In an upscale lavishly appointed self-employed person bookshop, Colleen is browsing. She feels rather bored, and is not pressed for time. She passes me then turning to glimpse over her shoulder at me. Intriguing thought wanders in as I look her over then grin at her. She is wearing a Light colored sundress. She browses and selects a book. It is matter to, and so she sits at a secluded corner tabular array, with her backrest against the Word of God sheleves, with a playscript resting on the table.

Several minutes pass when she notices me browsing in the same aisle. I 'm all-embracing shouldered. My demeanor is also unrushed and casual. As I slowly search through the Word along the aisle, I 'm moving gradually in her direction. I move closer, selecting a book now and then. She glances briefly in my direction. My haircloth is salt and pepper, a bit longer in the back. Day-old, well trimmed straw. Inside she feels a tingle of chemical attraction to this perfect stranger.

Every few minute I move closer. Soon I 'm next to her, browse and version. With me so close, she notices my pleasant perfume. The hair's-breadth on the book binding of her cervix seem to stiffen. I seem completely comfortable, so she finds herrself also at simpleness. She wonders if I find her alluring, or, just pausing nearby to canvass an interesting book ? I 'm so close. Just a few in away. Nothing is said. She hears me suspire softly. She looks down to see how often of her cleavage is visible to me ... she leans forward so I can see a bit more.

I shift my weight on my leg and takes in a sudden breath. She hears me whisper something -- she is not sure what it was ... Was I reading to myself ? What did I whisper ? Did it sound something like `` oh my ... lovely breasts. '' Or, was I reading to myself ? She is not sure ; is her imagination playing tricks ? Then I reach for a volume, one very close to her behind her in the wad. My paw gently brushes against her articulatio humeri as I removes it. The slight touch felt like a bit of electrical energy passed between us. Was it intentional, or accidental ?

I stand nearby and read for awhile, then I sit down following her at the end of gangway. She notices my muscular ramification, but she tries keep herr eyes on the print before her, and, every so often, she turns a page. proceedings pass by slowly, silently. But the secretiveness is wax of expectation. I glance at herr legs every so often from under my sun visor as I turn a Sir Frederick Handley Page. More minutes pass. Silence. former mass come and go.

I quietly sighs. She sighs. She turns a page. I turn a page. The min tick. prediction grows, then ebbs. And grows again. She glances at me, but my oculus are hidden below my visor. Is he admiring your ramification ? She decides to slowly and seductively fondle the skin of her leg with a slow, light finger touch sensation. Does he oppose ? I do. I notice. She hears me ask in a sluggish, inscrutable hint, and she sees that I shift uncomfortably. She slightly rocks her leg. I slightly rock mine. I turn a page ; She turns a Thomas Nelson Page. She refocuses on her Holy Scripture ; I do, too. Waxing and waning, arousal growing and ebbing. communication without sound.

Time passes in my presence, in such fill up proximity to me. zero said. Overtly innocuous to others, but, covertly incendiary. There is a gestural sync, a palpable chemistry. She shifted her position so that her dress pulls up past mid second joint. Now I can `` accidentally '' see a tantalizing glimpse of her smooth inner second joint. I shift my position, again, uncomfortably. She is intrigued to see that I find her alluring. I seem to try to pore on my reading.. She very lightly caresses the skin of her leg while she reads.

More min toss, and she turns a Sir Frederick Handley Page, then another. Then she pulls her human knee up slightly, with her book on the tabular array. She pulls down her dress modestly, but she knows I can see under her dress. I react my cock is growing hard. We both pretend not to notice. But she does. After a piece of tantalizing me, she changes her position to cool down me down. This waxing and waning bicycle for some time, yet no one else can see the nonverbal communication.

She is intrigued by the theme of teasing this attractive older man. She adjusts her top to have sure too much cleavage is n't showing. She modestly pulls down her wearing apparel, only to accidentally leave me to see her inside thighs again. Heating me up, then feigning reserve, and cooling me down. Only to replicate it again. And again.
I try to shroud my foreplay with my book. She tries to hide her stimulation by covering her breasts -- her nipples are pressing out against the fabric of her top ... clearly visible now ... Finally, it seems as if I ca n't take it no longer.
'' This print is so small, '' I whisper. Was he talking to you, or to himself ? `` I can barely pass water this out. ''
'' What 's that ? '' She asks. `` Oh, this print. It is so small. I can barely read it. '' I move closer to her and whispering : `` Would you take care reading a bit of this aloud to me ? ``

She is taken aback, and says nothing for consequence. Then she musters a response. `` Oh ... sure. '' `` I can barely make this out ... '' `` Oh, belittled print ? '' she stammers. `` Sure ... let 's see ... '' She can experience her heartbeat in her chest.
It is a large book, and I place it over her lap. `` Oh, might you bug out reading here ? '' I say, pointing to the paragraphs with the small-scale mark. She begins reading it loudly to me. I move closer to her. In fact, my knee is touching hers. She begins reading aloud.

'' Oh, maybe you should whisper, '' I say, `` so we do n't stir up others ... '' `` Oh, yes, of row ... '' She reads quietly in a whisper. And I 'm so close. Her voice is a bit breathy at clock time, but she tries to see its tempo and tone. I help twist the Sir Frederick Handley Page. As I do, the back of my deal brushes across her nipple. `` Oh ... '' she whispers involuntarily. `` Here you go, '' I point to the text on the page.

She continues reading to me in a low rustling. She reads a few sections aloud. Her voice is getting breathy and choppy at times, and she pauses every so often. She continues to read in a rustle. But, under the script, she notices that my finger is touching the tegument of her knee, just under her dress ...

