His other hand takes dips between his legs then far back behind, a slight rising and falling, rhythmic, alluring. She can only imagine and tries. He m...ves sudsy hands along his torso, down his thighs, then one hand cups while the other pumps momentarily, as both hands reach between his legs again. Back his head moves and out comes a groan. She can see him glancing through the glass to gauge her reactions, to study her own traverses that offer self-satisfaction. Her hands have long since. That little meltdown attracted the attention of a hot looking corporate player who sidled over and asked her why she was so critical of the poor man. “Poor??!! Do you have any idea how much money he’s getting paid to fuck up a simple ground ball?”He’d spotted her the minute he walked in the door. She was sitting with a bunch of Gen Y hipsters who had “internet dweeb” written all over them. They were around a couple of pulled-together tables that were littered with glasses and bar snacks. At. More

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