I have been nervous and on edge since I awoke this morning. Showering, dressing and eating breakfast did not alleviate the situation. I pace back and forth across the living room of my apartment. Finally, I go to the side of the window and move the drapes so I can see out.
You are lying by the pool in your bathing suit. A wave of desire floods my body. I realize my problem. I am horny. It has been so long, too long, since my body has enjoyed the feel of a man's body against it. I ache for a man's penetration, the feel of him thrusting against me, in me, as I move against him. I yearn for a man's hands on my breasts, to feel them squeeze and rub me. I long for a man's mouth on mine and on my breasts.
I am infatuated with you but it cannot be. You are 18. I am 39. I could be your mother, in fact, I am older than your mother. With my aerobics, diet and exercise I am in good shape. I like my body. I am neither to large nor to small. But the age differential is just too great.
I turn away from the window and sit and scoot my butt to the edge of the couch. Kicking off my shoes, I put my feet of the side of the coffee table and let my knees flop open. The bottom of my skirt slides toward my waist. I pull it higher until I can see my panty clad mound. I can feel the need throbbing deep inside my pussy. I lightly caress my panties with my fingernails and enjoy the tickling tingles radiating and spreading throughout my body. I squeeze a breast through my blouse and bra. I can feel them swell and my nipples harden.
I am going to masturbate. I am going to frig myself until I lose this feeling deep within me. I strip my clothes off, scattering them on the couch. Nude, I begin to caress my body. It feels so good, but it would be better if it were your hands, instead of mine, stroking and sliding over my skin.
