Because it's been too long since I wrote something purely sexual. And because Moraa gave me hell for not writing something arousing on the 69th post...
I give you, THE WATCHER.
She is perfect.
That is what her white short dress, hugging her body, exposing her perky tits and her perfectly shaped ass, tells you.
Her lips are red and inviting. A part of you wants to kiss her, but a part of you doesn’t want to rub the red off.
It is doing things to your dick, that color on her lips.
Her legs are exposed, courtesy of the short dress, and every time she moves, you can see her thighs rubbing against each other. It is driving you crazy, and there is nothing you want more than bend her on the table and fuck her brains out.
But there are rules to these things. Rules that say, for example, you cannot just go to a stranger in a bar and request if you can fuck her.
How you wish you could though. How you wish such absurd rules didn’t exist. How you wish you could just walk up to her, maybe not even introduce yourself, and just tell her all the things you want to do her.
Unfortunately, all you have been reduced to is a watcher, and so that is all you do.
You watch her talk to her friends. You watch her laugh at one of the thing her friend says, and suddenly you get harder. You watch her stand up, go to the bar, and come back with more alcohol for her and her friends.
You watch her take a couple of shots, then you watch as she stands up, and starts dancing.
You draw a deep breath when she moves her ass, and an even deeper breath when she touches her tits ever so slightly as she sways her hair from side to side.
That is when you know she completely, and utterly, has you. Your dick is harder than it has ever been, and as you continue watching her, you are afraid that you will cum right then and there.
You decide to go to the washroom to relive yourself, her images haunting you.
The washrooms are empty, and when you enter into one of the empty stalls, you lock it, take your dick out, and start rubbing it slowly with images of her dancing, her touching her tits, her touching your dick, your dick sliding into her pussy; on your mind.
You are not aware of it, but you are moaning loudly, so when somebody knocks on your stall, you don’t hear it at first.
You are just about to cum with images of her sucking on your dick, when the knock gets louder, and you panic. You quickly zip up your trousers, and wonder whether you should open the door or not.
Just when you decide you will rather die than open that door, the sweetest feminine voice reaches you:
“It’s me. Open up. “
Her? Who is her?
“You know who I am. You have been watching me, haven’t you?”
A lot of things are going through your mind now, but before you can voice them, the girl is sliding something under the stall, and when you realize it is her panties, your dick is getting hard all over again.
“Open up. I promise, I will make it worth your time,” she says, and before you change your mind, you find yourself opening the door, pulling her in, kissing her red lips, groping her perky tits, sliding her white dress up, feeling her wetness.
She is moaning, you are moaning, and when she reaches for your trouser and takes your dick out, you think that you will die from all the pleasure.
But then she turns around, bends over, pulls her dress up so you could have a view of her perfect ass, spreads her legs, looks behind at you with her lust-filled eyes and says:
And when you slide inside her pussy, and find it wet, and tight, and warm, and everything you have ever dreamed of, at that moment, you are sure that you have died and found yourself in heaven.