#25tickets

 He knew that moan, thought about waking up to it that night and the escalating nature of her pleasure when he had touched her over her skirt. Harry was trying to take it slow, and the way she had stiffened when he tried to go under her skirt had encouraged him to continue in this fashion until Arie gave him a sign she was ready to escalate their physical relationship. She had yet to.  But, very often in the mornings, he would wake to the shower coming on and would get the distinctive pleasure of hearing Arie's breathy moans as they came through the thin walls of the bus. The first time he had hastily stroked his hand over his cock and finished in sync with her. He hadn't done so since then, as he was a mess when she came out and had to quickly shuffle to the bathroom without appreciating the color on her cheeks and glassiness of her eyes brought on by her orgasm. So, now, he just listened, giving his disobedient cock some stiff squeezes throughout to keep it in line while he listened to her musical moans escalate to a falsetto. He could tell she was nearing her end as he imagined her feverishly rubbing her clit to alleviate the pressure they were both feeling. Her moans reached a crescendo and he gave one almighty squeeze and lay back on the bed, closing his eyes and clearing his head, so he could appreciate her flushed countenance when she came out.  A moment later she did, and the pink of her cheeks thrilled him. He suppressed the cheeky smile that threatened to break through. He wasn't ready to share his secret, never knew when he'd be able to tease her mercilessly with it. Her blush was a drug. So, instead he tried for the pleased smile she gave him when he used her favorite nickname. "Morning, Air."