lady in waiting

I am already wet as I pull up the right leg of my fishnets, stopping mid-thigh. My wardrobe lacks knee high stockings, those that usually fit the normal “school girl” attire. But in this case I still fit the image, but look tougher, more dominating, versus the submissive in pigtails.

            Sitting on the arm of the couch, feet on the windowsill, I spread my legs wide open so that any passerby would be able to see the very crevice that makes me so desirable. I place the straw into my mouth, suck on it, roll it around in my mouth as if it were a large penis, and suck up the mixed drink that I previously made in my untidy grease stained kitchen.

            It is in this position that I wait, wait for my lover to return home. I am on my third Bacardi and diet coke by the time the door opens. In enters my prince, I am ready to ride him like the stallion that he is. My desire is hidden under a small kiss with which I greet him at the entrance to our apartment, and I keep my weak knees sturdy atop my coquettish black shoes. Eyeing me up and down like a prized trophy recently won, but not yet viewed, he slips his hands under my pleated skirt

            “Ah, bare ass, just the way I like it.”

We smile at each other, me revealing straight white teeth, his slightly perpendicular and with just a hint of yellow. Imperfections turn me on, just like tattoos and other tarnishes to ones perfect skin.

            His hands haven’t moved from their place on my lower arcade, and he begins to stroke, removing a finger, he puts it in his mouth, tasting my horniness on his tongue. He brings me to the couch, the very same on which I sat allowing the wind to dry my wantonness. With the lights on, our sexual encounters are viewed by the outside world with wide-open eyes. Too easy would it be to shut the lights off, and let our orgasms remain inside our coven of intimacy. It is an odd thing, to know that the neighbors may be watching your breasts rise and fall with passion. Your own excited moans echoing down the block, serving as lullabies for the deprived old men, and making the married couples blush as they eat their FDA approved dinner. Hoping the children won’t ask, why it always sounds as if the house down the street is housing wild animals vocalizing their discomfort at being caged in.