Of course not, but you're not the only one in the room.

I had completely forgotten that Marisa was even in the room until she yelled at Jessica, I’d been that entranced. Honestly, I think Jessie might not have remembered either. “Jessica, what the HELL are you doing? You can’t just take of your clothes like this! Mike is standing right here!” Marisa was beside herself. I wondered if she thought her sister had lost her mind.

But Jessie just responded calmly, her eyes still glinting with mischief and the desire to win. “I know Mike is here, Mari. That’s the point. And don’t give me any bullshit this time about being a slut. I don’t have to be ashamed of my body in my own home. This isn’t like showing off in public."

Jessie wasn't kidding about showing off--I was getting more and more turned on by the contrast between her white bra and tanned skin. Her grapefruit sized tits spilled over the bra, presenting a delicious amount of titflesh for my viewing pleasure. A man could die happy sucking and squeezing those jiggling mountains, I thought.

Jessica continued talking to Marisa, oblivious to my ogling. "I’m in control of my body and I can do what I want with it, and I don’t need ‘society imposing its limits on me,’ Little Miss Feminist. I’m not worried about being demeaned by taking off my top, I’m just worried that Mike isn’t quite open-minded enough to accept this,” Jessie finished, with a wolfish grin at me.

She still thought her assertiveness was going to make me feel uncomfortable enough to tell her to stop. This girl had a lot to learn about the ways of men, I reflected. Marisa, for her part, was stunned into silence. I think the fact that Jessie used such good “empowered woman” language was sending Marisa into a bit of a crisis of feminism. Internally, I smiled. Externally, I got even harder.