Lola Alone

byclevergirlname©

Are you lost? Hold my hand, my darling. My perfect. Come and see. Here she is for you: near naked beneath the forgiving light of the heat lamp in her two bedroom apartment bathroom. The door is cracked so it's okay; there's no one here but you and she. Nothing but an ocean blue towel separates you from her flesh and it is as powdery soft and white as the clouds, cotton, frost, ivory- her skin that is. She but a girl-cum-woman of between eighteen and nineteen.

She with near-platinum blonde hair as straight as straight could be to her shoulders exactly, with no less or no more. Her bangs stop at a thirty-second-of-an-inch above her eyebrows. Long, dark willowy eyelashes only accent the eyes; they are akin to blazing sapphires trapped beneath ice, inky and Siberian. Feel her skin; It is similar to kittens and silk. Lips ala scarlett johansson are chapped just at the edges and a luscious pink in the center. They droop open lazily to release the tensions of her tongue:

"You are beautiful." Hear her voice and know the husky-feminine, sigh-like allure like you know a heavily expelled breath from your own lungs (and sigh it does make you, with wanton desire). Tsk tsk, my sweet reader. It is not for you. It's for her and it is committed and decisive. Perhaps unexpected by you (but authoritatively to her) she lets go of the cotton fabric with a tug and release so that the towel falls in a pile around her petite, exquisite, well-manicured (burgundy) toes.

While you stand in the darkness her wholly naked form is revealed between the reflection and you. A rounded apple of an ass sits atop milky thighs that venture apart by a tiny gap betwixt. Ascension of your gaze leads to a swollen, aroused clit. It is coral in its hue from its shelf between her labia; beneath her mound of delicate, barely-there hair. The tiny tuft matches the purity atop her crown or as you may have it: The carpets match the drapes.

Slender fingertips from her right hand trace the length of her own jawline, venturing down the length of her neck to rest in the crook of her extruded collarbone. Like a ping-pong ball the tip descends to her chest and along the bump-bump-bumps of her chest-bone. Betwixt the pallid breasts she stops and brings her hand left. A familiar palm fully engulfs half of her breast and lifts, pulling outward to catch the flushed nipple between thumb and index. Cerulean eyes glaze at the pinch and tug while the skin rises obediently to its masters wishes.

Go ahead and touch yourself if you want to. Grasp yourself firmly when her hand ventures down from her stung teat to her stomach, down down down at such an agonizingly slow pace it looks difficult even for she. There she stops at her own nether-lips, spreading them with the left hand and without warning to you, diving down to press into her erectile organ with her right middle finger. Through the sloppy wet folds she drives to the glistening opening of her own sex.

Deep the fingers go first one and then two in a more steady pace. The thumb seeks out the pleasure nub and rubs a rhythmic circle in tune with her own thrusts. All the way out she slithers now dripping to slather her clit with the hot fluid. Slick flesh grants more sensitivity to the touch.

Beneath your stare she uses her left hand and steals more of that lubricating juice, losing no time to plunge the nectar soaked fingers into her puckered ass. It sucks her fingertip in and makes her legs wobble. In seconds she has a rhythm in her hips to rock her back and forth between right and left hand, a very coordinated thumb still stroking the now throbbing clit. Completely naked before the glass she finger-fucks herself mercilessly at both ends until she can barely stand.

"Unnnghhh.." She moans. Don't worry if your breath starts to become heavy for she is lost in herself literally and figuratively, her fingers diving in again with more forcefulness this time. It doesn't matter and you can hear why - she's slopping wet enough to take herself to the wrist should she so desire.

Into the orgasm she plunges with a buckle of her own knees, the unyielding wooden cabinet doors quick to catch her knees before she can fall all the way to the floor. There she hangs with her arms dropped by her sides, body still twitching. A sheen of sweat across her brow and the heavy sex-filled scent is all that's left of her moment.

Leave now before she realizes you're there; you're not here to fuck her, just admire her... If you want more you'll have to ask her on a date. Rumor has it she's an easy girl and she takes it in the ass ;)

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byclevergirlname© 1 comments/ 8129 views/ 0 favorites

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous07/16/13

Superb.

Well written, with a good flow. Write some more please.

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