u/BrendaEvaMartin

She opened the flat door and walked into the small hallway.  There was a white sheet spread across the corridor and below it a naked man knelt.  His full erection standing at right angles to his body.

They had agreed not to speak.  This was the first anonymous gloryhole encounter for them both.

She stripped out of her clothes in haste.  The excitement and nerves making it difficult for her to focus on anything but the naked kneeling man.

It was a beautiful and erotic sight. 

His smooth, toned body kneeling on the floor waiting to give her pleasure.

This was the fantasy he posted online.  Private glory hole for female use.  And one of her long-time secret fantasies so when she saw the post, she was too excited to let the opportunity pass without at least chatting online with him.

After a few weeks of exchanging messages, checking that the other person wasn’t a crazy person, discussing logistics, timings and expectations they agreed to meet tonight.

And now she was stood naked in a strangers’ hallway while he was naked on the other side of a thin sheet.

Now, wasn’t the time to be shy, she thought to herself, you are here now.

She was touched when she noticed that he’d laid a soft grey towel over the chair for her so that she would be more comfortable.

Sitting down on the chair, her knees lined up with the sheet and she slid the chair forward. And forward again. Until her belly was almost pressing up against the sheet.

Spreading her legs apart, she was suddenly aware of how exposed she was. 

A stranger she had never seen was getting an eye full of her pussy.

Barely a moment passed before she felt his hand gently stroking her and all anxious thoughts melted away and were replaced by pleasure.  The pleasure of his gentle strokes through the folds and lips of her pussy. Up through her core and over her clit.

He placed her feet on top of his thighs to make her more comfortable and kissed the inside of her legs.

It was a surprisingly tender moment.

Lightly peppering the inside of her thighs with kisses he worked his way from her knees to her pussy, kissing as he went, trailing his finger tips behind the kisses. Building an anticipation of things to come.

When he eventually settled between her legs she was so overcome with arousal her first orgasm came quickly as he licked and sucked her clit.

The second orgasm was not going to come as easily but his enthusiasm for devouring her was too much to resist.

Sitting forward in the chair she lifted the sheet above her breasts and presented them to him.  He eagerly took her nipples in his mouth in turn, sucking them hard and making her arch reflexively against the sharp pleasure her gave her.

With his hands on her breasts, he went back to licking her pussy enthusiastically.  It was as though her couldn’t get enough of her. That in itself was intoxicating.

A stranger wanted to taste her with abandon.

And then his fingers were inside her.

The fingers of both hands.

His thumbs taking turns rubbing over her clit.

She could hear the squelching wet sounds from her pussy and she didn’t care. She was enjoying the attention, the delicious attention and she wondered if a second orgasm might just be working it’s way to the surface.

It would be unusual for her, she was usually one and done.

Rising on to one knee he reached forward and put her leg over his.  His dripping cock brushing against her.  She wished she could see it, hard and bouncing with his movements but she was too far gone in the current of her own pleasure to move.

With one hand gripping her butt and the other inside her he began to plunge his fingers inside her.  Pounding her with his fingers might be a more apt description.  She didn’t know whether it was his arousal or hers demanding it but she wanted it, harder and faster and deeper and more.  Continuing until she lost control and the second orgasm overwhelmed her.

Head resting on the back of the chair, her butt barely holding on to the edge, her body twitched and reverberated with the orgasm he had finger fucked from her.

She lay twitching for a few minutes, while he got up and went into a bedroom.  Their glory hole time was finished.

Getting dressed and gathering her things together she left his flat.  Satisfied, very happy and thinking what a wonderful first glory hole experience that had been.

 

She is lying face down on the massage table in his spare room.   

Naked under the towel, except for the butt plug hidden between her cheeks.  

Her partner had suggested she wear it throughout the session, and the request had sparked equal parts excitement and nerves. She had selected a tapered one before leaving home, curious, apprehensive, and increasingly aware that crossing London suddenly felt far more adventurous than usual. 

As he comes back into the room, they begin to chat. Folding the towel lengthways over her body, she is suddenly very aware that her butt cheek and plug are now exposed.  

She can hear the slick sound of the oil in his hands as he rubs them together, warming it for her and wonders if he’s also looking at the plug.   

He starts with long, rhythmic strokes across her back and shoulders before gradually working down to her legs and eventually her bare cheek. As he massages her, her attention drifts to the unfamiliar sensation of the plug shifting beneath the pressure when he says, “Nice butt plug.” 

