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The next day we were seated in the living room just shooting the breeze when Andrew wandered in from his office. He looked lost. He looked sad. Deirdre looked at me. I looked at her. We both had the feeling: Andrew had reached his limit. He sank into an overstuffed chair. He didn’t look at us, he looked at the floor. He didn’t talk. We had to have this out with him. He needed us to take the lead. Deirdre said, “Well Andrew, are we to assume that you just don’t want to do this anymore?” Andrew looked up. He saw us staring at him. He looked like he might cry. We’ve never seen our love so down. It was heartbreaking. He said, “I don’t know. I just don’t know. All these women need what I have. Why can’t we find any other men? To be honest, ladies, I just don’t know how much more I have to give.” We know it’s serious when he calls us ‘ladies’. It’s ‘girls’ when he’s feeling good. It’s ‘ladies’ when he is all business. Andrew is incapable of hiding anything from us. He doesn’t even try. I. I can see that your panties are wet. The center soaked. Okay, maybe you DO need me to work a different area...So I massage further and further up your inner legs, nearing your center. I allow my finger tips to graze your warm and moistening panties. As I do, you wiggle in anticipation. Soon I slip off your panties, and my fingers explore your wet hole, at first just lightly caressing the outside. Then I begin probing ever so delicately through the slick lips, lubricated with your juices. As I stand next to you, you lightly trace the outline of my hardening cock with your fingertips. Almost timidly at first, then you begin more aggressively touching my hardness, griping it though the denim... As you do my hands massage my ass and pussy. I take your lead and being to more insistently finger your pussy, now overflowing with your juices of desire. You can wait no longer; you my cock from the confines of my pants and use it to coax you to me towards the head of the bed. As I.
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