Watching her tease her nipples while smelling her nubile musk, I was lost. Her finger continued its journey down her stomach, no doubt an imaginary substitute for the riding crop I guessed she was reading about at that very moment. I held my breath as her fingers approached the hem of her t-shirt. My own hand was frozen in a tight grip around the head of my cock. Time stood still as Julie, excruciatingly slowly, lifted her hand from her waist to turn the page. She turned her head to check again that I wasn’t watching her from the kitchen, and satisfied I wasn’t, she licked her lips once more before returning her right hand to its task. “Oh my God,” I actually heard myself gasp in response to Julie’s fingers burrowing beneath the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. The pink and purple striped fabric bulged across the back of her hand between her legs as she masturbated in the relative privacy of our backyard. I resumed my own strokes, keeping in time with the tiny, twitching motions. In fact we collided. She shot off the sofa as I sat up and her leg caught me square in the chest. It wasn't very hard but it had momentum enough to knock me right back down.She almost fell right on top of me as she stumbled, but she managed to keep her balance as the doorbell rang again. She fumbled with a bathrobe that lay unnoticed on the end of the sofa as I sat back up.“What's going on?”“Someone's at the door!” she whispered as she pulled the robe on and tied it quick. One belt end whopped me in the face. For a moment I was disoriented and as she darted past me the end caught on something and nearly pulled her down on top of me for a second time. She was spun around with a little squeal and I had to grab her to keep her from falling. Even now my brain registered the flash of her long bare legs. Giggling she backed away, holding the robe belt with both hands, both of us fighting not to laugh out loud. “Hold on a second.” I whispered.“It's caught!” she whispered back.With a little.
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