 “Thank you” she replies, what else is she supposed to say she wonders to herself.   

His hands are moving up and down her body in a rhythm which is relaxing and sweeping her up into the experience.   

Covering her body, he moves around the table to start on the other side.  Also exposing her butt.  Saying nothing, they chat a little until his hand slides between her legs.   

Fingers gliding over her pussy and circling her clit with the oil making everything slick, drawing gasps from her. It is an exquisite feeling as he slides his fingers inside her and over her clit, then back up through her pussy before repeating the action again.    

All the while he is rubbing her back, and butt and legs with his other hand.  The duality and contrasting touch takes her deeper into the moment.   

“You are so wet” he says.    

She’s a little surprised, it’s difficult to differentiate the feelings with all the oil he’s massaging into her body, the plug and the sensation of being completely full.   

He tapped the base of the plug, then twisted and rotated it slowly. The motion sent strange, intense sparks through her. Pulling it partway out and sliding it back in made her moan. He kept rubbing her pussy at the same time, building her arousal until a slow, powerful orgasm rolled through her body.  

Blindfolding her, he asks her to turn over again, so she is facing upwards.  

Rolling the towel down to her waist positions himself behind her head and starts to massage her breasts and down her belly to her pussy, massaging her breasts and pinching her nipples until they stiffened. 

It is a lovely feeling, she loves having her breasts massaged and oiled and her nipples played with.   

Turning her over again and rolling the towel down past her bottom he says, “that is a very spankable bottom.”  

Giggling she replies, “I did wonder where your nickname came from.” 

“Would you like to be spanked,” he asks.  

“Yes,” comes out quicker than she expects. 

There is no hesitation.  Just a confident yes. 

He starts with firm slaps on her bare cheeks, alternating sides and varying the placement to keep her guessing. Each impact sends a sharp sting that blooms into warmth, mixing with the arousal already pulsing through her from the massage and the plug nestled deep in her ass. 

She’s lying on the massage table a little surprised at herself.  Both for saying yes, and for enjoying it.   

She’s already aroused from the massage and now, the contrast with the hard spanks on her bottom is creating a new sensation.  One she’s not familiar with but is enjoying nonetheless.    

He says, “Shall we count to 20.”  

Her only reply is, “Yes.”   

She counts aloud as he suggests reaching twenty, her voice steady at first but trembling by the eighth and ninth strikes. Her body arches off the table involuntarily, hips lifting as if chasing or fleeing the next slap.  

It feels ridiculous yet feral, primal in a way that surprises her. His hand presses firmly on her upper back, pinning her down and heightening the submissive rush.  

By fourteen and fifteen, her counting is barely audible and is becoming a struggle as heat builds across her reddening skin. There's pleasure in the contrast, the sharp spanks against her already sensitive, oiled flesh creating a new, unfamiliar edge she craves. 

Counting is surprisingly hard.   

When he reaches 20 spanks she is exhilarated.  It’s an unexpected feeling, and as she lays flat on the bed, she notices she is gripping the inside of the face hole on the bed.   

What use that was she doesn’t know.   

As his hands start to move over her body again, stroking her back, he asks, “Shall we count to 20 again.” 

“Yes.”  

Yes?  Why did she say yes? She wonders.    

Is she just wanting to please him?   

Is she enjoying it?   

She doesn’t know any of the answers.  It could be all, it could be none. She doesn’t know much beyond this moment.   

The second set lands harder, her arches more pronounced as she grips the edges of the table. The plug shifts slightly with each movement, adding pressure that grounds her even as the spanking pushes her further into that feral headspace. 

It probably looks like a ridiculous sight, arching her body away from the table as each spank lands.   

At the end of her second set of 20 spanks.  He stops.  

She can feel him studying her flushed ass for a long moment before instructing her to turn onto her back. She hesitates, aware of how the plug will press against the table and wondering if more spanks are coming. 

Butterflying her legs open, he stands level with her exposed pussy, making her feel deeply vulnerable.  

Are there more spanks?  Does she like this thought, she thinks she might.  Will he put his hand on her throat to hold her in place as he does?   

His fingers reach down to stroke her folds slowly, sliding inside her slick heat and fingering her deeply. She writhes on the table, the dual sensations of his probing digits and the plug overwhelming her. 

"Relax and let the orgasm wash over you," he says in that steady voice, "but hold onto the butt plug. Don't let it slip."  

