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As Gwen pulled her jacket over his hand, he realized he’d worried for nothing. She wasn’t moving him, he realized, she was ensuring their privacy – no point in attracting an audience. He pulled his own jacket across his lap as her hand returned to his thigh. With growing confidence, he moved his hand back, his fingers trailing up the bare flesh of her thigh as he pulled the hem of her skirt higher and higher. She replied by running her hand high up his leg, the back of her hand brushing lightly against his testicles. Even through his jeans, he shivered. Her skirt high on her thigh now, Joe caressed inwards. Her flesh was warm and smooth as his fingers massaged her inner thigh. She shifted, opening her legs slightly. Reflexive or intentional, he wondered but soon stopped caring as the back of his pinky brushed up against moist lace. He could swear that a small moan escaped Gwen’s lips, though it was lost in the soundtrack of the movie playing on the screen. What there was no denying. While I was in my world, he was extending his arms totally above his head, and kept moving his torso side to side to flex each muscle, one at a time. What a display of muscle power! His posers seemed to drop further as he pulled in his abs. He twisted his raised arms and froze them into Sergio Olivia’s famous graceful and very powerful pose. I could hardly concentrate. I wanted to fuck each and every one of his muscles with my cock and never stop. The audience will go nuts.He brought his arms down and just said “My back.” When he knew I was back there, he brought his arms up into a rear bicep pose. Then, it was incredible. He flexed back, flexed forward, and pumped his arms up and down. His back morphed into a huge set of peaks, valleys, and contours that were, like everything else, very hard. My hands felt like they were on roller-coaster riding up, down, and around. More “yeah, yeah.” He kept pumping and flexing. And I kept oiling like a madman, even though he sure didn’t need more.
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