Women Seeking Women #72

I backed off from the computer. Heart thumping against my ribs. Screen glowing like it had something to prove. She was leaning over his desk, skirt pushed up past her hips, the fabric bunched like an afterthought. He had two fingers buried in her, slow and deliberate, and she was pushing back on them, greedy for it. The timestamp stared at me in white numbers: 05-20-2011. Fuck. She must've been planning it for weeks. Pants open at the front, hard cock already slick at the head where she'd sucked him. Her mouth left a wet ring, mascara smudged, lips parted like she'd forgotten how to close them. He grabbed her by the hair, twisted it tight, bent her lower. Pressed the tip against her cunt and held her there a second, teasing her, making her wait. She made a sound that punched through the cheap speakers. The angle let me see everything: the way she spread around him, how the muscles in his forearm flexed when he shoved in all the way on the first thrust. I stayed watching. Chair creaking under me, heat crawling up my neck. The light from the monitor made the whole thing look dirtier. More real. She was gripping the edge of the desk now, knuckles white, and he didn't bother with rhythm. Just pounded into her. Hard. My hand moved without permission. Breath shallow. Caught. Again.