She added a second and then a third and began fingering herself. She could see him stroking his cock and she tried to match her hand speed to his. She rubbed her clit and moaned as she worked herself toward an orgasm. She strained to see if she could get a look at The Watcher’s face, but shadows and window glare from the windowpanes prevented it. She had three fingers working and was so lost in the lust of the moment that she didn’t hear the shower stop running. She felt someone get on the bed with her and she panicked. Oh Jesus, he had somehow rushed over and managed to get across the street and into her room. Her eyes snapped open and she saw Kamal looking down at her and stroking his erection. She reached for it, took it in her hand and drew him toward her. She cried out so loud when her husband entered her that she was sure The Watcher heard her.She looked over Kamal’s shoulder and saw that The Watcher was still there and his hand was a blur on his cock and she had the quickest. The end always came when I could no longer contain the hardness of mylittle penis inside the tight panties and I would lay on my mother's bedto masturbate.The images that ran through my mind as I pleasured myself were alwayssimilar. Sometimes I imagined that I was an underwear model marching infront of a crowd that looked at me with admiration and desire, but most ofthe times I dreamed that I was my own mother. I imagined myself walkingaround the house half-naked like she used to, or sunbathing on the beachwearing a minimal bikini with all eyes fixed on my barely covered ass.After some time this ritual became routine, I started to feel the need formore, my curiosity had been woken up and I wanted to know more about womenand sex. Until then I was not very interested in the topic, in fact, Iwould always escape from it when it became part of any conversations, Ididn't like to talk about it, as I said before, I was very shy and selfconscious.At the time I thought that the only way I had.
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