Jean-Luc Cheri - Watched at Home

I felt my heartbeat quicken at the thought of his eyes on me. I wished I had gone to bed pantyless, which I do sometimes in the summer. I would have loved for him to see my pussy lips peeking through the cheeks of my ass. A wetness seeped through my loins.

I listened closely for more sounds. What was he doing? Was he touching himself as he watched me? A bubble of wetness popped softly in me as the thought crossed my mind. I had to fight the urge to squeeze my thighs together, putting pressure on my clit.

I thought of the images he must have just seen on the videos. Like me kneeling in front of Joey and taking his cock into my mouth, sucking him until he exploded. There would also be the images of Tony and Gwen entering his bedroom, and beginning to fuck. And Joey and I would join them, where Joey would fuck me as I kissed Gwen.

I was so wet now, he would have to notice. It had to be soaking through my panties.

What did he think of when he saw the images? Was he angry at me? Did they arouse him? Was there a trace of jealousy there?

I heard a noise and the bed shifted slightly, as if he had put a hand on it. I tried to keep my breath even as my mind worked furiously to figure out what this meant.

All of my senses were reaching out into the darkness, feeling for him. Was he taking a closer look at my ass? Excitement fluttered through my pussy.

Then I nearly screamed. He touched me! My heart almost beat out of my chest as I felt the faint touch of his finger against the material of my panties, with my throbbing pussy just on the other side.

Every atom of my being screamed out to respond — cry out in pleasure and open myself to him. But I held it in check, concentrating on his touch.

His finger moved slowly, feeling along the furrow of my cleft under the silken material, like a blind man reading Braille. Jolts of pleasure shot through me, but I held my body still.

His finger gently pressed in, parting my smooth lips as I felt the satiny material against my inflamed skin. He began a gentle back and forth motion, sliding his finger through my slit. I could feel my pleasure building, and I knew I couldn’t hide it if I came.

His touch left me, and I thought he was done, but I felt a pulling sensation, then a coolness on my skin. When his touch returned, I realized what he had done. He had pulled my panties to the side and now his finger slid through my wet folds, skin on skin.

Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god. All of my nerve endings were screaming with pleasure, as his finger worked gently over the sensitive membranes of my slick labia. Please, please don’t let it stop. I was getting close.

His finger slid upward through my pliant wet folds, and found my tight clit, slipping slickly over the swollen little nub. I tried, but I couldn’t control my reaction. My body involuntarily jerked from the sensation, a spasm rippling through me.

His touch was instantly gone, and my panties slid back to cover me. No! Please! I focused on keeping my breathing regular, wanting him to think that was just an involuntary reaction, and I wasn’t awake.

Seconds passed like hours, and I could feel my pussy almost reaching out for him, trying to lure his fingers back. But after a moment I heard his body shift, and felt his breath against my ear.

“I love you, Erica,” he whispered so softly I could barely hear him, even in the silence of the room. He kissed me gently on the temple before straightening up.

Come back here! My mind screamed as he walked to the door. Please don’t leave me like this!

But his shadow crossed through the light, and the door opened and closed again, and he was gone.

Synapses fired through my body like firecrackers in a Chinese parade. Every nerve ending craved the return of his touch on me. But the door remained ajar. He wasn’t coming back.

Sighing, my hand slid down between my legs, and my finger finished what Shane had begun.

When I awoke, it was nine a.m. and the sun was shining in through my bedroom windows. I didn’t recall my middle-of-the-night experience until I was on the toilet peeing and I looked down at the crotch of my panties. My dried fluids coated the inside, and the memories of Shane’s visit came rushing back. Had I dreamed it? I didn’t think so, but how could I be sure? I had been thinking about him a lot lately, and I had spent the minutes before going to bed in his embrace, so it would make sense that I would dream about him.

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind, but as much as I thought about it, I couldn’t be sure if it had been real.

When I got downstairs, I was surprised to see Shane sleeping on the couch. It was rare for him to do it, and it usually happened when he was working late in his office. I wondered if him seeing me getting fucked on his bed, made him want to stay away from it.

He was lying on his side, facing out, with a light blanket over him. I sat in the opposite chair, watching him for several minutes. It occurred to me that our positions were reversed: I was now watching him sleep. Memories of his touch on me returned — or at least memories of my dream of him touching me — and I felt the desire rising in me again.

An idea occurred to me. I walked over and knelt on the floor next to him. In my mind, I pictured him touching me, recalling his position. Left hand, I decided.

I moved the covers back slightly, and saw his left hand was lying on the couch cushion, slightly closed in a relaxed grip. I slid my hand under it, watching for a reaction. When none came, I bent my head down and took his index finger into my mouth, sucking at it softly. It tasted good, but not what I was looking for. I moved to the middle finger.

As I sucked, the taste washed over me, firing through my nerve endings. It was the same taste I had tasted on Joey’s finger last night, after he touched me in the changing room. The taste of my pussy was on Shane’s finger.

A new gush of wetness spread through me as I sucked at his digit, wanting to lick it clean. After I was done, I slid it out of my mouth and laid the hand back down on the cushion.

I stared into his sleeping face. He was so beautiful. So manly and rugged. Exactly what I was looking for in every guy I dated. I never got to be this near to him without him knowing it, so I couldn’t look at him this closely — with the adoration I felt for him all over my face. Normally that was hidden behind the mask I had to wear.

His breathing was deep and regular, and a calm expression covered his face. At that moment, a feeling of empathy came over me, as I thought about what he was going through. Like me, he was lusting after someone he couldn’t have, except he had the additional burden of having to be the responsible one. I realized I was waiting for him to do something that was impossible for him: to make the first move. If I wanted something to happen, it would be up to me.

I reached out to caress the side of his face, but stopped myself at the last moment, my hand hovering just above his skin.

Instead, I leaned in and lightly touched my lips upon his, imagining what it would be like for him to respond, opening his mouth and letting my tongue inside.

His breathing remained steady, and I pulled back, watching him again. I recalled what his touch felt like last night, and my body quivered. An idea popped into my head.

If he could touch me, why couldn’t I return the favor? My heart raced as I considered my options. I lifted the cover to take a peek, and saw he was shirtless and wearing his favorite gym shorts — thin gray cotton that fit him loosely. I could just make out the outline of his flaccid cock through the material.

Letting the blanket back down, I slid my hand underneath, moving down over the cushion. I overshot and ran into his naked thigh, and I watched his face closely as I lightly followed the skin upward.