Alone

She ran from her college, as soon as it ended. Panting and sweating she reached her home, taking the keys from her pocket she quickly unlocked her home.

She was excited and wet, juices dripping down her thigh and belly clenching with desire.

As soon as she entered, she locked her door, kicked off her shoes and ran up to her room.

There she sat, in front of her floor length mirror, still out of breath but too drenched to care. She spread her legs wide and straightened her back to see how she looked – sweaty, hot and aroused.

Grey eyes met hers and they travelled down, through a straight nose to plump red lips on an oval, flushed and light brown face. They further travelled south to meet her chest, tightly enclosed in a white shirt, two buttons undone. Her chest was beating so hard and fast, she thought her heart would run out of its cage; but the sight of her breasts, so firm and round, moving up and down, was enticing - even to her.

Those grey eyes saw her narrow waist, heightened by the mass of her breasts and the curve of her hips. The hips were covered in a pleated skirt, short yet decent. But now as she sat, with her legs wide apart, she was anything but that. Her red lace panties were poking out of its cage, drenched in lust, her honeypot clearly visible.

Curling her fingers in the waistband of her panties, she stood up and pulled them down to her heels. Bending down, she picked them up and held them close to her nose. Her nectar smelled of sweet fruits, sour grapes and other exotic things she couldn’t ever name. The fragrance was delightful and a strong aphrodisiac, her already excited self was aroused ten-fold more.

She dropped them on the floor and again met her grey pools in the mirror. She raised her hands to pop open a button, and the cleavage that fell through was a sight made in heaven. Slowly she brought, her hands onto the next, teased herself till she could take no more. The next three buttons flew out in a hurry and her breasts enclosed in red lace were a sight no straight man could stop staring.

In her skirt and bra, she walked to her bed which was just ten feet away from the mirror. She lay down on her back and thought out fantasies when she would no longer be a virgin and her husband would devour her. She had no toys, no videos, and no hot hunk she could imagine, all she had were her fingers and fantasies, of a faceless and nameless to-be husband.

She closed her eyes and imagined he was here, worshipping her skin with his wet, hot lips. She imagined him kissing every part of her skin, except her sex and her breasts, as she slowly brought her hands to tease her breasts, still covered in red. She unhooked her bra and threw it to the side, pinching her nipples standing tall and proud.

She let out a low moan as she played with her breasts and imagined something else to be standing tall and proud. Caressing the skin behind her fingers, her right hand slowly moved to her lips, where she dipped her thumb in her inviting wet warm mouth. She licked and sucked, and bobbed her head, while her head imagined her sucking something entirely different.

It was throbbing and hard, only for her. It was huge and beautiful tailored to fit perfectly in her.

All of this, was too much for her sex, it could no longer wait and begged to be touched, to be felt, to be pinched, to be sucked and to be filled. She pulled up her skirt and found a smooth and wet flower ready to be devoured. Her rosebud was hard and poking out from the folds, drumming to the rhythm her heart rapidly beat.

She had never really dipped her fingers in; she only ever played with her bud until she reached her peak.

She wanted the first one to unearth her treasure, to be a nice and hard cock and since she was too religious, she had to wait, because the one to deflower her would definitely be her husband.

But she was a highly sexual being, arousal came in heavy doses and she wasn’t ever strong to control her lust, so instead she mastered the art of finger pleasure and threw all the guilt out the window.

Her fingers travelled south and met the smooth skin just above her rosebud. She was smooth, wet and ready for her husband’s cock that was teasing her folds but never quite entering.

She pressed the sweet spot just above her bud and made “oh-so-perfect” circles with her middle finger.

She moaned as she teased herself some more, moving around her outer folds but never quite touching the bud. Her juices were flowing and heart beat erratic, she spread her legs ever more.

As she imagined her husband entering her and her fingers were finally ready to relive her throbbing bud, a cool breeze entered and a shiver ran through her wet folds.

How did the breeze enter? She thought to herself; she shuts her windows every time she leaves.

Begging the slut in her to shut up whining for the disruption caused, she cleared her head from the fantasy in her head.

She opened her eyes and looked to her right; there her grey eyes met the grey-blue ones.