I reach my free hand up, to run my fingers through his hair. I feel the wisps of his facial hair as he nibbles my ear. I run the pad of my foot, down ...is calf, entwine my feet in his. I push my hips back against him, driving his hardness into my divide. He weeps too, his moisture lubricating us. He pulses against me. I glide slowly, minutely, up then down. Outer sex, I’ve heard it called. The tingle races across my skin, never staying in one place. I extend my neck, hoping he notices that I. So it was, that night, Bob and Jennifer prepared to stay their last night in the Best Western motel.The mood was a little like what some people feel on a Sunday night, knowing that the next morning the freedom of the weekend is over and they have to go back to work. Sometimes people overdo it, on those Sunday nights, trying to wring as much pleasure out of the weekend as possible before the real world takes over, or at least intrudes into their lives again.Not that they overdid the sexual part. More

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