It’s late in the evening. They are chilling on the sofa, on opposite sites of each other. They are both horny, of course.
You can see it in their faces. And in his sweat pants. Less in hers. Maybe you can see her nipples poking through her shirt.
She did not bother to put on a bra. Why bother? He texted her earlier, and he made no secret about anything. Her reaction was instantaneous. Both the reaction to his message and the reaction of her body.
It was clear what he wants, and it was clear she wants it to. His evening thoughts got him horny, and her evening led so a similar situation. Someone needed so set the situation on fire, and luckly he was brave enough to message her the words. From his horny brain straight to hers.
Luckily it was not far. Luck for her, because she needed it now, but was turned on enough to play the edging game with herself. Luck for him, because his dick was still hard, when the doorbell rang.
And now there she was. Wet down there. Her eyes gacing over his body. Spotting his dick. And there he was. Hard down there. His eyes gacing over her body. Only a look was needed, approved by a smile on both sides.
Hands went down, slipping under the pants. His hand grabbing his dick, starting the massage. Her hand greeting her clit and exploring the wetness.
Luckily, they were both not shy. So after 10 long seconds of intense self-teasing, both dropped their pants, and started to masturbate next to each other. Touching themselves, watching each other touch themselves. Doing in the style they do when they are alone.
Moaning. Just a relaxing way to spend the evening.
How hot is that?
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