My chest is tight, and my stomach starts to ache as my breathing gets so erratic that I can’t hide it anymore.
To change my focus and try to calm down, I look around the scene to see the other two guys with one girl. They’re sitting on a couch with the girl bouncing up and down on one guy while sucking on the other, who is standing next to them. He’s leaning down, rubbing her breasts, as the other guy rubs her clit.
I hear her moan in ecstasy around the guy’s dick, and I feel myself get wetter than I ever thought was possible from just watching people.
I can’t just sit here. I have to do something.
The glass I was holding is still in my hands, so I open my legs only wide enough to slide the glass down between my thighs, suddenly very thankful Becca made me wear this short skirt. The feeling of the cold glass up against my soaked panties is pushing me further than I imagined. The coldness along with the hardness of the glass pressed against me causes my clit to tingle, releasing pure ecstasy.
Slowly, I move my hips from side to side, trying to hide my movements and not make what I’m doing obvious to anyone around. With my vision stuck on the body of a woman I don’t know while a man’s dick slides in and out of her, I feel myself start to almost drool from my slightly parted lips.
I think I’m getting away with my own private little scene until Eros slides closer, and I hear him whisper in my ear, “Let me help you.”
“Fuck me, Sharee. I’m so fucking hard right now. I don’t know if you should continue,” Drew says, his voice laced with pain.
I take a breath before letting it out. “I wish I could help you.”
“Help me?”
I bite my lip and nod even though I know he can’t see me.
“How would you like to help me, Sharee?”
The way he says my name pushes me over the edge. I put the book down and get more comfortable on my couch. And by more comfortable, I mean, I run my fingers down my stomach and in between my legs.
“I want to feel how big your cock is,” I say as I drop my head back on the couch and rub myself through my pajama pants.
“I wish you could. I don’t remember the last time I was so hard. It’s been like torture ever since I met you.”
“Have you been jacking off to thoughts of me?” I ask.
“Every day,” he says breathlessly. “It’s like a dream to do it right now, hearing your voice.”
A groan escapes his lips, and visions of him sliding his hand down his cock makes my chest tight.
“Please tell me you’re touching yourself,” he says.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Are you on the outside or inside of your clothes?”
“Outside.”
“If I tell you what to do, will you do it?”
I nod, humming into the phone as my response.
“Close your eyes and envision it’s my hand as you move up to your stomach, slowly touching the top of your panty line before slipping underneath the fabric, all the way until you feel your slit.”
As my fingers glide over the smooth skin, I feel the wetness against my fingertips.
“Move your fingers around until you reach your clit.”
A little squeak escapes my lips, and he moans when he hears I’ve hit my mark.
“Fuck, I’ve wondered what sounds you would make. That’s going to be ingrained in my brain for the rest of my life.”
He takes a deep inhale, and all I can think of is him holding back his urge as he moves his hand up and down his shaft.