Oddly, the instruction steadies her. Something about having one simple thing to focus on narrows the world again, quieting thought in ways she hadn’t expected. For a while, there is only concentration, breath, and the strange relief of not needing to think too much. 

Turning her focus to obeying as he rubs her clit in firm circles while thrusting his fingers in and out. She feels the build-up intensify, her body trembling as she fights to keep the plug secure amid the waves of pleasure crashing through her.  

Afterwards, she feels undone by the whole experience, exhausted, exhilarated, and slightly bewildered by the quiet, inconvenient truth that she had enjoyed far more of the afternoon than she ever expected to. 

  

  

 

She is lying face down on the massage table in his spare room.   

Naked under the towel, except for the butt plug hidden between her cheeks.  

Her partner had suggested she wear it throughout the session, and the request had sparked equal parts excitement and nerves. She had selected a tapered one before leaving home, curious, apprehensive, and increasingly aware that crossing London suddenly felt far more adventurous than usual. 

As he comes back into the room, they begin to chat. Folding the towel lengthways over her body, she is suddenly very aware that her butt cheek and plug are now exposed.  

She can hear the slick sound of the oil in his hands as he rubs them together, warming it for her and wonders if he’s also looking at the plug.   

He starts with long, rhythmic strokes across her back and shoulders before gradually working down to her legs and eventually her bare cheek. As he massages her, her attention drifts to the unfamiliar sensation of the plug shifting beneath the pressure when he says, “Nice butt plug.” 

 “Thank you” she replies, what else is she supposed to say she wonders to herself.   

His hands are moving up and down her body in a rhythm which is relaxing and sweeping her up into the experience.   

Covering her body, he moves around the table to start on the other side.  Also exposing her butt.  Saying nothing, they chat a little until his hand slides between her legs.   

Fingers gliding over her pussy and circling her clit with the oil making everything slick, drawing gasps from her. It is an exquisite feeling as he slides his fingers inside her and over her clit, then back up through her pussy before repeating the action again.    

All the while he is rubbing her back, and butt and legs with his other hand.  The duality and contrasting touch takes her deeper into the moment.   

“You are so wet” he says.    

She’s a little surprised, it’s difficult to differentiate the feelings with all the oil he’s massaging into her body, the plug and the sensation of being completely full.   

He tapped the base of the plug, then twisted and rotated it slowly. The motion sent strange, intense sparks through her. Pulling it partway out and sliding it back in made her moan. He kept rubbing her pussy at the same time, building her arousal until a slow, powerful orgasm rolled through her body.  

Blindfolding her, he asks her to turn over again, so she is facing upwards.  

Rolling the towel down to her waist positions himself behind her head and starts to massage her breasts and down her belly to her pussy, massaging her breasts and pinching her nipples until they stiffened. 

It is a lovely feeling, she loves having her breasts massaged and oiled and her nipples played with.   

Turning her over again and rolling the towel down past her bottom he says, “that is a very spankable bottom.”  

Giggling she replies, “I did wonder where your nickname came from.” 

“Would you like to be spanked,” he asks.  

“Yes,” comes out quicker than she expects. 

There is no hesitation.  Just a confident yes. 

He starts with firm slaps on her bare cheeks, alternating sides and varying the placement to keep her guessing. Each impact sends a sharp sting that blooms into warmth, mixing with the arousal already pulsing through her from the massage and the plug nestled deep in her ass. 

She’s lying on the massage table a little surprised at herself.  Both for saying yes, and for enjoying it.   

She’s already aroused from the massage and now, the contrast with the hard spanks on her bottom is creating a new sensation.  One she’s not familiar with but is enjoying nonetheless.    

He says, “Shall we count to 20.”  

Her only reply is, “Yes.”   

She counts aloud as he suggests reaching twenty, her voice steady at first but trembling by the eighth and ninth strikes. Her body arches off the table involuntarily, hips lifting as if chasing or fleeing the next slap.  

It feels ridiculous yet feral, primal in a way that surprises her. His hand presses firmly on her upper back, pinning her down and heightening the submissive rush.  

By fourteen and fifteen, her counting is barely audible and is becoming a struggle as heat builds across her reddening skin. There's pleasure in the contrast, the sharp spanks against her already sensitive, oiled flesh creating a new, unfamiliar edge she craves. 

Counting is surprisingly hard.   

