The things of legends.
A tight poonani is a happy poonani. Or a happy man. A happy someone!!! Who cares!!
Tell me you aren’t saying that line out loud while at work. Wait a moment, who am I kidding!!! I hope to hell you are!
Well lets go back a few days shall we?
I was getting ready for work the other morning when I discovered there was a friend online. For some unknown reason this man has the uncanny ability to drive me over the edge. I mean lucky man. Or would it be lucky me? Hummm…. Well it doesn’t matter. Lucky someone!!
But this was not a day to be lucky mind you. I woke so terribly turned on that morning. I woke with my finger reminding my clit that just because it is has a lovely bundle of nerves clustered right there it don’t matter. That it is my finger that morning had all the power. My pants were no where to be found (I found them later they had been tossed under my bed. I guess my sleeping self decided that pants were bad news), the blankets about my knees, which were spread wide, and oh so wet. Since that day was a work day; it meant an early shower as the weather was turning and well, it really is not a good idea to go about with a wet anything let alone hair. So I dashed off to shower and there wasn’t a lot of hot water in the tank so it was a fate of lukewarm water in a minus two degree apartment. Gooseflesh on a horny woman just drove me more insane and I couldn’t do anything about it.
Jumping into some clothes, crawling back under my blankets trying to warm up while applying lotion, I turned to my computer and started to chat with a friend. Then he popped up.
The very bad, bad, bad man. And I mean bad in a good way of course. We got to chatting. He sent a part of a new story and I got teased and tortured at he same time. Oh my god. I am one for instant gratification when it comes to “sins of the flesh” I tell you. I love being turned on as much as the next person, but this was beyond normal. This was insane. This was like King Kong of being turned on. The Godzilla destroying Tokyo. Not the Big Foot or the Tinkerbell’s of being turned on. This was more of the blinding, lust crazed, I cannot think of anything else but dropping my pants in the middle of a lesson, legs up on the desk, fingers going wild who the hell cares if my students are watching I need relief and I need it NOW kind.
It was one of those where my mind went to places it shouldn’t. Sex with any man who looked at me kind. Student, teacher, taxi driver, that police man at the roundabout, the gate guard. Hell, even women were looking pretty good that day.
And I’m straight. A least mostly straight. A friend of mine said it best, ‘Honey, I’m bi for the right person.’ oh so true.
There was a time or two through my lessons where I caught myself crossing my legs, tilting my hips so that thick seam in my jeans pressed against my clit.