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Anal

Up until a week ago, my morning routine was always the same. I’d brush my teeth waiting for the kettle to boil and make myself a cup of instant coffee. The view from my window-seat always made me relaxed and thoughtful, so I’d sip my coffee there. While looking down onto the street I would have that feeling of waking up together with the city, being a part of it. I’d watch parked cars drive off, smartly dressed people pace their way to work, shops and cafes opening their eyelids. I’d especially love that wee cafe across the street waking up from its overnight rest. The owner, a tiny ginger girl, always arrives just before 6:30am and wrestles with heavy security blinds. The rattle is unbelievable almanbahis and probably wakes up the whole street. I feel as if watching this is just as important part of my morning, as my coffee. So anyway, the owner wrestles with the lock, but then usually flips up the metal barrier in one swift move. After she drags inside the deliveries of milk and newspapers, she disappears inside to continue her pre-opening routine. I usually watch this whole spectacle, and by this point my coffee is most of the time luke warm, often untouched. To be honest, I don’t even like instant coffee anyway, since it doesn’t have a smell. One early morning, few days ago, the noise of cafe’s shutters woke me up. I was convinced almanbahis yeni giriş that I overslept, since the noise always marked the 6:30am, so I jumped out of bed immediately. It was only after I brushed my teeth, that I looked at the clock – I was not only not late, but in fact I woke up about an hour early. Oh well, I thought, the cafe must have opened earlier today. I thought I might just as well take my time since it’s unlikely I would fall asleep again. So I made my way to the window seat with my vile coffee, and looked down onto the cafe, just to see something that made me freeze, and then smile. At first, through the window I could see ginger hair held tight by someone’s almanbahis giriş hand. Then I recognised the face of the cafe’s owner as she was suddenly turned over and that same hand grabbed her uncovered boob, pinching on its tip. The expression on her face was euphoric and painful in a happy sort of way. I watched shamelessly this mesmerising spectacle; not only did they fuck so passionately, but also any casual pedestrian could witness it. Or maybe passion and voyeurism were connected, if being seen was their kink. Assuming that, I felt no need to stop watching them. I was certainly happy I was there, as I realised that I was getting quite aroused indeed. My hand moved towards the buttons of my jeans. I started touching myself, looking at them, trying to deduce what exactly was happening a few floors down. I masturbated slowly, waves of warmth making their way up and down my body, when I realised that she was looking at me.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32