And you smile. And as you lick your lips this time, letting me see – your tongue, teasing over your lower lip – and then biting gently at your lower lip – you whisper…
“Go on, Mr Jenkin… – you want to stroke that cock for me now, don’t you? Mmmm – stroke it – nice slow, smooth strokes…”
And as your eyes drop – to my hand – …
And as my hand starts to move -…
“I want to see you stroke it – just like you were lying here, alone with my picture. Do you imagine me, kneeling just like this…? When you lie here, alone, stroking your big, hard cock, do you imagine me… – am I touching myself, like this girl here, as you make yourself…
“…as you make yourself… –
“make yourself…”
– a deliberate, anticipatory pause. Licking your lips wetly…
“…make yourself… –
“Cum…”
“Well? Do you imagine me there – like-that- touching myself, as you cum? You do cum don’t you? Nice hard messy orgasm, thinking about me, touching, as you stroke?”
This last sentence is delivered in a breathy whisper, as you watch – unblinking, from my hand, now stroking – up-and-down, up-and-down – to my face…
“Oh .. you – I.. I do, yes….” – through lust-thickened tones.
“Mmm – good – ..and what do you think about, as you do… – as you do cum…? Do you think about me… – touching you? Or…sucking you? Or…”
– and you pause, as you flip the page in the magazine with one hand, your other hand absentmindedly cupping one breast, fingers stroking up and down along the edge of the bikini triangle.
“Ahh…”
“Ahh – I see…”
– as you look back up – a satisfied smile, almost smug in your understanding now – from the picture on the next page, the centerfold of the magazine. And without looking I know what the photo is of. It’s taken from more directly above the dark-haired model – … her head thrown back, eyes half closed, red-painted-lips parted. Convincingly portrayed as lost in her orgasm, her one hand still deep between her thighs, the other reaching up toward the camera, slim hand grasping a long, shiny, hard thick penis… – and thick, wet, glistening streams of cum, pearly white against her tanned skin, ssmeared over her chin and splashed over her breasts.
“That’s it, is it, Mr Jenkin? You imagine me kneeling, making myself cum, as you stroke yourself, huh? Naughty, naughty Mr Jenkin – you ARE so bad…
“So – …”
Biting your lip again…
“…so, cum for me now, Mr Jenkin… Cum, imagining me like that. Touching myself. Cumming for you…”
“I… – I.. – I’m not sure I can…”
– my eyes closed – …in that bizarre wanton-needing-to-cum moment, stalled at the three-quarter mark…
Opening my eyes – I’m speechless again, as I adjust – the sun still bright behind you, a moment to realize – to see the bikini top, silently unknotted whilst my eyes were closed, hanging now around your waist – … your left hand tugging gently – pinching, really – rolling your nipple between finger and thumb – …making you arch your back, as the fingers of your right hand tease downward, through your dark pubes, which are visible above the edge of your bunched bikini bottoms.
“Mmm – yes. You want to watch me, as you stroke, don’t you? Mmmm – you want to… – Mmmm – to… to…”