Fiction – Twalker

I watch you. You don’t realise, but I see everything. I lurk in the shadows, just one among the many. I devour your conversations. I save your pictures. I spend hours thinking, plotting, putting two and two together. And I’m getting closer.

You don’t realise the effect your throwaway remarks have on me. How could you? I’m just a faceless name amongst your thousands of followers.

I hate your easy exhibitionism. The way you preen, flirt, joke and tease.

I touch myself.

Fiction – A Partridge In A Pear Tree

Inspired by the 12 days of Christmas, somehow this turned into another summer story. Seems I’m longing for long, hot, lazy summer days again!

Merry Christmas x

____

She knew he would be waiting outside her window, it had become a ritual now. Every year, around the same time. He came home to help on his father’s farm at harvest, as he did every year, just as her parents went on their annual wedding anniversary weekend to Cornwall, giving her an excuse to come back and house sit.

She thought back to the first time, the summer after her sixteenth birthday. It had been a cloudy, overcast day, and she had come home from school to change into a sweatshirt. Standing in her bedroom in just her bra and panties she rummaged among the clothes cursing her personal untidiness. She didn’t know what had prompted her to look out of the window when she did. It was probably that a slight movement had caught her eye, but she liked to think it was some kind of sixth sense. The tree was full and leafy, heavy with ripe fruit, the ideal hiding place. It had been his jeans that had given him away- a flash of blue against the browns and greens.

Lucy smiled as she remembered the shock she had felt when she had realised that there was someone outside her bedroom window, watching her dressing. That first time she had hurriedly drawn the curtains, as she had the second time it happened the following year, even though she had been fully clothed that time.

The fourth year had been the deciding year, the year she had made her mind up that if he was going to make his annual pilgrimage, she would at least make it worth his while. She had stood in front of the window in her underwear that year, slightly unsure of herself and awkward. Year five saw her topless, and year six threw caution to the wind and saw her fucking her then boyfriend on the desk in front of her window.

Over the years she had started to look forward to this time of year, and the visits from Tom Partridge. When they met in the village they hardly spoke, barely acknowledging each other past the usual neighbourly pleasantries. Their bond remained unspoken, yet she could see that intensity and desire burned in his eyes every time he looked at her.

The pear tree was ageing, the fruit slightly gnarled and pitted, but its trunk was as strong as ever. It would still hold his weight without any trouble. This time, the tenth anniversary of that first visit, she had a surprise ready for him. She only hoped the shock wouldn’t make him fall out of the tree. Lucy put the kettle on to busy herself in the kitchen, and waited.

She didn’t have long before she heard the familiar creak of the garden gate and saw Tom sneaking in and creep towards the old tree. The way he swung himself up into the branches with such ease amazed her. While the leaves of the tree obscured her view of him slightly, she was sure his eyes were searching for her at her bedroom window. “Not this time”, she grinned to herself, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. Gulping down the remnants of cold tea, she grabbed the blanket she had earlier placed on the back of the kitchen chair, and headed outside.

She had to try her hardest not to look up into the tree as she walked towards it. The key, she knew, was to make it look as unplanned and as innocent as possible, although she felt sure he would know it was anything but. Spreading the picnic blanket out under the shade of the fruit tree, she was sure she could sense his puzzlement as the script they played out every year deviated from the usual.

Once the blanket was in place, she stepped onto it and let the loose robe she was wearing slide from her shoulders, although she found herself wondering how it managed to slip off so easily when surely every single goose-bump would hold it up? She stood, head bowed for a split second, feeling her reserves flood away and desire begin to rise. Her gaze grazed her erect nipples, and she wallowed in the tingle of the blood rushing to her cunt, before slowly sinking, first to her knees, then onto her haunches, where she paused again for a split second, before lying down on her back, closing her eyes and spreading her arms out in the shape of a crucifix.

