He sits so calm and still, my sexy hot man, to me his body is the sheer essence of man. I slowly take in his naked, finely tuned torso, so relaxed and casual, yet his muscular frame oozes just the right amount of youth and desirability. My dirty voyeur. I want to touch his flesh and feel him so much as he sits there before me, just looking. His presence I find so intoxicating I struggle to not look, I just want to breath in his persona, his body, his scent. I want to be his, I want him to have me.
As I look across at him, I feel the moment, there is that wicked glimmer in his eyes which reaches deep within me. It feels and stirs deep in my muscles. Ah how does he do this to me? How can he sit there, with such a dispassionate moody look and seem so in control, throwing me into such a delicious giddy spin. I look at his eyes to try and see what he’s thinking. Sometimes his brooding looks and cool demeanour it is so hard to tell, but I believe I see that little twitch of a smile. There is that glimmer, that confirmation of his dirty thoughts that I so love to know. His eyes seem to scan over me consuming my body with just that look. Ah how I find him so heavenly.
I know his game too. Those inviting signals he sends to me, waiting for me to react, to respond. He knows I can’t help myself, seeing him so deliciously horny relaxed in his chair, his hair just slightly damp from the shower, a delicate fresh scent mixed with his. I have to show him what I am thinking and see what reaction I get. See my cool man a little ruffled by arousal. My arousal as I masturbate.
I let my fingers slip beneath my blouse and work their way down my body towards my panties. It’s subtle at first but I know he catches my intentions and notices my moves. Trying not to show too much I carry on,...
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