It had been a very good date. David had been flirting with me at the office for weeks and I finally agreed to have dinner with him. He had picked a nice Italian restaurant. The red wine was delicious, the mood flirtatious, the candle light romantic... and the restaurant was pretty close to my home.
So I opened the door and half-stumbled into my apartment.
It was the first time since I had a visitor in my apartment since my neighbor had started to force me down on my knees every Thursday in the laundry room to fuck my mouth.
Thinking of Mr. McIntyre, I felt my pussy getting wet in anticipation. I looked towards the window. The curtains were long gone, after I had forgotten one too many times that I was supposed to keep them open at all times and I felt watched, immediately.
I also felt pressured - I was supposed to always run around naked or in underwear when I was at home and I wasn't sure how I should explain that to David.
Who grabbed me from behind in this very moment and started to maul my tits through my top, pushing it up as he did.
David wouldn't have a problem with me being undressed, I figured.
He pulled my top above my head, and pushed by bra over my tits, greedily sucking at my nippels.
"Alexa: Romantic lights!" I commanded and the ceiling lights turned off, with a few lamps offering ambient, warm light instead.
David was already busy getting rid of his pants, pushing them down and kicking them away, then his t-shirt and finally his briefs. His cock was already standing at full attention, his circumcised glans looking weirdly huge. He seemed to be in a real hurry.
Impatiently, he pulled down the zipper of my skirt and pulled it down, taking my panties with it in one motion.
"You're completely shaved, Fran? How naughty!" he exclaimed excitedly and ran a finger through my slit. "And you're sopping wet already, you really want this, too, don't you?"
I smiled and nodded. It had been ages since anyone had fucked my pussy, but I also knew it wasn't that wet because of David and his clumsy advances. I looked out the window. And there he was.
Mr. McIntyre stood in his living room, wearing only a robe. A lamp at the desk in front of him offered barely enough light to make out some details. He took a sip from a small glass he held in his hand and turned his head.
He had my full attention and I barely registered that David had begun licking my pussy. I dutifully moaned for his benefit, making him more frenzied.
Mrs. McIntyre, or Mistress Petra as I was also allowed to call her, now appeared next to her husband wearing only a robe herself and offered him a small pair of binoculars, like the ones people used at the opera and her husband used them to get a closer view of me and David.
David rose up from my pussy, lifted me up by the waist an turned me around, putting me on my back.