When he reaches 20 spanks she is exhilarated.  It’s an unexpected feeling, and as she lays flat on the bed, she notices she is gripping the inside of the face hole on the bed.   

What use that was she doesn’t know.   

As his hands start to move over her body again, stroking her back, he asks, “Shall we count to 20 again.” 

“Yes.”  

Yes?  Why did she say yes? She wonders.    

Is she just wanting to please him?   

Is she enjoying it?   

She doesn’t know any of the answers.  It could be all, it could be none. She doesn’t know much beyond this moment.   

The second set lands harder, her arches more pronounced as she grips the edges of the table. The plug shifts slightly with each movement, adding pressure that grounds her even as the spanking pushes her further into that feral headspace. 

It probably looks like a ridiculous sight, arching her body away from the table as each spank lands.   

At the end of her second set of 20 spanks.  He stops.  

She can feel him studying her flushed ass for a long moment before instructing her to turn onto her back. She hesitates, aware of how the plug will press against the table and wondering if more spanks are coming. 

Butterflying her legs open, he stands level with her exposed pussy, making her feel deeply vulnerable.  

Are there more spanks?  Does she like this thought, she thinks she might.  Will he put his hand on her throat to hold her in place as he does?   

His fingers reach down to stroke her folds slowly, sliding inside her slick heat and fingering her deeply. She writhes on the table, the dual sensations of his probing digits and the plug overwhelming her. 

"Relax and let the orgasm wash over you," he says in that steady voice, "but hold onto the butt plug. Don't let it slip."  

Oddly, the instruction steadies her. Something about having one simple thing to focus on narrows the world again, quieting thought in ways she hadn’t expected. For a while, there is only concentration, breath, and the strange relief of not needing to think too much. 

Turning her focus to obeying as he rubs her clit in firm circles while thrusting his fingers in and out. She feels the build-up intensify, her body trembling as she fights to keep the plug secure amid the waves of pleasure crashing through her.  

Afterwards, she feels undone by the whole experience, exhausted, exhilarated, and slightly bewildered by the quiet, inconvenient truth that she had enjoyed far more of the afternoon than she ever expected to. 

  

  

 

After 45 minutes of getting wet and hard as a group everyone was starting to get a bit more comfortable and his friend asked, shall we try some Cock Hero to finish.  

“Cock Hero? What’s that?” she asked. 

It turned out to be an almost a karaoke version of guided masturbation.  A sort of rhythm game crossed with guided masturbation. Music videos, flashing prompts, edited clips and a visual pulse on-screen telling everyone when to speed up, slow down, stop, or edge. 

It sounded strange. 

And, once it started, it somehow became even more surreal. 

Within minutes she realised she had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to be doing. The screen flashed instructions at an alarming pace while aggressively upbeat songs blasted through the laptop speakers.  

Somewhere in the chaos of flashing colours and video compilations, she lost track of whether she was supposed to be paying attention to the rhythm, the porn, or the increasingly competitive concentration on the faces of the two men beside her. 

It was oddly intense. 

Maybe it was beginner overload, but it was harder than intended to stroke in time with the instructions.  

Was she supposed to rub her clit each time?  

Plunge her fingers in and out of her wet pussy?  

Slap her pussy?  

Pinch her clit?  

In fairness, she did try all of them.  

But after several increasingly confused attempts to keep time with the prompts, she found herself becoming more turned on by watching them than following the video. 

So eventually she gave up trying to follow along and settled back into the chair instead to watch them instead. 

The two men sat side by side on the bed, focused intently on the screen, moving almost unconsciously in rhythm with the flashing prompts and music. 

Stroking in tandem.  

In time with the music and instruction.  

Up and down.  

Up and down. 

Cock in hand.  

They watched the screen intently.  

It was delicious to watch.  They were both naked now and to see their cocks in their hands, hard and being wanked was going to be the highlight of her week.  

The nervousness from earlier had mostly disappeared now.  

And she was enjoying herself enormously. 

She could see the guy closest to her best.  His balls were starting to tighten and she could tell he was close.  All she could think about was reaching over and cupping his balls in one hand.  Stroking them while he stroked his cock.  

But they had all promised not to touched each other.  

So, she sat back in her chair.  

And watched them both.  

She watched as he got closer and closer and before he came, he looked at her.  Watched her stroking her pussy in the same rhythm as he was stroking his cock.   

Angled in her chair towards him there was nothing hidden. She knew he could see how wet she was, dripping with excitement and arousal as she watched them.  

