Untouchable

Most of those others I'd trusted enough to share a part of my life with, were all honest enough in their way, but all it took was a single touch, and any evidence of infidelity would be right there along with me, in my mind, as reminder for a long time.

I didn't count thoughts for others as evidence, the lusts for the randoms passing across the screen of my partners' lives – but people are as they are, and temptations can be hard to deny. It's one thing to be told or know how a partner has been unfaithful with whomever, but to see the images as they actually happened, is a very different thing...

Picking up the long empty glass, I decided enough time had been wasted on grim thoughts, certainly as such hadn't afflicted me in a decade now, and tonight I had Sara's plethora of masturbatory fantasies to explore – letting myself become her. I knew that I was in for a treat, as she had a big mirror fixed to the ceiling, and loved watching herself as she played – she also seemed to enjoy watching other women masturbate too, the memories were right there in her head, and therefore now in mine.

Gathering my coat and keys back up, I was busily dreaming away and not really paying attention as I went about leaving and locking up, my thoughts as usual, elsewhere. In turning, I bumped into her, literally not having heard her on the carpeted stairs – and had another flash of contact. It wasn't as powerful as the first, but it had enough clout.

She smiled at me again, a little flush touching her cheeks as our eyes met before she was upon her way again downstairs.

I smiled back automatically, but remained stood by the door, not wanting to give my new erection away as I watched her go –definitely a fine ass. In my mind I was reviewing the latest charged memory she's passed me, so she was still present, but lain on her bed, naked except for pale panties, her legs parted wide to accommodate both hands inside the cotton, filling the fabric delightfully. She was looking up at herself in the mirror, and it was my turn to flush a little – it was as if she had read my thoughts of a moment ago.

A busy lass indeed...Her head turned to look back up at me before the stairwell's turn took her from sight, and I got another smile. My thoughts causing an easy smile in return.Had she been fantasising about me?

I looked deeper, feeling for the images in her head between those of her gazing up at herself, masturbating to her mirror image movements.

Yes, there I am...the time earlier on the stair, my eyes...her eyes seeing the line of my cock clearly in tight jeans...then the handshake...there came a fast rush of imagery like she'd used before, but this time more followed, all jumbled together as she neared orgasm, some hers...but the rest were from me on the couch, cock in hand, and some of my memories...

It all came together just then, how her apparently busy life fitted into such a short span, the massive charge when we'd touched – all of it was as borrowed as my own store of imagery. She too had the gift.

I saw her reappear up the stairs, slowly, looking at me with eyes wide.

Life was about to become very interesting.