She stops reading. `` shhh ... voicelessness ... '' I say. Others are nearby, but do n't notice. `` oh ... '' She pauses. `` shhhh ... please go on meter reading ... '' She does. but her voice is getting breathy and unsteady. She has to pause occasionally. No one else can see ... it is a large book covering her lap. She feels my touch, tracing lightly on her peel, under the book. her vocalism is unsteady, breathy, and she has to intermit again ... It gives away her faux protestations ...

'' Please ... oh, no. '' You read a few sections aloud. Your vox choppy at times, and you pause to study in a breath every so often. You continue to learn, as best you can, in a halting whispering. But, under the account book, she notices that my finger is touching the skin of her inner second joint, just under her attire ...

She stops version. `` Shhh ... whisper ... '' I say. Others are nearby, but do n't notice. `` Oh ... '' She pauses. `` Shhhh ... please keep reading ... '' She does. No one else can see ... it is a large book covering her lap. She feels my touch, tracing lightly on her pelt, under the leger. herr voice is unsteady, and she has to pause occasionally ... Her voice betrays her arousal, contrary to her faux protestation ... `` Please ... oh, no. '' Finally, my finger's breadth is exploring under the seam of her panties. warmness and wetness. She feels my finger encircle her clit, lightly ... slowly. Her backtalk is dry ... it is hard now to pass off normally.

I press down, firmly. `` Oh ! oh ! '' `` Shhhh .... '' I say. With my other hand, I turn the page, rubbing against her heavily nipple. She continues reading aloud, in a breathy, in an entirely out of rhythm susurration. Others are nearby. can they tell ? `` Oh, please. Please stop ... '' `` Read here ... '' `` Oh, stop, please ... '' Her protest grow more shallow and watery. `` Close your middle for a moment. '' I say. She does. She feels my backtalk on hers. Lightly at first. Then a cryptic kiss.

She can not get enough air ... She has to draw in back to catch her hint. I allow her to tranquillise a bit, to regain her composure, but her face has reddened. And, a red blush appears on her neck and breast. She reads again, but the news are coming out staccato, only one at at time ... She feels her clit thrill and pulse as my finger rests motionless on it for a long while. Pulsating ... Breathing ... Whispering Trying not to let others see what is happening ... She leans forward to let me see her erect nipple. I circle her clit, decelerate then fast. Lightly then with more pressure. Faster..harder..in circles over it..faster ... breathing deep.

'' oh ! oh ... oooh ! '' `` shhhuuuu ... : Her entire dead body quakes with deep, spreading spasms ... but she can not make a sound. She tries to remain still. `` Follow me '' I whisper. She does. She follows me into a unisex restroom, and I shut the threshold and lock chamber it behind her. No one else noticed us entering the convenience together.
We are alone. `` You have such a lovely brass '' I say as we stand before the large, ornate mirror. `` Lovely ... so lovely. '' I 'm behind her, and I trace my finger's breadth across her cervix and jawline.

'' Beautiful facial structure ... checkbones ... sassing ... nose ... '' She feels my fingers exploring the nucha of her cervix, her bureau, the valley at the top of her cleavage. `` So lovely, `` I whisper. `` And her tit .... '' Slowly I unfasten the push at the top of her sundress. As we both look in the mirror I slowly pull back her top and discover one breast. `` Shuuuu .... we must be tranquillity ... '' Her nipple is set up in the observation in the mirror.

'' Lovely ... so beautiful ... '' I whisper side by side to her ear. We both look in the mirror as my finger circles her teat, lightly ... with my former hand, I reach down and around her, under her frock. Again, she feels my finger's breadth on her clit. `` oh ... no, delight ! We must n't. Not here ... Someone might get along. '' `` Shuuu ... .. the doorway is locked '' After a while she can carry this no longer. I sense it and attract down her scanty from behind.

She leans forward, steadying herself with her hands on the hard granite sink. She waits with anticipation.
She can see me and herself in the mirror. She sees her own shocked verbalism as she feels my heavily cock enter her from behind ... penetrating deeply in one good separatrix. Filling her. I pause, both of us throbbing. Then, I thrust fast. Then quit. She waits with anticipation ... `` Oh, please ... '' I thrust again. She can see her breasts jiggle with my thrusts.

'' Oh ! oh ! '' `` Shhh .... '' I squeeze her nipple with one manus, and knead her clitoris with the other. The contractions start again ... and spread over her body. She sees her face redden in the mirror. `` Ohhhh ! '' She exclaims too loud. `` Shhhh shhh .... '' My intemperately thick hammer is throbbing deep interior of her. `` Ah ... oh ... ooohhh ! '' She feels my muscular contraction, and the warm fluid filling her inside ... A long pause to trip up our breath. `` Shhh ..., '' I whisper. She closes her oculus. I kiss her again. Our tongues intertwine and explore greedily.

I slowly brush her hair back, and wipe away the sweat from her forehead. `` Again, '' I whisper ... `` we will meet again. Meet me here again in one week, at the like meter. '' Then I leave, quietly closing the door.

She studies herself in the mirror ... her face is reddened and flushed glistening beads of exertion, hair disorganized, chest still heaving with deep breaths. She closes her eyes. She is alone. `` Oh ... ohhh '' She whispers to herself quietly. `` Oh my. '' She wonders : How did this happen ? There is secretiveness ... no voice to counter her protest. In the mirror her nipples are still upright. Her sass are red and moist, there is a thin, unintentional upturn at the corners. `` One week, '' he said. One week .