cigarettes. I was indeed into her most for her peculiarities rather than for any authentic fondness.

She went to the bathroom to take a shower. She said she was repulsed of the odor from the street and told me to use her bed if I wanted to rest some. I was not tired but the invitations have always captivated my attention no matter I wanted to do the opposite.

Her apartment was consumed by shadows. To be honest, all the places I met by those times were tucked in this vibe of blindness that created these unexpectancy. My eyes could only see nightstands all over and plastic flowers next to indeterminate furniture.

I walked in her bedroom. I had to invade this sooty cave with my fumes that I lit some cigar up. I wasn't proving new rolls at that state. Then he was finding me.

An antique sensation advised my mouth to excuse myself for intruding but I had a pass and I was a new monster with no need for good manners. Lisa's brother was naked on what I thought was her bed, he was touching his blond dick, relaxed in his contemplation for the ceiling.

I just stepped into the room for some inches. It was a cool chamber surrounded by a little light. He was thrown there, looking upwards while his feet got out of the bed. He was not masturbating, only combed his pubes with his hands.

"I thought this was Lisa's bedroom."

"No," he said, sitting up. He could wrap himself up with the white sheets but he just looked at me hungrily. I was not food of anyone's. "This is my bedroom. I'm her brother, Quentin."

Lisa had beautiful black silky hair. This man was blond. In his head and in his pubes. He caught me watching his uncut fellow still sleeping. His bed quilt was printed on zebra stripes.

I sucked my cigarette and turned around, not wanting to mess up with his night plans.

"Why you leave so soon?"

His youthful voice messaged me. It was obvious he and Lisa brought quails which murdered beneath sheets. He invited me to go close. I learned not to refuse any beckoning.

I approached him.

"What do you want?" I said clasping his chin.

"You're attractive." I had his chin in my right hand, I showed nonchalance. "I assume you're my sister's new toy."

"I am not. We don't play yet."

I stuck my left thumb inside his mouth. I felt his teeth edge rasping my hand skin.

Quentin grabbed my left hand firmly with his two sinewy claws and forced me to navigate his whole stomach. He meowed. I was amused. He obliged me to pet him, to hit his nipples, to feel his hairs, to get in his bellybutton. Then I reached his bell and my fist clutched and measures his balls. I squeezed and squeezed his testicles.

It is a dangerous job to do. We know any bad dong there can cause pins and needles. But he allowed me to caress him and do what my fingers wanted to do. I was not prepared for any action night; it was raining and I just needed a place to be stupid.

He was a nice finding. When you stop looking, the socks you think you lost appear.

So, I was there pulling from his scrotum while he panted. He rested his back on his zebra quilt, I desired to play a bit more.
Do you want to know who was biting her lips at the door when I was stroking Quentin?