Authors: Lisette Ashton
But it wasn’t until she had removed her blouse that Jane found the striptease personally exciting. What had started as a malicious ploy to torment Tom and remind her husband of his place beneath her in the hierarchy of their home had unexpectedly become an epiphany. She was standing in an uncurtained window, showing her lace-trimmed bra to their curious neighbour. Yet when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass, she felt a sudden sting of arousal.
A regime of sensible diet and occasional exercise had kept her looking trim. She was in her early thirties, but she realised that from where Tom was watching she could pass for much younger. Her hair was dark, shoulder length, and glistened like a shampoo advert. Her pale-blue eyes sparkled with
excitement. Shadowed by the double glazing, her teasing smile seemed sultry, a far cry from her usual pale and pious prudishness. The ivory lace of her bra suggested more sumptuous breasts than she recognised, and she noticed, for the first time in ages, how sleek were the curves of her waist. She hadn’t seen herself looking so desirable since the last time she called on Denise. The memory of that occasion was warming. Humming to herself, Jane began to dance.
She didn’t know how good a view Tom had from his seat on the wall across the street, but she was no longer stripping for his entertainment: she was doing this for her own satisfaction. In an ideal world someone more attractive, available and able would saunter down Cedar View and glance through her open window. She fantasised briefly about a movie star or TV celebrity strolling down the cul-de-sac, glancing into her lounge and being won over by her exhibitionism. She dismissed the thought as silly and farfetched, but the idea added a licentious darkness to her mood and bathed her with warm perspiration.
Moving to the rhythm of her humming, she continued to strip, her hips swaying from side to side. She flicked a clasp and the pastel plaid skirt that matched her pastel plaid office jacket slipped smoothly from her hips and fell to the floor. She stepped away from it, glad she had elected to wear stockings that morning, hoping Tom was able to see the sheer cream denier clinging to her legs and the stark bands that encircled her coltish thighs. It would have been fun, she thought, if John could have seen how effortlessly she presented such an elegant yet saucy image. It might have rekindled a shared interest that had been waning over the years. But if he wanted to sulk childishly on the step with his smelly cigar, he was missing the show of a lifetime.
Deliberately, Jane turned a full circle, allowing Tom to see that a matching thong complemented her lacy bra and stockings. She kept her buttocks clenched, taut, envying their neighbour’s enjoyment of the view of her neatly toned backside. When she turned to look out of the window again she saw the old man lecherously lick his lips.
Jane lifted her right bra strap and pulled it from her shoulder, then did the same with the left, leaving her slender biceps bound by the ribbon-thin strips of cream-coloured straps. Daringly, she pulled down the right cup of her bra and flashed a cherry-red nipple.
Even across the street she could see Tom’s mouth shape the word ‘Wow’. A glint of sunlight on the binoculars was like a blink of amazement.
Emboldened by his appreciation, Jane exposed her left nipple. That was as much as she was going to show him. Her striptease had already gone further than she had anticipated, and she was adamant he wouldn’t see anything else. Her smile turned stony as she reached towards the curtains and prepared to draw them closed and end his view.
The pungent scent of cigar smoke touched her nostrils, reminding her that John was just outside. She was irritated by his insensitivity. She didn’t approve of his smoking, but she allowed him to stand outside and have three cigars a day, though she found the smell nauseating. What she wanted was for him to come and help satisfy her, now that she was aroused by teasing Tom, but the thought of suffering his tobacco-flavoured kisses was repulsive.
Outraged that he had thwarted her plans, and determined to get satisfaction in one form or another, Jane shrugged the bra from her torso and continued dancing for Tom. Her breasts bobbed and swayed alluringly. She ran her splayed fingers over them,
concealing their plumpness from Tom’s view, as she caressed the stiff buds of her nipples. The touch excited a tremor of sensation that was unexpectedly intense. Electric ripples spread from the sensitive tips, thrilling her with a rush of pleasure. She pinched lightly at the hardened beads of flesh, then tugged with more confidence. Gripping her nipples, drawing them away from her body, she basked in a glow of delicious discomfort. Spurred on by the mounting excitement, making sure Tom was still watching, she reached for the waistband of her thong.
