He sat, all throughout the film, in a pair of faded blue jeans and loose fitting V-neck T shirt, with his arm around her waist, and she nestled into his side.They held hands, softly caressing each others fingers. She would slowly nuzzle her head against his neck and he would run his other hand up the small of her back, tracing a line delicately up her spine.She could notice through his jeans that his penis was starting to stiffen as she slowly writhed in her seat, her own juices starting to course through her every time his fingers travelled up her back.She lay her hand on his leg and casually began to walk her fingers towards his inner thigh. His hard-on grew more rigid, and he spread his legs to welcome her adventurous hand. She cupped his growing member and slowly began to rub his manhood through the thick denim. He began to sit upright, and made an attempt to reach for her legs. She stopped him, saying;"I don't want you to do anything for me just yet, you just sit right there and. Do I sound incoherent? That's OK too. I was. "Well?" he finally said handing me the glass and settling back in his chair, "Aren't you going to ask me 'Where are the mirrors?' or something to that effect?" The stupendous inanity of it helped me to regain my feet. Men can be so naive, I thought to myself, as he lifted his slim glass of whatever it was. He really thinks I must be impressed. Let's face it I was, but if he thought some such visual wizardry - however miraculous - had any relevance to our argument... "Impressive," I said, "And one day I will ask you about the mirrors or holograms or 3D projections or whatever new technological wizardry you've managed to get hold of. But I am not going to be distracted from pointing out the idiocy of your ridiculous assertion. Only a dumb man would think that projecting an erotic daydream image has anything to do with experiencing life as a woman, so in fact you have simply confirmed my point." Andrew sighed. To my surprise it.
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