Vicarious

Laine left her workshop and returned to the cottage the Corporation had rented for the event. She was drained from her presentation on the advertising of their product lines to alternative demographic groups and looked forward to a leisurely bath with some new Corporation products - lavender bath salts and a selection of herbal candles guaranteed to relax and renew.

She grabbed a bottle of a light red wine and after nibbling on some delectable fruits that had been delivered, she wandered into the spacious bathroom to fill the tub. She wore a feather-light pale cotton shift that was loose, cool and unrestricted. She realized that the windows were larger than she'd first noticed, looking out across the tiny paradise of her cottage lawn and directly onto another. It too was open and airy, but of darker wood, with broad windows and a masculine air. The windows were open and a smooth jazz could be heard wafting across the expanse.

When the tub was filled she slid off the shift and submersed herself into the warm, soothing water. Sighing, she reached for the wine.

The lavender did it's job, relaxing her aching feet and easing the tension in her neck. The Corporation had purchased a company specializing in sensual products and she had worked hard on the research that would make their advertising both new, and innovative - selling the product on a wholly different level than had been done before. They'd skimmed off the tacky product quotes and added new, sleek and simple marketing effects.

For her part, Laine had spent one too many nights with focus groups and research surveys. Too much talk about sex and not enough for her. The thought of sex caught her unawares and she suddenly ached for release. Her hand drifted through the pale violet water, reaching the slick folds of her pussy and she began to stroke herself.

She conjured up images of a broad male body on top of her, a thick cock stretching her cunt as her lover pounded deep into her. She spread her legs and arched her back and moaned as her fingers pierced her channel.

The sound of a bird call that brought Laine’s eyes open. She glanced out the window, saw a colorful bird flit away and her gaze fell on the second story porch of the opposite cottage where a man stood watching her. He stared directly at her, and Laine knew her body, and her actions, were on display for him.

Contrary to every fiber of her staid and straight-laced self, Laine smiled at him. She continued the sensual touch of her labia, arched breasts with pointed nipples out of the bath using her other hand to pluck at the tiny nubs.

When the orgasm washed over her, stronger, more intense than she had anticipated, she sobbed aloud, and her voice carried out, over the warm summer air, to wash over the man who watched her, his own pleasure a purely vicarious one.