Running her fingers through her pussy she couldn’t help but tease him. Spreading her lips apart. Showing him where he could imagine putting his cock, or maybe his fingers.  

He came hard.   

Pulsing white arcs of cum over his hairy chest.  

It might have been one of the most erotic things she’d ever seen.  

His own cum matting the thick hair on his chest, he still had his cock in his hand, squeezing the last drops from it.  She wanted so much to reach over and run her tongue across his sensitive head.  

But she didn’t.  

A promise is a promise.  

Instead, she tried to cum.  To bring her orgasm back to the surface and let him see how much she enjoyed watching him.   

But chasing it is sometimes a fickle game and tonight it was just out of reach. 

   

  

  

  

  

  

 

 

 

 

Sat on the big, comfy swivel chair beside the bed, she watched as he took his clothes off. Trousers, shirt, boxers, each folded neatly and placed on the floor.  His friend was already laying on the bed shirt open, smooth chest on show, trousers open and his cock in his hand.

She still couldn’t quite believe she’d said yes to this.

But it had been a long-time fantasy and, in the spirit of embracing opportunity, she hadn’t wanted to let the chance pass her by.

The hotel room hummed with nervous energy.

This was a first for everyone, and they all seemed slightly unsure of what to do with themselves.

As the only fully naked person in the room, he almost appeared to slip into “host mode” to manage his nerves. He stood at the end of the bed talking them through the options on the laptop they’d set up there, scrolling through categories and videos with surprising seriousness.

He could easily have been delivering a presentation at work, with the notable exceptions that he was completely naked and the subject matter involved an alarming amount of enthusiastic fucking.

He was handsome in an easy, unselfconscious sort of way. Hairy, broad, relaxed in his body. And she found herself oddly charmed by his running commentary as he climbed on and off the bed to change videos.

Once they settled on one, he lay back down beside his friend and they both watched the screen intently, cocks in hand as she alternated between watching the video and watching them.

She had never watched porn with other people before. The whole thing felt strangely social. Almost cosy, in a bizarre sort of way.

At first, she stayed fully clothed and discovered she liked it that way. It gave her a strange sense of objectivity, watching as two grown men stroked their cocks and watched the video.

She watched the easy familiarity between them, the casualness of it, the way they discussed videos.

Time to start a new video.

He was up again, hard cock stood erect as he scrolled. Reading out the options and giving us all an opportunity to decide what they were going to watch.  It was strangely social and a huge turn on.

She loved watching him walk back and forward from the bed to the laptop, standing happily naked scrolling through the enormous library of porn trying to decide what they should all watch.

His cute arse probably helped.

Not wanting to feel left out anymore, she finally undressed. She stepped out of her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, placed a towel beneath herself, then climbed back into the seat with one foot tucked up beside her and the other resting lightly on the floor.

Part of her still wanted to hide behind the chair. Another part wanted to force herself not to.

His friend barely reacted to her taking her clothes off.

But he did.

Aware of her nerves, he looked without staring. Appreciative but careful, as though trying not to overwhelm her. And as the videos rolled on, she gradually relaxed beneath the warmth of his attention.

She realised very quickly that he enjoyed watching her touch her breasts. The slow circling of her fingertips around her nipples. The way she lifted the weight of one breast slightly before letting it fall again.

It wasn’t something she normally did alone, but his reactions were turning her on almost as much as the videos themselves.

She hadn’t known if she would like to be watched or not. 

But she liked him watching her.

She liked the way his eyes moved over her body. His attention seemed to encourage her into boldness she normally kept hidden.  She let him watch as she spread her lips apart and then with a full hand as she massaged her wet pussy.  Sliding her hand over it, again and again. 

He watched and she was sure he must be able to hear the wet sounds she was making.

Reaching out suddenly, he caught the edge of the swivel chair and slowly turned her toward him for a better view.

She glanced at the stranger beside her, he was focused on his own phone, so she started to write her reply, "When I sat down on the train my skirt slid up to expose my knees.  I’m a little worried the man sat next to me can tell I’m wearing stockings.”  

A pause. Then another vibration.  “And how does that make you feel?”  

Her breath caught, shifting in her seat the garter belt tugged against the top of the stockings. “Nervous,” she typed. “And… excited.”  

The reply came quickly.    

“If I was sat opposite you, would you spread your legs and let me look?”  

Her heart thudded.  Glancing around, no one seemed to notice her agitation.   

