Rocco traced Nacho's well-defined abdominal muscles, moving closer and closer towards the waistband of the younger man's briefs. Nacho hadn't explicitly consented to this massage, but the growing bulge in his underwear said more than he needed to. Rocco wrapped his hands around Nacho's slim waist and cocked an eyebrow at the younger Spaniard. Once again, his body did the talking, as Nacho's hips raised off the sofa almost involuntarily, slightly thrusting his crotch up towards his friend.Nacho's cock had grown substantially, though it was held firmly by his tight white underwear. It lay pressed atop his left thigh and though he had seen it many times while they worked together, Rocco marveled again at the fact that Nacho's tool stretched nearly all the way to his hip. Slowly moving his hands inwards, Rocco brushed his fingers against the waistband of Nacho's trunks, dipping his left hand down Nachos right thigh. Nacho's heavy breathing was the only sound in the room, but that stopped. It was not exactly boredom but rather a strange numbness that occupied her. For the last one hour she had fought against it but slowly and slowly it was overcoming her. Why was she here? What did she expect from this place? She knew not. Only this much she knew whenever she thought of this place she felt paralyzed. Something was drawing her here something over which she had lost control with each passing day. Whenever she thought of it she had a violent urge to give in. Till yesterday she had resisted. But today the urge knew no bounds. It had so completely and hopelessly taken over that she knew there was no way she could fight it. Right from the morning she had been in a trance. She had prepared breakfast for her husband, Rohit and seen him off for office all the time knowing at the back of her mind that there was no way she could escape the urge today. Slowly but steadily she had been drawn into the quicksand. “Are you through with your thesis?” Rohit had enquired. She hadn’t even.
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