Blog Blogger: BLIND DATE BANGERS wasn't looking at me when I next shifted my gaze. At least I think she wasn't; her glasses reflected the TV tube, like twin coming attractions. Tiny figures conjoined and humped in her lenses. I kept watching, bad old me. Her right hand had dropped into the open leg of her shorts, and she leaned back against the pillows, stroking herself so gently that I wouldn't have picked up on it if not for the slow rhythmic pulse of her hips. I felt the blood divert to my cock and the warm, happy stiffness of erection. Her hips pistoned a little faster; her hand busied itself more frenetically, and her mouth hung open in astonishment and lust. I don't know what was going on on the screen, but it was doing the trick. After about five minutes, she hunched over, gave out a quiet cry that was just loud enough to reach me on the balcony, and held absolutely still for a long stretch of seconds. Then she relaxed with an audible phlump against the pillows and diplomatically rearranged her shorts. This time I could tell she looked at me, and I slid my eyes away.
