It's the first day of Spring! I love this day. Anticipating its arrival, longing for it, attempting to bring it on by sheer will alone. The sun is shining through the glass of the shop door; I can sense that she will be in soon to get her Spring pedicure so she can start wearing open-toed heels again.
The door chimes, and she steps in. I hold my breath as I turn to look. Sunlight is shining through the white sun dress with the pale-pink flowers, giving me the silhouette of her muscular legs; I can see the faint shadow of where her upper thighs are forming the stem of the little heart shape of her personal flower. The dress is split up the side of the right leg, exposing much more of the upper thigh than most women would be confident enough to wear out in public. Her incredible beauty and self-confidence allow her to wear these sheer, transparent dresses that she reserves for the Spring and Summer months.
I know her favorite color of polish. I already have it out awaiting her grand entrance; a small smile forms on her pretty face when she notices it at my station. Her three inch heels click on the tiles as she slowly approaches. The upper thigh flashes out of the split with each methodical, determined step. She is intentionally keeping my focus on her long legs silhouetted by the bright Spring sunlight behind her. Such is the game that we have been playing for the last few years. I know the unsaid, unwritten rules of this game well. What I don’t know is, “Are we playing this for her benefit or mine?”
I position myself strategically to the side of the recliner, chosen so it will give me the most advantageous view of her offering as she settles into the chair. I offer my left hand to assist her as the right leg steps over the footrest of the recliner; the feather-light material of the flowing dress falls away from the outstretched leg, exposing the entire upper and inner thigh.
I chose my position perfectly; I was rewarded with a momentary flash of her panty-less vagina with the little tuft of blonde pubic hair above the already swollen outer labia. My semi-erect penis responds, instantly growing harder with the increased blood flow. My tight khaki shorts don’t have a chance of concealing my aroused state; I intentionally wore these shorts as my contribution to this annual game of ours. Just tight enough to satisfy her voyeuristic needs as my six-and-a-half inches expands down my upper left thigh.
Once seated, we exchange pleasantries about the gorgeous weather we are having now that the horrible winter has relented. She is normally not much of a conversationalist; today is no different. She wants to get the “Show” on the road. Her thighs are opening wider, fractionally every second as she begins to ignore me and scroll through her phone. I have no idea what she is focused on: social media sites or surfing porn?
Honestly, at this point of the game I don’t care what she is looking at because I am looking at the most beautiful sight of the season. The sun spilling into the shop behind me is reflecting off her puffy, swollen, glistening wet outer labia. The crimson red clitoris is exposed from the hood, throbbing with each of her heartbeats.
The vision nearly takes my breath away; my heart skips a beat just like every other time she has performed this Spring ritual. My cock is at full attention, painfully straining against my too tight khakis. Already displaying my aroused wetness, the outline of my engorged head taking shape. I intentionally didn’t wear underwear today, knowing that my pre-cum would saturate the material and expose what I had to offer as a simple little display of my appreciation.
I feel her looking at me absorbing her beauty; I glance up to make eye contact, a momentary connection as her gaze lowers to my swollen cock. I wish I could show her more, but know that would be breaking the rules. My heart pounds in my chest; the head of my cock straining against the tight material of the khakis, throbbing and pumping out pre-cum that changes my shorts to almost transparent. A slow, knowing, satisfied smile forms, and she returns to whatever she is looking at on the phone.
The stage is set. It is time to go to work on the task at hand. I make a slight adjustment to her right foot; bringing it closer to the center of the footrest. Her knee shifts to the outside. I do the same with her left foot with the same results, gaining separation of the thighs that begin to open the outer lips of her pussy. The sunlight sparkles on a single drop of her sex descending the pink inner folds like a highly polished diamond. The clitoris is completely exposed now, protruding a full half an inch from the hood, twitching and throbbing, breathing on its own desire.
Her flower is on full display for me now, completely aroused by the exhibition of her sexuality and my voyeuristic appreciation that my pre-cum soaked khakis are giving in return. I can barely focus on the “actual” task that I am supposed to perform as I begin to apply polish to her naked toenails. The descending drop of her sex is increasing in size as it cascades through the pink, glistening petals. I can smell the faint scent of her sweet, musky arousal wafting on the air. My tongue darts out of my lips involuntarily, desperate for a taste.
She notices my reaction, graciously opens her upper thighs wider and begins to flex her Kegel muscles. Dozens of droplets of her sex start to descend the wet folds; the outer lips begin to open and close, breathing as if they were trying to suck my hard cock in deep. We both know this will never happen. Neither of us are willing to break the cardinal rule of this exquisite annual game, not willing to ruin it forever. I am rewarded with the increased scent of her obvious aroused state; the glistening droplet of her sex descends out of the opened pink lower lips to begin the transition across the little area between her opening and the little puckered bud beneath as a flowing stream. Again, my tongue has a mind of its own, desperately lapping at the sex-saturated air, my simulated attempt to capture her nectar.
She notices my movement, her mischievous grin displaying her satisfaction. Her eyes lower to my displayed appreciation; I open my thighs to give her a better look at my hard cock, encased in the pre-cum soaked khaki material. The ridge of the swollen head is clearly visible, the faint outline of the veins descending my shaft are taking shape. My heart is pounding in my chest, pumping more blood to the throbbing head trapped in my khakis. A large droplet of my sex forms on the outer surface, sparkling in the sunlight, increasing in size faster than the material can absorb.
Her tongue darts out of her red lips for a simulated taste that she can not have; the disappointment is obvious in her expressive eyes. They close, lost to her own imagination as her lips open to expose the hidden tongue. Her breathing is increasing, sucking in air with the imaginary sucking of the swollen head of my cock. Her cunt is opening and closing in perfect time with her mouth, the stream of her sex has become a river cascading over the falls of the cute little ass, creating a pool on the vinyl recliner.
The door chimes as another client enters the shop, signaling the end of this exquisite game. Her knees begin to come together, slowly closing the gap of her creamy thighs, casting a shadow on the Spring Flower until it disappears entirely.
Disappointment and despair washes over me, but is replaced quickly with the knowledge that she will return with her flower next Spring. With a new dress and open-toed heels, eager to display her glorious beauty for my eyes alone.