She knew he must be looking at her, admiring her pale skin and the pinkness of her nipples. She hoped he could feel her arousal as she imagined his eyes sweeping the curves of her breasts, the slight dip of her belly and the outline of her hips. Lucy wondered idly whether he could see how swollen her cunt was, how the sticky juices were pressing the tops of her thighs together.

Her thoughts were interrupted in the most frightening and unexpected way, as a ripe pear disengaged from the tree and fell down beside her, missing her by only an inch or two. She jumped and squealed slightly, before bursting into raucous, throaty laughter, which was stopped in its tracks when the second pear fell hard onto her right thigh. “OUCH”, she cried, somehow sure that this particular pear had not made its own way off the tree, but had received a helping hand.

She was rubbing the sticky spot where it had fallen, sure it would result in bruising the next day, when the next one rained down onto her stomach, oozing slightly as the overripe flesh of the fruit met her own, quickly followed by another one just under her left breast.

It was not until this point that she looked up into the tree for the first time. He was holding another pear in his hand with a thoughtful and calculating look in his eye. Her eyes blazed a challenge at him and the next fruit landed on the blanket next to her right breast, causing her to throw back her head and close her eyes once more, arching her back and spreading her legs in invitation, and causing the finely balanced pears to slide off, leaving their gloopy trail on her body. She inwardly thanked God that there  didn’t appear to be any wasps in any of the pears that had fallen down – while she had nothing against a little bruising, she did think that wasp stings might kill the mood somewhat.

As she lay there in expectation of the next blow, she was surprised to hear his voice hurriedly utter four words. “Rub them on you”. Doing as she was told, she grasped the pear that she instinctively knew was softest, and started to smooth it on her breasts. She felt the slightly mealy flesh disintegrate and coat her in a film of sticky juice, mirroring the effect it was having in her pussy. Lost in the pleasure of her own sensations, it took her a while to tune in to hear the moaning that was coming from seven feet above her, but she smiled as the audible cue told her what she had suspected.

There was not much left of the pear once she had smeared it over her belly and haunches, and it was the little stalk that made contact with her clit before her fingers did, mingling the sap on her digits with the juices of her cunt. The familiar trembles in the soles of her feet told her that she would not take long to orgasm if she let herself continue, but she didn’t know if she would be able to hold back for very long, as she quickened the pace, discarding the stalk and now furiously rubbing her clit.

The moaning in the tree above her grew louder and more guttural, while her own breathing grew shallower and heavier. She dipped her fingers into the sticky juices between her legs, before shoving them in her mouth and greedily sucking on them. The taste of ripe pear mingled with her pussy juices tasted delicious, and she briefly regretted that Tom couldn’t taste them too.

As she lustily sucked on her fingers, she looked up at the tree to see Tom’s erect cock springing from his jeans. The view of him stroking his thick cock spurred her on to place her fingers back between her legs and glide her fingers over her sodden clit.

The next thing that hit her was not a pear, but a short stream of milky white juices over her midriff and breasts, as Tom ejaculated over her, tipping her over the edge into her own shuddering orgasm. When it subsided, she lay back on the blanket, exhausted, and burst into unstoppable laughter. She could see she would have to start planning what was going to happen the following year…

Fiction – Chemistry Studies

This is a story I wrote some time ago now that was originally published on the “Wordejaculation” site, which is now sadly defunct. Time to republish it (and another piece that I’ll post another time) here, I think.

_______

It was the summer of 2003. The summer when people finally started believing in global warming. The hottest summer in 500 years.

I was in my final year at university, sharing a flat with two others – Nickie, a med student who we never saw as she was always off doing whatever it is medical students do, and Rob,  who, like me, was in the final stages of finishing his Chemistry degree. He and I had been pretty much inseparable since Fresher’s Week, when we first bonded over Tequila slammers and a love of dancing “ironically” to Beyonce’s chart topper Crazy In Love.

Rob was a walking, talking cliché – tall, dark, handsome, athletic. He had the gift of the gab and was utterly charming. I don’t think there was a girl in our year that didn’t throw herself at him at one point or another. Ironically, this made me both incredibly popular with those who thought getting in with me meant getting close to Rob, and unpopular with those who couldn’t understand our platonic relationship and were jealous of how much time we spent together.

