Sweet Distraction
Story Codes: MF, Consensual, Exhibitionism

Sweet Distraction
By Liz Doherty

She heard it before she saw it.  The truck had taken out the magnificent fichus tree in
front of her living room window, leaving her exposed, vulnerable, open to the street and
buildings across it.  She mourned its loss; her tree house above the street was gone, her
writing sanctuary, her secret observation spot of inspiration and reflection.  The light
streamed through differently now, bringing the bumps on her nipples into relief as they
hardened in the breeze from the open window.  She gently pinched them, her robe falling
open as she grew wet.  She was aware that anyone across the way could be watching her
here, standing before the uncovered window, as she pleasured herself.

 Remembering the man from the day before.  Young and fresh, not much older than her
daughter, and eager.  So eager.  She wondered whether he had the maturity and
experience to give her what she craved – the kind of finger fucking that would make her
cum over and over and a cock that knew its way into her deepest recesses, where the
pain and pleasure combined into an explosive fullness that seared her body and cleared
her mind.

 She couldn’t have been more pleased.  His hands took her into a state of extended
pleasure that she’d never found before.  Splitting her folds and plunging his fingers into
the wetness there, tapping and rubbing on her clit at the same time, in time to the music,
inserting his slick fingers into her pussy, into her ass, massaging and turning.  She came
in great gushing waves, over and over.  She felt her body opening to his touch, ready to
accept as much as he would give her, his whole fist if he offered it.  He was unrelenting;
she was insatiable.  On her back, legs spread wide, he plunged one, two, three fingers
into her open pussy, tugging on her nipples, tapping on her clit with his other hand.  Cool
lube drizzled down her pussy to her ass, and he massaged them and the space between,
as she moaned and came, over and over.   Then on her knees, hips pressed up, so that
his hands could find her every recess, the sheets below soaking in her juices.

 He asked nothing of her in return.  His pleasure was in pleasuring her.  For a moment
she would crave his cock in her mouth as his fingers worked their magic, but then she was
overcome again by waves of ecstasy and she would forget again, forget his cock, his face,
forget the loss of the tree, the sounds of the street, the complications of her life, all
thoughts gone as she succumbed again to the pure pleasure of his touch.

 When he finally released her, she rose, breathless and flushed, and walked naked to the
living room window.  Who cared who could see her now?  She gazed out to the street
below, the warm sun sliding through the window in a way it hadn’t before, feeling its heat
against her skin.  He left quietly, promising to come another time.  She placed a vase of
fichus leaves she had rescued from the street on her desk before the window, and sat
down naked at her keyboard to begin again.  

Copyright© 2009 Liz Doherty

Liz Doherty is a writer and editor living in San Francisco.  Her stories have appeared in
FlatmanCrooked, the SoMa Literary Review, spillyourself and
eyegoneblack.com.  She
can be reached through her website,