Ashley's Titillating Time In Dubai

Despite the heat, Ashley walked home slowly. She was tired and stressed - it had been a long day at work, and all she wanted to do was fall apart on the couch. Luckily her apartment was only a short walk of two blocks from the school where she was teaching. Inside it had been refreshingly cold - the AC kept the boiling desert heat at bay - outside, however, her plaid dress shirt was starting to cook her. Spotting a bench, she walked towards it and put down the purse and binder she was carrying. Beads of sweat were dripping down her pale skin, and she stripped off the shirt to reveal a white tank top underneath. Already that clung to her body; and it was at this moment she regretted not spending more time looking for her bra this morning. A car drove up, sending a breeze that hit her damp shirt. Her nipples, surprised by the sudden cool air, hardened and began to poke through.

She placed her plaid shirt between her legs and went to pick up the binder, only to spill its contents all over the sidewalk. Flustered, she knelt down to gather its contents, missing the appearance of a man exiting the car before it drove off. A few pens and stray papers had found their way behind her, and he collected them as he sat on the bench. He said hi while handing the pens over, startling her.

“Hi! Oh, thank you!” she replied.

“Not a problem.” he chimed. “Hot day, eh?”

It was. As she finished stuffing the escaped stationery into the binder, she reached up to put her hair in a ponytail - a last attempt to fight off the heat. She was suddenly self-conscious; The last time she had knelt down, hair up, with hard nipples in front of a man was when she was stuffing his cock down her throat.

Now, she was giving this guy show.

Whatever, she thought as she stood up. Let the view of my tits be a thank you.

Despite his sunglasses, she could tell he was looking at them. The top of her breasts glistened in the sun, and the sweat had permeated throughout the tank top. Nothing was hidden. Yet, instead of turning around, she remained in front of the stranger as she put the purse strap around her. The strap slid smoothly between her tits, accentuating them further. I haven’t had sex in months, she thought. Ever since she had moved to Dubai, she hadn't felt a cock inside her. Now, she was liking the attention.

Still on the bench, the stranger adjusted something in his pocket - or was it his cock? Ashley glanced down, then discerned the outline of his shaft. For a moment, even in the desert sun, they were frozen: her eyes locked on his hard on through his jeans, and his on her soaked tits. A car drove by, breaking the silence. The stranger was first to speak.

“Would you be able to point me in the direction of an ice cream shop around here? I'm melting,” he asked.

“Of course!” answered Ashley. “If you cross here and head down this street, you'll take a left and follow the bend towards the park where there's a little kiosk.”

“Would you like one? My treat,” he asked.