I was twirling my engagement ring, a habit I recently picked up -- recently because I had the ring for less than one month. When the ring was brand new I lovingly fondled it, but soon I began spinning it around my finger when anxious or bored. Don't read anything into that and psychoanalyze me. I love my fiancée and want to spend the rest of my life with him. Wow, just think, I'll only be twenty-nine after 10 wonderful years with him. Holy shit! If I live to be 90 that means almost 70 years! With the same guy! But after what happened in the bookstore ... oh yeah, I was telling you about that.
I had a college paper to do. My peers would have gone to the library, but not me. No, I needed my Starbucks so I went to my local Borders bookstore. I found an area on the second floor with a big square table and four cushy chairs around it. Plopping down in the chair that faced the window -- I can't do homework without distractions, can I? -- I stretched my legs out in front of me. Spreading my pad and the book I "borrowed" on my not too short denim skirt got me ready.
Engrossed in my work, I heard a man say, "How 'bout these?" Glancing up, I saw an older, good-looking couple. The woman was carrying a book and the man several magazines. He was pointing to two of the chairs around the table I was sitting at. His wife nodded and he sat down across from me.
Feeling uncomfortable, I quickly removed my feet from the table. After all, I was in a public bookstore, not my dorm. I love wearing denim, but sometimes the stiffness of the material causes the skirt to separate from my body. I held my breath knowing I had just raised and spread my knees. My mind was in turmoil. Was he looking? Did he see under my skirt? Lifting my notepad, I peered over the top. The man seemed to be reading his magazine, but what if he was faking it like I was and looking at me? Did he see? I couldn't stop asking myself that silly question. My heart beat faster thinking he may have as my eyes dropped to my lap.
Glancing at the man's wife, I found her reading her book. Why wasn't it her sitting across from me? I thought. Then I remembered it had been the man who pointed to the vacant chairs. Did he purposefully sit across from me? Oh no, the window behind him surely provides enough light to see under my skirt. My mind was racing.
My eyes darted back to the man. It took a moment, but I realized he was looking at me. Our eyes met; his confident stare so different than mine. I quickly looked down. Why is he staring at me? Why did I look away like a frightened child? My hand touched my cheek. My skin is hot. Shit, I'm blushing! He knows I'm embarrassed. "Damn it, I'm 19! Why am I acting like a baby?"
My eyes shot up and I saw both the man and woman looking at me. Oh god, did I say that last part out loud? I thought. The woman gave me a warm smile, but my cheeks reddened even more as I hid my face behind the notepad. Why did I have to have red hair? No one else blushes so easily. Why me? Shit, I have to get back to work.
Glancing first at the woman and then the man, I found them both reading. I sighed deeply, and then quickly looked to see if they heard. This time no one was looking at me and I was about to sigh again in relief when I held the breath letting it out silently. Returning to my work I flipped through pages and scribbled notes. At last I forgot about the man; that is until I reached for my coffee cup. As I leaned forward, my knees separated and my denim skirt tented at the hem. Snapping my legs together I quickly looked up. Is he looking? I can't tell if he's reading or looking. I need to know.
On an impulse, I slowly spread my legs, my eyes darting from his face to the hem of my skirt. When my knees were about twelve inches apart I panicked and quickly flung my right leg over my left. I instantly knew that doing that had spread my legs wide apart and gave him a clear view under my skirt. That is if he was looking. His eyes moved! I saw them follow my leg! Shit, he is looking! He saw under my skirt! He saw my panties!
Trying to be nonchalant, I took a sip of my coffee, but my hand was shaking and my leg rocked from nervousness. Why don't I just get up and leave? I asked myself. And then it hit me! I'm excited! Shit, he's making me wet!
I struggled with the disbelief that I enjoyed having the man look under my skirt. He's old ... as old as my father. How could I be attracted to him? And what about John? I'm going to marry him. We just got engaged!
