Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I didn’t mean to stop and watch, but simply couldn’t resist her lithe silhouette framed in the saffron rectangle of light that clicked on ahead of me. Like a glowing beacon in the cold evening gloom, the warmth of the bedroom spilled into the residential street, moments before her mesmerising beauty paused within it. With curves that would inspire a Formula One track designer, I had little choice but to drink in her profile, barely breathing for fear she might notice me and draw the blind.Frozen, I watched a few moments longer as she just stood there, chest rising and falling in the cream blouse, head tipped to one side like she was listening intently to something. Maybe she could sense my heart beating faster across the void between us. I chanced movement to ensure I was alone, glancing a few hundred metres back up the hill towards the ‘Diversion’ sign. It would never do to be caught, especially with the police cordoning off the road along which I normally walked home.Nothing. The air was eerily still. Crisp. Faint swirls of electric blue bounced rhythmically off houses from the silent squad cars parked in the adjacent street. Closer to where I stood, the paving stones glittered under the whitish hue from low-sodium street lights beneath a cloudless sky. The days were not due to gradually begin lengthening for another week at least.Minutes earlier, cursing my continuing streak of rotten luck, I’d pigeon-stepped – partly skidded – past unfamiliar rows of back-to-backs and terraces, the nose-to-tail cars that lined the road sparkling with the tell-tale signs of a sharper frost to come. Maybe snow; it was certainly cold enough. Familiar defeatist thoughts such as ‘Why me?’ and ‘What have I done to deserve this?’ had swirled beneath the beanie pulled low over my ears. They represented yet another chapter in the long line of misfortune that had plagued me since Ellen left. Bitch.Approaching the bottom of the steep hill at the junction before the road bent sharply away, mired in thoughts of what delightful microwave meal-for-one would warm me up, I narrowly missed a lamp post. The bulb was out and my peripheral vision sensed the obstruction a fraction before my skull did, heart fluttering at the scare. That’s when the illumination of the upstairs bedroom at the house on the corner snagged my attention. The steepness of the hill meant it was a few tens of metres dead ahead in my eye line. Plain dressing table with mirror alongside a neatly made double bed, a row of cushions arranged in front of the pillows, and a Black Keys poster mounted above the headboard.She strode into the incandescence with a flowing grace that a stingray would envy, her limber profile drawing my focus. Mostly shrouded by night, my breath fogging ahead of me and the moon yet to rise, I stood behind the thin steel column and hunched my coat tighter to keep out the cold, praying for the vision to continue.By the time she raised onto her tiptoes and stretched out the kinks of the working day from her back, I knew I’d already been there too long. I had to move on. Laws of decency were being broken, an undercurrent Göztepe Escort of paranoia welling at the invasion of her privacy. There was a very real chance the police would come this way after tending to the scene at the top of the hill. But I didn’t shift, rooted to the pavement, captivated by the carefree manner in which her fingertips floated to undo each button of her blouse and shed the garment, seemingly oblivious to the outside world. My stare blazed a trail from her sculpted abdomen to the swell of her chest, its slope so full and inviting beneath the cherry bra.Her lips moved, as if talking to someone out of sight across the room; maybe comparing notes with her husband on their respective days, or deciding who was going to do the cooking, or what they were going to eat. She liked the response, laughing and shaking out her long mane of champagne hair, allowing its shimmering length to cascade over bare shoulders bisected by the thin bra straps.Reaching behind her trim waist, she unzipped the dark skirt, hips wiggling to free it. That too hit the floor below the level of the window sill and I gasped involuntarily. Matching underwear arched above the thigh that faced me, curving away to encase gorgeous, rounded buttocks. The kind I loved to stroke, to kiss, to peel apart, and more. Despite the near-zero conditions, I began to harden.As if to a beat only she could hear, I watched her sway, and wished I could be in the room with her. She had a natural rhythm, perhaps a dancer or yoga instructor by trade, fluid and sensuous. She paused, smiled, pointed into the belly of the room I couldn’t see, and beckoned.At street level, the winner of the bad timing awards rounded the corner below the lit window and approached; a middle-aged lady in a thick knee-length coat, laden with shopping. My adrenaline kicked into overdrive and I dropped to a crouch, pretending to tie my shoelaces. She mercifully puffed past me up the hill, skidding occasionally, barely acknowledging my presence. I waited a little longer, pulse racing, untying and retying just to be sure I was in the clear. The holiday season afforded no guarantee the roads would remain quieter than usual.By the time I’d resumed standing, whomever window girl summoned had evidently moved into her space, though out of sight just below the window ledge. I craned my neck to no avail. Moving up the hill a little was an option, but the over-zealous security light from the house a few doors up might give me away. And I’d be a few steps closer to the Law. So I stayed put, trying to gauge from her movements what was going on.It wasn’t hard to guess. The panty material was gone, replaced by a pair of hands flanking those sexy, trim thighs. And the way her head tipped back, mouth apart, left no doubt dinner had been decided: she was the entrée. Lucky bastard. What I wouldn’t have given to be in his place, tasting her musk and the fledgling droplets of excitement forming on blush lips peeking from her wispy fuzz. I yearned for it to be my head supported by her hand, curling into the nape of my neck as a guide, her other hand Göztepe Escort Bayan gripping the window sill for stability. I desperately wanted to feel her