Freyja's response to the combined attentions of the two lovers is clear enough; her breasts rise and fall with the increased intensity of her breath, and it's only a moment before a sound-- a soft sigh that edges close to a moan-- escapes her lips.  She arches her back in response to their ministrations, as if thrusting her breasts more toward their hands might somehow encourage them, and Atal's scratch is met with a faint shiver-- palpable through her frame at their embrace.  "More," she whispers, loud enough for them both to make out, and she draws her fingers down Machado's belly again to cup his sac in her hand, giving him an enticing, warm-fingered caress as she rolls the sensitive glands along her fingers and palm.  With her right hand, she encircles Lina's back, drawing her closer.<br/><br/>The girl's trembling, sleek form, contrasted so vividly with Atal's masculine contours, combines in Freyja's mind to a confused intermingling of need and desire where one sensation cannot be completely separate from the next.   She glides her hand along Lina's arm, her shoulder and collarbone, then across the crest of her breast in a cupping caress-- in symmetry to the way that the young woman elicited such a response from her own breast, as if to say with her hands, 'see? this is how good you feel to me...'  As her smooth thumb rolls across the youthful breast, her fingers follow in a closing v-shape that allows her to savor the small swells of flesh and the delicate tip... She kneads it tenderly, then slips her hand down the young woman's lithe flank to her hip, where she encourages her closer, her fingertips splaying and dimpling the flesh of her bottom.