It would have been satisfying to wrench it off with a single, swift gesture. It would have suited her mood of defiance to tear the thong from her hips and reveal her sex suddenly and brazenly bare. But even though her thoughts were smoky with excitement, they weren’t so clouded that she was going to hurt herself and damage her underwear with such heedless hedonism. She turned her back on Tom and wriggled the rear strip of the thong down to the base of her buttocks. It was easy to picture the ribbon of fabric subtly underlining her backside. Bending forward, making her cheeks loom large for him, she slyly slid the thong over her thighs and down below her knees. When she stood up the flimsy garment fell to her ankles. And when she gracefully stepped out of the underwear and turned to face him, she was not surprised to see his leer broaden.
The excitement had been powerful before. Now it held her in a crushing embrace. The heat of her sex had been a minor distraction as she danced, stripped and showed herself topless. It had intensified as she played with her nipples. Yet, as soon as she showed her sex to Tom, her body temperature soared.
It crossed her mind that one of their other neighbours, their oh-so-respectable neighbours, might walk past the window and see what she was doing. She was
close friend of Denise Shelby at number eight but she didn’t know any of the others beyond their surnames. They would surely be shocked by her outrageous display. Even that pair who were always throwing late-night parties, the ones with a pool whose names she couldn’t remember, would be taken aback if they accidentally strolled past and saw her shamelessly displaying herself to the neighbourhood lech.
Her thoughts gave a keen edge to her arousal. She briefly wondered if John might be upset by the way she was performing for Tom. His outrage at the man’s open voyeurism suggested he wouldn’t wholly approve. She was momentarily tempted to stop herself and broach a reconciliation with her husband. But the idea of apologising, particularly when she was in the right, always made Jane defiant. ‘Fuck them all,’ she said to herself. Still dancing, still fixing her gaze on Tom as he continued to appraise her, no longer sparing a thought for her husband or the sensibilities of her neighbours, she whispered, ‘Fuck them all right up the arse.’
The hazy reflection in the window showed a woman wearing only stockings. Her shape was sleek, surprisingly willowy, but made sexually exciting by the sway of her bare breasts and the sight of her exposed sex. If she had known she would be staging such a performance, Jane thought, she might have tidied the triangle of her pubic curls into something neater and more fashionable. But that was a minor consideration and didn’t spoil the thrill of her mounting enjoyment.
As she executed a twirl she saw an open drawer spoiling the perfection of her flawless lounge. Her brow furrowed and the annoyance almost soured her mood. But when she realised it was the drawer of the DVD cabinet where John kept his filthy cigars, she had a wicked idea. She pulled out the glossy aluminium tube of a huge Cuban Presidente and rolled its fat girth
her fingers. Continuing to sway her hips from side to side, enjoying the sensation of her unencumbered breasts rising and falling, she came to a quick decision before turning back to the window.
Tom continued to watch, his gaze through the binoculars constant and unwavering.
Jane flashed him a grin of conspiratorial amusement and then stroked the rounded head of the cigar tube between her breasts. The heat of her excitement grew. Teasing the cigar tip against one nipple and then the other, daringly touching her tongue to the shiny end as though she was about to fellate the tube, Jane threw herself into the erotic dance with fresh enthusiasm.
She knew Tom was watching and that was enough to allow her to continue with her eyes closed. The consideration that other neighbours might see was pushed aside as she lost herself in the realised fantasy of the exhibitionism. She licked the end of the tube and then slid it down her bare body. The rounded end stroked between her bare breasts and over the flat expanse of her stomach. She continued to slide the glossy tube down, through the curls of her pubic bush, until it met the warm lips of her sex.
Tom continued to stare, his jaw hanging wide open. Grinning at his obvious delight, and taking a malicious pleasure in the fact that he could only look and not touch, Jane allowed the cigar tube to rest against her pussy lips, on the brink of penetration. She continued to roll her hips, remembering techniques from a long-ago interest in belly-dancing that she had never bothered to pursue. The experience was no longer like being in her own home: it was like the thrill she felt when she was with Denise.
