She was one of the sexiest girls any of the boys had ever seen. She wore tight, form fitting jeans that curved to the shape of her ass, and constantly reminded the boys of her long, shapely legs. She usually wore tiny little spaghetti strapped shirts, low enough to show ample cleavage, but covering enough to keep her modest. These tops, like the jeans, fit her well, showing the shape of her breasts, the flatness of her abdomen, and when the boys got lucky, the shape of her nipples. Her dark brown hair was either straightened, or up in a high ponytail, showing off the creamy white skin of her shoulder blades and the soft enticing skin of her neck that they we're all dying to bite at and make her whisper there names in her sweet, soft voice.
They were Her boys. That's what she called them. For someone so incredibly feminine, she somehow got along better with the opposite gender. Whenever the boys had a poker night, she could beat most of them. She loved to watch action movies and rarely hid her face when someone got blown up on the big screen. When they went out to the bars, she could down almost as much beer as they could. For some, it was like she was the little sister they had never had, seeing as she was at least one year younger than the youngest boy, and by far the smallest of the lot of them. The only difference was, none of the boys ever woke up hard from dreaming about fucking their sisters.
In fact, none of the boys ever dreamed of fucking there little sisters. Ever since she came into their lives, they only dreamed of her. Sure, they all dated other girls, mostly because they knew that the girl they wanted was completely unattainable. It drove them crazy though, when they walked into the room and her bright blue eyes lit up at the sight of them, and she ran over to them, demanding hugs, and pressing her frame up against them, in what was far too sensual a way to simply be friendly. She'd look at them and demand they got more sleep, smoked less pot, ate healthier, cared for them like a mother hen.
