There you go!
She thought to herself,
Scissors, Scotch tape... That'll do it.
Amanda gently withdrew her consolation prize, being careful not to damage the bag, ironed the paper out flat with the novel, and began snipping... a nip here, a tuck there, a fold here, and a fold there! She taped the improvised camouflage to the book and then sighed with relief.
Success! No one will know the difference, it's just another book now,
she thought, admiring her creation.
She read most of the book that night. Amanda's eyes lingered on the words as she read the last sentence of the chapter, her mind replaying the explicit scene she had just devoured. The uninhibited lust transferred from the page, across her fingertips then swept through her. The room seemed heavy with an unspoken promise of pleasure as she shifted slightly on the sofa, the creak of the springs echoing through the silence. She felt a swelling sensation in her breasts and between her legs. Letting her novel fall to the floor, she closed her eyes, unbuttoned her nightshirt, and slid a hand over her breast, her fingertips circling her erect nipple.
Her fingers drifted tenderly over her skin, sending a shiver deep inside. She gently pinched her nipple, rolling it between her thumb and index finger, gently tugging. The soft groan of the sofa seemed to echo through the stillness, a reminder that she was alone, free to abandon her inhibitions, the lust coursing through her veins. She slipped her panties over her hips and down her thighs to her ankles then flicked them over the armrest, tucking the towel under her ass before plunging a hand between her legs. As she continued to caress herself, her breaths became deeper, and her eyelids grew heavy, she tilted her head, her gaze drifting downward, to the book lying on the floor.
Her mind wandered as she crossed her ankles, clenched her young thighs tightly, and teased her clit with her middle finger before opening her legs for her imaginary lover. The soft fabric of the sofa squeaked as she flopped one leg over the backrest and planted her other foot flat on the floor.
Her middle finger danced over her clit, teasing it with a gentle feathery caress. Amanda's eyelids drooped, her eyes watching the hand between her legs. She felt a surge of excitement course through her body, her breasts full, her nipples tightening. She held her breath as she slipped two fingers into her wet cunt, wiggling them slowly, the heel of her hand dabbing her swollen clit.
Amanda's breaths grew deeper as she thrust her hips gently to the rhythm of her hand. She could feel the pressure building deep inside her, the sensation growing stronger as her pussy contracted around her fingers. She clenched her ass and pushed against her hand, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Her body tensed as she reached the peak. Driving her hips upward, her body shuddered with intensity, her pussy wept, she groaned softly.
As the waves of pleasure receded, Amanda slowly opened her eyes, she felt the dampness between her legs and a wet spot under her ass. She looked down at herself, her nightshirt crumpled under her arms, her pert breasts pointing upward, her legs open and inviting. A sense of peace and contentment had soothed her spirit for some time, her gaze drifted from her breasts, to the book lying on the floor, then to the patio, and back to the book.
Startled, she looked back to the patio after catching a trailing glimpse of her reflection in the glass doors, lying naked on the sofa, bare-breasted, her legs spread wide, her mind reeled. She was exposed completely, naked, and vulnerable. The curtains were open and the glow of the reading lamp highlighted her figure in the darkness. She was gripped with fear, frozen for a moment, before she frantically closed her legs, covered her breasts, and fumbled for the light switch as if someone had fired a starting pistol.
She crept along the wall on tiptoes to the patio doors. She peered out from the corner to survey the yard, watching the moonlight dance across the water illuminating the pool house with ribbons of wavering light.
The moon cast an eerie glow over the deserted landscape. The pool house stood as a silent sentinel, its windows like empty eyes, staring back at her. She felt a chill, wondering if anyone had witnessed her salacious display through the open curtains. She held her breath, her ears straining to pick up any disturbance. The only sound she could hear was the distant mating call of a cricket and the soft lapping of the water against the pool walls.
