This dirty little secret is all mine.
There’s no judgment, just impending gratification. At least I hope.
I’m waiting for what feels like minutes on end. Did he not show? Did he change his mind?
I suddenly gasp as what feels like a thumb dragging along my pussy from my clit to my entrance. How long has he been there just staring at me?
My cheeks heat and my breathing increases. The vulnerability of my situation is heady and I swallow as he just drags his fingers through my wetness. I’m already dripping down my ass.
It should be embarrassing, but I only feel more turned on by the idea of him hard and stroking himself while looking at my dripping, needy cunt.
His fingers leave my clit and I moan, attempting not to move too much, not that there’s much wiggle room with the way I’m positioned.
All I feel is the cool air against my wet pussy, making me clench.
Is he watching?
Does he like watching me beg with my body?
Not being able to see or hear him adds a level of wrongness to the situation that I can’t deny. Letting this stranger touch me and use me however he pleases is thrilling in a way I didn’t expect.
I’m so wet, it’s nearly obscene. I can feel a trail of moisture dripping from my entrance.
The stranger on the other side of the wall touches me again, his fingers gathering the release and shoving it back in my pussy.
My lips part on a silent moan.
The only thing I can hear is my pulse and the instrumental music filling the room.
There’s a soft press of lips against my mound, and I gasp. I wasn’t expecting the touch or the tenderness. His tongue laps right above my clit, trailing down until he’s leisurely sucking on my clit.
He’s making this last.
Why do I find that so charming?
Something’s fucking wrong with me.
He’s slow, sensual, borderline teasing with his tongue. His goal isn’t to make me come, no, he wants to draw this out, knowing that I’m at his mercy.
I savor it as much as I want to bang on the wall and beg. I’m not sure what I would beg for because he’s doing all the right things, making me ache for it.
His fingers press inside of me, slow and methodical, while his tongue circles my clit. I’m not quiet and I’m not sure how much he can hear through the wall and over the music, but I don’t care.
Suddenly, his fingers slide out of me and his tongue leaves my clit.
“Fuck,” I complain under my breath.
I’m torn between wanting him to drag this out for all our allotted time in the room, and also wanting him to take away this endless need.
My thighs start to tremble against the wall and I swear to God I hear him laugh. It’s muffled between the wall, but I know that he laughed.
It makes me wetter. It makes me more curious.
His laugh is dangerous, and addictive in a way that seduces my need for a deeper connection.
He’s probably just staring at the way my cunt is milking air, begging to be fucked. He thinks it’s funny watching me suffer. This stranger I don’t know gets off on this just as much as I do, and I can’t help the connection I feel towards them.
This understanding this faceless man has of me, that none of my previous sexual partners have had is overwhelming. I wait impatiently, my arms wrapping around my calves, trying to release some of the strain as I wait for his next move.
