When the door closed behind me, the room I’d entered seemed almost dark. Settling in a chair in front of the glass partition, I wiped my damp palms on my jeans. I’d only been here once before and uncertainty was making me sweat. My friend had brought me with him that time, but only for support. I hadn’t been expected to take part in what had occurred, and that was fine by me because I wouldn’t have known where to start.
Sadly, a whole year later, I still didn’t have much of an idea.
Part of my problem was lack of practical experience, but if I was brutally honest with myself, the major factor in my ignorance was this place. My mind had been on it for twelve long months. Obsessing. Craving. Needing.
I constantly thought about what I’d seen and heard, and what my friend had done right in front of me. But every time I’d tried to recreate it something had always happened that ripped me right out of what I understood was a fantasy. A hand in my hair. A loud cry. Nails dragging over my back, pulling me up, taking me away from the one thing I wanted to be doing because the person I was with wanted me to do something else. I didn’t want that. Didn’t want them touching me.
But I was here now. Watching the oil slicked woman walk toward the glass wall. There was a chaise on the other side, and she was heading for it. God, the way she moved made every nerve in my body sit up and take notice. My jeans felt tighter, the fibres of my shirt made me itch.
She walked slowly, moving her shoulders in counter rhythm to her hips. Her toes pointed at the floor with each step she took, tightening her calves and thighs. Just before she reached the chaise she veered off to her left. My eyes moved over her tumbling curls, followed the sensuous curve of her back all the way down to the firm round cheeks of her ass.
With a quick bump she smacked those cheeks off the glass, then, winking at me over her shoulder, she set off for the chaise again. I laughed under my breath when I saw she’d left a perfect oily print of her ass on the partition.
When she reached the chaise she stepped forward. Almost as if time had slowed, I watched her bend her knees outward, lowering herself into a crouch. Her legs were spread wide, her stomach creased into a couple of small rolls. A silver bar caught the light that was slowly brightening around her, the little diamante wings of the hummingbird that dangled from it shimmering as though it was about to take flight.
My eyes rose, but only as far as her tits. Both of those sparkled with diamantes too. She shook them for me, making them twinkle. Her soft laugh caught my ears as I slid forward to the edge of my chair. She knew as well as I did that my poor cock was being strangled by my boxers and jeans, but while I was at the early stages of torture, she was just amused.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Held it. Let it go while counting to ten in my head. I didn’t want to hear her laughing. When I lifted my lids again she was lying on the chaise. One leg draped over the back, the other flung wide, displaying herself for me. I watched her run her fingers over her glistening slit, remembering seeing her do exactly this a year ago while I’d sat on a chair off to the left. I smiled. Wondering if that’s why she’d made the print of her ass. That was where I’d been sitting. Had she remembered me?
I couldn’t hear her. I couldn’t smell her or taste her. All I could do was watch her, dipping her fingers into her cunt, rubbing them over her swollen little clit. She butterflied herself for me, using her fingers to hold her lips open so I could get a peek inside. Wet, creamy, and oh so inviting.
My cock bounced, strained against my fly, desperate to be at her. But it would sit there in its prison until I got home and released it because that’s the way I wanted it to be.
She was so close to the glass. Quiet squelching noises could now be heard as she finger fucked herself for my entertainment. A wood dragging on wood sound brought her and the chaise a little closer to me. It was then I met her eyes. She smiled at me, but I didn’t smile back. She pouted, but still I kept my face neutral.
I felt anything but, though. My heart raced, my joints ached with restraint. I wanted to break the glass, to bury my cock deep in that gorgeous cunt, but I knew I couldn’t.
I had options, though. Unzipping my jeans and jizzing on the glass while she pushed her tits up against it was perfectly acceptable. So was using one of the sealed masturbators – moulded from the very pussy that was gaping wide for me if the ad in reception could be trusted – that were stacked on a table by the door. I might take one on my way out, but I didn’t want to use one here.
What I wanted was right in front of me. A hole in the glass, six inches across and perfectly round. I was on my knees, hand passing though the hole, followed by my forearm and elbow. My bicep pressed against it and I could go no further.
The now blocked hole prevented me from hearing her laugh, but I could see she thought this was funny when her tits started to wobble. I reached out with everything I had, but my fingers fell a mere few inches short of touching those maddeningly wet folds.
I watched her lick her fingers, pinch her nipples, crunch forward so she could fuck her pussy, the back of her hand whacking off the tips of my fingers. Then she was holding herself open for me again, showing me her asshole puckering, her pussy throbbing out an orgasm.
One thrust of her hips. That’s all it took to bring her close enough for me to just reach. I wasted no time. Sinking the tip of my thumb into her ass and a finger into the entrance to her pussy, I gave her a look she couldn’t mistake for anything other than what it was…
A plea.
She rocked her hips, and I shook my head. She’d mistaken me, I didn’t want this. It only took her a second to realise what she’d done wrong. Nodding in understanding, she held still, letting me fuck her shallowly with the tips of my fingers while she rubbed her clit. So warm, so juicy and soft and wet. My free hand squeaked against the glass, my knees dug into the floor, my cock pushed its way out of the waistband of my boxers. Pressure, lighter than light stroking as I rocked my hips in time with hers.
Another scrape of the chair and she was closer still. My thumb penetrated a little deeper, my finger sinking in further, squeezed by her hot walls. I wanted to feel that cunt tighten, wanted it to force me out a little at a time as she came. It didn’t take long before she gave me exactly that.
I loved that she didn’t hold my wrist. Loved that she didn’t try to push me away, or worse, pull me closer. She just let me feel it, let herself feel it until it was over. I closed my eyes, aware of her juices trickling down my wrist, the last of her orgasmic squeezes gently spitting my thumb out of her ass.
I pulled my arm back, eyes wide as she rose from her chaise. She sat on the floor, right in front of the hole in the glass, and stared right at me. I prayed she wouldn’t speak to me. I didn’t want to hear her or talk to her. I didn’t want anything from her other than what she’d given me.
But when she opened her mouth and waited patiently, I couldn’t resist. On my feet, unzipping my jeans, pushing my cock past the glass and into her waiting mouth. She didn’t start to suck or move her head. All she did was tighten her lips and wait. I didn’t move, either. I just stood there sucking on my pussy wrinkled fingers, feeling her soft lips around my hardness, her breaths tickling through my hairs, the warm wetness of her mouth.
We stayed like that for almost five minutes. I felt her tongue flex once or twice and I knew she wanted me to fuck her throat, but I didn’t. I made myself stand still until the urge to choke her on my cock became too much. As soon as it did, I pulled away.
Looking down, I saw she was looking back. We shared a smile as I tucked my still hard dick away. Her hand pressed against the glass and so did mine, right over hers. Then I walked away, looking over my shoulder and mimicking the cheeky wink she’d given me earlier as I picked up one of the masturbators.
I now had the perfect pussy to play with whenever I felt like it. I could finger it, lick it or sink my cock into it whenever I wanted to, and the best thing of all was, it wouldn’t ever try to fuck me back. I’d be back here to see her one day, but until then I had exactly what I needed right here in the palm of my hand.
Week 133
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