Or both: I lie on my side with my back to Harry facing Chris. I could kiss her that way. Finger her at the same time. She could reach and help Harry enter me. They could crush me, hold each other's backs and squeeze me hard. We'd be sweaty but I wouldn't care: not that moment. And she'd kiss me while he took me. And I'd be hers as much as she was mine. We'd go out together. We couldn't do anything in public, but we'd know. Would we be able to find a moment when we could playfully touch each other? That was what Brad liked: around the corner from everyone under the sun, a little grope as he called it. I'd complain like hell. But it wouldn't have to be so blatant. I could touch her cheek, briefly, lightly. Harry, right there, watching. Just a moment when no one else was close by. I couldn't get the thoughts out of my mind. The days until we were at lunch again, I'd tortured myself incessantly: would she bring up our previous little conversation? Would she say anything? She was. And naked. She felt more naked than before.She looked over her shoulder bashfully to see him standing with his back to her, arms folded. He was obviously waiting for her to reciprocate. She thought about getting her hands on those muscles. He expected her to touch him.So she did.She had touched a lot of men in her short life, but she had never run her hands over a man as hard as this one. Everywhere her hands flitted she felt ripples of muscle. Even his ass cheeks, which she had spent so much time staring at in amazed wonder, were hard as rocks. She had the sudden intense urge to turn him around, so she could see his penis. She felt the heat of her own excitement flow into her pussy and the absurdity of the situation flushed through her again. She was a civilized woman, for pity's sake!She exerted control over what she thought of as her 'baser urges' and stood back. Even if she thought to approach him sexually, he probably wouldn't return her interest. Other than that one mostly hard.
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