My chest rises and falls faster with each touch. I rest my head along the back of the chair and close my eyes, fully allowing myself to dive into the fantasy. He heavily pants underneath his helmet beside me, eager for his turn to touch me.
I’m dripping onto the chair under me in unbearable anticipation, aching and breathless from the wait. Unable to take it anymore, I thrust two fingers deep inside myself in one quick motion, cupping my hand to mymouth to prevent the loud sound that escapes from giving me away. My back arches and my neck strains against the back of the chair from pleasurable tension.
It feels so good. Sofuckinggood. I rarely swear, but it feelssoright to say in this situation. I can’t believe how naturally swearing comes under these conditions, butfuck. There are no other words capable of matching the pleasure filling my body at my touch.
My nails almost tear into the skin on my face, my palm clasping over my mouth so hard, I’m almost suffocating myself to keep silent. My other palm glues down flat to get a harder grip into myself. Two fingers don’t feel enough anymore so I move a third finger in, squeezing tightly beside the other two. I release my other hand from my mouth, lurching forward to get deeper, biting my lip hard to keep from crying out, barely feeling the pain amidst the pleasure.
My dress straps fall down my shoulders, exposing my breast that’s now being coddled by my hand. I grind in rough circular motions to explore every part I can, panting and gripping my left breast hard, tensing more and more with each movement. Pressure builds in my core and my muscles tense. I’m getting close.
How? How does this feel even better than the other night? My heavy eyelids lull open, my eyes rolling back from pleasure as my toes grip the carpet. My bodytenses up, harder and harder until I can barely get a breath in. Stars fill my vision as euphoric release hits me, and its pulsing grip sucks on my fingers. Whispered moans escape as I writhe against myself through blissful completion.
That felt so fucking good. My God.
I sit forward and wipe my fingers on my dress, disheveled and breathing heavy, trying to get my bearings back.
A small amount of shame resurfaces but I shove it down hard, instead letting myself revel in the ecstasy I brought myself. Ben’s right. I’m an adult. I’m allowed to make my own choices and keep secrets about myself. It’s harmless pleasure. I’m not doing anything wrong at all.
After exiting Xypher and erasing my browser history for good measure, I go to stand up but freeze at the rev of an engine.
Is that Ben? Is our fight finally over?
Rushing to the window, I fumble with my dress strings, pulling them back onto my shoulders to make sure I’m covered. But it’s not Ben. It’shim.
My heart races, a sudden coldness hitting my core, replacing the previous warmth that was just there. He’s staring down at his phone. Mouth parted, I watch in shock as he sits on his bike in idle like he belongs here.Like he’s just pulled up to home and hasn’t a care in the world. What’s he doing? Does he know I live here?
His gloved thumb taps the screen at the same time my phone dings.
What the…
His helmet snaps toward my window.
Oh shit!
Like a heavy sandbag, my body drops to the floor, taking the breath out of me from the impact.Ouch.My chest and knees took the full brunt of the hit on the hardwood, leaving a residual sting in my nipples and bones.
R.I.P, my boobs.
Why did my phone go off at the same time he tapped his? There’s no way…
Staying on the ground, my elbows scrape against my floor as I army crawl to my bed and pat around for my phone.
Gotcha!
The bright screen makes me squint, but the thudding in my chest only increases at what I see.
The unknown text has no number attached to it no matter how many times I click the name. No freakin’ wayis the man I just masturbated to texting me that. Are you kidding me? Panic ensues with racing questions as his motorcycle still idles outside my house like it’s waiting for my next move.
He saw me? How the hell could he watch me masturbate to him? How many times has he watched before… And why is it so hot to imagine him secretly watching me get off?
A dull warm throb returns as my breathing increases. Would he come upstairs if I invited him in right now? My arms twitch from the power of my pounding heart as I text him:
I can’t believe I just sent that! Who am I?
Probably not a smart thing to do in case this dude is a serial killer, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. Plus, I don’t care if he reveals himself to me or not. He can keep his anonymity. It’s not like he needs to take the helmet off to play with me…
My toes curl, and I bite down on a mischievous grin.
A minute passes and I have no idea if he’s reading it or what’s going on. So, daring a peek, I get on my knees and lookover the windowsill. The bright light of his phone shines in the reflection off his visor. Both of my lips curl under my teeth and my fingertips drum on the wooden windowsill as I anxiously await his next move.
