"Ignoring his whispering instincts, Hugo bent over Leah's nude body and spread her legs wide with avid hands. He kissed the inside of her knee and traced curlicues of desire up to her wedge of blonde fluff with his eager tongue. She woke and roused a little. Plump hands attempted to cover herself, but he held them away and soothed her modesty with an immodest kiss. Her petals were wet and her lower lips were dripping. He parted her with his fingers and lapped up her sweetness. Her fingers drove into his hair and gripped hard. Her breathing turned to panting as his tongue rekindled his ardent girl's desires. He had to hold her thighs still as she threatened to buck his lips off her delicious garden. He found her own priceless pearl, a hard and straining nub in the midst of her swollen petals."
"He's wearing grey slacks and a soft blue, collared shirt."
"I can feel something through his slacks. He's hard."
"I shift against him so I can feel the firmness in his slacks."
"Blake slings his hand under my knee, pulling our bodies closer, so his cock is pressing against my sex. Only the fabric of his slacks in the way. Pity those slacks exist. They seemed so nice when I saw him this morning, but now I know the truth. They're evil."
"His cock is hard against the flesh of my ass. Still those stupid slacks in the way."
"His cock presses against my sex. Those stupid slacks are in the way again. The things are pure evil."
"I can feel his erection through his slacks."
"Stupid slacks. In the way again. Fabric and I are destined for a combative relationship."
"I press my hand against him. Boxers in the way. Always something." (Bonus: "My sex pangs with want.")
"He guides my hand up his thighs, under his boxers, around his cock."
"His cock is straining against his slacks, pressing against my cunt. Fabric again. It's become quite the adversary."
"He straddles me. Fabric presses against my sex. Dammit. His boxers are in the way. I shift to press my sex against his cock. He feels so good, so close, even with the fabric between us."
(Bonus: "His tongue slides over my outer lips. So warm. So wet. So amazing. He sucks on my other lip, scraping teeth against it gently." -- How many lips does she have?)
"He shifts. Some movement of fabric. Those stupid boxers getting out of the way."
"I reach for his boxers. Blake shakes his head."
"Blake slides out of his boxers. Holy crap."
"No longer naked, sadly. He's wearing his boxers."
"He's wet and smooth and his body still feels damn good, even with my sweater and his boxers in the way."
"He looks damn good in those boxers."
"Still in his boxers. He wraps the blanket around his waist."
"He's hard under his boxers. Almost mine."
"My sex rubs against the hardness in his boxers."
"There's a soft bit of hairs just below his belly button. I slide my hand beneath them and play with the waistband of his boxers."
(Bonus: "I inhale every ounce of ecstasy." Don't do drugs, kids.)
"Blake shifts, sliding his boxers to his knees."
"He pulls his boxers back on. Reaches for his coffee."
"He undoes his belt. Unzips his slacks."
"Blake pushes his slacks to his knees. Then the boxers. They strain over his cock." (Wait, what? He pushed the clothing down and they were STILL covering his cock? Just how big was he???)
"He takes off his shirt slowly. Then the belt. His shoes, socks, slacks. He slides his boxers to his feet."
"Blake does away with his t-shirt, his pajamas, his boxers. I gasp."
"And my God, he's wearing one of those silly men's racerback tank tops. Blue with Columbia in big, white letters. He catches me staring. 'If you think that's something, you should see the matching boxers.'"
"He slides out of his shorts and tugs at his boxers. He points to a label on the side. Columbia."
"He slides his boxers to his knees. Oh, hell yes." (Do they ever go anywhere else?)
(Bonus: "The panties are in the way, but they're no match for Blake's determination.")
"He's hard. I can't feel it from this position, but I can see the erection straining against his slacks."
"He moves faster with his shirt, shoes, socks, slacks, boxers."
(Bonus: "Blake's eyes are on fire." -- Jesus fried chicken!)
"He pushes his jeans off his hips. Then the boxers."
"I unzip his jeans and tug them down his hips. Then the boxers."
"He pressed his lips to mine, pushed off the bed, and stepped into his slacks."
"He spread her legs and went to work, exploring every inch of the soft cookie exterior before plunging his tongue into her moist, crumbly hole. Taking time to chew the crumbs that stayed in his mouth, he savored her taste, more pungent than her finger had been."
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