It Wasn t The Feel
It wasn't about the rubbing, or the friction, or the feel of it, exactly. It was about the atmosphere, perhaps even the ambiance, if that's not ridiculously snobby. So without wasting any more time, I jumped up from the bed, wriggled out of my damp panties, and sat back down, cross-legged, stark naked, and looking directly in his eyes. I wanted him to watch. I wanted him to stare. Hell, I wanted him to help, but I wasn't going to let him. My eyes might not have strayed very far, but my...