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Jenny finds her brother's "secret folder".

Finally I was permitted to come up for air and as I gasped for breath he removed his hand from my trousers and grabbed my waist so I moved away from the wall. Before I knew what was happening, we were walking quickly back on the path towards Tower Bridge, climbing the steps and hailing a cab. In the taxi he did not touch me. He did not look at me. He engaged the taxi driver in meaningless conversation about some road closures on the north side of the river. I longed for him to reach out to me; to squeeze my leg, to take my hand. Nothing.

Upon reaching his place, we hopped out of the car, he settled the bill and proceeded to let me into his flat. It was a typical bachelor's pad; a large TV and speaker system and huge cityscape prints on the walls. What was out of the ordinary was the level of organisation. When he opened the cupboard in search of wine glasses I caught a glimpse of all the glasses lined up in rows by type and height. In the living room not a DVD or CD was out of space and from what I could tell, they were organised by genre, and then alphabetised. There was not a speck of dust on the black gloss furniture.

After carefully pouring two glasses of wine he picked them up and I followed him to his bedroom. He set about putting on some music and drawing the curtains. Even in his bedroom not a thing was out of place. He leaned against his desk, glass of wine in hand and ordered me to undress. Still he had not touched me since we moved away from the river.

I bent down to unzip my boots and discarded them next to his bed. I undid the jeans that he had been inside not twenty minutes ago and slid them down my legs. I pulled my top over my head and stood there in front of him in my underwear. He did not flinch. He showed no sign of appreciation or arousal and that immediately set me on edge. I felt slightly uncomfortable and longed for his reassurance. After I'd removed my underwear and my bra he ordered me to tidy the pile of clothes I had left at the foot of his bed. As I put my boots together and folded my jeans and blouse he moved behind me and placed a hand on the small of my back. I felt myself tremble at his touch but stood up straight and strong after I'd finished arranging my clothes.

'I realise this is your first time experimenting with this, so I will go gently' he whispered so softly against my neck. 'If you do not want me to do something or you are not enjoying it then tell me and I will stop'.

He indicated for me to lie on the bed and I did so. He quickly undressed, folding his clothes as he did and sporting a reasonable sized erection. As he kneeled over me, I opened my mouth and he slid his hard cock into my mouth. I was given no warning as he pushed it further into my mouth. I gagged slightly, surprised by the invasion into my throat. He was in total control, fucking my mouth. After a few minutes he withdrew but maintained his position over my face indicating for me to keep my mouth open. I did as I was told. He slowly dipped his balls into my mouth and I massaged them with my tongue. He did not make a sound. He did not touch me.

Climbing off me, he reached over to a book shelf and removed a condom from a small black lacquer box. He placed it on his cock and ordered me to turn over. There was no foreplay for me. He pulled me up onto my knees, my back towards him and slid his penis into me in one sharp movement. There was no tentativeness about his action and no checking that I was lubricated enough before he did it. A moan escaped my mouth and I quickly bit my lip to hold it back, unsure how much noise I would be permitted to make without punishment. He grabbed my hair in is hands in a ponytail and held it tight at the nape of my neck whilst he pounded into me. It was rough. It was relentless. It felt amazing.

When he went too deep I let out a small yelp and he responded my pulling my hair tighter towards him.

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