In an upscale lavishly appointed independent bookstore, Colleen is browsing. She feels rather bored, and is not pressed for meter. She passes me then turning to coup d'oeil over her shoulder at me. Intriguing recall wanders in as I look her over then grin at her. She is wearing a igniter colored sundress. She browses and selects a Word of God. It is interesting, and so she sits at a secluded corner table, with her book binding against the script sheleves, with a book resting on the table.

Several mo pass when she notices me browsing in the same gangway. I 'm broad shouldered. My conduct is also unrushed and passing. As I slowly search through the record book 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 hair is salt and capsicum pepper plant, a bit longer in the spine. Day-old, well trimmed stalk. Inside she feels a tingle of chemical attraction to this complete stranger.

Every few minutes I move closer. Soon I 'm adjacent to her, browsing and recital. With me so close, she notices my pleasant scent. The hairs on the back of her neck seem to stiffen. I seem completely comfortable, so she finds herrself also at relief. She wonders if I find her alluring, or, just pausing nearby to examine an interesting Quran ? I 'm so close. Just a few in away. Nothing is said. She hears me sigh softly. She looks down to see how much of her cleavage is visible to me ... she leans forward so I can see a bit more.

I shift my system of weights 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 conjuring trick ? Then I reach for a book, one very close to her behind her in the tons. My hand gently brushes against her berm as I removes it. The cold-shoulder touch felt like a bit of electricity passed between us. Was it knowing, or inadvertent ?

I stand nearby and scan for awhile, then I sit down next her at the end of aisle. She notices my hefty legs, but she tries keep herr eyes on the print before her, and, every so often, she turns a page. Minutes pass by slowly, silently. But the silence is full of expectancy. I glance at herr pegleg every so often from under my sun vizor as I turn a varlet. More hour pass. Silence. Other citizenry come and go.

I quietly sighs. She sighs. She turns a page. I turn a page. The minutes tick. Anticipation grows, then ebbs. And grows again. She glances at me, but my eyes are hidden below my visor. Is he admiring your legs ? She decides to slowly and seductively fondle the skin of her leg with a slow up, light finger's breadth cutaneous senses. Does he react ? I do. I notice. She hears me exact in a slow down, deep breath, and she sees that I shift uncomfortably. She slightly rocks her leg. I slightly rock mine. I turn a page ; She turns a page. She refocuses on her Christian Bible ; I do, too. Waxing and waning, foreplay growing and ebbing. communicating without sound.

metre passes in my presence, in such close proximity to me. Nothing said. Overtly innocent to others, but, covertly incitive. There is a nonverbal sync, a palpable chemical science. She shifted her emplacement so that her dress pulls up past mid thigh. Now I can `` accidentally '' see a tantalizing glance of her smooth inner thigh. I shift my position, again, uncomfortably. She is intrigued to see that I find her alluring. I seem to try to focus on my reading.. She very lightly caresses the hide of her leg while she reads.

More minutes pass, and she turns a page, then another. Then she pulls her human knee up slightly, with her record book on the table. 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 patch of tantalizing me, she changes her locating to cool off me down. This waxing and waning Hz for some time, yet no one else can see the nonverbal communication.

She is intrigued by the melodic theme of teasing this attractive erstwhile man. She adjusts her top to piss trusted too much cleavage is n't showing. She modestly pulls down her dress, only to accidentally allow me to see her inner thigh again. Heating me up, then feigning modestness, and cooling me down. Only to recapitulate it again. And again.
I try to hide my stimulation with my Word. She tries to conceal her arousal by covering her chest -- her teat are pressing out against the fabric of her top ... clearly visible now ... Finally, it seems as if I ca n't ingest it no longer.
'' This photographic print is so small, '' I whisper. Was he talking to you, or to himself ? `` I can barely make 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 whispers : `` Would you mind reading a bit of this aloud to me ? ``

She is taken aback, and says nothing for moment. Then she musters a response. `` Oh ... sure. '' `` I can barely cook this out ... '' `` Oh, small print ? '' she stammers. `` sure as shooting ... let 's see ... '' She can feel her heartbeat in her chest.
It is a large book, and I place it over her lap. `` Oh, might you start reading here ? '' I say, pointing to the paragraphs with the low print. She begins reading it aloud to me. I move closer to her. In fact, my stifle is touching hers. She begins reading aloud.

'' Oh, maybe you should whisper, '' I say, `` so we do n't trouble others ... '' `` Oh, yes, of course ... '' She reads quietly in a whisper. And I 'm so close. Her voice is a bit breathy at fourth dimension, but she tries to control its tempo and tone. I help turn the Thomas Nelson Page. As I do, the backbone of my hand brushes across her mamilla. `` Oh ... '' she whispers involuntarily. `` Here you go, '' I point to the text on the page.

She continues reading to me in a low whisper. She reads a few surgical incision aloud. Her interpreter is getting breathy and choppy at fourth dimension, and she pauses every so often. She continues to say in a whispering. But, under the book, she notices that my finger is touching the cutis of her knee, just under her frock ...

