Lila knelt besides her and both looked up at the older slave girl, sitting on the balustrade. Of the five slave girls in the house, only Sarah the mos... senior could sit in public."I can make him do it. Let me tell you the story; it is not long."Despite the gravity of the topic, both slave girls prepared to enjoy the tale. Sarah was a great storyteller, and even an everyday event, when recounted by her, became a treat."I dated Paul when I was in high school and he was a promising young engineer.. They were wrong, though, because we were inseparable as we grew up. Even when most twins of opposite sex were separated - say around seven or eight - we insisted that we had to share the same room, if not the same bed any more. So my dad installed a thick privacy curtain between our halves of the room instead. That curtain had no door, and you had to lift it up to go from one side to the other. That was okay, though, because we could still talk and see each other if we wanted to. We slept. His hair was cut short with only a few streaks of grey. He was in fantastic shape, surely from a regular exercise regimen. His starched shirt, tie and dress pants were immaculate. I stood and seemed to naturally slip into the familiar hug he gave me."It's been so long," he said warmly. If there was any apprehension on his part, he was covering it well. I smiled weakly.After our last night together, he called me a couple of times. This was back before everyone and their sister had a cell phone. I slowly slid my hand down her bare abdomen and onto her jeans. The wet spot was only inches away when she stopped me.“No. Not there.”But, a few nights later, I tried again. This time she acquiesced, spreading her legs slightly to accommodate my probing fingers. I touched her damp jeans, pressing gently and rubbing in little circles. It was then that I discovered her wetness carried a wonderful scent, which pressed all my buttons. Rubbing her pussy through her pants became status-quo, whenever.