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The thumbs move as mirror images up beneath my bob cut, her palms sliding forwards until her little fingers are just beneath the open neck of my silk blouse. I let my head loll to one side, my cheek caressing the smooth skin on the back of her hand and her perfume becomes stronger and for the merest instant I feel her hair brush my other cheek. I want to speak, but her silence makes me mute and I just fall back against the chair, my shoulders cushioned against her cotton covered stomach. She's bolder now, her little fingers following my bra straps downwards towards my already aching breasts and any tension I had felt was dissolved beneath her expertly gentle touch. Her hands come together, her index fingers touching as they move down between my swelling breasts, the other fingers flowing over the lacy material of my bra, before her nails scrape back, having not quite reached my nipples as I so long for them to do, and heaven, they move back and I feel her hair again, prefacing the. As soon as my hand touched the end of his dick through his pants, John started moaning loudly, and his hips jerked. Without moving my hand, I looked up to see John’s head now tilted back towards the ceiling and could see that it was not just his hips, but his whole body was in a series of jerks. Before I could put together what was happening, I started to feel a warm wetness on my hand through his pants. For whatever reason, shock maybe, I didn’t pull my hand away. I brought my eyes back down to his crotch and watched as John’s hips continued to jerk lightly and the wet spot expanded beyond the cover of my hand. I could also feel his dick pulse with each spurt he unloaded into his pants. While there were only four or five spurts before dying off into light pulsing, those first few were long spurts, apparently shooting quite a bit of cum, judging by the wetness seeping through his pants. When John stopped moving, I finally pulled my hand away. There was a dark ovular stain starting at.
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