My eyes might not have strayed very far, but my fingers certainly had. While one hand caressed and fondled my breasts, the other had found its way between my legs, between my thighs, between the spread, puffy, slippery lips of my normally shy cunt.An electric jolt surged through me. It may have had been the urgent touch of finger to clit, or it may have been the sight of him unzipping his trousers. Did I care? Hell no! It was the feeling that mattered.My gaze fell. I watched his hand disappear and return, cock held firmly, smeared moisture leaking from the tip.My fingers worked faster, my thumb stopping now and then to help pinch and flick at my sensitive clit, then plunging down to join the rest of my fingers and they all strained to enter my sopping cunt together, doing their Oscar-worthy imitation of a turgid cock.He began stroking himself and all of the feelings inside me intensified. I wanted him to touch me and I wanted to touch him. I wanted to clean the crown of his cock with. Her heavy bag hung in the corner, her light gloves hanging next to it from a hook. She ignored the gloves, wanting to feel the punishment on her hands today. Stretching her legs, she could feel the muscles protesting slightly then starting to warm. She stretched one arm above her head, grabbing it with her other hand just at the elbow and pulling. She repeated with the other, shaking and rolling her head. She stepped barefoot to the bag, lifting her hands and fisting them as she eyed her opponent.The first tentative punch sent a slight zing up her arm, the next, not quite so tentative, tingled the muscles. She punched and ducked, weaving a little around the bag, using her knee to kick and then the side of her leg. As she warmed up, her movements became more sure, her fists punching the leather harder. A duck then a sweep with her leg under the bag, made her smile at the rightness of the movement.Her mind took over, numbing to all else around her. The bag took on features of different.
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