The Door Opens...

. . .with a barely perceptible click. You are a master at voyeurism, so this is nothing new to you. I am unaware that I have an audience. I have kicked off my heels and am shimmying out of my pantyhose, kicking them towards the door where you stand. You saw the slightest glimpse of my ass and just a shadow that leads towards my pussy, but it is enough to make you hard. I grab my hair in a ponytail and twist it into a clip to get it off of my long neck. It has been a hellacious day of phone calls and organizing for the upcoming conference. I unbutton my blouse and let it fall open, my hands lingering on the tops of my breasts. I collapse in my chair and close my eyes as my fingertips draw lazy circles on my chest.

You would love to retrieve my pantyhose right now. You can't tell if it's just wishful thinking, but you catch the faintest scent of my sex in the air. They lie there, crumpled and askew, advertising the type of day I have had. You wonder if I fantasize while I am at work and what my fantasies would consist of. You inhale quietly and deeply, hoping that the scent grows stronger now that my feet are propped up on the coffee table. My skirt is hiked up to my mid thigh and you strain to see what is hiding beneath it. You reach inside your pants and gingerly begin to stroke yourself, not wanting to let any sudden movement stop the show.

I grab the remote and turn on the stereo. I am starting my after work ritual that you have seen me do many times before. You begin to jack off in earnest now, anticipating the scene. I unhook my bra and slip it and my shirt off and drop it to the side. I love touching my breasts. I lick my fingers and lightly make quick circles that immediately make my nipples hard. I flick them and then pinch them hard. I can feel myself starting to get wet. I slip my hand in my skirt and then bring it to my mouth, licking them. My other hand begins to play with the folds of my pussy. You lick your hand and begin to pump, pretending that the wetness you feel is mine.

You wish that you could hear or see what I am thinking as you watch my hand move slowly and deliberately under my skirt. Your mind races with fantasies that you wish that I had. . . images of my hands exploring and my tongue traveling over your skin just increase the rhythm of your pumping hand. You force yourself to keep your eyes open. What do I think about?

I play under my skirt until I can't stand the lack of movement any longer. Swiftly, I remove my hand and pull up my skirt to my waist. I spread my legs apart and brace my feet against my coffee table. I bring my other hand down from my nipples and slowly stroke the wet opening of my pussy as my other hand circles the hard button that I have been fixated on. I change my rhythm and as you watch my chest turn red. You know I am close now.

Your cock is just begging for my pussy. But you stay still because the show is what you want. The precum is dripping onto your hand as you gaze at the scene through the door. My hips are pumping in the air as my first two fingers find their way into my vagina. You watch me mouth quietly, "oh, yeah, fuck me more, fuck, fuck, . . ." repeating the word in your head. I arch my back as my fingers rapidly rub my clit, occasionally dipping down to my hole to lubricate my action. You see my ass moving and wish that you could stick your finger inside it. You love watching my ass. You fantasize about fucking ass. The very thought makes your balls tighten and your cock begins throbbing. You breathe in tandem with the motion of my fingers.

My breathing is very jagged now. My fingers are pumping furiously at my pussy. Suddenly, I remove my finger that was playing with my clit and replace it with my thumb on the hand that is buried in my pussy. I reach behind my leg and begin fingering my asshole. As I come, I penetrate that pucker that you have been craving. My face strains and I let the contractions of my vagina squeeze and release, squeeze and release, as my orgasm sweep over me. You explode, releasing your load on your stomach, as your free hand is trying desperately to catch any evidence of your ever being there.

I get up after a few minutes to change my clothes and to wash up. You wipe your hands and stomach with a handkerchief, adjust your suit coat, and steady your breathing. You reach for your keys in your pocket, your hand grazing lightly by your cock which is still dripping with come on your underwear. You insert the key in the doorknob and turn it, letting me know that you are getting in from work.

As you call out a greeting, I enter the room, dressed in sweats and asking how your day went and what you want for dinner. You suggest ordering out, thinking that your wife, my sister, would appreciate the night off.

What she will appreciate more is the night you have planned for her after I go to sleep later tonight.