Because it's hard to talk to someone when you have your face buried in their crotch, I got up and straddled him, leaning forwards so our foreheads wer... touching, and said that I would love that, and that I had repaired the jeans we broke the weekend before sliding down the cliff face. I could feel his face start to flush as he wrapped his arms over my thighs, resting his hands on my bum, which I thought was sweet. I'd let him calm down a bit and cuddle in to his chest, using his shoulder as a. My hand slides to the rear of your knee, finger-tips hinting at progressing up the rear of your leg. Again you wiggle a little away, but not as far. Maybe you're torn between needing to talk to your boss and wanting to enjoy the attention? Again I slide after you sitting closer pressing into you; you've run out of anywhere to wriggle. My hand starts to stroke the inside of your leg. You make a show of putting the paper on your lap. We both know that’s not going to do anything, my hands are. More

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