Watching

	It was a warm night, muggy if you will, as the rain poured
down upon my body. I sat on the bench across from the diner watching
him through the window as he sat drinking his cup of coffee like he
did every week night during his dinner break, working the graveyard
shift. I watched in fascination his every move and dreaming of a
night with him. I would do anything to please him, to feel his skin
against mine. I could feel my nipples hardening and standing at
attention against the wet cloth of my t-shirt as it clung to my skin
as close as I wanted him to me, being nearly a part of me. I saw the
strength of his body in his hands alone as he brought the cup to his
lips and I craved for those lips to touch me, to kiss me, to feel his
tongue slip through them to caress the inner folds of my sex.

	I could feel my clit begin to tingle as I pressed my pussy
lips naked against the seam of my Levis and contracted the muscles
there. My juices began to flow like a too ripe fruit that has been
cut.

	I sat there fantasizing that he turned and looked at me
through the diner window as I touched my breasts, the left and then
the right, massaging my soft mounds and bringing my nipples to hard
little nubs that pierced the fabric of my shirt. I squeezed my thighs
together, nearly pinching my clit in the folds of my tight jeans,
feeling my slickening crotch grow hotter and the sweet spoils that I
wanted him to have of me making my jeans wetter than what the rain had
already done.

	Sliding one hand between my shirt and skin I caressed my
stomach and moved my hand to unbutton my jeans. Without thinking, only
watching him, I slipped my hand into my jeans, feeling the curly hairs
so soft against my fingers, but moving onward until the tips of my
fingers touched my swelling clit, sending shivers through my body on
even this warm but wet night.

	So easily my hand continued to move downward until my fingers
had opened the passage of my tunnel and there they moved inward,
causing my hips to rise against them, making believe that it was him
that pushed to gain entrance into my most private parts. On instinct
and fantasy alone I continued the gyrating and rising of my hips,
working myself to a frenzy there on the bench along that dark city
street, the lamplights casting wicked shadows on me as I fingered
myself.

	I moved my other hand into my pants as well, rubbing my clit
and then up and down the length of my lips, spreading myself open so
that my fingers would not be hindered in their vie for penetration. I
was moaning softly and then more loudly as my climax approached,
bucking against my hand and fantasizing of him as I did so.

	As it hit my body and made me shudder and reach for a second
peak I opened my mouth to cry out in the ecstasy only to have my lips
covered by his and to feel his hand pull my own out of my jeans as he
moved his into them and thrust his fingers deep into my tunnel as it
contracted, released and clenched again, racking my body with the
pleasure of it.

	I fell back against the bench, his lips still covering my own
and felt as his tongue slid into my mouth, searching out my tongue.
Never had I dreamed his tongue would be so hot, so wanton. I could
only shake in the aftermath of my climaxes and give into him, allowing
him to find what he sought. Long and deep he kissed me like that, his
tongue twisting with mine and when he pulled away I gasped as he said,
"I've been watching you too."