I walked into the diner hands in the air, pretending to adjust ginger locks of hair, my red short plaid skirt did a turn in attempt to hold my hips intact. I saw heads turn, lots and lots of them.
I dropped my hand, straightened my back and proceeded to catwalk down the diner , just right the end, close to the bar but a little bit out the back. As my two little toochies touched the hard leather chair, I scanned the room, every face, every turn, their eyes, facial gesture, the line that trains down their lips. I took in every detail and I could read their thoughts 💭 see their minds.
The elderly man right out south had me in his hands, skin searching for what seems lost.
Far north towards the door a rather younger man with hands trying to hide a boner. I scoff at him and he throws a shy smile and bows his head.
All men are pathetic hungry souls ready to ravish whatever they can lay their hands on.
Even the 9 year old boy by his mum, his eyes still traced through the outline of my thighs, hands rubbing together as shy and as dirty as he is. Their animalistic behavior have been excused too many times than it should.
I stood, adjusted my skirt a bit higher, just to put them on climax. I catwalked my way out the dinner as slowly as I could, picking out facial expressions and racing breathes, fondling fingers and the wide grins.
I laughed out in satisfaction !
Pure Orgasm.
InkHeart 