I DO Know, You Know!

I sit on the village green in my white cotton summer dress. My back is against the wall of the cricket pavilion, and my knees are drawn up with my feet splayed either side of my bum.  Of course I know. Do you think I wouldn’t? My panties are clearly on show and, as I pretend to read the book perched on my knees, my attention is elsewhere. 

But then, I’m not the only one pretending to read, am I? There’s you, lying full length on your tummy, a book on the grass in front of you. A book that has not seen a page turn for some time now. 

And we both know why, don’t we? Your eyes must be aching by now surely? Although your head is down, you are straining your ocular muscles to keep your eyes as high as they’ll go so you can see my panties. They’re white, of course, but equally, I know that there is a wet stain on them. A girl’s vaginal discharge is very rarely pure white, and today, mine is sufficient to leave a visible stain running the length of my slit. I admit, I’m very wet today, but then I know you are looking at me, imagining how I look under these panties…imagining how I might feel….how I might taste….and imagining my scent. 

Well, of course I know you’re hard! That’s what the uncomfortable shifting is about on the grass. I wonder if you’re wet too? Probably. I turn a page in my book. At least I’m going to present the illusion that I’m actually reading. I allow my right hand to move, seemingly randomly to my right bum cheek and, just as if I have a slight itch, I allow my middle finger to stroke my right labia. The effect on you is instantaneous. You colour up and take a deep breath. Well, if you liked that, you’ll love this. A few moments later, I give the very top inside of my right thigh a scratch, except I make sure that my panties get ‘accidentally caught and the sideways itching movement pulls them aside, exposing, for the briefest second, my hairless twat.Then, casually as you like, I look up directly at you and I smile. Such a smile, inviting, sexy, open. Then I gather up my book and walk to the public lavatory. The thought that in there, I will be pulling my panties down, whether to pee or masturbate is too much for you. 

You stand, and go into the men’s lavatory. Your cock is out the moment the cubicle door is locked. I know these lavatories. Erected by the Cricket Club, the dividing wall between the men’s and women’s is thin tongue and groove wood. Thin enough for sound. I moan. I even manage a “oh fuck I’m gonna cum.” Next door, your ejaculation is fierce….savage, almost. Despite yourself, you groan aloud. Fate determines we both leave our respective sanctuaries at the same moment. We look at one another and smile demurely, each telling ourselves that the other has no idea what we just did….

…..but we do.