It was around the end of May that Rob started seeing Charlotte. He had of course been out with girls before, but I knew from the beginning that this was new. Charlotte was very different to the clean-cut  girls with blonde swishy hair that seemed his normal type. She was half French; petite, olive skinned with long dark hair and the most amazing pert round breasts and peachy arse I had ever seen.

One hot and sticky Monday, I let myself in to the flat to hear laughter coming from Rob’s bedroom. I put away my shopping, and headed for my room. As I passed Rob’s room, I noticed the door was slightly ajar and caught a good view of the bed, where the two of them were lying dressed only in their underwear, with Charlotte’s back towards me. I caught a glimpse of her round cheeks in the tiniest of frilly knickers and something made me stop and admire the two of them. The next thing I knew, Rob was pulling her towards him, kissing her neck and running his hands up her thighs.

My head told me to disappear and leave them to it, but I remained rooted to the spot. He slowly slipped her bra strap off her shoulder and started kissing her collarbone. She giggled as his mouth moved lower towards her right breast and one hand moved from the outside of her thigh to the inside, while the other moved to undo the clasp of her bra.

I was frozen; barely daring to breathe as I glimpsed the silhouette of her right breast, before Rob hungrily started sucking the nipple. Charlotte moaned slightly as Rob also cupped his hand around her left breast. I willed them to move around so I could see everything that was happening, but of course they were completely oblivious to both me and the increasing dampness between my legs.

As Rob continued to focus on her breasts, Charlotte ran her hand along his arm, across his chest and down towards the soft fluff of his navel. She let her fingers linger, teasing the short hair, and playfully sticking her fingers in his belly button before slowly running her index finger along the inside of the waistband of his boxer shorts. As she shifted slightly onto her left buttock, I saw the outline of Rob’s hard, erect cock straining at the fabric, with a delicious, barely imperceptible wet patch where his cock had dribbled. Charlotte’s hand wandered further inside his boxer shorts and I could just make out the way her finger ran up and down his shaft.  As she grasped it with both hands and pulled it out of his shorts, I had to stifle a moan. My pussy was dripping at this point, and I pressed my hand between my legs in the vain hope of – what? – certainly not stopping myself, I was well past that point by now!

Still kissing, sucking, stroking and teasing, they pulled off their last remaining items of clothing. They were now completely naked. They were such an amazing looking couple, and I could not get enough of the sight of both of them. I held my breath, silently willing them on to the next level. As Charlotte went up on her knees, I saw Rob’s cock, rigid and glistening through her thighs. As she gently rubbed her pussy against its tip, I felt my own hand lift up the flimsy dress I was wearing, push aside my soaking knickers, and push my fingers deep into my own juices. I stifled a moan as my fingers found my clit and furiously began to rub.

In front of me, Rob had grabbed Charlotte’s waist and pushed her down hard onto his cock. As she slid up and down, her movements hinting at the pleasure she was experiencing, I felt myself attempting to mimic the sensation by thrusting my fingers deep inside myself. The way her breasts moved, the way she thrust her head back and closed her eyes – these were things I felt for myself. I felt every movement of his hands exploring her body, felt his fingertips tracing her nipples, and felt every thrust of his hot prick as it carved through me. I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying out as their lovemaking grew more frenzied. I staggered backwards, leant against the wall and gave in to the delicious sensations – my fingers on my clit, thrusting into my pussy and rubbing my nipples. As I felt the first shudder of orgasm tingling in my legs and my cunt, I opened my eyes for a final glimpse of the couple in front of me and drank in the view of her tits, and his cock. Charlotte let out a long, deep moan that instantly told me her climax too was close. Rob thrust into her one last time, and all three of us came with a delicious sigh.

I hid in my bedroom for the rest of the afternoon, too embarrassed to face the pair of them. It was only when I heard Charlotte leave that I dared venture into the kitchen, where I found Rob sipping a bottle of beer and flicking through the local paper.

