It was this really lazy Sunday morning and Craftsmate had slept over my place after a party. We had fairly tamely shared the bed and besides some cuddling that degraded into groping, nothing had really happened. 

We had started to mess around a little in the light that filtered through the slit of window not covered by blinds. I had worn a pair of my gym shorts to bed without any panties and Craftsmate had started to tease me through the material. Eventually, I was rolled over onto my stomach, my ass pushed up into the air, his fingers rubbing through the fabric, my body quaking gently against one of my pillows.

They were the kind of gym shorts that were a sort of mesh material so they could “breathe”. This translates to, eventually, my wetness literally leaking out of the shorts. Craftsmate leaned in and I could hear him chuckling as he looked at the growing wet spot on my shorts. He brought his hand away from my cunt and I whined.

“Look at that,” he said, dangling his fingers in front of my face. They were wet. “You’ve soaked right through.” He pushed them into my mouth and I licked them clean. His fingers returned to my gym shorts once more, but only long enough to coat his fingers again. He sniffed his fingers and commented that they smelled like something he likes to eat (yeah, we’re that far back in the timeline).

Eventually, he had gotten me pretty close to the edge and just flat-out stopped. As I squirmed and whined about him being an asshole, he climbed off the bed and replied, “I’m getting a glass of water. I’d change those shorts if I were you.”