Time for me. Time to lose myself within and time to fly free and unfettered.
Have you ever seen a stranger, and looked for a second or two longer than you should have? Have you wondered what it was that made you keep looking?
I saw her in a coffee shop. She was just sitting, idly sipping at a coffee I suspect she didn't really want, and just staring out of the window. Her age? Oh, but it's so difficult to tell these days, is it not? Perhaps anywhere between 14 and 21. Does it really matter that much? Was she dressed sexily, perhaps her tummy showing, or her lower back, perhaps a flash of thong visible to the world? Oh no, nothing like that. Perhaps there was the suspicion of her panties barely visible at the top of her jeans, but nothing more. Her top, quite boring, and, if I may say, it didn't suit her at all well.
Ah, but her presence, the vibrations emanating from her were seductive and absorbing. I sat in my little booth, alone and allowed myself to explore her aura. I sat and watched her breathing and timed my own to be in sync with hers. I stared at the back of her head, and willed myseld inside it. I tried to imagine how she smelt up close, how her perfume, (if she wore any) mingled with the soap and hairspray. I wondered about her body. Tattoed? Pierced?, then her pussy. Shaved smooth like mine, or natural. Her sweat, oh yes, I love another girl's sweat. I wondered when she last sweated in bed. Perhaps only last night? Perhaps to the probing of her own fingers, but then again, perhaps her boyfriend driving himself inside her and she, her legs spread wide accepting his thrusts and rising to meet them. And finally, her pussy...her cunt....her minge...her twat. In my spiritual union with her, I could see it nestling in her panties weeping its soft, sweet dew of benediction into the close-woven material.
She rose, and walked to the bathroom of the coffee shop. She saw me, smiled, and went on her way. I followed. There were only two stalls, and, clearly, she was in the next one to me. I sat on the seat and listened intently attuned for any sound. I heard a rustle of clothes and knew she had her jeans around her ankles and her panties in them. Was she looking into the crotch, as we so often do automatically? Was she surprised at how wet she was? I lifted my dress and, because I was not wearing panties, just enjoyed the nakedness. Then, I heard her pee. I heard the soft sound, and her little sigh of relief. Do you remember that moment in Silence of the Lambs, where Lecter raises his nose and inhales deeply after Clarice tells him the man in the next cell said 'I can smell your cunt!'. I did the same.
I breathed in long and sensuously. I could clearly smell her pee, and her cunt. She flushed and left her stall. I emerged from mine and went into hers. The seat was still warm from her, and I sat where she had sat, my cunt occupying the same spatial continuum as hers. I imagined her again, naked, spread, being fucked hard....but this time by my husband as I watched. He was giving it to her hard and powerfully and she, the bitch, was taking him deeper inside her and egging him on to fuck her, screw her, do it inside her. I saw my darling man stiffen and hold still as he pumped his seed deep up her hole. In my stall I was masturbating furiously, but fighting the orgasm at the same time. Only when, in my mind, I leaned forward to drink him from her did I allow myself to cum into my hand and onto my fingers. Afterwards, I too sat and peed, hoping that our fluids would mix, hers and mine.
Back in the coffee shop, I walked towards her, and I leaned in to her as I past and said, 'I have just masturbated at the thought of my husband fucking you, and me licking his cum from your twat.' I smiled, and walked away.
I never looked back.