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As soon as you do this I can get back to relaxing you again.?Monica turned over and pulled her legs onto the table, and laid face up for him, her magnificent tits awaiting his touch. Her glassy eyes watched him loosen his belt, step out of his trousers and pull down his boxers. His cock sprang free, and she smiled, her hands moving over her own body, feeling her own tits, her stomach and down to her gently thrusting pussy. Her legs parted slightly. ?Masturbate for me, Monica. It’s going to feel so good.?She didn’t need any encouragement. She arched her back in ecstasy as her fingers found her pleasure, expertly moving over and around her sex, her satisfying moan loud enough echo around the stark ER room. Fleming moved to her side and began to massage her tits again, his eyes drinking in the girl below him, her masturbation, her gorgeous tits, her writhing waist, her open mouth and eyes closed in pleasure. Her own fingers encircled his cock and began to stroke him while she continued. He undid his belt, kicked off his pants impatiently, and stood for a moment in his stretched underwear, admiring the soft, wet, sweet prize before him with his dark, proud eyes under their straight black eyebrows. The muscles of his tall, lean, fit body were as hard and defined as metal, if metal were a dusky olive color, slightly lighter on the area that would be covered by swim trunks. His fat-free abdominal muscles were in the shape of a classic six-pack, and his hips and thighs were long and lean but still square and brutal in shape. His shoulders were broad, with muscles that stood out as clearly as they would if he had no skin at all. His arms, like his body, were long and lean, not artificially enhanced like those of a bodybuilder, but nevertheless would be terrifyingly strong if he chose to inflict blows. In fact, there was nothing at all artificial about him. Unlike male models and bodybuilders, this man did not remove his chest, armpit, and leg hair in that effeminate way.
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