It’s a sweetly scented April Day. It rained a little before the sun decided to peek out for a short visit. The sun’s rays have penetrated the jasmine blooms and they’re looming through the air in the most sensual fashion. The fragrance is intoxicating as it glides freely through the gorgeous city skyline. It wraps me like a blanket and makes me feel dewy all over.
The moisture is everywhere and the humidity is high. It’s under my sun-kissed skin. The back of my neck is hot under the weight of my long raven hair. It’s quickly losing its glossy perfection and becoming tousled and a tad wavy. It’s that just-fucked calling card that makes people take a second glance as I saunter by and turn the corner onto your street. But I haven’t been fucked. Not just yet.
Perhaps they’re noticing the flush in my cheeks, the beguiling bounce of my ass, or the horny haze of anticipation and lusty rush of arousal in my eyes. Maybe it’s the way I’m walking, taking the opportunity to press my thighs together as I slow my pace just enough to feel the deep throbbing between my creamy thighs. I’m even enjoying the way my sheer white panties ride tightly against the curve of my slit. They’re cut high over the apple bottom swell of my ass, and I can feel the humid night breeze under the short hem of my skirt. The snug crotch of my panties is nestled firmly in between my swollen pussy lips, rubbing back and forth against my clit as I walk, teasing me and keeping me constantly aware of my own sexuality.
Inspired, I reach into my tiny purse, finding my cell phone before ducking in between two buildings. The alleyway is dark and damp. It’s altogether a bit unsavory, but I don’t care. I can feel my silky thigh highs becoming snugger against my legs as I lean against the dirty wall and push the phone beneath my skirt, pulling the soaked fabric of my panties aside to expose my wet fruit cage for the lens.
I hear the click of the camera as I slowly blow a bubble with my pink, cherry flavored gum. I take a few more shots as I slide my fingers along my ripe, smoothly shaven lips. I push a finger or two inside, feeling the familiar gush of anticipation. I’m dripping sex while my juicy honey hole is pulsing wildly around my fingers. My pussy is contracting like a carnivorous, little flower that frantically needs its fix. I wait. I wait for you.
The bubble pops as I decide on the best picture to send you. When I’m satisfied, I attach it to a quick text that’s right to the point.
“Meet me at your place; your slut cums in five.”
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