Cole grunted quietly as her hands slipped deeper into his pants. Her slender fingers were cool against his warm cock. She held him near to the base and squeezed; his shaft yielded only slightly to her grip.
He longed for her to reach lower. As good as her hands felt, she could stroke him for ages without providing him relief. The bulbous head still encased in denim was what ached for her ministrations.
But perhaps that was the point. She seemed to want him to tend to her first. He could only hope he was progressing in the right direction.
Her zipper firmly in hand, he eased it down. The clicking sound seemed surprisingly loud in the confined space. Her skirt swiftly loosened its snug grip at her waist and began to slip towards the floor.
She aided in its descent, wiggling her hips to let it slide over her curves. As it pooled around the floor, she leaned forward against him as she stepped out of it. This swung her full breasts solidly against his chest, the hard nipples proof of her own arousal. She didn't release her grip on his cock, but leaned on it for balance. The twin sensations sent a fresh rush of blood to swell his rod still further.
Her silk blouse extended below her waist, lapping just above the waistband of her panties. They were a shade of violet that looked quite close to her eyes. They also looked expensive - certainly a finer fabric than the cotton boxer-briefs he was wearing.
His eyes were drawn to the patch of cloth at the V of her thighs. Instinctively he laid his hand against her lower belly. Keeping his fingers atop her panties, he slid his hand lower and lower - ever closer to that dark V.