I have been a busy Impy over the last few days and got a new wee work opportunity so have been preoccupied in the design world. I missed doing the Flash Fiction Friday and I am squeezing a MicrofantasyMonday in all in one hehe.

Enjoy …

I’m no saint. Infact I wonder what you would be thinking if you knew that underneath this flimsy summer dress of mine I have no panties on. Underneath this dress are milky white thighs and a very wet cunt. I’ve been watching you all afternoon and now it’s evening.

I see you.

I do.

I imagine you bending me over a desk and doing what you do best.

Peering over the stack of books and paperwork piled high around you almost like you are lay in wait in your personal lair. You have done so for the past few days, you keep coming back. Perhaps you are waiting for me to come closer until I get near enough for you to pounce.  Those turquoise eyes watching, studying me. I see the animal inside of you, the one with the claws, the ferocity, the wildness. The animal that would make me gasp if you laid your hands on me and impaled me with your hard cock.

Instead of a den you surround yourself in amongst words, dreams and visions. Wisps of knowledge, lore and history seep from your fingertips. You immerse yourself in this strange study of Hagiography, studying the saints like you need to find some kind of redemption from yourself. I know this because I too, study you.

You watch my every move, glancing away when I stare back. I wander about the shelves, fingering the occasional spine of a book, pretending I am looking for something when in reality I am completely focused on the heat building between my legs. I like to tease you. Near glimpses of what lays beneath that thin material of my dress. I turn a corner so I am out of your view. I grab a book off the shelf, randomly flick the pages open and it is then, I see what I am looking at. The mating rituals of a swan. I stifle a giggle, of all the books I had to grab this one. For a moment I lose myself in the words on the page …”Swans usually mate for life, remaining together through the year, but “divorces” have been known, and if one of a pair dies, the survivor usually seeks out a new mate, and the pair remain devoted…”

I don’t notice you have left your lair.

I don’t notice you creeping up ever so quietly behind me.

It’s late, there’s no one about the library at this time of the night you know that because you’ve been here all week watching me. I do notice you when the hairs on my neck stand to attention at the hot breath snaking across the back of my neck. I dare not look just in case I am imagining things, but my cunt now twitches. I know it is you, without a doubt. I fear to turn around and see the beast in your eyes. You push against me, I know you are hard. You whisper in my ear …

“If you need some help studying mating rituals I am sure I could oblige you. I make an excellent teacher …”

Your hand slides down the small of my back in a determined fashion. You pause, a hand snakes behind the nape of my neck grabbing a fistful of hair. I can feel your heat, I can smell the sex in you. I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks when the other hand travels to below my dress where you find my slutty secret. I do gasp, just as I knew I would.

No, I’m no saint. I move with your hand in my hair to face you and smile.

Yes, there is a beast within, but is it you or is it me?

I lean forward and catch your lips with my teeth and bite a little. My eyes glazed I stare back at you and reply.

“Why yes, I think I do need some help”.