Yoga on Wednesday

Which is why it took me longer than it should have to hear the clicking sound. I was so lost in my own world, my pleasure, that I hadn't even registered the cool air flowing around me. Air from the partly open door to the changing room. Which I could see through my legs, past my pussy and the dildo I was still ramming in and out.

I could also see someone's legs. And the heels immediately told me who they belonged to. Veronica.

I looked up, heart pounding, straight into the narrow floor length mirror across from me. Fuck, she was really there. Watching me. Her face was partially hidden in shadows, her eyes unfathomable, her pouty lips holding a soft smirk, her hair seeming to glow, and she was holding something in her hands.

Fuck. The clicking sound.

It was a camera.

Time seemed to stand still for a second.

And then Veronica parted her lips and instructed me, "Don't stop."

With a hitch in pulse, I realized I had at some point frozen with my hand between my legs. Keeping my gaze fixed on the mirror, on Veronica, I slowly started to move my hand and the dildo again. And Veronica raised the camera again.

Click. Click. Click.

Oh my god. Fuck. Fuck.

Somehow this felt even better with her watching me. I began to lose myself in it all again, my orgasm building up and up. I wanted to cum, I needed to cum. For her. I let my eyes close as I picked up the pace.

Once again, all I could feel was how good it felt to fuck myself. To have the dildo going in and out of me, sloppy, fast, but deeper and deeper. The sounds of my pussy, my moans and gasps filled the room again. But this time I could hear the click-click of the camera as well as Veronica's heels tapping against the floor, reminding me she was there, she was watching.

Don't stop, oh fuck don't stop. Oh yea, mhmm, fuck fuck fuckkk

I broke apart with a loud cry, my juices squirting from my pussy as I rammed the dildo deep inside and held it there, my legs shaking, my entire body becoming jello. I fell forward, my one hand not enough to hold me up anymore. The orgasm rocked through me, reaching every corner of my needy body, blanking my mind and reducing me to a whimpering mess.

As this last orgasm faded from me, exhaustion quickly settled in. I couldn't open my eyes, even think, as I heard a few decisive taps as Veronica walked closer to me. I wanted to open my eyes, look at her, see if she liked what she saw. But I couldn't. I just lay there, panting, my left cheek pressed to the cool floor with one hand trapped underneath my chest and the other still caught between my legs.

There was a pause. And then I heard a soft, quick, rustling sound right in front of my face. Followed by the sound of Veronica's heels tapping against the floor again, this time not stopping and fading as she left the room.

She was gone.

I blearily opened my eyes, struggling to focus on a white blob right in front of my nose. I picked up my head and shifted to slide my left hand forward. It was a card. White, crisp, and slightly rough to the touch.

In deep red ink, the words "Good girl" were penned in slanting cursive. Underneath an address was typed in a neat, blank font.

The Red Renaissance Art Gallery