Try to hand them over

One thing about you is that in some ways at least, you’re a pretty active and helpful guy. So when someone asks you for something, like for instance Melody for her panties, your standard reaction is to reach forwards and hand it to them rather than to simply just hold it out for them to reach in and take.

This is not exactly something which you do on purpose, it’s more of a deeply ingrained part of your personality that you never really think about.
So, when Melody’s question finally registers in your mind after the momentary delay in getting the from your ears, your instinctive reaction is to hand over her wet underwear to her by reaching up with your hand so she can snatch them from it.

Of course, in order for you to this without unintentionally brushing against her breasts, you have to lean back, which you do, which also means that your lap comes rising up towards her sex, while the strain of the last couple of minutes also manifest itself in you using quite a lot of your strength as you push against the back of the chair. And her sex, you remember as Melody lets out a low hiss, is not only aroused and unprotected, lacking even the flimsy panties that you’re still clutching in your hand, but it is also perfectly positioned so that the bulge on the front of your trousers can make contact.

Still a bit dazed from the performance that Melody gave you and her continued treatment of you, reaching its crescendo with her handing over her soaked undergarment while informing you that you had a pretty important part in making them that way, you’re a bit slow to realize that your bulge is currently pushing apart a set of wet, vertically aligned lips and don’t stop the upward motion of your lap until your desk chair is leaned back as far as it can go, which is far enough for Melody’s hiss to be transformed into a succinct cry as her slightly trembling fingers come down to grab hold of your arms as the top of the arched bulge reaches the point just above her slit where her clit ought to be.

As you finally realize what it is that you’re doing, you continue to act instinctively by slumping back down into the desk chair, which causes it to jerk forwards fast enough that it’s probably only thanks to you having the presence of mind to reach round and place your hands on the small of Melody’s back that she’s kept from being sent tumbling onto the floor.

Still, while you grabbing hold of Melody’s back has kept her from slipping off your lap, it, combined with you having bolted up to sit in an upright positioned, means that the front of her breasts are now rubbing against your chest, and you can’t help but wonder if its you imagining things or if her nipples are actually poking through her blouse against your chest, and the same goes for the slight wetness that seems to be staining you lap.

Despite Melody’s earlier threat that opening your eyes would entail certain ****, you can no longer resist the temptation of raising your eyelids, which is an act that instantly reveals two things to you; firstly, that the positioning of your head and Melody’s chest means that you’re looking straight down into her cleavage, and secondly, that Melody isn’t wearing a bra. You’d sort of guessed the second one already, but it’s… nice to know for sure.

Remembering that it’s impolite to stare, you tilt your head back to look up at Melody’s face, and immediately realise that her cheeks have now gone quite red while her eyes have narrowed up into little more than thin slits.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly offer up as an apology for what you just did, even if it was by accident. While Melody might have been the one who took your playful flirting with each other, which used to leave you both terribly excited and agonizingly frustrated, and turned it up several notches, you’re left feeling as though it was you who just inadvertently crossed a few pretty important boundaries.

“Yeah,” Melody responds in a dreamy sort of way, her arms remaining on your shoulders, on which she placed them as soon as you finished your unfortunate little manoeuvre.

Well, she hasn’t slapped you, called you a pervert or dismounted you, so at least Melody doesn’t seem to be mad at you, although you wouldn’t blame her if she were to characterize the current situation as awkward.

“Maybe you should, uh, get off me?” You suggest, in the wake of a few seconds of tense silence.