Jane pushed the cigar firmly between her legs. It didn’t take much effort. Her sex was already warm and moist with excitement. She couldn’t recall the last time
body had been so responsive while she was at home. But she wasn’t in the mood for dwelling on such details, only for getting as much satisfaction as she could. Easing the cigar deeper, delighting in the way the thick tube pushed her sex wide, Jane threw back her head and let the rush of sensations flow through her body. Because she was standing, holding herself at an awkward angle, the tube slid against her clitoris as it slipped into her. Its slow caress and its warm smooth pressure against the centre of her sex were like a long, probing tongue.
She released a heavy sigh and then remembered her audience. Tom’s pleasure was only a minor consideration; her own satisfaction was far more important. But because she wanted to do this properly and give him the greatest show he had ever seen, she forced herself to think from his perspective. She danced back to the centre of the room, dodging the furniture, keeping the cigar pressed inside her sex, enjoying the unusual sensations of the tube moving to and fro inside her body. Her stockinged feet slid on the floor like the smoothest of sexual caresses, the whisper of nylon against laminate a soft hiss of approval. When she reached the best position, centre-stage in Tom’s view through the bay window, Jane deliberately turned around and bent over the back of the leather settee, her bare buttocks on full view for him.
She spread her legs slightly so he could see every naked millimetre of her exposed sex. It didn’t matter that an untidy bristle of curls lined the pink labia, or that he could see the crinkled, mocha-coloured ring of her anus. Keeping her hand low so it didn’t spoil Tom’s view, working her wrist slowly back and forth, Jane wanked herself with the cigar tube.
It had gone from a performance to an experience. Her need for satisfaction was now more pressing than
need to show herself to the lecherous neighbour. Her priority was to squeeze a much-needed climax from her sex. Quickening her pace, thrusting the tube in and out with increased vigour, she teetered on the brink of orgasm. She bit her lower lip, savouring the mounting joy as it built in the pit of her stomach.
The idea of exposing herself so intimately had never crossed her mind before. But now, with the prospect of satisfaction only seconds away, Jane was amazed that she had never discovered this thrill. The seven years of her marriage seemed like a desert, barren of pleasure. Aside from her friendship with Denise Shelby it was a joyless existence that could have been spent far more productively. She felt a rush of anger that John had never helped her to uncover this part of her personality or to exploit its potential for pleasure.
And then the orgasm struck. The climax came with a fluid force. Her inner muscles contracted, expanded, quivered, relaxed. Wetness soaked her sex and daubed her upper thighs with a warm stickiness. The orgasm seared through her pussy with the heat and force of an exploding furnace. She had been sweat-swathed before but now she dripped with perspiration. Her naked stomach stuck to the leather of the settee. Between her thighs she was hot and sodden and desperate for more.
Greedily, she continued to slide the cigar back and forth. She briefly wondered if another contraction of her muscles might crush the fragile tube, but it slid so easily in and out that she decided not to worry about it. The second orgasm built swiftly inside her loins. She rubbed faster, desperate for another burst of satisfaction. Raising her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder and through the window, she saw Tom’s gaze fixed unwaveringly on her naked backside. He grinned as she worked her hand more quickly back and forth.
sight was enough to take her to the extremes of another climax. She howled with pleasure.
Her muscles clenched so tight they pushed the cigar tube from her sex. From a distance Jane heard it clatter and skid across the floor, as she soared over the highest plateau of satisfaction.
Her body trembled. Her fingers shook so much that she pushed them against her sex to still their tremors. She eventually caught her breath. She didn’t bother searching for the fallen cigar tube. Her body demanded something more satisfying than a slender length of aluminium. Shivering with arousal, Jane magnanimously decided it was time to give her husband the benefits of her excitement. Even if he still stank of cigar smoke, she was desperate enough to let him take advantage of her desires. Anyway, there were places on her body where he could place his lips without causing too much offence. The thought made her grin lecherously. Hesitating for an instant, not sure if she should beckon him with a curt command or a sultry summons, Jane teased another eddy of pleasure from the open lips of her sex. Teetering on the brink of a third climax, and deciding this was probably the best time for John to become involved in the situation, Jane opened her mouth to call his name and allow him the privilege of her body.