...tarts to undulate to the new song that starts playing. “Go Gwen! Go Gwen!” MJ cheers her on. Gwen writhes up against my dresser, rubbing her chest and butt up against it. Damn. I may never do laundry again.
Gwen spins to the middle of the room, turning her back to us. MJ giggles uncontrollably as Gwen shakes her booty in MJ’s face. I can’t help but laugh myself. The joke sucked but they were funny.
MJ falls sideways in fits. Gwen spies me from the corner of her eye. With a wicked smile she pulls the tank top over and off, tossing it in my face. I let it hang there for a second, until I heard both of them snickering at me. Self-humiliation, the purest form of comedy and surefire laugh at parties.
By the time I removed the sweaty black tank, Gwen was fast dancing in her bra and panties. Her dusty blonde hair flew around her as she twists and whirls. Her body was so tight and toned, little Peter ached at the sight of her. She looked at me with those big hazel eyes. I would melt, if half of me wasn’t so stiff.
Gwen dances a little closer to us, grinding up against the edge of the bed. Her entire body was covered by a fine sheen of sweat. The way she was looking at me… The way she ground her hips and ran her hands all over her body… It was lik...