. Let me get my clothes... I'll leave.”I turned and prepared to sprint for the stairs—I had to get away from the most embarrassing moment in my en...ire life—when she grabbed my arm. Her grip tight, hauling me back. Her fingernails bit into my bicep. I gasped as she spun me around, my futa-dick thrusting over a foot before me. It smacked into her hip clad in a her skirt.“That is... something else,” Mrs. Albertson said, her free hand grasping it. She shook her head, licking her lips. “It just.... . Doing here?" I had to talk to you, Jack. I hope you don't mind!" Uh, about what? I mean, let me put something on!"He couldn't ask her to leave. He wanted to, he simply couldn't. And things got worse as she said:"No, no, don't put anything on. I have to talk to you, Jack!" I'm going to... put something." No, if it makes you more comfortable, I take off mine!"And Amy quickly removed her pajamas. Jack's cock, that got soft as he saw his sister, suddenly was hard again. Jack tried to cover it. As fetishes go, it wasn't a horrifying one. Plus it was cheap. His only requirements were Windex and Bounty paper towels.His fetish seemed preordained since the day-long ago he uncovered a VHS copy of Michael Powell's "Peeping Tom" lamely hidden behind his dad's massive movie collection. His dad claimed to be a cinephile despite owning every Jim Varney movie ever unleashed on unsuspecting theaters. Still, Tom learned much from him, explaining why he grew up watching French new wave cinema. They walked into the second room on the right, and I walked into the first room on the left. Immediately I was filled with awe. Their was a red velvet rug on the floor, the bed was white silk, the dresser was oak... I have never seen a room so elegant. Their was a mirror on the wall, and a chest near the foot on the bed filled with clothing. Their was red and blue robes, white fancy looking clothes for important occasions, regular clothing but with my father's symbol on the right shoulder.