He looked up as I came in, and grinned.

“Good afternoon?”
“Yeah, not bad” I mumbled, my face flushing at the thought of what I had seen and what I had done.
He looked at me thoughtfully and then said; “Well, maybe next time you would like to join us…”

That, however, is another story.

Fiction – Construction

(As an aside, this one should probably also be known as The One In Which I Think I Probably Watch Too Much Porn, as it involves frankly slightly ridiculous stereotypes of big burly men in hard hats, and normally features a 70s-style soundtrack in my head when I play the scenario through.)

________

“Eurgh. Thursday.” thought Jo, as her eyes started to focus on the room around her, and her ears protested at the hard-core dance music that appeared to be emanating from her clock radio. “Too early. Always too fucking early.”

She rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she mentally made a note to make more effort to take her make-up off before going to bed. Just like she did every other morning. Squinting in the bright sunlight, she rummaged around in the bathroom cabinet for painkillers, and quickly downed them with icy water from the tap.

The shower was the one thing that worked in her pokey flat, and she stripped off and climbed into it,  luxuriating in the way the hard driving rivulets of water stung her body into a state that might actually pass as alertness. As she absentmindedly soaped herself with lemon-scented shower gel, she played back the events of the night before. There had been wine. Yes, lots of wine. Eurgh. Then shots with that group of guys. Double eurgh. No wonder her head was throbbing.

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the hook on the back of the door. It would have to be instant coffee again – she really should get round to getting a new machine. Mornings like this were made for proper coffee; strong, dark and invigorating. The list of things that were already going wrong was getting longer, and it wasn’t even 7.30 yet.

Jo threw a slice of stale bread in the toaster and went to grab some clothes. She rummaged in her wardrobe and found the first top that looked like it might be vaguely presentable, and teamed it with a flared navy skirt. Simple, yet at least fairly smart for the office. Glancing at the overflowing laundry basket next to her wardrobe, she quickly decided against underwear. It was forecast to be a reasonably warm day anyway, and maybe some fresh air would do her some good – whatever it was blowing.

A slice of toast and some of her favourite songs on the radio helped lift her mood and she felt a little more human. Lashings of mascara and a slick of lipgloss ensured she also looked it. Jo grabbed her keys and her bag and headed out of the door to the bus stop. For once she wasn’t even going to be late!

It seemed everyone was out of town for the summer, and thankfully the bus had plenty of seats for a change. She put her bag down and collapsed onto the nearest one. The other passengers on the bus were the usual mix of elderly and commuters – no school kids at this time of year, thank God – the usual combination of strangers and familiar commuting faces. There was the woman who wore that awful pink lipstick that really didn’t suit her skin tone, and behind her the man that she occasionally bumped into at the corner shop being bullied into buying icecreams for his kids.

She didn’t recognise the man sat facing the back of the bus diagonally to her. He was maybe in his early 60s, Jo thought, with a shock of white hair and a dress-sense that seemed more up-to-date than his age implied. He was still handsome, and Jo could tell he’d obviously been a real heart-breaker in his youth. Or maybe he still was?

Her mental image made her unconsciously smile, and she blushed as she realised he was looking straight at her with a quizzical look in his eyes. She’d obviously made her interest in him too clear. Jo shifted uncomfortably in her seat and crossed, then re-crossed her legs. The movement reminded her of the fact she was not wearing underwear, and created a slight stickiness at the very top of her inner thigh. Older foxy man was now blatantly checking out her legs! Dirty old man!

Jo glanced out of the window and realised she was only two stops away from the office, when at the same time a wicked thought ran through her mind. Surreptitiously she tried to see if she could guess where her opposite number would be getting off. Dressed like that she supposed the likelihood was pretty big that he would be going further into the centre of town. She figured she was therefore pretty safe in what she wanted to do.

