Just a few desks away, Matt and Laurie were responding, too. Laurie slid down in her seat, her skirt riding up, and although her back was to me, I saw Matt leaning in toward her, and I wondered where his hand was. The thought made my heart race and I tried not to look like I was watching, but I was-I was watching hard. Then Laurie’s bare foot-she’d kicked off her heels-found its way to Matt’s crotch, rubbing there. His hips pressed forward to give her better access and I stared at the bulge there.

When Laurie’s head went back against the desk seat, I couldn’t help but see the similarities between her flushed face and the woman on the screen. They were both breathing hard, breasts rising and falling, mouths open in soft “o’s” as they got closer to climax. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing-either on screen or off. Matt and Laurie were paying no attention to me. I glanced at the door, wondering if someone might come in, my pussy aching between my legs. God, I wanted him to touch me like that. I could tell he was touching her-I couldn’t see his hand up under her skirt, but I saw the muscles high on his arm moving, flexing with the motion.

“Almost,” I heard Laurie whisper and my clit throbbed. I couldn’t stop staring. The woman on the screen was nothing compared to the show going on right in front of me.

The sight was irresistible, and so was the blissful agony between my legs. I had to touch myself. I had to. I wasn’t wearing a skirt-I rarely wore them at all-but I pressed the seam of my jeans against my clit, moving it back and forth as Laurie pushed her hips forward, back. She was fucking his hand under her skirt, and I wanted to see. God, I wanted to see.