I can feel his eyes on me, burning into my barely covered ass as I stand here in the garden. The sun is warm on my skin, and the soft breeze plays with the ribbon tie at my waist, teasing him with glimpses of what’s underneath. I know he’s watching, his cock probably hard and aching, as he imagines what it would be like to touch me, to fuck me right here in the open. But he can’t, not without my permission. And I’m enjoying this power, this control, as I slowly turn, giving him just a hint of what he’s missing.
The Thrill of Being Watched
I remember the first time he saw me like this, the way his eyes widened and his breath caught. It was a rush, knowing I had that effect on him. Now, it’s a game we play, a dance of desire and denial. I can almost hear his thoughts, the way he’s imagining my pussy, wet and ready, just for him. But he knows better than to touch, to take what isn’t freely given. And that’s what makes it so sweet, so delicious. The anticipation, the longing, the promise of what’s to come. It’s a torture, yes, but one we both crave.