But as much as I tried to fight it, I was aroused. Keeping my eyes on the man's face, I slowly lifted my upper leg and swung it to the side, softly placing my foot on the floor. His eyes darted lower -- beneath the hem of my skirt. My legs were apart, my thighs not touching. Sucking in a lungful of air as quietly as I could, I spread my knees even further apart with my feet flat on the floor. My chest rose and fell with my short, quick breaths. I saw him staring, not even trying to hide the fact now. I tried to remember what color panties I had on. I knew they weren't thongs, but I didn't pay attention to the color when I dressed because of the density of the denim skirt. I didn't think anyone was going to see them.
My eyes were on the man's face, watching him blatantly look under my skirt. I noticed movement and my gaze lowered -- he was spreading his legs. Pausing, his eyes locked on mine and a faint smile appeared on his face, visible now that the magazine was lowered a bit. And then his smile broadened as his knees moved a few more inches apart.
The man's eyes bounced between my face and my legs, and then I understood. First glancing to the side at the man's wife, I moved my knees a few more inches apart. He winked and parted his legs further, causing me to follow suit. We continued until I felt the skirt pressing against the outside of my thighs. I looked down, shocked to see how far my knees were apart. I almost snapped them closed, but just then I saw his hand between his legs rearranging his cock. His cotton slacks showed the bulge going down one side. He was hard!
I wanted to see it! His cock! But how?
Turning towards the man's wife, I saw the book in her lap and her chin against her rising and falling chest. Her eyes were closed! Now with my eyes back on the man's face, only occasionally darting towards his wife, I slid my hand along my inner thigh under the skirt, almost caressing the soft flesh. Hooking my fingers under the crotch of my panties I paused, twisting my head to scan the area. Then, after glancing at the wife again, I lifted the hem of my skirt and pulled the crotch of my panties to the side. It was only for a moment, but the man's wide eyes told me he saw plenty. I withdrew my hand and snapped my knees together. I was breathing hard, on the verge of hyperventilating, checking out the area once more. Turning back to the man, my stare lowered from his face to his crotch.
I didn't have to wait long. Strategically positioning his magazine on his lap, the man's fingers pushed the material of his fly aside and grabbed the silver zipper. My breathing stopped as it slowly lowered, and I leaned forward with anticipation. Using the magazine as a shield, the man's hand deftly snuck into the opening and pulled out his hard cock.
"Ohhh!" I gasped aloud, glancing to see if I woke the man's wife and then quickly turning back.
My heart was fluttering and my face flushed. I had an active sex life and had seen my share of cocks, but this was different. There was something about the situation ... him ... his cock. I wanted to reach out and yank it from his fingers ... to hold it ... to fondle it. And then his fingers moved ever so slowly -- up and down, up and down. I didn't notice how dry my lips were until my tongue swiped across them.
Mesmerized, I sat like a statue -- a statue whose breasts rose and fell with heavy breathing. And then I saw his nod. Like an idiot, I stared blankly at his face. Then another nod. It finally dawned on me. I spread my legs and reached under my skirt, pulling aside the panties now moist with my arousal.
He smiled. Not a warm smile, but one that sent shivers up my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. My eyes were drawn to his hand, now moving in longer strokes. Suddenly, it stopped and his index finger unwrapped from around his cock and pointed between my legs. When I didn't move, he flicked the finger and suddenly I was enlightened.
Still holding my panties to the side, I probed my cunt with my index finger and moved it slowly in and out. He smiled again, his own fist active once again -- more urgently now. I sped up my finger-fucking, ignoring the squishy noises from my wet pussy. I scooted down in my seat until my butt was on the very edge. My skirt rode up my thighs allowing me to spread my legs further apart. I knew he could see everything -- EVERYTHING!
Letting out a moan, I didn't even bother to see if I disturbed his wife. I didn't care if she woke up and screamed for the police. I was more aroused than I had ever been and nothing was going to stop me -- NOTHING!
The man pointed his cock at me and I saw the little pearl drop at the tip. Again I sighed, a long, loud one. The man's thumb covered the tip and spread the pre-cum over the head of his cock. I moaned again. My finger slid out of my drenched pussy and found my clit. Rubbing it in circles, I tried to keep my eyes on the man's cock but my head fell back, resting on the soft seatback. My eyes closed and my hips jerked. I bounced on the chair until I exploded, stifling my scream by biting my lower lip.
.... There is more of this story ...