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Her beige and pink bra peeked out between the flaps. Her skirt riding high over her hips, barely covering the treasure trove at the top of her legs. The silky stockings showed a slight sign of how the conversation had been affecting her. The bulge evident in John’s pants showed his obvious arousal as well. Reaching over to him, Jane slowly stroked and caressed the mound of manhood, feeling it twitching under her touch. Grasping the zipper, she slowly tugged it down. Looking over at her lover, she watched his face react. She recalled seeing his eyes widening, the smile forming, the light perspiration forming. Lowering the zipper completely, the dark blue of his briefs now fully exposed. The swell of his manhood created more moisture between her legs, squirming on the seat beside him. The conversation had fallen silent; there was no need for words now. Actions, in this case, most certainly were speaking volumes. Leaning over, her mouth and lips pressed to his neck, kissing her man. Somehow the blanket has managed to stay on top of us thus far, but now that it leaves us to spend the night on the floor our clothes want to follow. I pull Ashley’s shirt over her shoulders, the old Dead shirt that has done a few too many rounds in washing machines over the years but has been a better friend than anyone she knew when she bought it. Her breasts are beautiful, firm enough to free her from the need for bras and just about big enough to give a nice bulge in snug shirts and tops. A handful of dollars, pale riders on a lonesome road through no man’s land.My lips find hard nipples, soft lips and a hungry tongue and a painful moan escapes me as her teeth dig into my lower lip. I’m still wearing my party shirt and her fingers are busy unbuttoning it, one by one without the need to resew even one of them tomorrow. The good thing about sweatpants is how you can dive under them with your fingers, how you can push them down with your knuckles without your fingers ever leaving.
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