"Fraus, frauleins, where fraus?" I asked it my broken German. My vocabulary actually ended with the word for beer, which was Bier.No, no, he told me. ..."Nein," he said. "Frau tot, Madchen vent, gone."I figured out, after a bit more prodding that the girls had been taken somewhere and that their mother was dead."Where Madchen, where are the girls?" I demanded, poking him here and there.He tried various words and pointed, I suspect astounded how thick I was."Farm?" I asked. "Farm house over there?". Maybe they did or maybe it was just my perception of them but I can tell you right now they are a hell of a lot more than just "pretty". If they want to they can ooze sex appeal enough to make a dead man pant and sport wood. Maybe it changed when Eimile confronted her rapist and defeated him in her own mind (along with a few really good kicks to the ribs). I think her soul was finally free and she blossomed. Of course being able to openly be with her lover, at least in the privacy of her family. Shocked, Sean stands there briefly, watching as James mounts Isabelle like she was a bitch in heat and he a prized stud. He slides between her well-moistened lips, the head of his dick parting her easily and bumping her clit with every twitch of movement. He starts surprisingly slow for his enthusiasm, but then speeds up as Isabelles hot pussy engulfs his cock. As he fucks her, Isabelle moans, pushing her hips back in appreciation, her nails digging into the table. Sean finally comes to his. A plan was made and Saturday night came. You called. The fuses had blown in your house and it was dark and cold. You didn’t have a flashlight and needed someone to come over and help you get to the circuit box in the basement. A story? Plausible, and you were believed as you conveyed it to my wife over the phone, who then, in turn, sent me on my way to your house with a flashlight. Lies. But all affairs are premised upon at least one lie. You texted me as I drove to your house. The front door.