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Ellenor meets the man of her dreams.
I should have said that but now it would seem that I don't want him looking.
I've just missed a stop. I've got to relax my legs a bit. I've got them clenched together like a frightened virgin on a bus full of drunken football hooligans.
Fuck look at her legs twitching, and now she is easing them apart a bit. I bet she's fucking wet right now. She is a tease, and to be honest this is making my head hurt. I just want one touch, but she'd jump a mile, or would she?
You see I've read her diary, diary, don't make me laugh, it's full of sex. All her thoughts and sexy things, and while I don't like reading I couldn't put it down. It's on her beside cabinet. I was bone hard after two pages that's what reading it did to me. Then I opens the cupboard underneath, and there's another 5 books with dates, from and to, on the cover. Okay they were in the cupboard, but her latest one was on show, a bit like her silky thighs right now.
She is taunting you Geoffrey Baker, whether she knows it or not, she is doing all this to tease you. Well there's no sign of pretty boy, I reckon she wore him out lunchtime.
Oh this is magical, almost heaven sent if you believe in all that stuff. The only thing I like about church is the lead on the roof, that's made me a tidy few quid. The trick is to nick it, leave it a few weeks, and then bump into the vicar. Then tell him I happen to notice he is missing some lead, and I know a mate in the trade who can help him out. A week or two later the vicar pays up for same lead going back on the very roof it came from. So heaven sent or not, things are getting even better, we are stuck in a traffic jam on a bridge now.
Now what, why the hell have we stopped here? People are straining in their seats to see why we're stuck up here, but not the guy next to me, oh no, he's quite happy with the view he's got right next to him, both of my stocking tops! Well I suppose this is my fault. Mind you, I'm getting used to being forced to show my stocking tops off to him now. He is sat on my coat, so I can't cover my thighs. One thing is for sure, I bet he doesn't tell his wife when he fucks her that he has my stocking tops on his mind. It must be torture for him sat there with me like this, a dirty disgusting workman the type that whistle in the streets as I walk by. They know we hear it, and most of us ignore it. But I wonder how many of them would like to know how many of us like to hear it? A group of dirty workmen, with their thoughts of getting their disgusting sweaty cocks in me, yummy!
Oh we're off again, and I'm starting to enjoy this a little more. My heart is still thumping and my palms are a little sweaty, but it is different now, now I'm thinking sexy thoughts. I wonder how he would react if I crossed my legs? I'd make him notice too, if he didn't see it he'd hear the nylon rub together.
I still haven't looked at him, and to be honest I don't want to. But I can see his hand on his leg, it's huge. It looks rough too, real workers hands. His knuckles look big and a little swollen, sort of like a boxer when they take their gloves off after a fight.
I can understand why women are used in films to get information out of spies. I mean looking at her right now I'd spill the beans about anything. She's sat there all stuck up and like she isn't doing anything wrong.
I slip my hand to the side of my leg, I only have to move it a few inches and I can touch her skirt, maybe pull it open a bit more. Or I could just grab it and rip it right open, and help myself to her love box. I bet she shaves it, or has someone come round to wax it for her, probably the latter. Some poor little bitch has to do it for her. I'd do it for her, and I wouldn't piss about. Slap it on and rip it off.
She hasn't noticed that my knuckle is on her skirt.