Go to Belinda's room

You chide yourself. If you're to be the family whore, personal pleasure ought to come second to the needs of the family, you think. If I'm going to do this, I should do this right.

Your bare feet are quiet on the carpeted floor as you head directly to Belinda's room. Unsurprisingly but still embarrassingly, you feel your erection straining even more against the panties you chose (a softer than you expected cotton, with gray and pink stripes).

You see that Belinda's bedroom door is ajar, and you are about knock on the frame when you hear a moan emerge from the crack.