Emma, thinking she was alone (and I suppose technically she was) sprawled herself out on the sofa and put on a spectacular show for me, which was now ...he reason for my desire to give myself a nice slow hand job. However, Emma had told me before she left that a school friend had popped round for a discussion about their homework, and just as I began stroking my cock, I heard the buzzer sound in the apartment which told me that her friend had arrived. I froze the playback and went to the fridge. Our lips meet, gentle ease of motion. The kiss is slow. Our mouths mutually opening, awaiting the first that first feel of the tongues meeting, exploring. The kiss is perfect, moist and sensual, slow and passionate. I feel warm, and slightly taken aback by how wonderfully arousing that one kiss was. My hands never left your chest, which I felt gain in rapidity, as much as I could feel my own. We draw back, and you ask the time. ‘It’s late,’ you say. I nod, in sadness. You tell me not to pout,. More

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