His hand worked two final strokes and his seed fell from him to the floor — she could see it, could see the exact moment, his face twisted with the specific pain-pleasure of a young man who has pushed past sensible limits and has paid for it.
She bit her own lips through the panty fabric.
"'Stop.'" Barely sound. Directed at nobody who would listen. "'Don't do that — stop—'"
And then she saw it.
Gareth's cock, barely ten seconds past release, beginning to harden again.
The base of it thickening first — the visible, undeniable return of blood to flesh — and his face, as he looked at his screen, was the face of a young man who had expected resolution and gotten the opposite.
Jennifer stared at it through her tears.
''He's aroused.''
Not surprise, exactly. Bone-deep, maternal horror.
