Have you ever watched a guy jerk off? Guys always know how to work their cocks, don’t they? I guess it’s the same for us girls; once you know how to work the VCR, you make it look pretty damn easy to someone who’s never heard of your knockoff make before.

But Josh? He moves his hands over his shaft like he’s got nowhere else to be but here.

Guess that’s ‘cos he doesn’t. Hopefully, I’ve taken his mind of anything work-related. At least for now.

He takes another step closer, so his knees are almost at the end of the bed. I don’t even know how his room looks — I know he has a silky duvet because I’m having no trouble moving around. It might be a dark color, like dark gray or navy. But that’s about it.

I shuffle closer, taking a second to run my fingertip around my clit. I’m so turned on right now, a few quick strokes down there and I’ll be done. I considered coming earlier, but a second orgasm always takes years to come — ‘scuse the pun — and I have no idea how much stamina Mr. Workaholic here has.

He’s about two feet away from me now. I straighten, hike my skirt up to my belly so if he looks down he can see my sex, and then slide a finger inside myself.

Shit, I’m dripping wet.

Josh groans. He has one hand on his cock, the other on the side of his leg. But when my finger goes inside me, that other hand starts massaging his balls.

Interesting…

“Do this often?” I ask, keeping the bulk of my skirt up with my arm so I can circle my clit with one hand while I shove my fingers inside me with the other.

“Probably as much as you,” he says, voice uneven with the ferocity of his strokes.

“Yeah?” I lean back onto my heels.

It’s obviously a much better angle for him; he lets out a deep-throated growl as his shoulders hunch. I pause, for a second thinking he’s already coming, but then he slides his knees onto the bed and shuffles closer.

Our legs touch — knee to knee — and we both shiver at the contact. He pauses, runs his thumb over the tip of his cock, and then starts slowing to long, uneven strokes.

Fast up, slow down.

Pause, thumb to tip.

Then down again.

I glance up, my hands stalling as I try to gather myself.

“Is that how you’re going to fuck me?” I ask.

Josh pauses too, his hands trembling around his junk. He strokes his cock once more, giving it a brief look as if assessing its hardness, its readiness. Or maybe mine — those eyes of his scan my pussy too.

I’m sure he can see how wet I am for him.

“Not sure,” he says. “I’m dithering between hard and fast or slow and sensual.”

Goose bumps break out over my skin. I bite my bottom lip, draw my fingers out, and slide both hands alongside my sex, framing it for him. I’m still on my heels, still angled up for his viewing pleasure.

His gaze moves down my body, settling with a hedonistic intent on those dripping folds of mine.

A painful ache spears through me, but I manage to hold steady.

“Maybe both,” he whispers.

Josh leans forward. He presses down his cock at the base, angling it.

Then he looks up at me again. “Ready?”