Some pervert, going about nightly business.

She’s pretty big, for an elf woman. She stands a little taller and bulkier than most. I can hear her build in her footsteps as she carefully walks up to the desk chair. I can hear her breathing as quietly as possible through her mouth. Most importantly though, I can smell her. I can tell it’s her too, from the smell. She smells horny. She acts on that rather quickly too. Sitting in the chair, she raises her heels into the large seat. Her nightgown ruffles as she reaches down to caress her lower lips. Her hands do not move fast. Instead of working straight for an orgasm, she seems to try and set the mood for her naughty night escapades. Perhaps sneaking around made her feel tense, and now she felt she could relax.

Having pushed myself up into the desktop, I find myself relaxing as well. I seep back into the floor in my equivalent of salivating. I dare not move too much, but I also cannot keep up my tension as the sounds and smells of masturbation enthrall me. At this point I was awe-struck. All of my goals, schemes, and even a lot of my worries disappeared as I ogled the scene before me. This was probably the luckiest moment of my life if you consider my lifespan currently totals a few days. I would say it is fated, but if I remember correctly I was not destined for voyeurism.

Still, I enjoy the sounds and smells coming from the sex organ placed in immediate view of the desk. I bathe in the musky woman odor as it almost billows over me. I feel it all over my skin, and I want more. The only factor keeping me from blissing out on the smell alone are the sighs of the masturbator as her demeanor becomes progressively more relaxed. It sets me on edge, constantly reminding me of someone else in the room who could see me and shout. It’s also very arousing. She tries so hard to have steady, quiet breathing as she pushes herself closer and closer to moaning.

The sticky sound of wet pussy joins the ensemble as gentle caressing escalates into wet petting. She starts inserting her fingers, though only gradually. Congratulations fingers, on your exploration of uncharted lands.

The elf-lady’s body relaxes, her knees spreading apart as her feet rest propped in the large seat. The fingering, while still relaxed, has become less delicate and more purposeful. After sampling one or two fingers, she moves on to circular motions right on her clit. Her mouth opens and closes periodically, letting her sighs turn into petite moans as she works herself up. She pauses for just a moment to hike her nightgown up past her waist. She reaches her hands under the scant gown to grope at her chest,

I think the best thing to do is just… let her be. If I’m quiet she might not even notice me. I might just watch as she flicks her bean and enjoy the show, except for some growing physical discomfort. I feel like my body is about to start boiling, but instead of getting bubbly I’m drying out. I’ve been dealing with constant hunger all my life, but now I’m in **** need to cool off. The only liquid I can see though is the vaginal fluid dripping not one meter away. It’s risky business for sure.

The masturbator goes about her task effectively. She now seems unaware of any discomfort her posture in the chair might cause as she keeps on working her fingers to her heart’s content. Her one hand gropes and squeezes her freed breast, emphasizing its size and softness. She has some nice titties to be sure. If not for some deep physical cravings I would be transfixed by those mammaries. At least she appreciates them, as shown by the way she fondles herself. At this point she’s barraging herself with sexual stimulation, chasing the forever elusive orgasm. The room starts to take on the musk of self-pleasuring.

Then, she cums. It’s nothing violent mind you. She closes her mouth, gives a quiet grunt and wets the chair a little bit. The smell, however, hits me like a freight train. In my vaguely remembered previous life I never smelled a lot of cum. I don’t know if I ever actually got any action, but in general orgasm fluid only smells so much. With that in mind, a mammal’s sense of smell depends on the size of their olfactory epithelium. I’m not sure I even have one, but I am sure that my whole body acts like an olfactory machine. Right as she reaches her peak, I feel like I’ve been submerged in the scent, and my whole body craves to reach out and bathe in it. Before I know it, that’s what I’m doing. I reach out and plaster myself on her hands, her hips and the chair. My sole aim is full immersion in the evidently irresistible scent of girlcum.

The elf lady is understandably upset by this. Her first reaction is simple confusion when coming into contact with surplus mysterious goop on her hands. Granted, it quickly turns into disgusted surprise as she mutters “What? What is this…? Urgh!” and sits up with a jolt. She tries pulling me off of her fingers, but then I just start sucking on her other hand. I just stay in my own little world, cleaning up her mess until she tries to stand up and move away from all my gooey nonsense. I quickly realize I have made a grave miscalculation. The time for completely avoiding detection has regrettably passed. I spent so much effort on not being seen, and now my presence is made undeniably prominent. Still, I came here with a goal, and I’m not abandoning it just because I can’t resist big-titted elf masturbation.

I immediately try and make my form more stable while staying prehensile and globlike. Aiming for her head, I hurl myself up to wrap around her. I connect solidly, and after a short grapple I have her fingers, neck and mouth. She screams, but only into my body. She struggles, but it turns out that a grip on the hands and head gives you excellent leverage. After a bit of stomping around, I throw us onto the desktop where I latch on. After realizing I have her almost pinned as I grip the desk, she begins stomping her feet, likely hoping to wake someone up to come help her. For that I pull her up off the ground. As her legs struggle I extend some appendages to wrap them up, pulling her ankles against her thighs as closely as I can. Now I hold her laying on top of me and the desk, quietly subdued.

To be precise, the quiet is relative. She still tries to grunt and shout and struggle, but if I’m not trying to hold her down for dear life then my name is the Lovely Lady Lorelei. I guess I don’t have any name at all, but I am certainly taking that off the list of possibilities. I hold her tightly, listening for any movement in the hall. After what feels like several minutes, all is quiet. For a moment I fear I hear footsteps, but I eventually realize it’s just the rapid heartbeat of the elf laying on top of me. The squirming is starting to get annoying, though not so nerve-wracking now that no one is coming to save her. I need to do something with her, and the continuous struggling makes thinking difficult. Do I thump her head and knock her out? Where do I put her. The cellar, so she goes undiscovered? Maybe I put her in her room, so she thinks this was all a dream. Or maybe I’ll just tighten my grip on her so she’ll stop struggling while I try and think.

The resistance is not the only distraction. This all started because of sex, and she happens to be rubbing hers on me. Her hair is blonde, both up top and down under. Have I just been blind to hair color this whole time? I suppose so. Now I’m getting quite the close examination. Still, as long as I’m here tasting her body, I might as well have a little sampler.

Still binding her face first on the desk, I start to prod at her pussy. Her grunts quickly turn from angry to surprised and indignant. I’m only petting gently, but she desperately tries to scoot away. Her current position only makes her change in tactics easier for me to hold her down. I have her bent at the back, and I reach up to her knees and pull her legs apart. I feel each quiver of the body as she winces at how tight I’ve started holding her. Now that I have her like this, I drip myself over her ass to get a taste of my catch.