...ey could not stop or control what their bodies were about to do.
She knew all about that pleasure and how much they craved it and she loved that she kept such power over the boys!
Katara watched fascinated by the little, easy-to-miss motions of Sokka's stroking. Things like how his foreskin covered then exposed his head, how it scrunched up under the rim of that violet helmet, how that clear, sticky fluid oozed like water out of his tip. And the sound of the flesh moving back and forth mixing with the whining of her brother.
Truth was that she loved watching the boys masturbate: there were so many techniques and she wanted to know about each and every one of them. It took her such a long time to master the very basic motion. Those poor teenagers suffered many a raw and swollen penis just because she lacked that rhythm. But she got the timing right eventually and when she felt her hand soak with semen she knew she was ready for the job.
Sokka was writhing. He was stroking so fast his hand was a blur and his penis seemed to be even bigger and harder than usual. He spread his legs, his toes curling. Katara knew he was about to climax.
With her free hand she grasped his sack. Just the feel of her palm against his tight, throbbing balls was all it took to send him over the edge. He squirted a wad of semen that splashed against her face. She held his shafted and stroked his tip until he dribbled the last of the load. But she kept stroking, giggling at th...