Watching, Waiting, Masturbating,

I have always found the silent, almost telepathic element so sex fascinating. Maybe I’ll write in more detail about it sometime, but in essence, it’s that unspoken way by which we know whether just kissing in offered, or perhaps mutual masturbation, or maybe the whole route ... perhaps even the big ‘A’ can be communicated without a word being said. 

And when I saw Dani, I knew, absolutely knew without question or hesitation, that I was not being invited to join in. More powerfully, though, I was being invited to watch … in fact, somehow, I instinctively knew that she had set this up so I could watch her without being seen myself, and that was what she wanted to get herself off. I knew. I just … knew.

Dani is lying on the couch. In fact, she has moved it slightly so that it can be seen should anyone go to my den … since I’m the only one allowed in my den, it follows that this is aimed at me. She has obviously paced this out because although the door to the family room is open, it’s only open enough to show part of the couch … and looking through, I can’t even see all of Dani. 

What I can see takes my breath away. A soft cotton white bra moulds itself around her gorgeous boobs, and lower down, the perfect match of white, cotton panties with a tiny black bow on the front. Dani’s legs are flopped wide open and I can see her crotch easily … and already, the material of that panty-crotch is stained. She has been planning this all day. 

I can’t see her vulva, but I can see how it shapes the soft and obviously moist material -- and those stains -- slightly yellowish. Has she indulged in a little panty peeing? I remember showing her how sexy this could be at our old home, and she had tried it, masturbating immediately after. And I’ve spied on her squatting for a little outdoor pissing before masturbation by our old pool as well. 

I try and do a “Hannibal Lecter” and open my nostrils wide and gently inhale, hoping to catch her sex on the air, but as Hannibal would say, “I myself cannot.” 

Her hand has slipped a bra strap off and down her arm. Is it coincidence that it’s the boob I can see most clearly? She peels the material off herself, but not completely. The bottom part of her breast is still covered by the white material, and it looks so erotic: more so than if it was an entire naked breast.

Her hand is in her panties now, moving the material. Not for the first time, I marvel at how ‘nearly naked’ is so much more erotic than ‘naked’ is. I yearn, I ache to be allowed to see her sex, but it remains hidden from my view. I feel a trace of wetness travel down my thigh -- today is a ‘commando’ day for me, and there’s nothing to soak up my wetness -- and I am getting very, very wet. When I woke up this morning, even though I neither masturbated nor had sex last night, the pale green panties I wore overnight were soaked almost up to the waistband, both front and back. I did have some highly erotic dreams, and maybe that was what caused the wetness. 

A moan snaps my attention back to Dani. Her hand has moved and obviously two fingers are plunging slowly in and out of her vagina. Her hips rise to meet the thrusts and gyrate slightly before she pulls them out. I can just make out half of her face, but only if she looks directly at the back of the couch. Her left arm is crooked over her head and makes her look so vulnerable. For a moment, I wonder if this is an invitation to the dance, but Miss Brain is adamant that I am here merely to look, and for Dani to know I’m watching. 

Her face does turn to the back of the couch, and I see something in her hand. My panties from last night. I know they will still be wet, and I do mean ‘wet’, and I see her inhale my scent. The gentle trickle of liquid down my thigh becomes heavier: it has reached my right knee now. Then Dani raises her head and I see her put the crotch of my panties in her mouth before resting her head back on the cushion. 

The movement between her legs is less coordinated now, less regular and more instinctive. I can hear her rapid breathing and panty-muted moans and I know she is close: so very close. 

If I touched myself now, I would cum with her, but I know I’m not invited. Not this time, anyway, not physically. But I know that I fill every corner of her erotic imaginings. Whatever she’s thinking about, it’s me doing it. 

She gives a small cry, and her hand snatches my panties from her mouth, and moves them rapidly between her legs. Two fingers claw the crotch of her stained white undies aside, and she holds my panties near to her vulva and and lightly touching her bum cheeks. She calls my name as she cums. “Anna…..Ohh fuck….Anna!” I see her squirt! Our Dani has learned to squirt. Miss Brain gives me a rapid, fast-motioned reply of what I saw, or rather didn’t see when Dani was fingering herself, and it makes sense. She was using two fingers in a ‘come here’ motion pressing hard on her g-spot as she did so. 

But to hell with the technicalities: she’s squirting on my panties: mine! She had my panties in her mouth! The ones I wore all day yesterday and through the night! Dirty bitch! 

I watch until the very last moments of her orgasm ebb away. How dare I tear my eyes from her before? This is a privilege: an honour conferred. She has painstakingly set this up, for her to cum and for me to watch. 

And when she finally relaxes into the couch, I softly and silently enter my den and close the door. I’m shaking. I’m horny! But I know that if I masturbate now, in this moment, it will defile what I have seen. There will be time and place that will present themselves to me. Patience, Anna. 

Some time later, Dani knocks on my den door. I’ve surprised myself in forcing my attention from my sex to my business. I don’t mind fucking one, but I don’t want to fuck the other, and surprisingly, I’ve managed to focus well. My six coffee shops are now 12, and growing nicely. I took a hit buying the further six, but already their business has grown, owing to the way we now do things, and what we serve. My next venture will be in-house made breads. I have my eye on a small bakery not far from one of the stores. Great plans, Anna, great plans! 

Dani brings in afternoon tea. As usual, two of everything. I know I saw her masturbate. She knows I saw her masturbate, yet nothing is said. We chat as easily as always, even chatting about sex -- again -- as usual. When we’re done, she collects the plates and cups and scoops up the tray. I watch her perfect bum clad in jeans now, and imagine my tongue deep in it -- ah well. As I turn back to my computer, I see, tucked between the back and the seat of where she was sitting, a pair, no, two pairs of panties. Mine with her squirt on them, and hers with, well, her on them. 

Now I know I can wank myself off: now, it’s ok. 

As my world splinters apart, my head is filled with Dani’s soft, sweet scent, and my tongue runs across the very material where, up until recently, her sex oozed it’s arousal. And there, right at the back, hiding, yet willing to be found, is that little tang is pee. I suck abidly as I cum, and know that one day -- one glorious, abandoned day -- Dani will bless me with her pee.