Michelle tried to keep her breathing under control.
Her back arched against the bed as her fingers worked feverishly inside her pyjama bottoms. Each time her fingertips came into contact with her swollen clit, her body spasmed and she wanted to cry out. It was becoming almost like a game as she fought to hold back the moans and screams. She was covered in a sheen of icy sweat, cooled by the gentle breeze through the open window, her flesh puckered with goosebumps.
The fantasy wasn’t complicated. Loman was only on the other side of the wall. If she whispered loudly enough he would hear her. The thought was intoxicating. She could ask him to join her and he’d oblige. Of course he would oblige. The kiss proved that it wasn’t all just a product of her own lust-addled imagination. Loman wanted her, too. She was old enough to be his mother, but he still fancied her.
She almost laughed. Did people still “fancy” each other these days? She remembered her own late teens, when older people would ask if she was “courting”; how awkwardly old fashioned that word sounded.
Michelle bit hard into her lip as her body quaked, making the bed shake beneath her. Liquid dribbled from her pussy, squelching as she slid her fingers deep inside. She tasted blood as her teeth pierced the skin of her mouth, fighting the urge to scream. She’d left the door to her bedroom ajar. What if he was standing there, right now, watching her masturbate? What if he wanted to join in?
She pushed at the waistband of her pyjamas with her wrists, sliding them down over her hips, exposing herself. Of course, he wasn’t there. But if he had been, she would want him to see everything. Michelle was under no delusions about her body. She was forty years old. She did what she could to hold back the years, but not everything could be fixed with exercise and moisturiser. A bit more fat around her thighs, around her hips. A bit more sag to her breasts. But she could still be sexy. She could still be alluring. Stretched as she was right now, fingers spreading the dewy petals of her sex, the half-light of the moon half-hiding, half-illuminating every fold and feature, she knew that she was a display of pure, unfiltered eroticism.
If he was watching her, Loman would be hard. That cock she’d glimpsed tucked awkwardly inside his briefs would be screaming to be touched, to be relieved. Would he hold back, watching her pleasure herself but taking none for himself? No. No, young people weren’t so prudish any more. She’d never seen Derek masturbate. She had no doubt he did, but it was something he kept private, embarrassed about letting her see. Loman wouldn’t be like that. He’d let his cock go free while he watched, stroking its length slowly, working the head until it swelled and changed colour.
Michelle gasped at the thought. The idea of watching him masturbate, watching how he liked his pleasure and learning, taking it all in. Then, gently, joining in. Running her fingers along his shaft, watching his eyes close in ecstasy as his balls pulled tight, using a fingernail to draw patterns on the sensitive head. She would lean in and kiss the tip, opening her lips over him and urging him to slide inside her mouth.
The moan came suddenly, unexpectedly. Without any warning, she was unable to stifle it, and perhaps she didn’t want to. As her body stiffened, her legs bracing against the bed and sliding among the sheets, she clenched her stomach and growled. Her pelvic muscles spasmed, squeezing more liquid from her cunt. She felt it trickling down between her buttocks and dripping onto the bed.
She squirmed, thoughts tumbling in her head, ideas of Loman’s tongue trailing through her release, cleaning it from her skin and delving inside her body. Thoughts of their lips meeting in another kiss, a gentle, post-coitus expression of love, of care. Thoughts of snuggling into his body, protected and warm and comfortable.
As she calmed down, taking deep breaths to keep from making more noise, Michelle wriggled herself back into the pyjama bottoms, glancing at the doorway. Of course, there was nobody there. She laughed at herself for thinking there would be. And anyway, wouldn’t that be just a little bit creepy? Loman wouldn’t be like that. He wouldn’t. If he happened to be passing her room and saw her in that state, he would discreetly turn away. If he wanted to masturbate, he’d go back to his own room to do so.
She ignored the sticky fluid coating her skin as she settled against the bed. Just for a moment, she wanted to lie there, enjoying the tingling that set her flesh alight. In a moment, she would get up, pee, and head downstairs for a glass of water. But for now, she just wanted to think about that kiss, about the body she’d glimpsed so briefly, about her husband’s brother just inches away on the other side of the wall.
Continue to On His Naughty List Part 4!
From next week, I’ll be releasing my free erotica on Mondays at 5pm GMT (midday EST) instead of Sunday. This is to align more closely with the most popular time among my visitors. So come back Mon 14th Jan at 5pm GMT for Part 4 of this hot and oh-so-naughty tale!
If you’re enjoying “On His Naughty List”, check out my collection “Strip or Dare“, which is available free on Kindle Unlimited. These five tales all feature good girls who just can’t resist the urge to show their wicked sides.
On His Naughty List is being serialized for Masturbation Monday. Head over to the main site for more erotica, blog posts and sexy images.