“Slip your fingers in your pants and into your pussy and make yourself cum…you little…fucking…whore.” She hesitated for a moment, and then h...r desire took over. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of her slacks and down to her pussy that she had so carefully shaved in the shower that morning, the skin smooth beneath her fingers. She let out a quick breath as she slipped her index and middle fingers easily into her slick cunt. She began frigging herself, her fingers sliding in and out as. After a few more kisses, we parted.The next day was Christmas Eve. Time for my customary coffee at Elena’s shop. I was now officially an addict.I watched people in the Farmer’s Market buying produce and meat for dinner, buying Christmas trees, rushing in to do their last-minute shopping. Families, lovers, old, young, all coming alive in the cacophony of humanity. I tried to absorb everything and preserve it in my memory.Nothing of this would survive in the future. It would all be hydroponics. They are peeking in the stall. This is when my voyeurism side kicked in.They want a show, then get a load of this. I grabbed my manhood and started to pull on it. Soon it rose to the occasion. Now, I’m not one of those wonder of nature sized guys, but no one has ever labeled me puny either. And I have always been proud of what I have and how I use it for the best pleasure.So I found great delight in masturbating for my newfound peeping Tom.Spitting some saliva in my hand, I started pumping hot. White with a scalloped edge split to the wait on her left and off the shoulder, to his right, giving it a diagonal and very revealing look. Soon, we moved to one of the leather sofas away from the bar, with three glasses and a bottle of Macon Village. I sat to Danni's left and the good lady to her right - it was an ambush she joked - and she was not wrong. I placed my right thigh hard against her left, just to make sure she realised that we were looking for a sexual encounter and that we were.
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