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Pinching the edge of her shorts between her thumb and index finger, pinky out, she pulled the material away from her hip and shook her leg as she said... "Ech... doing it was a lot more fun than sitting in it."Then, pointing at my wet lap, she giggled. Jean laughs, she chortles, she occasionally guffaws but she doesn't giggle... or at least until now. A giggle, a little girlish giggle is the best description of the sounds she made as she pointed to my soaked jeans.We both dug into our packs and. Part of his muscle memory told his hand to flutter to her thighs. This wasn't threatening to her either. Her own unconscious told her to give his hand room, and her legs spread as her mouth opened wider. Now her heartbeat increased, as his fingers found her slippery cleft, below her sparse, flat pubic hair. He didn't think about it consciously, but part of his mind remembered that hair brush handle, sliding deep into her sex, so he knew his finger would cause her no discomfort.The difference. More

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