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Chapter 22 by Troof Troof

Should you take your time?

Time for some Sam® brand cunning manipulation

Looks like Bob is ever protective of Shannon, to the point of cock-blocking himself. But you’ll be damned if he cock-blocks YOU tonight. If Bob is gonna treat Shannon like she’s fucking made of glass, you can use that.

“Too fast, Bob?” You reply, affecting hurt in Shannon’s voice that sounds oddly genuine to your own ears, “I’ve liked you for this long without you making a move, and when you finally do something you stop and say it’s too fast?” You back out of Bob’s embrace and turn away from him, slumping Shannon’s shoulders. “Back in the bar, were you just playing? Just humoring me?”

“No!” You hear Bob stepping closer to you, “I- I really like you, Shannon! I always did.”

"Prove it." You feel Bob’s strong hands descend on Shannon’s shoulders. You hide your triumphant smirk when he gently turns you to face him and kisses you, pulling back quickly and looking into your - Shannon's - eyes.

You place both of Shannon’s hands on Bob’s chest, enjoying another tingle of excitement from her body. Her heart is humming in your - her - chest.

“I can feel your heart beating so fast, Bob. Is mine beating fast, too?” You take Bob’s hand and place it on Shannon’s chest, his thumb pressing against her bare skin between her open buttons. He pulls you - Shannon - into another kiss, much more deliberate than his previous attempts.

This time, Bob kisses like a man, his hand slipping down Shannon’s chest to cup her bra-covered tit. Bob’s touch makes Shannon’s tit feel better than anything you tried using Shannon’s own hands.

Bob pulls away, and grabs Shannon’s hand from his chest again. He leads you by the hand through another door in his apartment - his bedroom. He lets go of you to turn on a lamp sitting in front of a large mirror attached to a wide wooden dresser. You place Shannon’s purse on the dresser, taking a moment to admire her in the soft yellow light of the lamp.

Shannon looks excited, her pretty blue eyes wide, her pupils dilated. The collar of her blouse hangs further open after Bob’s hand moved it around. Her clothes and hair are still in order. She looks like a professional woman hiding a dirty secret.

“Shannon?” Bob is sitting on the edge of his bed.

What's your next move?

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