Tomorrow 14

I watch the moonlight dance across your skin. It's hot in the city tonight causing you to sleep naked, having tossed the covers aside instead choosing to sleep in the comfort of the exposed night air. Standing near the doorway to your bedroom I can see every curve of your body in the shadowy light. Your chest rises and falls evenly.

Asleep.

I knew you would be, I've been watching you for months and know your routine better than you know it yourself. There's a reason they tell people to change their routines. I make a note to mention that to you before the night is over.

After all, I have grown to care about you so deeply. Yes, it has been from afar, but that doesn't mean I don't care or that I don't have so much to help you learn. The first time I saw you I almost introduced myself. You were getting your morning latte, skinny half-caf with two pumps of vanilla, you dropped your coffee club member's card and I picked it up for you. Your smile was friendly, warm and inviting with just a hint of humor. Later, I knew you were laughing at yourself for being so klutzy. I knew a lot more about you after that event.

I hadn't meant for this to evolve into what it has. That smile; that warm, friendly, inviting smile. It only lasted for a moment but in that moment I lost myself in the glisten of your angel pink lip gloss. I skipped any sort of introduction, and barely managed a smile in return. But those lips stayed with me. Determined, I went to the coffee shop again the next day, and the next, and the next. I kept promising myself that I would say hello, that I would get to know you. But I'd become lost in those lips again and lose my nerve.

Those lips...I look at them now. Slightly parted, a hint of the day's gloss still glistening on the beautifully puffed curves. They don't mean to me now what they used to. I know so much more about those lips now. They're a tease's lips. They haven't learned their place. I still get lost in them, but they're not angel pink to me any more. They're slut lips.

I hated myself for losing my nerve every time. I thought if I knew a little more about you it would be easier to say hi. So I started following you from the coffee shop. You walk three blocks to your office every day. An impressive distance for someone who wears such impractical shoes as you do. I found that your lips weren't the only curves I could get lost in. The stiletto heels that you most often favorite accentuate your ass perfectly. For three blocks every weekday for four months I would follow behind, watching the curves of your rear flex and relax with each step. How many times did I want to reach out to touch those mounds? I'd lost count. But I imagined how perfectly your skin would feel as I caressed that round little bottom every time.

I couldn't see your ass now. You were lying on your back. I notice that your breathing is a little faster than it was before, and I see your eyes twitch behind the thin protection of your eyelids. You must be dreaming. I lean against the door frame and wonder what you're dreaming about. It's obviously something exciting, I can tell by the way your chest rises and falls so rapidly and the way your nipples have become so tight. You have amazing nipples, large enough to suckle, like big pencil erasers. I imagine wrapping my lips around one.

I look at your lips again. They're wetter. You must have licked them in your sleep while I was lost in thought. You do that a lot...lick those perfectly curved lips. That was the first sign I noticed that you were a tease. It's your slut tell.

When someone is coming on to you, or when you want something from them, or when you've been drinking. You softly run your tongue over your perfect pout. It sends a message...a different sort of warm, friendly invite. That little gesture you make tells men and women alike that you want to taste them. It drives them all wild. I've watched it so many times. I've watched those lips get you rides home, and free coffee from the new barista, (barely out of high school and she's as lost in you as I am.) I've seen those lips talk their way past bouncers at the best clubs and make promises to men in exchange for expensive dinners. Once I even saw those lips, that tongue, giving oral pleasure to a cab driver after he insisted that you pay your fare. That's when I knew what a true slut you were.

You moan. A quiet moan but it's there. I snap to attention, drawing back into the shadows of the hall once more. I light glistening sweat has formed across your body. Is it the heat or something more? Your hand twitches again, then slowly moves across the pale skin of your stomach.

I'm not surprised when you start to tease the hairless lower lips...the ones I didn't see until much later after our first encounter. I haven't had a chance to get lost in those lips, but I intend to. You often masturbate in your sleep. The first time I witnessed it I was certain you'd woken up. Crouched outside your window I was torn between running for fear of being caught and staying to watch those beautiful curves writhing in ecstasy. I chose to stay. To this day I'm glad I did for it taught me more about you.

I watch your slender fingers slip between the outer folds of your vagina, working slowly up and down the wet channel. You moan again as your hips begin to rise up to meet your fingertips.

I wonder if you're imagining a man or a woman. In your waking life you don't seem to care either way. Teasing and flirting with them equally. But then, it is all teasing. The cab driver was the only time I ever saw you do anything more. So maybe it's men you want. But then again...the way you lick your lips...

I feel the familiar ache of lust begin to rise as I watch you. I can feel my desire building just as I'm watching yours build. I've come here with a plan. I glance down to my bag. Soft nylon rope, duct tape, a blindfold, lube, dildos, butt plugs, nipple clamps, a ball gag. I brought everything I could think of. I knew I was going to take you, to end your teasing nature. I knew I would break you into the true slut that you really were. I wasn't sure what it would take...so I brought everything. See? You can't say I don't care.

You plunge a finger deep into your pussy with a quiet squish. You must be dripping wetness on the bed. I know I could take one of my toys out now and impale you on it before you even were fully aware of what was happening, but something holds me back. Your hand works faster and faster between your legs and your moans have become audible now.

I fiddle with the copy of your house key in my pocket, indecision gripping me once more. Take you now, or wait. I love to watch you cum. Your whole body seems to radiate warmth when you do. I want to be pressed up against you to feel the heat of your crescendo but what if that stops this moment's pleasure?

The aching in my loins is almost unbearable. I know I'll need relief soon, the same relief you are working your way to getting. You cry out something unintelligible, flexing every muscle in your body. I watch your toes curl tightly. It must be a really good dream. You lay there panting and bring your hand to your mouth, licking the juices of your perfect fingers. Your body is now drenched in sweat. I watch a bead of dew roll down the side of your breast to disappear into your sheets. Your nipples are still hard as ice. I could snap the clamps on them right away, no teasing required. I bet you'd love that...sluts love nipple clamps.

You moan again lightly, like you had when you started, and shift your weight. Your hand falls to the bed limply and I know your back to your deep sleep. I watch you breathe for some time before mustering up my courage. I grab my bag from the floor and step quietly into your room. Those lips distract me again. Your tongue runs slowly over them in your sleep and they glisten the way they did the first time I saw you. Back when I thought they were warm, friendly, and inviting; back before I knew they were slutty teasing lips.

I falter, losing my nerve. Those lips! I turn and storm quietly out of your house, locking the door softly behind me. My bag of toys gets thrown (more forcefully than needed really) into the back seat of my car as I slide into my seat. THOSE LIPS! My lust has turned to hatred. Not of you, you with your perfectly round ass, your midnight masturbation, your teasing ways, your perfect lips. No, I feel no hatred for you, I could never hate the one I care about. You are just a slut who hasn't been taught yet, you need someone who cares enough to teach you. I hate myself. What kind of a teacher can I be if I can't take the first step to tame you? I slam my hands on the steering wheel as I turn down the street adjacent to yours.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I won't lose my nerve. Tomorrow those lips will taste me. Tomorrow, you will know what it is to release your slut.