One more stop to go. She had to time it right or she would lose her nerve completely. Her stomach churned and she felt inwardly giddy. She’d never done anything like this. Well, not when sober anyway…

As the bus rounded the corner that meant she had a couple of hundred yards to her stop, Jo casually dropped her hands onto her lap. Gathering the soft fabric of her skirt in her fingers, she glanced around to ensure that the man opposite was the only person who would be able to see what she was doing. He was staring idly out of the window, and she wondered if he would actually even notice.

With one sure, slow movement she slid the fabric of her skirt up her thighs and quickly uncrossed her legs, exposing her cunt. She held her breath and blushed  a deep red as the man opposite turned his head because of the movement, and caught what must have been a full view of her glistening pussy.

The look of surprise and delight on his face would stay with Jo long after she got off the bus. That would give him something to tell his grandchildren, she thought…

___

The episode on the bus had made her giddy with excitement, and she practically skipped into the office. All morning she had to try to contain the fits of giggles that seemed to want to explode out of her at the most inopportune moments. Thankfully the office was suffering from the same empty August syndrome as the bus, and she spent most of the morning uninterrupted. Even though the whole thing had only lasted seconds, the arousal that had resulted from her little flash on the bus was acute, and she used quiet periods at her desk and trips to the bathroom to dip her fingers up her skirt into her dripping juices. It only made her hornier.

When it was time for her lunch break, Jo was glad to leave the office – she felt sure it was blindingly obvious to the few colleagues that were left what the only thing on her mind was that day. At one point she was convinced she was so flushed that the office maintenance guy was going to ask her if she had a fever.

She dashed out to the nearest sandwich bar and walked over the small green square that she liked to frequent in the summer, where she sat down on the grass and wolfed down her sandwich with a voracious appetite.

However, no amount of chicken salad on wholemeal could do anything to appease the hunger in her cunt. It was getting beyond a joke. Everywhere she looked she could see hot young office workers of both sexes flirting in the sun. She started to wonder if she was going to have to seduce Ben the IT geek in the stationery cupboard on her return to the office, things were getting that desperate. And all because of some stranger who was probably old enough to be her grandfather!

On her way back to the office, Jo realised that there finally seemed to be movement at the derelict office block across the road. She could see various men in hard hats pointing at sheaves of paper. About time too, the place was a complete eyesore, thought Jo.

She was staring absent-mindedly at the building, when she realised that one of the men was walking purposefully towards her, and smiling in recognition. Jo racked her brains as to where she might know him from, when finally it dawned on her that he had been one of the group that she and her friend had been drinking with in the nightclub the previous evening. She groaned inwardly as she wondered whether she had made a fool of herself, but reading the expression on his face decided against it.

He was maybe just under 6 foot, with floppy blond hair and deep brown eyes that twinkled out from under his hard hat. She could tell from the tan on his face and forearms that he spent a lot of time outside. Her eyes were drawn to the bulge of his biceps under his t-shirt. She had no control over the throbbing that instantly started up between her legs.

“Hi”, the man said as he got close, “it’s Jo, isn’t it? We met last night, at Fifth Avenue? I’m Greg”. As Jo opened her mouth to respond, he leaned in and grinned conspiratorially “I loved the fact you weren’t wearing any underwear”. “Fuck”, thought Jo, as she blushed bright red, then hesitated for a split second, before laughing and whispering back “I’m not wearing any now either”.

Had she really just said that? What was wrong with her? First flashing at respectable older gentlemen, and now this? She had to concede that Greg was a damn sight hotter than Ben the IT geek though…

She looked at the bemused expression on Greg’s face as he processed this piece of information. Jo guessed he hadn’t quite expected that reaction. She weighed up her next move. In for a penny, and all that… “want me to show you?” she breathed.

Greg’s grin grew wider. “Follow me”, he said, and led her round the back of the building. As she walked behind him, Jo had the chance to survey the way his jeans cupped his buttocks as he walked. With every step Jo made up her mind further that she desperately needed to get her hands on that body.

