Sitting in a chair next to her living room glass table she can almost feel it coming inside of her: innocence, purity and a little bit of naivety. That combination makes her always feel naughty. She follows the urge and her fingers find their way to her naughtiest spot, the intimate center of her sensuality. She lets them slip inside. “Not the right way to wipe away naughty feelings. This is even more the right tool to strengthen it.” The huge empty glass table she just decorated with fresh flowers give her inspiration and she climbs onto it. “When someone would sit down under the glass table now, I would make him a very happy person.” A tickling starts to excite her. Tickling always demands a firm touch. She gives herself the needed security of a touch with her finger. Not a strong one. But a very soft one. She doesn’t want to stop the feeling of lust, she doesn’t want satisfaction already now. She wants to make the moment last, now that she feels the wetness between her lips. There is an impulse to lick her finger, to taste herself. But she can’t follow the impulse right now. Her fingers feel too good where they are right now. “Later.” she thinks and continues to excite the imaginary watcher under the table. Sometimes, when she is in midst of highest pleasure, she loves to retract the finger out of her pussy and to start to play with her wet lips instead. It’s not an interlude, but a veritable important part to increase the feeling and stir her wetness even more before she leads her body to the climax of lust. “I really hope…. my watcher gets to see a drop of me on the glass of the table.” The thought is just beginning to form in her mind when a most innocent, but strong eruption passes through her sensitive body. She doesn’t move but waits for the frisson to ebb down. When finally the right time has come to lick the gift of her passion from her fingers, she does it with relish. And there’s more than just one single drop which wets the table to please the imaginary watcher.