“Yes… if you told me to.”  

She was about to reply when she sensed the man beside her had gone still. He was staring down at her phone.  

The man locked eyes with her and with a cheeky expression on his face, smiled and one eyebrow twitched.   

Eva couldn’t look away, she was torn between her embarrassment and the amused, flirtatious look on his face.  There was something in his face that seemed to say he had enjoyed what he’d seen in her messages.  

Before her brain engaged, she spread her legs to press against his, it was just millimetres but his eyes flicked to her exposed knees and the space between them.  Smiling he raised his eyebrow again as though challenging.   

Caught in this strange silent battle she spread her legs further apart, pushing her leg into his, firmly, not looking away from his gaze.   

Another vibration from the phone in her hand, “I will look forward to seeing you in them tonight.”  

Leaning his head close to her ear, his voice rumbled in her ear “I’m enjoying seeing you in them now. And …” a pause, deliberate, “I think the man across from you is too.”  

Eva’s pulse thundered in her ears as she tilted her head forward, following his glance. Her stomach flipped. The man seated opposite wasn’t pretending. His eyes were locked between her legs, devouring the glimpse she offered. His trousers strained with the evidence of his arousal.  

There could be no mistaking what he was looking at.  Eva could see his trousers tenting and instead of shutting her legs, she let him look.   

A thrill of power coursed through her.  

Turning back to the man beside her, she met his gaze head-on. No shyness now. She dragged the tip of her tongue slowly across her lips, letting it glisten, and saw his jaw clench at the gesture. His arousal was written plainly across his face, a mirror to her own.  

She could feel his breath on her cheek, close enough that if either of them shifted, their mouths would meet.  

And she didn’t move away.  

Instead, his hand moved, slow, deliberate. Not to touch her outright, but to rest on his own thigh, so near hers that the heat of it radiated across the narrow gap. His fingers flexed once, as though testing the space, daring her to close it.  

Eva’s heart raced. She tilted her leg just slightly, brushing against him. The contact was brief but electric, a spark that set every nerve alight.  

The man opposite was still watching, his gaze unwavering. His arousal was obvious, and she could feel her own wetness growing, it was probably showing through the fabric of her knickers.   

The man beside her leaned closer, his lips almost grazing her ear.  

“You like being watched,” he murmured. Not a question.   

Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to deny it, to shake her head, but instead her thighs parted a fraction more, the suspender straps tugging against her stockings as if to betray her answer for her.  

She pressed her leg against him, searching for the feel of his fingers against her leg, aching for him to touch her.  But he didn’t move his hand, he just smiled and let her press herself into him.    

The warmth of his thigh against hers was maddening, solid and unyielding. She pressed harder, as though sheer need might coax his hand onto her skin, but he remained perfectly still, his restraint deliberate, almost cruel, the sparkle in his eyes making it clear he knew exactly what he was doing.  

Across the bank of seats, the other man shifted, his breath shallow, gaze fixed shamelessly between her thighs. Every second that passed with her legs parted, sent another pulse of heat surging low in her belly.  

The train rocked, and Eva swayed with it, her hip sliding against the man beside her. She let out the faintest sigh, caught between frustration and desire, the sound barely audible in the carriage. Almost.  

He chuckled softly, a rumble that vibrated through her. “Good. Enjoy this moment.”  

Her pulse thundered in her ears, but beneath it was something else stirred, a low, intoxicating thrum of power. She had let herself be seen. And she liked it.  

Tom has always admired Eva from a distance. But yesterday, when she arrived at work in black stockings and red heels, something changed for him.

It wasn’t just the way she looked, though that had been difficult enough to ignore, it was the detail of it. The way the sheer black highlighted the line of her legs. The way her calves flexed from the height of her heels. The brief glimpse of the arches of her feet when she slipped the heels off beneath her desk.

He’d made a joke at lunch, something easy, harmless, offering to rub her feet if they were sore. She’d laughed it off. So had he.

But the thought hadn’t left him.

By the time he left work, he already knew he would ask her to join him the next day.

Now, standing in the park opposite the library, he spreads the blanket carefully across the grass, smoothing the corners as Eva steps out of her shoes and onto it, her bare feet brushing the edge of the fabric.

He has to stop himself from leaning down and licking her feet. 

Instead, he sits back, giving her space, letting the moment settle into something unhurried. There’s no need to rush it.

After all, she has no idea what he’s been thinking, about how much he wants to take her feet in his hands.