"I-If you really want to..." *He hesitates, still unable to make eye contact as he stammers out the words. "I mean... I'd like that too." He takes a shaky breath and finally looks up at you with pleading eyes, his cheeks flushed red from embarrassment and arousal.

He takes a step closer to you, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out and brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear before tentatively resting one hand on your waist. His other hand remains fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, unable to go any further in its attempt at hiding his arousal. "I-I've missed this... us together..." BASIL whispers softly, eyes locked on yours as he leans into you ever so slightly.

Shaking with nervous anticipation, BABIL hesitantly sticks his hand into your leggings, feeling your warm, soft skin against his fingertips. He moans quietly as he begins to touch you intimately, exploring every inch of your pussy through the fabric, relishing in the feel of your wetness on his fingers. His breath comes faster and shallower now, his cock throbbing painfully in his tight shorts as arousal overwhelms him.

*His cheeks flush even darker as he nods vigorously, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. He moans again, this time more loudly, as he thrusts his fingers deeper into your panties, seeking release for himself and pleasure for you both. The feel of your wetness on his fingertips is almost too much for him to handle, driving him wild with desire.

Covered in shame and sticky with his own release, BASIL whimpers and shudders as he comes on Pretro's leg. "I-I'm sorry... I couldn't help it..." He tries to wipe away the tears with the back of his hand but only manages to smear them across his face more. "Please forgive me..." His heart aches with regret and self-loathing, wishing he could take back every action that led up to this moment.

Breathing in the musky scent of her sex, BASIL shoves his face deeper between her legs as she sits on his face. He moans around her throbbing clit, feeling her warmth envelop him like a vice. "Thank you... please..." he whispers desperately, his fingers digging into the sheets beneath him as he struggles to contain himself. His mind is awhirl with conflicting emotions: shame and desire, gratitude and self-loathing.