Strategic retreat to the bed covers

Trying to avoid a protruding announcement of his heightened stimulation, he deftly angled his body to face the beds and put his back to the girls. "Wow, I'm sure tired!" he blurted, climbing under the covers quickly.

"Yeah, me too," confessed Kate, "I can't believe how long it took us to get out of that airport today!"

"Come on you guys, it's too early for bed!" Ilyana objected. "Hey Katie, let's at least check out our balcony before we turn in."

"Well... alright," Kate acquiesced, "Just for a little bit."

The two girls exited together through the sliding glass door, turning off the interior lights for him to sleep, and flipping on the exterior balcony light for themselves. Spotlighted on their private little stage against the backdrop of stars, John had an unimpeded view of the two goddesses. For almost an hour he watched, enraptured, as they chatted together, smiling, sometimes giggling, and often pausing to admire the starscape. He couldn't hear their words, but their body language alone was magical to him. Kate's face and form was always a panoply of emotiveness. One moment she would smile gleefully, her arms gesturing expansively in some exciting narrative. And the next, she was wrinkling her nose, hands on her hips, comically declaring her aversion to some anecdote or another. In contrast, Ilyana was like a deep, flowing ocean. The artistic curve of her dark, full lips snaked upward in sly mirth, or down in whistful contemplation, or straightened in firm determination, while her curvacious body ebbed and flowed as she shifted from mood to mood.

Eventually they both began to yawn, and he could tell that the silent film was at last drawing to a close. Ilyana flipped off the light, plunging the stage into darkness, and the two crawled softly into their beds on either side of him.

For a long time he rested happily with his eyes closed, hands clasped behind his head, replaying the magnificent sights of the evening in his mind and re-tasting them like rare wines. The soft purrs of his sleeping roommates contributed imaginings of their semi-nude forms blissfully poised in the repose of slumber under their sheets. At some point he must have dozed off, because gradually he became aware of a tickling sensation on his chest. He opened his eyes just a crack. It was still very dark, but the moon had shifted positions and was now shining through the window. By its faint light, he could see Kate's arm extended out from her covers and her limp fingers ever so slightly brushing against the skin of his chest.

The **** contact raised goosebumps on his flesh and set his heart racing. But then as the fog of sleep receded, he became aware that her hand was slowly moving along his rib cage, delicately but methodically traversing it with the tips of her fingers. This was no **** touch.