Photo by Mark Velasquez


She had always caught my eye, in fact I returned to the bookstore time and again just to catch a glimpse, to feel her gaze on me.

On my first visit I knew, instinctively, that this quiet, shy woman had so much more to offer than she chose to present to the world outside.

And I saw countless times how she was ignored, passed over and dismissed by the brainless and the brash.

Her charm was obvious to me, the classic beauty, carefully selected clothes harking back to a more refined age and oh the delicate shimmer of her breast beneath the sheer material of her blouse.

It was subtle and required attention but I knew, could almost taste how ripe this woman was, ready to be drawn out, to be teased to reveal the glorious slut I knew was within her.

And here now in her flat, which was as tiny and demure as she seemed, I watched the transformation begin.

As her hands reached for the first button, her fingers fumbling over sliding it through the delicate fabric, I could see the change flow through her.

My commands had been harsh and she responded as I expected, not from fear but from a realisation that this is what she wanted, that this was her desire.

And as I directed her hands, to reveal finally those breasts that I had admired for so long, I watched her transform.

Still shy, head turned, unable to face me but her body betrayed her. Nipples fiercely erect, goosebumps rising, chest heaving. I could see her inner desire, the powerful slut overcoming her quiet self.

And I knew when I told her to spread her legs wide for me, to part her lips and coat her fingers in her glistening need, she would be drenched and her groan would be long, loud and true.

And my quiet shy bookworm’s transition to the thing we both knew she needed to become would have begun. And I, for one, would enjoy the journey.

Words by You Make Me Need You.

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