It had been a long day and unwinding whilst surfing a selection of erotic stories and downright filthy porn had seemed the right idea, as it so often does. It was a warm evening and as I settled down in front of the keyboard I was wearing only a pair of panties, shorts and a white blouse. My boobs are not especially large and a bra had felt too restrictive in the muggy weather. I logged on and started to flick through my usual selection of sites.
As I read and viewed my hands drifted to my own body. Pushing my hair back, fingering an ear lobe, folding the collar of my blouse, stroking my neck and floating across my chest, fingers finding a nipple. Absently first, then deliberately, tracing the dark perimeter, teasing it out, rolling it. Twin points hardening under the attention of my hands while my eyes drink in the arousal on the screen. Slipping between the buttons, stroking the sides of my breast, a licked finger spreading cool saliva on the puckering flesh. Buttons undone, hands cupping the full weight of my tits, grasping, squeezing and brining a gasp to my lips which highlights my passion and need. I discard the shirt and shorts and concentrate on my desire.
Hands moving lower, over my belly button, slowing as they move through the curls of hair just below it and fingering the edge of the hole in anticipation of what was to come. Moving lower, deflected sideways across the line of the top of my panties, playing with the little bow in the centre, the elastic rough to the touch as my fingers move apart to my hip bones where they briefly pause before continuing to follow the material as it curves between my thighs.
Legs moving apart as my hands meet and touch my inner thighs. Reaching through my legs to press my ass, then slipping back, three fingers laid gently against the side of my lips, brushing upwards to a low moan as they press the flesh together. My body screaming for more, every nerve desparate for me to push the panties aside and fill myself with my fingers, to allow one hand to spread wetness over my clit while the other curls and unfurls inside me. I relish the moment, the wanton feeling and force my hands to move upwards.
Lightly stroking the front of my panties, feeling the strip of hair on my mound, the sensitive bare area to each side. Eyeing the rise of the cotton pushed upwards by the flesh below, and finally relenting, allowing my hands to move along the line of my lips. The yield of softness, the delight in simply feeling the flesh move a fraction, responding to the pressure, my touch so light through the material, maddening, teasing, my fingers enjoying the feeling of warmth and arousal from within.
