His eyes drank in her form, the sweat glistening on her body, her hard pink nipples that she used her spare hand to fondle and her delicate folds wet ...ith her own juices.Harry quietly gulped down the spit that had gathered, his mouth watering at the sight before him, and lowered a hand to his member rubbing it through his trousers, unable to take his eyes off of this scene, unable to realise how wrong it was to spy on her like this.He shifted the door a bit further, and too far. It creaked. The Crash house had three bedrooms with twin beds, a living room and a dining room that could each hold 3 army cots.The gears in my head were spinning and my pencil making notes."OK, here is the reality of the situation. The storm is not going to clear out for another 24 hours at the earliest. Then it will be another day before the major airports are even marginally operational," I said."We have army cots coming, plenty of dry beans and potatoes, cabbage and corn beef on the way so you should. It was quite awkward for me but they both looked at each other, nodded as they both spoke saying that they won’t mind if I sat there and watched them but nothing more.Now they were both stuck to each other and after some more kissing they both undid their jeans and Arjun’s hands moved at much more than Mike’s ass only. As I had already removed my jeans; I was sure, they would have no objection if I removed my jocks as well to let my hard extension to breath far more easy than struggling to stay. A short corridor with doors either side led to a thick door, the bolt clattered, and they entered the dungeon, where a low light ensured it took a moment for their eyes to adjust. He let her look about, on one wall a St Andrews crucifix, behind the door a tall closed cupboard, to the left a chair, heavy solid, wooden, and bloodstained, straps hanging from the arms and legs, a thick wooden tray, again stained, leaning casually against the left side. In the other corner a couch, a doctors.