Late Night TV

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Late Night TVIt was after 11pm, my best friend and I snuggled up on her couch to watch some TV. She was four years my senior, shorter than I, but a bit stockier. She sat upright, the TV remote by her side. I stretched out on my back, my head on a pillow in her lap. I turned only my lazy head to watch our favorite late night talk show. Every light was off, so the blue glow of the screen seemed like an otherworldly haze in the living room on that spring evening. She brushed my hair, a sensation I relished. Then she began to make one long braid in the back. It felt soothing, a feeling I wished would never end. She did finish – with my hair. I felt her touch my neck softly in a way she had never touched it before. With the back of her fingers, I could feel her stroking the back of my neck, then the side closest to her. The movement of her hand gave me chills. I didn’t say anything, because it felt good – all over. I was confused, however, urfa escort because we were friends, but what I felt was telling my body other things. She caressed my neck for quite a while. As she did, I could feel a blood rush between my legs, a consciousness of my body as I had not known it before. I can’t remember the shirt I was wearing, but I remember the heather gray sweatpants. I felt my own lubrication moving inside me and was afraid of any of my ’excitement’ becoming visible on the light-colored clothing I had selected for the visit. So I excused myself to go to the restroom. Wow. Gravity pulled plenty of my own personal lube supply onto my underwear. That sort of wet doesn’t disappear easily. But I cleared away as much of the excess as I could from myself. I returned to the couch. As much as I hated the thought of embarrassment, I now craved the sensation her touch was creating. I positioned myself as I was before leaving. urfa escort bayan She started running her fingers up and down my right arm. I felt the rush down below again – a combination of longing and unsatisfied craving. Then the wetness. I wasn’t sure if she was doing this on purpose or simply being affectionate, but I excused myself again. I followed my same clean-up routine and headed back to the couch. This time, she put her hand on my stomach and moved her fingers slowly, as if to console my belly after some unknown fear. Radiating like lightning from a summer sky, fiery nerves flashed from beneath her hand to my hips, to places I never felt when around her before. The wetness. Oh my, the wetness. I excused myself again. I was extremely aroused and I wondered if she even knew why I had been going to the restroom so much. She never said a word the entire time. Still, I had become addicted to her touch, so I returned escort urfa to the couch. This time I found out whether or not she was being friendly or something more. She began to untie the drawstring on my sweatpants. I quickly put my hand on top of hers. Without a word, there was an understanding. I was afraid. This was unexpected and new, though obviously not unwelcome. My hand still atop hers, she slowly moved her hand downward. I let my hand slide off of her hand. She rested her hand on my pubic bone on top of my pants. Then she moved it, as if to smooth the fabric on that one mound. I raised my hips. She moved her hand faster. I trembled, but was in ecstasy. I untied my own drawstring. She slid her hand inside. She touched me. Me. Not fabric. She felt my body, the contours, the wetness I had tried to conceal, and she circled her hand without stopping. I didn’t excuse myself. I don’t remember embarrassment. My feet got warm, my legs started to tingle. Between my hips was the beginning of a fantastic explosion. She held my hand with her left hand. I squeezed it hard and looked at her. Then I arched my back and tightly closed my eyes. She wasn’t just my friend anymore.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20