The back of the building contained a small courtyard, with sorry-looking raised beds that must once have contained flowers. Greg gestured to them; “hop up there” he beckoned, throwing his hard hat to the ground. She did as she was told, hoiking her skirt up around her hips at the same time, and spreading her legs. “I told you I wasn’t wearing any underwear” she laughed.

Greg grabbed her right thigh with his left hand while the other desperately scratched at the buckle of his belt. With a swift movement, he unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and pulled out his already erect cock. Jo’s pussy spasmed at the sight, and she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him towards her. With a slow, soft movement, she pushed her tongue into his mouth as he thrust his cock into her throbbing pussy with the same slow motion. Jo gasped as her aching cunt finally got its fill.

Greg’s movements were slow and steady at first, then grew wilder and less hesitant as  he responded to Jo’s moans. She wrapped her thighs tightly around his hips and drew his full length into her, willing each thrust deeper and harder.  Greg did not last long – his orgasm came quick and hard, and they clung together, panting for a few seconds. Finally he looked at her. “Sorry”, he mumbled, aware that his own orgasm had not waited for Jo’s. “That’s ok”, she smiled, shifting her buttocks on the uncomfortable wooden logs. She glanced up briefly to where she knew another man in a hard hat had been watching. “We can always try again later…”

Fiction – Cream and Honey

I came round slowly , feeling slightly nauseous and disorientated. It took a minute or so for me to take stock of my situation; I appeared to be lying in a darkened room, strapped naked to some kind of bed or couch. The room felt warm and inviting – candles flickered around the edges, and soft music was playing in the background. Moving slightly against my restraints, I smiled and waited.

I did not have to wait long until a door in the far corner out of my immediate line of sight opened and I could hear footsteps and rustling. It was impossible to determine how many people had entered the room – three, maybe four? I shivered slightly despite the warmth, and could feel every hair on my body stand erect, as did my nipples.

As my eyes grew accustomed to the low light levels, I made out four masked figures approaching me, wearing what looked like hooded hotel dressing gowns. They stood in formation, two either side of the bed, and let their gowns fall to the floor. To my right stood two brunettes, one petite, small-breasted and olive-skinned, the other taller, more curvaceous with the most beautiful pale ivory skin. I smiled in recognition, but they both managed to keep their eyes firmly ahead and did not make eye contact.

To my left, a blonde woman with a nipple piercing, unknown to me,  stood next to a curly-haired redhead. They too stared straight ahead, neither acknowledging me or the other women in the room, seeminly awaiting further instruction. Just then the door opened again and another hooded figure entered. My breath quickened and my heart started beating faster as I recognised the familiar build and gait.

He approached the bed and I noticed he too was wearing a mask. He produced a plastic carrier bag and handed out what appeared to be a pastry brush to each of the four women. He then proceeded to produce  four pots of what looked like honey, which he put down on the bed in front of each of the women, gesturing to them to begin.

As each of the women in turn opened the pots, I held my breath, anticipating what was going to happen next. I felt the familiar swelling of the blood rushing to my pussy and almost let out an involuntary sigh. Each of the women dipped their brushes into the pots and started to paint me – starting at the end of each limb. The brushing sensation tickled my toes, and I wriggled, but the restraints that held me to the bed did not allow much escape. One by one the little pastry brushes lathered on the thick, sticky substance – on my toes and fingers, my hands and feet, then along my arms and legs.

All this time I was so preoccupied with trying to see and feel what was happening to me that I had not paid any attention to the man at the end of the bed. I became conscious of the fact that the way my legs were tied to the bed must be giving him a fabulous view of my swollen labia. I blushed at the thought of how he must be able to sense my arousal, for I could already smell the familiar musky scent of my juices myself.

His cock was already firm in his hand as he watched the scene in front of him, growing stiffer and harder as his eyes swept over my naked body, and those of the other women in the room. He stroked the shaft in the same rhythm as the women stroked my body with the hairs of their brushes.

