such

Do boundaries exist? If so, what are they?

Fumbling is anything but awkward, when she slips a hand beneath the waistband of his hakama.

Her touch is not short-circuitry, but the effect is very similar.

Awareness of sight, sound and feel has never been more acute.

Pushing up short skirts. Listening to soft murmurs become shallow panting, as fingers slide beneath cotton to delve between slim thighs.

Accumulating tension is not relieved by the sweetness of willing lips, or odd resultant aching lower down in his body.

They don't know what is happening.

Surrender is only a matter of time.