Jen moved around Robert. He had been completely knocked out from the drug, a drug she had mixed with Viagra to facilitate her needs.
She was already nude, except for her panties, which she kept until the last moment. There was something about men that reacted to the scent she collected down there and she had done this enough during regular sex to know that it worked. She could feel them moist already, could actually feel her labia move against each other as the moistness seeped past them into the material. She involuntarily squeezed her legs together a bit and then continued with her business.
She had removed his shirt already, the action of slipping it over his head without him stirring was enough to let her know the first drug had worked well enough. She looked at him and watched his chest rise and fall slowly. The doctor she worked for said that some people had adverse reactions to the medication and their breathing could actually stop. So in her practical manner she gave Robert extremely small doses over time to make sure he wasn't allergic or anything. He wasn't. At most, the small doses made him sleepy to the point where she would have to drive him home so he wouldn't wreck.
Jen looked down at his pants, they were next. She felt bad for him in a way, it must hurt, his penis straining hard at the material of his jeans. Good old Viagra, she thought. She had actually felt him hard against her as she helped get him to bed, he actually seemed embarrassed about it, as though not sure why it was acting so alive all its own. He had made a comment about it, apologizing for his reaction, something she told him was just fine and nothing to be worried about, she had seen such reactions in her line of work before and since they were dating it would be ok for him to react -- as long as he didn't act on that reaction without consent.
Her words had gotten through to him as she helped lay him on her bed. His last words before falling off were to assure her that he would never do such a thing. Jen simply caressed his bulge through his jeans and muttered to him that she knows, she trusts him. He fell off with a smile.
Jen moved now, her hands gliding down the center of his chest, through the curl of hair that led to the top of his jeans. The jeans were rough compared to his soft, warm skin. She brought her face low, below his belly button and set her nose against the hair there. She inhaled and held her breath a moment enjoying his scent. She could smell him, his sex. The scent brought an image of what his penis must look like. She slid her face lower, pressing against the top ridge of the jeans, and the scent was stronger. She felt saliva start to gather in her mouth.
Her right hand moved down as if on its own accord and she followed it with her gaze. His penis stood out in relief against the fabric of his blue jeans, as if carved there by some erotic artist adept at such things. The tension was such that she could actually see the outline of the head, how its ridge dropped back off slightly to the rest of the shaft. Involuntarily Jen let out a breath, not realizing she had been holding it in. The fingers of her right hand, led by the middle finger, traced the path from where his penis shaft started at the juncture of his legs all the way out to the head, where it rested along the length of his left leg. Even through his jeans she could feel the difference in heat against her palm. As if in response to the stiffness and heat, she parted her knees, her hips rotating forward slightly.
Jen took in a deep breath and had to force herself to take things slowly. This was only the third time she had done this with anyone and it seemed that it never lasted long enough. She knew that taking it slow, absorbing herself in the scents and textures would help bring her to a peak more intense than doing things in a rush, the way men liked.