After they talked Mel walked up to her room, to the right on the second floor. Harry pulled out his dick, he didn't care of the risk of someone seeing him in the room with his dick in hand, but as held the flaccid fellow in his right hand, it began to digress to it's form of the past month. "No, fuck, no." Cursed Harry. He tried to think about how his sister could come down at any minute to see, but his imagination wasn't worth shit to his dick. He stared at his shrivelled dick, it's wrinkles like some crass frown. Harry knew what he needed, it wasn't no fiction or computer screen, he stared down at his shrunken worm, "Fuck it, have it your way then." Harry creeped up to his sister's bedroom, his dick getting hard at the thought of what he was about to do. Her white door slung ajar to reveal an orange light from her lamp. Harry tiptoed to the door, facing his ear to gap in the entrance, he waited silently until he heard a soft snore. Mel's room had a window that faced to the street,. She did not even arch an eyebrow or cock her head to indicate her curiosity. She simply stood before the doorway and stared at the man. Inwardly, she felt as if her jaw dropped to the floor. Gone were the stilted, formally dressed dandy of the night before and the hesitant, awkward gentleman of earlier this afternoon; in their place stood a man, confident, rugged, sensual. The man wore a dark brown cloak with the hood thrown back over his shoulders hanging down his back. Beneath the cloak, she spied a ruffled white poet's shirt that hung open to his waist and exposed his firmly muscled chest. His chest was bronzed, smooth and hairless. His trousers were a lighter shade of brown than the cloak and tailored to accentuate his narrow waist and hips. Antoinette's control slipped and she found herself in such a state of shock that she lost focus for a moment and blinked. This new Erik smirked as he took note of her response. She retaliated by folding her arms across her chest and narrowing.
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