It was the male voice which piqued my curiosity. And as I got closer, I noticed that the door was left slightly ajar either intentionally or by accide...t. I knelt down and peeked in, careful not to make any noise. It was Paul. He was seated on the edge of the bed and was leaning over, massaging his sister’s back. The heavy curtains of the baldachin were drawn back and wrapped around the bedpost leaving only the fleur-de-lis finials exposed.“You like that American bastard, don’t you?” he accused. Watching your eyes open, seeing you realise that you cannot get free. I stand with my legs slightly apart. My nipples rub against the red lace of the bodystocking, as I think of what I will do to you.Your eyes focus more. You can see the cut away of the bodystocking that shows my smooth white thighs; the shadow of my pussy beneath the lace. You wonder if I am already wet for you. Your cock is hardening, but I pretend not to notice. I move a half-step, and turn so you can see my strappy red. "Ja—sorry—I mean Rick, can I ask you a favor?" she said. Her request caught me by surprise. Well, not her request so much as her tone of voice. But, at the moment I was vulnerable and feeling generous. I was just hoping she wasn't going to ask me to go shopping with her; it's the one thing that I just couldn't get myself to do for her, and she resented it to some small extent."Rick, an old friend of mine, a male friend, is in town, from high school days actually. His name is Howard Colson. He. Before I can even attempt to question or object, I find myself spun around and unceremoniously dropped onto the ledge of the stainless steel sink; the cold surface presses against the back of my legs and the cheeks of my ass and I shiver violently when Mason's slightly calloused palms drift along my thighs as he aggressively shoves the bottom of my dress up to my hips.“What are you doing?” I whisper harshly as he hooks his index fingers around the thin straps of my undies. “We can’t do this!.