When she falls apart, the tears streaming down her face, you take her in your arms for a brief consolatory hug— but when you let go she keeps holding on. There is a wet spot just above your collar bone where she has buried her nose in your shirt, and her arms are shaking as she clutches you. It’s the steadiest you’ve felt in years.
She finally starts to pull away only to stop and look at you. The tip of her cold, tear-streaked nose mere inches from your mouth. You lick your lips before you can stop yourself and her gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth. She then looks off and down to one side, murmurs “thank you”, and turns and walks away. You shift uncomfortably, feeling the pressure of your jeans on your hardening cock and silently reprimanding yourself, “get it under control.”
You wonder if she knows. If she knows how you’d like to hold her still beneath you as you slowly press inside of her.