So...You know that one night, the one where we were all partying a bit too hard? We all stayed over, taking advantage of our friends spare rooms? Yeah... that night. Crazy right?
We were all pretty tipsy, and for the most part, I remember very little. I think you went to bed a little earlier than most? I remember not seeing you when I headed off to bed myself. Actually, I confess I was a little disappointed, I had enjoyed spending time with you.
So...I was walking down the hall, past your room, and I heard...a sound. I'm not really sure what it was, but it gave me pause. I was pretty drunk, but I definitely heard something. I remember holding my breath, so I could hear better, and I leaned in closer to your door. That's when I heard it again. It was brief, and low, somewhat guttural, but once I heard it again, I was frozen. I knew I had heard it before, but perhaps it was the amount of alcohol, because for some reason I just couldn't place it.
You know me, I'm a curious person, and although what happened next I want to blame it on the alcohol, this time, I'm quite sure it was all me. You see I had to know what it was I just heard. What the fuck was that sound?!? I knew I had heard it before. For some reason I just couldn't keep walking by. I was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame, a ship to the rocks, a fly to shit...Anyway, you get my point.
So almost without hesitation, my hand reached out and grabbed the door knob. Again I held my breath, and slowly, gently, trying not to make a sound, I cracked the door and took a peek.
When I saw what I saw, almost instantly, I knew what I had heard. That one of a kind sound I have heard many many times before. Only this time it was coming from you, it was coming from your mouth.
I'm not sure if it was shock, or perhaps something else, but time stopped, and my eyes were glued to you. You were naked, laying on the bed. The moon was shining through the bedroom window and I had a very clear view of your body. The shadows were moving, dancing around in a rhythm that was repetitive. Then I heard it again, a slight but deep sigh, almost a pant. What I had heard, what stopped me in my tracks was the sound of pleasure, your self-pleasure to be exact.
I saw your hand moving over the head of your cock, fingertips encircling the head, teasing and tugging on the swollen mushroom. Not some little button one, but a fat, sloping tip Morel, that proudly stood out atop its long stem. The shaft of that beautiful cock was laid out across your thigh, and in the moon light I could see your veins pulse with every loving stroke. Then I heard it again, the sound that drew me in, and with it your cock jumped up off your thigh, like a whale breaching out of the water.
It was at that moment you grabbed it, wrapping your fingers around and squeezing it hard. I could see your head swell and throb in response. Then, just like the breaching whale hits the water, you slapped your cock against your abdomen. Once, twice, and then for a third time, I heard your cock slap against your flesh.
That was it. For some reason that's what did it for me. Nothing else seemed to matter. I didn't care if someone walked down the hall, I didn't care if you looked up and caught me, all I cared about was your fat mushroom of a cock, and the private show I was peaking in on.
This sound wave of flesh slapping against flesh washed over me, and without thought my hand began to slide up my body. I could feel a heat rising as it crept up my stomach, toward my chest. When my hand reached my breast, I felt a surge from within, and I began to rub and squeeze it just as you were rubbing and squeezing your beautiful mushroom headed cock.
As I focused attention to my flesh, I felt the hard nub of my nipple forcing itself through the fabric. I then began to slide my hand over it, letting each finger catch and brush across its surface, sending electrical pulses throughout my body.
My eyes were glued to you, your hand, your cock. I watched with desire, longing, as you began to change your technique. Slowly, you let your hand slide down to the base, purposefully stroking the length of your shaft. I was particularly interested in what would happen when you reached that fat, mushroom tip of yours.
As your thumb caught the rim of your head, your index and middle fingers would snap upward, flicking the sensitive underside of your cock. Sometimes you would do two or three short strokes, and then one or two long ones, but they all ended with the same attention to the underside of your thick head.
I had been so focused on your cock and technique, I was unaware of my current state. My shirt had moved up over my chest, and I had pulled out my breast, in my neediness and excitement while teasing my nipple. If someone did walk down the hall, it would be very difficult hiding or explaining what I was doing.
What was I doing? Shit!!! I don't normally do this kind of blatant invasion of privacy. Honestly all I cared about was this beautiful cock being pleasured before my eyes. I had always wanted to see what your dick looked like. Sometimes when we had hung out, I had noticed an outline in your pants, and wondered about it's details. Now I could finally see why I was so curious for so long.
The more you stroked, the fatter your mushroom became. It looked like it was about to explode and in the moonlight I noticed a glistening, a shiny wetness that was emerging from the hole at the tip. No longer in control of myself, I found my own hand slipping down below my waistband and noticed that I too was leaking, uncontrollably. I had to stifle my own moan as my finger slipped between my folds and began spreading my juices around my pussy lips and clit. She was definitely tingling, and it spread quickly throughout my body. I pinched my nipple harder, biting my lip to stifle the sound of pleasure that was trying to escape.
Speaking of sound, I could hear your breathing, as it became louder and more labored. Your hips began thrusting, and what was once stroking, now clearly was fucking. I closed my eyes briefly, imagining you, fucking, wondering what you were imagining. Who where you sliding that cock into? Soon, I no longer imagined "who", because in my mind it became me. Your cock was pounding me, and my fingers were doing their best to make that image in my mind come true.
