I watched her.

I couldn’t tell if she was ignorant of my presence or simply preferred to make it seem so. She was sprawled out on the bed, beside the window, from where the midday New York Sun peeped.

While the sun peeped, I gawked. She was silent, lying in the nude, enjoying the sun, legs resting on the wall.

I was lost for words – not the verbal expression, but the physical experience. My throat was parched with longing and my mouth, slightly open with awe while my eyes glazed with lust…those were not the only things happening to me, but the occurrence in my groin wouldn’t let me recall other aspects of my experience.

It was not long before she smiled at her nude legs. They were beyond beautiful. One could rightfully assume they were mythic.

Clearly, she loved them. Her face ripened into a smile, her eyes thinned into tiny slits on her face and her teeth showed the perfect grin of appreciation. She lifted her phone, stilled it and snapped the picture. The scene was perfect – picture perfect!

I gawked at those nude legs resting on the wall while her back enjoyed the warmth of her bed. From the top – her toes – the image flowed down easily with mathematical exactness to her knees and then…from there, as if the midpoint, mathematics failed. It failed to explain it…as her thighs suddenly spread outwards on opposite sides like the fins of a beautifully-crafted fish.

I gasped.

Beyond her hips, I thought, is she getting moist? Would the moistness be enough to relieve my parched throat? How would I drink of it, if I could? Would I use the tip of my war, soft tongue to trace her tender inner thighs from her knees up? Or would I abandon such for biting her neck while my fingers deeply crawl up her inner thighs to go explore her nectar?

Suddenly, my fingers got weak and my dazed mind, blank. I had struggled for so long to be led not into temptation, yet, with such a prim and proper picture before me, I recalled that even the great Achilles had a tendon.

She was proper in her position…proper in her role as a temptress and so properly without clothes.

My phallus throbbed. Then I noticed something. She was staring at me with a smile…that kind of smile that elicits sin from the righteous.

What are you thinking?, I wanted to ask her, but then, she found her voice first and whispered:

“What are you thinking?”


One thought on “WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?

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