She's Naked on the Street. (Exhibitionism, Futa/Futa, Anal, Excessive Cum)

Heyo!

I wrote something else. I don't really have an explanation for this one, but as always, I love to read feedback - bonus points if you rate the thread as well!

Hope you enjoy.

A very slight breeze picked up on the worn footpath, whistling over grassy nature-strips and through miniature hedges positioned out the front of many houses. It was very dark; streetlights cast conical splotches of light across the asphalt road, and cars sat lifeless in the driveways of the local residences. The moon was out, of course, casting its revealing glow across the suburbs. The high-rising lights of a local shopping centre’s car park were still on, a couple streets over, visible over the tops of trees. The street was paved level, perfectly flat, and the white lane strips were still a brilliant, untarnished white.

It wasn’t a cold night, rather temperate, where the confines of her coat clung humidly to her neck and sides. The breeze was cool, though, as it washed refreshingly over her milky cheeks and played around her elegant, sculpted calves. A single belt held the coat shut around her trim waist, and her arms hugged over it. Her manicured fingers tugged and curled in on its elbows, knuckles white with tension. Her chest thumped with a giddy kind of anxiety. She’d resigned herself to the seat about an hour earlier, to try and calm her heart, but nothing quenched its excitement. All the sixty minutes of slow breathing had gotten her was a cold rump from the bench and a growing sense of dread.

She’d tried shifting, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heels of her sneakers into the pavement, and straightening her posture in the hopes that it would bring her a little peace – but nothing worked. With every minute twitch, the sliding of her legs against each other, or posture adjustment simply brought her a tiny, forbidden twinge of regret. There she sat, slender and pretty, head tipped forward in shame, with her golden bangs drooping in front of her eyes, and ponytail cascading down over her back to her waist, afraid to move.

She glanced to the inconspicuous, dirt-brown Mitsubishi Colt parked just on the very corner of the street, looked down to her arm, and unclenched one of her fists to reveal the car’s tiny, silver key. She looked again, bit her lip, and closed her hand again. No. She was where she was for a reason, and that was because she couldn’t sleep without thinking about doing what she was out to do. The coat hung to just past her knees, but parted quite a bit earlier on, near the middle of her thighs. The breeze tickled her skin, made it tingle a little, and her toes curled up inside her sneakers.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the nagging, aching, stiff little nubs atop her breasts, which threatened to poke through her coat en