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Amy Robbins crouched in the dark, stuffy wardrobe, excitement bubbling in her veins. She could hardly breathe from the heat and the big lump in her throat. Carefully she slipped one hand down the front of her shorts, inside her panties. Her fingers touched the soft fluff of hair. She rubbed it thoughtfully, still not entirely used to the feel of fuzz on her tender young pussy. Her finger stroked downward, found the tight lips of her cunt, began to stroke at the warm, moist gash.
Bud had taken off his shirt. He stood in the front of the mirror, eyeing himself. He flexed each arm in turn, running his hand over the biceps. “Not bad,” he told his reflection.
His back was to Amy as he unbuckled his belt and slid his jeans down his long legs. Under them he wore only a pair of skimpy shorts. He stepped out of the jeans and then reached for the shorts, pulling them down slowly.
Amy almost shit at what she saw next. His mirror reflected the image of his cock, flipping out of the lowered shorts, bouncing, half-erect.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.