"Winchester, don't... don't do this... Ahhh!"
The climax hit unexpectedly, and Margaret, lying against her older brother's chest, almost slipped down. Instinctively, she tightened her legs, causing his right hand to come into direct contact with her moist petals.
Transparent lust splattered on his hand.
Winchester's eyes widened in shock as if his right hand had been scorched by sparks, quickly pulling it away. The hose, spraying water, crashed onto the floor, splashing droplets around.
In the soft mist, with flushed cheeks, Margaret raised her fingers and touched Winchester's equally burning earlobes. She gazed into his deep blue eyes, seeing the intense contraction and expansion of pupils, so similar yet different.
"What are you doing?" she asked him softly, a hint of surprise and realization in her voice. "Do you... do you even know what you're doing, Winchester?"
Her voice was soft, like a post-climax whimper.
