A young couple, out on a date

In mere moments, a young couple about Layla's age also rounded the corner. They had their arms locked around each other, and based on the looks they were giving each other, it seemed like they were on a date. They parked on the bench and began to embrace. It seemed like the date was going really well. The pair were whispering sweet nothings to each other, which Layla could barely hear, interspersed with much louder giggles coming from the young woman.

After several minutes of quiet conspiring between the two, the young man leaned in a bit more towards the woman and said something to her that made her eyes go wide. Before she could respond, he began to nibble on her earlobe. From on the pedestal, Layla could hear the young woman moan. She could also see the young man's hand as it dove into the woman's pants. The woman's hand mirrored the actions of her male counterpart, and before long both of them were moaning quietly in the park. With his free hand, the boyfriend lifted the woman's shirt, revealing that she had gone without a bra. Her ample double D-sized breasts bounced forth, freed from the confines of her blouse. It was insanely bold of her to go around with a chest that big and a shirt that thin, but Layla was really not in a spot to be judging anyone.

Layla watched as the woman's nipples hardened upon their exposure to the autumn night. She also watched, with wide-eyed interest, as the man began roughly kneading his date's breast with his free hand. The woman's moans began to increase in intensity and volume at this. The increased noise seemed to be the trigger the man was waiting for, and he lunged forward, kissing the woman down the length of her neck and down toward her tits.

Oh god, this is hot. Layla had to shake herself a little as that thought escaped free into her mind. Their hormones were clearly getting to her, as she felt her finger dancing around near her slit. She couldn't afford the luxury of squirming, yet the urge to touch, to mimic the couple's exploration, bubbled up within her relentlessly as the tide. She was battling her baser instincts to maintain her disguised identity and the slightest bit of dignity.

"Damn it," Layla cursed under her breath, a bead of perspiration tracing a treacherous path down her temple--a temple supposedly fashioned from cold, unfeeling bronze. Her hand, currently the only shield her bare womanhood had against the night sky and cool air, sought solace between her thighs further than needed to protect her modesty, her fingers grazing the heat there with a surgical precision. After a few moments of light grazing, turned medium petting, turned full-on finger insertion, Layla let out an involuntary moan.