MY HAND MADE FINGERING

You are 5'4",with blue eyes and long blond slightly curly, hair that reflects beautifully in the sunlight. You are neither thin nor fat, just fairly normal with a clearly visible waist and the usual female shape. Most people, both young and old, men and women, would not hesitate to use adjectives like pretty, beautiful, or attractive if they were to describe you. The ones knowing you better would also add words like diligent, ambitious, intelligent, nice and kind, but all this does not matter at all to the rest of the story, for diagonally behind you, inside a tall building with a clear view over the park and the stretch of street where you just now are walking is a, for the moment, very severely psychologically disturbed man watching you through the telescopic sight of his precision firearm. His hand does not tremble, and slowly the trigger is pulled closer to himself and in nearly the same split second the bullet penetrates, after having passed the green park, your head exactly at. I was hoping he'd go with me yesterday to pick one up, but he never made it home in time for his birthday to do that.As I lay there watching my son fumbling around without ever turning on a light, I pretended, fantasized actually, that I was his wife and he was my husband. The thought of him coming home to me made me touch myself. Suddenly, I was horny again. Hidden within the dark, with my housecoat already askew, hoping he'd turn on the light to watch me masturbate, I reached down and fingered my pussy. Instantly, I was wet with the thoughts of him seeing me and touching me. My fingers found my nipples though the thin cotton material of my housecoat and I was already on my way to cumming.Aroused and horny, suddenly, I was hot for him. Desperately, I needed to get laid. It had been a long while, since I felt the passion of a man. Here, just a few feet from me, was the man who I was attracted to and the man that I'd do anything for, even have sex with him. It no longer mattered that.
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