Sometimes you just have to know.
Every morning she sips her cappuccino with a work colleague and wrinkles her nose as she laughs at something inconsequential.
I have to know.
We make eye contact with enough of a hint of a smile crossing our faces while my mind strangely imagines her walking down the aisle in nothing but a veil that barely hides her beautiful backside.
I whisper something.
She takes my hand and we find a room.
I watch as she touches herself for me.
She cums, and yes, her nose wrinkles as she does.
I had to know.
