Ruby and the Watcher - Sex Stories

Ruby and the Watcher

... as Bill teased and pulled away for a moment, wiping his hand across his mouth. “Seen what? How wet she is?” Ruby swallowed at a lump in her throat, adding quietly, “Is that why he’s with her do you think?” “No, and she’s not wetter than you. Check out the ring-fingers.” As the woman begged Bill for more, her fingers slid deep inside her hole. A diamond glinted from the gloom. “Married! Son of a bitch.” Ruby crossed her arms, and her legs. A resurgence of her horn was complicating the pain. “Hang on. What do you mean; she’s not wetter than me, how could you possibly know that?” Fay raised her palms and frowned. “Um. Did I not just tell you? I watch.” “Even me?” “Especially you. Is that wrong?” Ruby glared at the odd waif, spread on the sofa carelessly. As if she’d been tossed there. “When?” Fay shrugged. “All the time.” She pointed the remote at the curtains. The picture dissolved into an overpowering blur, flying and rewinding, then settling over a sleeping figure, lying on her side with a stripe of sunlight across her white sheet. Red hair, cream skin. Ruby. She wasn’t sleeping. Her hips rocked at something invisible beneath the covers. Fay sighed. “You are so beautiful when you orgasm.” Projected Ruby turned onto her back, the sheet tented over spread knees, a vigorous movement between. The watching Ruby hid her face. “Why me?” Fay slid a foot along the seat until it wedged under Ruby’s leg. Ruby jumped, but didn’t move. The contact was re-assuring. Fay’s voice seemed to ...

... come from the middle of Ruby’s head. “Once, I was watching these student girls do each other on a plane, under a blanket. You were in the background, in the third seat, pretending to be asleep.” “I watched them.” Ruby said, covering her eyes. “You saw.” Fay wriggled her toes under Ruby’s thigh. “One of the most delightful things I’ve ever seen. All that secret… pleasure. I was hooked after that. On you.” Projected Ruby had butterflied her knees, one sticking out from under the sheet, the rest of her body jiggling underneath it. “Is that what you were imagining here? Those girls with their slippery fingers? Their squeaking climaxes?” Fay leant forward, resting her chin on her knee. Her skirt slid down her thigh, leaving her leg bare. A scent of warm sea breezes rolled off her. Ruby nodded. “Probably. It is a favourite of mine.” Her image arched and cried out, shivering, eyes screwed shut. Then she writhed, sighed and – with a rush of shame – Ruby watched herself lick her fingers. Fay swore and squirmed in her seat. Ruby swore and felt feint. “What the fuck? How is this possible? You’re some kind of alien or visitor from the future, you must be.” Fay made a question-mark of her eyebrows. “You think so?” “You don’t know?” “How is one supposed to know?” She leant back and let slip, in the briefest of cheeky glimpses, her lack of underwear. She smirked as Ruby’s eyes snagged there. Ruby sighed. Her flushed-pink doppelganger on the screen happily fluffed up her pillow to go back to ...