Summer in Tuscany

He wanted to surprise her, not startle her, so he gave the door a bump with his elbow and took another few steps until he was standing between Rachel's open legs, eight feet away, his cock pointing directly at her pussy, enough distance he thought, to assure her that he meant to watch only. He continued slowly pumping, and thought this was an image he would come back to long after summer ended and Rachel was gone. Her dress around her waist. One hand pinching her nipple on her amazing breasts. The black stockings contrasting against her fair turned-tan skin, the drizzle of her pussy juice on her little dark star asshole, her buttocks pushing her mound and her clit up against the vibrator, her white teeth biting her lip through whimpers. He hadn't mean to, but his mouth opened and it escaped like a hiss: "Yess".

Rachel had laid back, taking her eyes from the camera, but she had not forgotten Jack. Every stroke of the vibrator over her pussy was with the knowledge he was watching it. When her hand trailed back up her body to caress her breast, it was with the feel of a watchful pair of eyes on her hand. She had a sort of double vision, seeing the room, but also seeing herself as she imagined Mr. Morrison saw her. The touch of her hand on her breast was doubled--she felt it in her own body, and she also felt his arousal, watching her fingers pressing against the lace he had bought. The vibrator buzzed against her clit and brought her pleasure, and she felt also the pleasure she imagined in his body as he watched a young woman touch herself so lewdly.

His presence was there with her, and so it was no surprise really when his body appeared as well. She heard the noise of his coming and her chin ducked down, her eyes tracking him as he entered the room. She did not pause; in fact she redoubled her efforts, pressing the vibrator tighter against herself as if his presence was a physical force. She squeezed her fingers deep into her breast, imagining how that would look to him, how he would feel as he watched it. She didn't have to guess any longer. She could see his arousal, his cock thick and hard throbbing in his hand. She watched it, mesmerized, as he fisted it. It was big, very big, and the idea of him coming forward and putting it inside her frightened her a bit. But it aroused her as well. She could feel her drenched pussy opening, her swollen lips parting as if trying to suck him in from across the room, her body seeking the biological symptom of the desire he had created in her. The vibrator slid down her wet lips and pressed against that entrance instead, and there was no doubt what she was thinking as she stared at his shaft, pressing the shaft of the vibrator into herself. With a cry she pulled down the cup of her bra on one side, and then the other, revealing her breasts to him. She wanted him to see them, wanted him to want them. She thought she wanted him to touch them, even though she knew that was wrong. Pushing the head of the vibrator in and out of herself, she cried out, letting the wrongness flow through her body. It was more pleasurable than anything right had ever been.

Jack had been so focused on the vibrator against Rachel's pussy that at first he didn't realize Rachel was now watching him in return, and he felt it first, then saw her looking not at his own eyes but at the girth of his slick shaft as she split her cunt with the toy. Jack groaned, and locked eyes with her. From her eyes, from her pussy, from her breasts, he wasn't sure which, he sensed a tugging, as if Rachel had cast a net over him and was trying to reel him closer between her legs. He pivoted on his heels and the ball of his feet to spread his legs a little further, feeling the air around his balls, and then kept his feet planted firmly. He pumped to the rhythm of the vibrator, and from the wild look in her eyes, the tenseness and tautness of her thighs, the rapid breathing, open mouth and near constant whining -- he thought her voice had passed some point of whimpering and was now more of a desperate, pleading, hungry whine, an appeal -- he knew that she was more frantic in her lust than at any point since she'd been there, and he felt a certain satisfaction that involuntary squeezed his balls. He would let her first orgasm pass, and perhaps the second, before rewarding her performance with his own release.

The cameras served their purpose well, but standing here he admitted to himself that it didn't capture everything: the microphones providing only an aural imitation of the true sweet sounds heard in the room, that little sucking sound of her pussy lips. The camera didn't catch the aura of her sex, the energy and heat two human beings give off, the beautiful scent of her cunt, and at some point in between strokes he decided he would still employ the cameras but with Rachel so obviously enthralled at his presence near her, that he would minimize them, and to the extent possible take the game to a new level, with the watching, the interplay, the voyeurism and exhibitionism, in plain sight of each other. He thought Rachel was ready, the quickening pace of her wrist a near blur as she pumped the vibrator, bringing her to her first orgasm, the confirmation he was looking for.

Rachel squeezed her breast hard, feeling the hard nipple teasing against her palm, and her hot fingers sinking into her firm flesh. She imagined it was him doing it, of course, his hot hand seizing her, and his cock pressing into her wetness. She wondered how he would do it, how a man like Mr. Morrison would handle a breast. Boldly, she thought. He was bold. But would he rub it in circles, squeeze it roughly, pinch it, shake it, press them together? There were things, she imagined, that one could do with a breast that she had no idea about. Her lack of experience struck Rachel rather strongly as she imagined Mr. Morrison, what kind of life he must have led. And yet it led him here, standing in his guest room and watching her cum.

Because she was cumming. It was not a sharp peak but just a sudden and continuous elevation. She had stopped breathing she realized, just as she took in a ragged gasp. Her arm was still moving, her hand still rubbing. This was not an orgasm that ended things, but only began. Her body was now at a new plateau, and every sensation of the vibrator inside of her seemed heightened. Rachel felt tears running from her eyes as she came again, pushing the vibrator back and forth quickly as it seemed to hit some vital spot inside of her, making her toes curl, her stockinged things spread even wider, wet and glistening with juice. She stared at Mr. Morrison, sure he would come and spear her wet gash and that she would never stop cumming as he did so.

In the end, it was the frantic pawing of her own tits that did it for Jack. She was rougher than he expected, and he wondered if she was doing it for him, or doing it imagining it was him. Hers leg spread wide, her gash shiny, she was putting on a fantastic show for him. As he stared at her tits, he was tempted to crawl up her body and straddle her chest and fuck them, her small hands pressing her tits together for him. He thought about stepping closer, confident that his spurt would reach them and coat them. That would be another time. His plan all along had been to create a craving inside Rachel, a constant gnawing at her core, from her cunt, that would keep on her edge for the rest of the summer.

And so, though his cock wanted to plunge itself in her pussy right now, he kept his feet where they were, and he looked up over Rachel's tits, at her eyes, and then groaned, a similar but louder groan from his gut that he gave Rachel while watching her from his office, and from deep in balls he felt himself erupt, a quick countdown, and signaled Rachel with his eyes that they should both watch his cock explode. He looked down to see the familiar white arc of his jism gracefully leap toward the bed between her legs, marveling at himself that he could still shoot that far, distance-wise the ultimate and penultimate splotches of his cum landing on the cotton just inches from her pussy, the subsequent spurts splatting and leaving a trail on the stone floor back to his cock. He squeezed and milked every drop, glancing up at Rachel's wide eyes, and then smiled at her. He waited for her return smile, and when she finally did, he felt like it was a contract that had just been signed, an agreement, an understanding, of trust and sex and pleasure and deviance and decadence. She was now a partner, a part of the team. And he fought the affection that gurgled up from somewhere, the need to crawl into the bed and hold her and fall asleep, and wondered if it was just part of getting older. He smiled a little wider, and said, "Good girl Rachel. Good night," and turned and walked out of her bedroom.