Erotic story: In the spotlight

I can sense it as soon as I drop myself on the bed. He’s watching me. My eyes are fixed on the new security camera that was installed two days ago. It’s a fancy gadget he insisted on buying, to keep track of what’s happening at home via an app on his phone. He says it’s a precaution against burglars, but I doubt that. 

I keep looking into the camera as I slowly run my fingertips up my leg from my ankles. Within a split second, a message comes in asking me if I’m lying comfortably. Yes, I know him only too well. I playfully throw open my bathrobe and immediately feel tingling excitement shoot through my body. I’m turned-on. The idea of him watching suddenly gives me a sense of power. Especially since I know he’s just about to head into a meeting. 

I’m imagining him sitting behind his desk, turned-on, doing his best to hide his growing manhood. Nobody is supposed to see him getting harder and harder. The small beads of sweat running down his temples almost betraying him. This whole scene taking shape in my head, makes me feel warm. It makes my body tingle. 

I take another quick look at the camera and slowly hook my fingers under the edge of my panties and pull them down. Then I gently run my finger over my labia. The message coming through on my phone tells me I’ve caught his attention. I run my finger all the way up, to my mouth. Once there, I gently rub my bottom lip as if applying lip gloss. The salty taste of my wetness caresses my bottom lip. 

With my other hand, I grab my exposed nipple and start squeezing it gently. A moan escapes from my mouth. It’s a pity he can’t hear me, but he can definitely see me. A new message appears on my phone, letting me know that he is slowly going crazy. Now that’s exactly my intention. 

I lick my finger and then bring it back down. To the spot where it runs heated circles on my clit and moves even further down. I shortly press it between my labia. Then I let my legs fall further apart and push the bathrobe a little further to the side. I position myself just so that he has an excellent view on what’s happening between my legs. 

Moaning softly, I start fingering myself. My fingers take turns moving ever deeper in and out of me. Somewhere on the sheets, I hear my phone buzzing, but I don’t check it anymore. My focus is somewhere else now and my desire is too considerable to remove my fingers. I’d rather keep them they are right now. 

I tweak my nipple a little harder and do my best to press the thumb of my other hand against my clit. With every movement I make, the tip of my thumb maddeningly taps my most sensitive spot. I have to restrain myself from focusing all my attention on my clit. I don’t want this to end yet. 

My breathing is getting faster, I can’t control it anymore and just let it happen. My body seems to glow. My nipple feels bruised and I reach for the sheets. One phrase keeps echoing through my head like a mantra, over and over again: “he’s watching me.” 

I hear the buzzing again, and I’m still not looking. I’m totally absorbed in the moment. I consciously feel how my fingers are demanding more and more space. I enjoy the tingling feeling they evoke. I move my fingers back and forth, increasing their pressure. When I withdraw them, I feel drops of wetness running out of me in small waves. Running between my butt cheeks, down towards the sheets. To say I am wet would be an understatement. 

My clit, I have to touch that spot. I can barely hold it anymore. Pressing the tip of my finger on it, I start circling it wildly. The feeling is overwhelming. Without realizing it, the tension has already been building considerably. So much that I’m almost there. My toes start to curl and I struggle to keep my body under control. 

Full of desire, I pick up the pace. The heat quickly takes over and when my body starts to convulse, I cast a sultry look into the camera that hangs in the corner of the ceiling. I relax my fingers, gasping loudly as I try to recover from the orgasm that just thundered through me.

With a dry mouth and scratchy throat, I pick up my phone from the sheets and open the messages. The words I find there are exactly what I was hoping for. They are encouraging, telling me that he doesn’t know what to do with himself and, as I already thought, that he’s been secretly watching all my actions. 

With a cheeky grin on my face, I put my bathrobe back on and, just before leaving the bedroom, I give the camera a quick wave. He probably can’t wait to get home.