The extravagant hall glittered with successfull business people. Expensive drinks flowed in celebration of her success, and the air was filled with the sweet hum of accomplishment. Meanwhile, in a secluded room on the top floor-
"Please... Not now...
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As I head back to my room, I can't stop thinking about her—her surprised, wide-eyed expression, the way she clutched the water bottle to her chest, and how her skin flushed when I got close. It's intoxicating.
When I first heard the faint sound of someone in the kitchen, I thought it might be one of the household staff. Instead, I found her. The sight of her in those shorts and that top, without a bra, caught me off guard. I wasn't prepared for the wave of desire that hit me.
I know I shouldn't have teased her like that, but I couldn't resist. She looked so adorably flustered. And when I said those things, part of me was curious to see how she'd react. Would she push me away or...?
Back in my room, I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind races, and my body still tingles from our brief contact. I remember the first time I saw her all bare. I had accidentally walked into her room, and the sight stunned me. I couldn't move or speak. She was left embarrassed and hurt. It took her more than a week to meet my eyes and speak to me again. She was a teenager then, grappling with her own insecurities. She wasn't fat, but she was chubby and cute, which made her feel self-conscious among her thin friends.
Perhaps that's why she later joined the gym, transforming from the cute, bubbly girl next door into a sexy siren. I never understood her obsession with meeting society's beauty standards. To me, she was always the prettiest, the sexiest.
I open Instagram on my phone. I hardly ever use the app and never post anything. I just use it to stalk her. Various images and short videos of her appear on the screen. She looks stunning in every shot. As I scroll through her posts, the sight of her enchanting poses and radiant smile quickens my heartbeat. My body responds with a familiar stirring in my pants. I try to shake off the feeling, but the want is strong. I exhale heavily unable to escape the intoxicating grip she has on me.
I walk into the washroom, stripping off my clothes as I go. Turning the shower on, I step under the stream of water. My hand instinctively moves to hold my hard mass. My mind replays the images of her intensifying my arousal. With a sigh, I give in to the sensation, my hand moving of its own accord.
I close my eyes, imagining being buried inside her while she clings to me, whimpering my name as I take us to the height of pleasure. I continue stroking my dick fast, and I soon find my release.
Leaning against the cool tiles, I exhale deeply. Why does she have this effect on me? Even though I've met a lot of women, there's something unique about her. Maybe it's the way she challenges me, or maybe it's how she melts at my touch yet stands her ground, or it may be because she is forbidden.
After what feels like an eternity, I turn off the shower and dry myself off before leaving the washroom. I quickly grab the first pair of boxers I find in my wardrobe and walk to my bed. I toss and turn for some time; eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I fall asleep.