hips rocking gently with each lap at her delicate pearl nestling above the sensitive slit, every passing minute a gift, coaxing more glossy syrup from within to lacquer my probing tongue.Hardening fully in my trousers, I touched myself briefly to rearrange the angle, a surge of energy coursing my body like the beginnings of an electric storm. I longed to do more, but that would be difficult to explain should anyone else interrupt. Instead I throbbed against the seam of my trousers, imagining I was up there with her, listening to elevated gasps as her arousal ratcheted higher. I longed to bring her pleasure, to let her spill onto my face, tasting and savouring every drop of translucent honey that overflowed, thighs clamping my cheeks as she came and drifted to uncharted areas of her mind on the crest of the orgasmic wave.My fantasy continued, with her gently releasing the grip on my head. I’d wordlessly stand, perch her on the window ledge, raise one of her legs to my shoulder, step in and slide my considerable girth into the wetness we’d created. I wanted to set up an escalating rhythm, our hips and eyes locked, building the pace until I was sawing into her deeply, wetly, acutely aware of my impending orgasm as she urgently drew me inside her slick petals.I pictured her head tipping back against the glass, my hands pawing her upturned breasts, excited at the sounds she made with each squeeze of my hand and thrust of my loins. And as the intensity of our union peaked, I’d slide her leg off my shoulder, pinch her erect nipples and delight at the way her body quivered. Leaning into her, traces of perfume scattered by the warmth of her flush, I’d lick the rosy tips of her jutting chest and trail my tongue to the crook of her neck, planting kisses as I went, stubble nuzzling the hypersensitive exposed flesh as we rutted in full view of the street below. Finally, her cries reaching a crescendo at the apex of her climax would trigger my seed to jettison inside her clutching heat.I continued to watch, my cock straining against the confines of my underwear and trousers. Her head rolled from side to side as orgasm neared at the hands and tongue of her lover. I swear at one moment she paused and made eye contact with me, but couldn’t be sure. I shrank back into the shadows all the same, trying to hide in vain behind the narrow lamp post, neither wishing to miss her end, nor spend the night in police custody.It was pure joy to watch her eyes close and head tip back fully, mouth opening wide, body convulsing as I witnessed the tremors that wracked her beautiful frame. Her carefree spirit transcended the night, somehow warming me from the inside beneath my shirt and coat, each twitch of her body mirrored by a surge in my own excitement. I nearly lost it right there in my underwear, but somehow managed to hold off.She stayed that way for several long moments, each convulsion lessening, before gently reanimating, gazing down Escort Göztepe into the eyes of her partner and smiling. The hands slithered from view but I was not treated to the identity of their owner. Instead, the blonde woman turned her head to look intently out of the window, then stepped across the room to the dressing table. Had she seen me? I couldn’t be sure. If she had, it didn’t seem to bother her, as the blind remained open. A sign of more to see, perhaps. Picking up a brush, she began to run it through her long locks, naked except for the bra.I wasn’t used to being in the right place at the right time. Karma seemed to have it in for me. Morally of course, it was the wrong place and I knew I should have stopped watching. Quit while I had the chance. Scuttled home to tend to my engorged cock, to replay the events of her exquisite release in my head and bring myself to fulfilment in the relative safety of my own bedroom. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away, despite the danger.Her bum was the primary reason: a true delight from the rear. Full, perfect globes. Flawless complexion that curved up to slender hips, and plunged to a sexy crease at the points they joined her thighs. Firm, but elastic enough that they wiggled tantalisingly as she brushed out kinks in her hair. My ex had a delicious bubble butt that she let me use – and abuse – but this girl’s was better. What I wouldn’t give to stand right behind her, our eyes joined via the mirror, waiting for the signal to step into her heat, draw her body to me and slip inside from behind. To grip the converging crescents of her hips, lean her over the dresser and ravage her, at her insistence, until legato mews of pleasure pinged off every wall in sync with the sway of her breasts.So engrossed in drinking her elegance from the street, the first sign that I was in big trouble came in the form of a female whisper in my left ear. “Beautiful isn’t she?”I jumped, stomach lurching, pulse instantly setting up a thumping beat that slammed through my veins. Whirling, my back to the lamp post, doing a little Scooby Doo skid on the fledgling sheen of ice before catching myself, I came face to face with a brunette. She was cute, slightly shorter than me, shoulder-length hair dusting her unzipped hoody that partially covered a band T-shirt atop jeans. The cold didn’t seem to bother her. She had high cheekbones that delineated a petite button nose resting above a cupid’s bow laced with dirty promise. A nose jewel glinted in the half light.I stammered mainly vowels; certainly nothing that resembled complete words, mind amok trying to conjure a plausible excuse why I was standing under a broken street lamp staring into the window of a naked chick and sporting a considerable erection.She seemed amused. “Shhhh.” She looked left and right conspiratorially at the houses flanking the street. “Your secret’s safe, Mr. P. Tom.”Despite her assurance, I couldn’t relax. Managed to find my voice. “Please. I’m… sorry.” I glanced past her at the spinning blue lights, terrified she’d report me if I made a wrong move, then refocused.Those lips curled into a broad smile. “What for? She’s irresistible, right?” Her eyes twinkled despite the low luminance, but not enough I could make out their colour. She leaned a fraction closer and whispered, “Wouldn’t you just love to taste her?”
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
