I try vainly to slow my breathing as I lean closer to run my finger tips over your collar bone and down along the round firmness of your breasts, ever...so lightly brushing the tips of my fingers over the swelling nubs straining against the confines of your bra. I smile as you bite the edge of your lip between your teeth and close your eyes, a tiny moan escaping between your teeth as you lean into my caresses. Gently, I push you back into the pillows as I lie next to you. I softly stroke my hand. Her hand pushed her dress between her legs, and her fingers squeezed her pussy repeatedly. She wasn't consciously masturbating. It was just a nervous habit, a response to the frustrations of racking her brain for answers and to the rising levels of hormones within her.If only I could have come last night... or this morning, she thought. But studying late into the night and waking late had precluded playing with her clit, coming, and relieving herself as she almost always did—had to do—at least. More

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