She watches

Isabella wasn't sure if Andrea noticed her sit down, but it didn't matter. This certainly wasn't the first time Isabella took pleasure in watching her housemate like this, and it wouldn't be the last.

Andrea loved being watched. When she was a kid, she was very popular and knew that other kids looked to her as a social role model. As she got older, she grew up quickly, her body filled out, and even as a teen, knew that boys, girls, adults, anyone -- she was a sight to behold.

Now, as a young adult, she couldn't hide her sex appeal. She might be home in pajamas, at work in the restaurant-mandated black dress shirt and black jeans, in workout clothes, at a fancy party -- no matter the outfit, Andrea looked good. She knew it, and everyone around her knew it.

Isabella knew it.

Oh, and one of the things that made Andrea's show such a pleasure for Isabella (and anyone) was that Andrea was great at not showing that she knew. She always knew, but it never showed on her face. She didn't look, she didn't hide, she didn't acknowledge her audience -- until it was time.

It wasn't yet time.

Andrea lay on the couch on her back. Her right hand continued grinding into her pussy, and her left hand was ravaging her breasts. She had pulled her bra down toward her stomach. Her firm breasts flattened slightly, as she was lying on her back, but there was still a rise in her curves. Her nipples were pink, about the size of a quarter, perfectly round, and when she was stimulated (like now ... or, let's be honest, like most of the time), they perked up firmly.

Andrea's left thumb and middle finger held her left nipple tightly. She squeezed and pinched, rolling the skin between her fingers. She began to find a rhythm, plunging her fingers into her snatch as she squeezed her nipple. Pinch, plunge, thrust, breathe. Pinch, plunge, thrust, breathe.

Isabella found herself beginning to breathe in sync. She slowly slid her own hand under her shirt. She was wearing a white tank top and no bra -- typical for her home workouts. Her hand quickly found her own breasts, and she pressed the palm of her hand across her skin. Isabella had large hands and long thin fingers. She had medium sized breasts, smaller than Andrea's. As a professional athlete, Isabella's muscle tone is unparalleled, and the firmness of her breasts is challenged only by the tightness of her ass and thighs.

Isabella pinched her own nipple with her left hand, matching Andrea's moves. Her gym shorts had an elastic band, so it was easy to quietly slide her left hand into her shorts, and then into her panties. She slid her fingers past the bush of her pubic hair, and toyed with her clit and the edges of her pussy lips. Which fingers does Andrea have inside her? Isabella wanted to match Andrea move for move. She could have asked, she could have reached down to pull at Andrea's panties herself and take a look -- but of course that would disrupt the moment. Probably middle finger and ring finger, she thought. That's what she used the last time I watched.

To mirror the show, Isabella slid her own long middle and ring fingers into her wet pussy. Between what she thought was foreplay with Derek and what she knows is foreplay with Andrea, her pussy was already glistening, ready for action. Fingers, tongues, cocks, toys -- just thinking about it always made Isabella quiver with anticipation.

Isabella and Andrea shared the couch, each in solo isolation, moving in synchronized choreography. Pinch, plunge, thrust, breathe. Pinch, plunge, thrust, breathe.