The brushes were reaching the clefts of my limbs now – getting closer to both my naked breasts and the meeting at the tops of my legs. Cupping his balls in his hands, and pulling more firmly on his cock, I could see the tell-tale signs of arousal in the man. I knew the sight of me lying helpless, displaying my arousal to him and to four other women would turn him on so much that he was unable to delay his orgasm.

I could feel my own heart pounding as the teasing, swirling sensation of the brushes around my nipples increased my own arousal. The women had obviously been instructed to stay away from my clit though, for hard as I tried to twist and turn and maneuver myself into place to have them brush me there, they only laughed and pulled away from me.

Yanking frantically on his shaft, the man let out a series of tell-tale moans that announced his coming orgasm. Hot jets of milky cum spurted all over me, and splashed the redhead who was closest to him. The blonde woman grinned, and continued painting my nipples, mixing the milky cum in with the sticky honey. When I thought I could no longer stand the teasing, I felt two brushes finally brush the lips of my pussy. Mixing honey with my juices and the sticky semen, the women laughed and started painting faster.

Suddenly I realised it was not just brush strokes touching my body, as I felt fingers start to trace the outline of my waist and hips. I realised hands, brushes, and tongues were mixing together just like the different substances I was now covered in.They hungrily licked the honey and the cum from my body, spreading it into cracks and orifices, and delighting in removing it again.

I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensation of one mouth on each of my nipples, and different fingers probing and teasing between my legs. The feeling of both my nipples and my clit being sucked at the same time was too much for me, and my body shuddered to climax.

As the women turned their attention to each other, the man -who had stepped back to watch from the shadows – approached me again. Lifting his mask up, he kissed me long and deep on the mouth.

“Happy birthday, darling”

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Fiction – #wankwednesday – Flame

This is my first ever attempt for the #wankwednesday link-up over at Word Ejaculation (so be gentle with me!). It seemed appropriate that wanking was involved for #wankwednesday…

This week’s prompt is Flame.

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Maria showered after work. The sticky heat of that summer made showering twice a day a minimum. As she wrapped the towel around herself and went into the bedroom, she remembered the conversation with her colleague; “I don’t know how you can live in a basement apartment”, Anita had said, “I’d forever be worrying about who might be able to get in”.

Maria had brushed off the comments, it was something she preferred not to really think about. It was not like she had a choice – living in the city was expensive, she had to take what she could afford.

She made her way into the bedroom and dried herself absent-mindedly. As she wiped the towel over her breasts she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Almost from nowhere, she could feel desire building inside her. It surprised her completely, for it had been a long time since her libido had made an appearance.

She lit a candle on the bedside table, and busied herself with getting herself ready for her meeting’s the next day, laying out her clothes neatly on a chair. The sensation of being naked was by no means unknown to her, yet tonight something in the air made her aware of every step she took. As her thighs brushed together, she could feel tell-tale wetness seeping between her legs.

Sitting down on the bed, Maria had the strangest sensation that she was being watched. Glancing towards the window, everything seemed normal, yet she could still sense a presence. The thought did not frighten her, however, instead it only seemed to spur her on. She leant back and spread her legs, enjoying the brief rush of air on her moist pussy.

Closing her eyes, she started playing with her breasts, slowly circling the areola with her middle finger, and gently letting it brush her nipple. “Are you watching this?” she wondered silently to the presence outside her window, pinching her nipples harder now, as she imagined a mouth sucking on them.

As the throbbing between her legs became too much, she delved her hand into the sticky juices, bringing them back up to her mouth and tasting herself. Looking at the darkened window she felt the desire being reflected back, and with an urgency and passion she had not felt in a long time, Maria played and teased, bringing herself closer and closer to orgasm. With a final rub of her clit, she cried out and lay back, exhausted.

After a few minutes to calm herself, she got up, threw on a dressing gown, blew out the candle and went into the kitchen for a drink. The little moth that had been stuck at her window flew off as she extinguished the flame.

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Read all the Wank Wednesday erotic writing for Flame on Word Ejaculation