'What are the chances that he's actually dreaming about me?'
'No way it's me… he has other girls. They were cheering for him at that basketball game. The pretty one with the poster. The one who screamed his name like she already had a claim.'
She did not stop.
The hardness against her only made her braver.
After a while her hips found a rhythm, small, tentative grinds, the slow drag of cloth on cloth, her ass rubbing along the length of him as if she could apologize for wanting and take more in the same motion.
Breathy sounds slipped out. She was wet enough now to feel it when she pressed down, a secret slickness that made each grind sweeter and more dangerous. The fabric of her shorts clung. She wondered if he could feel that too, even asleep. She hoped he couldn't. She hoped he could.
Stan held his breathing by force. 'Fuck… if I let her continue, this girl will tease me to death.'
