She was moving around, trying to get comfortable, when she slapped the sheets back. I had a raging hardon tenting in my boxers.She giggled and laughed...at first, then she made a comment about my size. She flicked it, playfully. It responded.“It’s not you,” I said.“I know.”(It was.)She turned away from me, curled up a little. Her ass was hanging out of her pajama pants and pointing at me. Every time one of us shifted, we slowly moved closer to each other.After a minute or so of silence she said,. We both blushed and laughed at the ridiculous garb we wore: she in loose athletic socks and too-wide and too wet boy-briefs, and I squeezed into her pink lace panties with a tiny purple bow on the front waistband. Her training bra dangled from my shoulders as the back strap was too short to clasp behind.Francine went to her first class of the day and I to mine, but we had smiled and said we'd see each other later and were looking forward to enjoying lunch together. That turned out to be an. More

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