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‘Yeah, Adam let me off early as it was so quiet tonight,’ Cora said, still out of view. ‘Where are you?’
I couldn’t hear the responses on the other end. Cora came into view and sat down on the edge of the bed, slipping off her shoes.
‘No, it’s okay, I’m not hungry. I’m going to take advantage of being home before midnight and have an early night. I’m exhausted.’
She hung up the phone shortly after and threw it on her bed. Pulling her sweater over her head, she slung it into the basket near the closet in which I hid. Next came her sweatpants, followed by the vest top she wore underneath.
My little liar stood there in nothing but a pair of cotton panties identical to the ones I’d stuffed in my pocket, and a simple white bra. A chain hung around her neck with a ring on it. I wanted nothing more than to burst out of the closet and pin her to the bed, forcing my way into her as I claimed her first time as mine. I yearned to make her moan and cry beneath me, to help her find that elusive orgasm and make her experience it over and over again.
But I didn’t. I stayed perfectly still as she turned on her bedside lamp, turned off the main light, and left the room. A few moments later, I heard a toilet flush and a tap running. I should have taken the moment to get out of her home, but my legs were leaden at the thought of leaving her so soon.
Her feet padded on the floor as she returned and collapsed back on the bed, scrolling on her phone for what felt like hours. I’d have happily stayed and watched her do that if it meant getting to ogle her legs and ass.
She turned so that the screen of her phone came into view. My dirty girl was watching porn. Eventually, she slipped her hand into her panties and touched herself.
Pulling out the stolen panties from my pocket, I quietly opened my trousers, using the cotton to stroke my dick. I imagined I was pressed up against the panties she wore, and my cock was bringing her flushed cheeks. The material grazed the tip of my cock as I quickened my pace, every little pant of hers driving me wild. My jaw tensed as she writhed on the bed, clearly getting close, but not tipping over the edge. A light sheen of sweat gathered across her reddened chest, and to my delight, she removed her hand and slapped her inner thighs hard. The mewl she gave made my balls twitch.
Pink hand prints formed, and she turned to look at them in the mirror near her bed while she continued to touch herself beneath her panties.
‘Please, no,’ she moaned softly as she picked up speed. ‘Don’t touch me there.’
Her pleading voice had me right on edge while her pink thighs urged me to burst out and make her feel pain at my hands until she came all over my fingers.
‘No, Ewen, don’t…’ Her eyes closed as she gave into the dirty fantasy in her head. My name on her lips was the final straw as I angled her panties to fill the gusset with streams of cum. Holding in my groan was almost painful as I emptied my balls for my pretty liar.
She kept trying to reach her own summit but eventually gave up. Tears pricked her eyes as she fell back against the bed in defeat.
I wanted to go to her and finish the job. But appearing from her closet was more likely to end with her hating me than wanting me. So I waited.
And waited.
Finally, her chest rose softly as she fell into sleep. Creeping out of the closet, I went to pocket the panties when a filthy thought entered my head.
Moving to the bed, I ran a finger over her exposed stomach, the heat of her skin drawing me in. Leaning down, I grazed my lips over the pink finger marks on her thighs.
‘I’ll make them real, pretty girl. I promise.’
I reached up, gently sliding her wet panties down her thighs until I held them in my hand. Inhaling deeply, I took in her heady scent and pocketed the underwear. Next, I lined up the cum-filled panties over her feet, slowly working them up her legs. When she shifted, I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. On she slept.
At last, I pulled them up over her hips, my hot, fresh cum seated right against her cunt. Pressing my fingers there, I tucked the crotch right into her little virgin pussy’s cleft.
‘Goodnight, Cora,’ I whispered.
TWELVE
CORA
I’d felt off since waking up. Like something was different. But bar feeling extra sticky and gross when I woke up, nothing seemed off.
By the time I’d showered, attended my morning lecture, and returned home for lunch, I’d brushed off the odd feeling.
The bell on Maggie’s Coffee Shop door tinkled as I pushed it open. The small eatery below our apartment had lino flooring, likely installed in the eighties, with the black checkerboard pattern nearly worn down to the floor beneath in high-traffic spots. It had practical wooden tables and seats that were more comfortable than sanitary. It was cosy, and I adored it even in its run-down state.
Taking my favourite seat near the window, I pressed myself against the squishy old fabric and placed my laptop on the table. It was the perfect spot to work on my essay on Richard Avedon and his celebrity portraits. The written coursework was my least favourite part of university; I much preferred the practical work.
It wasn’t long before my favourite reason for visiting the coffee shop joined me, leaning her hip against the table with a wrinkled smile. Maggie. She must have been nearly eighty years old and still ran the place almost single-handedly. If I ended up being half as wickedly awesome at her age, I’d be ecstatic.
‘Cora, how are you doing, Hen?’ The pet name always made me smile.
