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“Think I’m playing? Get your phone.”She looked down at the floor, trying to buy time until her brain could think of a way out of this. Nothing.“DO IT!.” he commanded. She’s seen him pissed before, but never like this.Her hands were shaky as she fumbled through her purse for her phone. She pressed the number and waited for it to ring.“Hi Lisa, I can’t come over. I know, it’s just ... I’m sorry, but...”“That’s good enough,” he interrupted. He took the phone, ended the call and threw it to the side. She gasped and looked at him with disbelief. He squinted at her, daring her to protest. She didn’t look away.“We’ve got ourselves a little problem, Mandy.”“Dean! It’s not like I...”“Shut up! Move!” He pointed down the stairs. “Go sit on the couch.”She walked past him and half way expected him to shove her or something. He stayed right behind her. She shuffled down the stairs, steadying herself with both hands on the railing and sat on the edge of the couch cushion. All she could do was look. J's eyes flash open, hips subtly gyrating against the ball of my foot. Whimpering J grasps my ankle holding my foot where she needs it to be. This is when I notice that her panties are no longer dry under my touch. This goes on for a while.We maintain eye contact as I move J's relaxed foot to the front of my sweats and proceed to massage her other foot. J's eyes widen again at the feel of my erect six inches under her flesh. Inspiring J's crotch to heat up like three whole degrees. Smiling wickedly (I think) I increase the tempo on her luscious wet sex. Sliding my other foot under J's shirt. I feel the smooth taught skin of her stomach. She pulls her tight shirt off, under the blanket to let me reach the nipple of her left breast. I feel her skin stretch as I give it a pinch and pull with my toes. J responds by lowering the blanket so I can see her beautiful, creamy white skin. I start to whimper and keen at the intimacy of our eye contact and activities. J's foot feels so good.
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