Sometimes you just have to know.

Every morning she sips her cappuccino with a work colleague and wrinkles her nose as she laughs at something inconsequential.

I have to know.

We make eye contact with enough of a hint of a smile crossing our faces while my mind strangely imagines her walking down the aisle in nothing but a veil that barely hides her beautiful backside.

I whisper something.

She takes my hand and we find a room.

I watch as she touches herself for me.

She cums, and yes, her nose wrinkles as she does.

I had to know.