The Collector
“They were more like silky smooth balloons really. Beautifully round balloons with large pert peaks that just invited an extra blow.
From this distance the watcher was unable to hear the moans and sighs that they knew would be emanating from her slightly parted lips, although they could clearly see the sweaty moisture that had gathered around her full mouth.
Lying on her back, head tilted slightly, legs flat but parted, the watcher held their breath as the blonde’s manicured fingers ran over her own tits. Completely unaided, she was slowly pushing herself to the point of no return. She was obviously in no hurry, and the watcher was grateful.
Adjusting their sweat dampened clothing, the watcher pondered the contents of the showgirl’s dirty mind. Perhaps she was lying on a four poster bed in a beautiful room, tied up, being beaten by a man in black. Perhaps, in her imagination, she was being rubbed up against a tree, deep within a thick forest, her perfect skin snagging against the bark.
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