It was just one of those evenings in early spring, y’know, when your mind is way away on other things, and you come in from the street to find that you are not alone in your ‘musings’.
Naturally it was just at that moment that I remembered being told that a friend of my flatmate would possibly be there, having needed the flat at some point during the afternoon – but I hadn’t expected to find this.
The way of the flat’s conversion from upper floor bedrooms to self-contained apartment, had the door debauching directly into a blind corner, then a sharp turn onto a medium long corridor down into its body proper, with another corner swinging around to the living room area - meaning that arrivals were not always heard.
Combine that with my own forgetfulness, not to mention that of my flatmate’s, and all of the previous will go some way to explaining how it came to pass that I walked in on a young woman lain out and masturbating on the couch, oblivious to my presence.
With in-held breath, I froze in mid stride around that corner, taking it all in during less than a second. She was faced slightly away, and was obviously so busy with herself that she still hadn’t heard my entrance. I remained frozen therefore, attention swivelling between staring at that hand flexing up and down in her unzipped jeans, and covering my ass if she belatedly turned to discover me standing there, watching her.
It’s quite amazing how much information can be absorbed under such circumstances, even in so short a space of opportunity – I had the whole image of her lain out – long, lithe body, almost black hair draped over shoulders and arm of the sofa, one leg up over its back, the other angled outward toward me, faded black jeans tight, open and revealing a bit of red slip – inside which that one hand was busy.
Bracelets on that wrist, jangling lightly from the motion, which was why she probably hadn’t heard me, I’d say. Then there was her tight belly exposed and appealing, with light sweater lifted up over small breasts, revealing them to the ceiling and myself, nipples hard and happy.
By her increasing pace, I knew she would be done shortly, so not wanting to try my hand at explaining this delightful yet inadvertent act of voyeuristic presence, I drew a slow and quiet breath while very gently stepping backwards.
Needless to say, I was very visible hard and would doubtless have had a tough job of explaining such an obvious sign, if discovered.
She just lent her other hand to helping the first.
Another step backwards and I turned, still keeping my attention on her however, just in case she turned, of course.