Her heart pounded in her ears when she caught a circular reflection of light from Mr Robertson's house. Her eyes fixed on the faint glimmer from his kitchen window, she shuddered as she wondered. The light seemed to pulse with the rhythmic intensity of a beacon. She gasped, her mind racing with the possibilities, her heart pounding. The sound of the cricket and the gentle lapping of the water against the pool walls faded into the background when she became preoccupied with the light source.
She stood there, frozen with uncertainty, the circular beacon flickered once and then twice before a Moonlit silhouette emerged from the shadows of the room.
Her heart raced when she realized that it was a man, binoculars in hand, studying the windows of her house. She was frozen in time as she watched. She remained hidden, her eyes fixed on the figure in the window.
The specter disappeared into the darkness for a moment before his kitchen flooded with light, a figure reappeared and she could see him clearly. It was Mr. Robertson, his hair disheveled, a look of wonder on his face. She felt a mix of fear and embarrassment as she sank to her knees, her back to the wall, her mind racing.
She tucked the nightshirt under her ass and began buttoning the front with trembling hands as she stared blankly into the abyss. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the buttons, the air was thick with tension for what felt like an eternity. The only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant mating call of the cricket.
When she finally managed the last button, her emotions ran wild. She was mortified, then angry, then embarrassed before she was overcome with a sensual thrill as her eyes settled on the lunch-bag-bound novel on the floor. A surge of excitement washed away her fear, he pulse quickened, her nipples began to swell once more, her hand wandered over the soft fabric of her nightshirt, settling on her firm breast. How many times had he watched her in the stillness, undressing in her room, reading by the pool, swimming, or in the hot tub? Did she excite him? Did he fantasize about ravaging her? Did he masturbate secretly watching her?
Her fingers lingered on the soft fabric of her nightshirt, tenderly caressing her breasts. The sensation gave her goosebumps, and she felt her face grow hot with arousal. She couldn't help but wonder how long Mr. Robertson had been monitoring her, his eyes fixed on her with lust. The thought of her voyeur sent a thrill through her, her heart raced, her mouth went dry as she panted.
She knelt in place, sitting on her feet, her back against the wall, she began spreading her knees, her nightshirt rode up her thighs. She felt the darkness caressing her as she exposed herself to purgatory, she shivered, her pink nipples puffed, pressing against fabric of her shirt.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her hand still gripping her breast, her fingers tugging at her nipple. She could feel her body responding to the idea of Mr. Robertson ravaging her with his eyes, her heart beating faster, her breath becoming shallow.
She slowly opened her eyes and looked down, spreading her legs. She furiously bunched her nightshirt up around her waist then plunged her hand between her thighs. She furrowed her brow and let out a soft moan, as she violated herself, dipping her index finger into her wet cunt. When the arch of her palm brushed her clit, she started scrubbing it with yearning before she withdrew her finger and replaced it with two more.
Her fingers slid in and out of her slick pussy, the sound of her own wetness echoing through the darkness. She sucked on her lower lip and pulled at her nipple, a welcome addition to the chaos swirling inside her. She was on her knees, rocking her hips, grinding against her hand pinned to the floor. Her thrusts became faster while her fingers curled inside her as she searched for the familiar spot that would hurl her over the edge.
The tension in her body began to build, her toes curling, her back arching. The sound of her own ragged breathing and the soft squishing of her fingers moving in and out of her cunt filled the room. A symphony of lust reverberated through her body as she frantically humped her hand.
Her body trembled, her fingers probing. The air was heavy with the scent of her desire, and she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead and trickling down the small of her back. The sound of her ragged breathing grew louder, a primal groan escaping her lips and she grunted. Her hips lurched forward then back, a wave of pleasure crashed over her, before she slowly bowed, resting her head on the carpet, consumed by her own lust.
_____________________________________________
She lay in bed the next morning, somewhere between sleep and wake with fuzzy images of a sexual encounter, playing over and over in her mind's eye. After rubbing her face with both hands, her eyes sprung open, fixing her gaze on the ceiling when she realized that it wasn't a dream