She stops reading. `` shhh ... rustling ... '' I say. Others are nearby, but do n't observe. `` oh ... '' She pauses. `` shhhh ... please proceed version ... '' She does. but her vox is getting breathy and unsteady. She has to pause occasionally. No one else can see ... it is a large Holy Writ covering her lap. She feels my touch, tracing lightly on her pelt, under the Holy Scripture. her voice is unsteady, breathy, and she has to break again ... It gives away her faux protestation ...

'' Please ... oh, no. '' You read a few division aloud. Your voice choppy at time, and you pause to require in a breathing spell every so often. You continue to interpret, as best you can, in a halting whisper. But, under the script, she notices that my digit is touching the skin of her inner thigh, just under her dress ...

She stops reading. `` Shhh ... voicelessness ... '' I say. Others are nearby, but do n't find. `` Oh ... '' She pauses. `` Shhhh ... please keep interpretation ... '' She does. No one else can see ... it is a turgid ledger covering her lap. She feels my tinge, tracing lightly on her skin, under the record book. herr voice is unfirm, and she has to intermit occasionally ... Her voice betrays her rousing, opposite to her faux protest ... `` please ... oh, no. '' Finally, my finger is exploring under the furrow of her pantie. Warmth and wetness. She feels my finger encircle her clit, lightly ... slowly. Her back talk is dry ... it is hard now to breathe normally.

I press down, harder. `` Oh ! oh ! '' `` Shhhh .... '' I say. With my other manus, I turn the page, rubbing against her hard nipple. She continues reading aloud, in a breathy, in an entirely out of speech rhythm whisper. Others are nearby. can they enjoin ? `` Oh, please. Please stop ... '' `` Read here ... '' `` Oh, hitch, please ... '' Her protest originate more shallow and imperfect. `` Close your center for a moment. '' I say. She does. She feels my back talk on hers. Lightly at first. Then a thick kiss.

She can not get enough air ... She has to attract back to enchant her breather. I allow her to calm a bit, to regain her equanimity, but her nerve has reddened. And, a red blush appears on her neck and thorax. She reads again, but the words are coming out staccato, only one at at time ... She feels her clit tingle and heart rate as my finger rests motionless on it for a retentive spell. 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, slow then fast. Lightly then with more pressure. Faster..harder..in circles over it..faster ... breathing deep.

'' oh ! oh ... oooh ! '' `` shhhuuuu ... : Her intact soundbox quakes with bass, spread spasm ... 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 room access and lock it behind her. No one else noticed us entering the convenience together.
We are alone. `` You have such a pin-up face '' I say as we stand before the large, ornate mirror. `` Lovely ... so lovely. '' I 'm behind her, and I trace my fingers across her neck and jawline.

'' Beautiful nervus facialis structure ... checkbones ... lips ... nose ... '' She feels my fingers exploring the nape of her neck opening, her chest, the valley at the top of her cleavage. `` So lovely, `` I whisper. `` And her knocker .... '' Slowly I unfasten the release 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 quietly ... '' Her teat is erect in the reflection in the mirror.

'' Lovely ... so beautiful ... '' I whisper next to her ear. We both look in the mirror as my finger circles her nipple, lightly ... with my other script, I reach down and around her, under her dress. Again, she feels my digit on her clit. `` oh ... no, please ! We must n't. Not here ... Someone might come in. '' `` Shuuu ... .. the threshold is locked '' After a while she can take this no long. I sense it and commit down her panties from behind.

She leans forward, steadying herself with her hands on the grueling granite swallow hole. She waits with anticipation.
She can see me and herself in the mirror. She sees her own traumatize aspect as she feels my hard peter enter her from behind ... penetrating deeply in one full stroke. Filling her. I pause, both of us throbbing. Then, I thrust fast. Then hold on. She waits with anticipation ... `` Oh, please ... '' I thrust again. She can see her chest jiggle with my thrusts.

'' Oh ! oh ! '' `` Shhh .... '' I squeeze her nipple with one hand, and rub down her clitoris with the early. The muscle contraction start again ... and spread over her body. She sees her facial expression redden in the mirror. `` Ohhhh ! '' She exclaims too loud. `` Shhhh shhh .... '' My arduous thick cock is throbbing deep inside of her. `` Ah ... oh ... ooohhh ! '' She feels my muscle contraction, and the tender fluid filling her inside ... A long intermission to catch our breather. `` Shhh ..., '' I whisper. She closes her centre. I kiss her again. Our tongues intertwine and explore greedily.

I slowly brush her tomentum back, and wipe away the effort from her forehead. `` Again, '' I whisper ... `` we will meet again. suffer me here again in one workweek, at the same meter. '' Then I leave, quietly closing the door.

She studies herself in the mirror ... her face is reddened and flushed glistening beadwork of exertion, hair disorganized, chest still heaving with abstruse 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 silence ... no vox to counter her protestation. In the mirror her nipples are still put up. Her rim are red and moist, there is a slight, unintentional upturn at the quoin. `` One calendar week, '' he said. One week .