Katara let out a short gasp when she felt her brother's hand come to a rest upon her bosom, and then squeeze. A feeling like an electric shot went up her spine at that, a sensation unlike any she could remember ever feeling. She shivered, moaning in spite of herself as Sokka began kneading her breast through the fabric of her dress, rolling it this way and that under the palm of his hand as he squeezed and massaged her tit.
"N-no...!" she gasped out, even as she felt another hand come to a rest atop her other breast. "We can't... Th-this is wrong...!" she tried to protest.
As much she could not help adoring the way he was making her feel, Katara could not stand the thought of doing something like this. Not with Sokka! He was her brother! This was wrong!
And Katara could not hold back the moans which threatened to escape her lips as her brother continued to play with her breasts. She mewled pitifully under his masterful ministration, feeling her womanhood grow wet, her loins grow hot, as he so skillfully molested her modestly sized tits.
Her cheeks were red, and she was panting and sweaty as she began trying to wriggle free of Sokka's grip, to tell him to stop, that this wasn't right!
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