SandraMustard
Literotica GYLF
- Joined
- Apr 21, 2012
- Posts
- 1,165
What possessed me to act so indiscreet? I am an exhibitionist after all. I actually enjoy having a strange man stare at whatever body part(s) I expose but rarely do I do something at home. I wasn’t going to confess my sin publicly until my husband convinced me Lit members would enjoy reading about my antics.
We have a spare bedroom that doubles as my sewing/crafting/scrapbooking space. Sometimes I use my laptop from there in support of those activities. The window looks out on the street. Inside, I have a long white folding table against the window as my workspace. Daylight is helpful and enjoyable but direct sunshine in the morning can make the room very warm.
I often work in my pajamas or nightgown, sometimes in a bathing suit or underwear, once in a while naked. Aware of pedestrians and vehicles passing by, my husband and I have checked to see how much someone can see from the outside in the daytime. Clutter on the tables and glare off the window glass and screening make my presence hardly noticeable. Shrubs cover the lowest part of the window, blocking the view under the table from the lower street level. Even if a passerby looks directly in, not much detail can be observed. Cloudy overcasts make the outside/inside contrast less and if I add lighting to see my work, I have to be more modest ... or careful.
I’ve come to enjoy secretly working in various stages of undress as people go by unaware. My imagination can arouse me almost to orgasm when I pretend a delivery man stopped to take a long look. My fingers usually finish the job.
We live in a complex that has dedicated groundskeepers. The same group of Asian men and women work every day of the week from a company equipment truck. I’ve seen them mow the grass in front of my window, but it has always been in the afternoon and I’ve been dressed.
One day last week, I was up early, sewing doll clothes for my granddaughters. The early sun baked the room quickly and soon I was naked with the ceiling fan on high. I wasn’t too worried about the sun shining on me like a spotlight because I was sitting behind my sewing machine and most people don’t look in windows while passing.
At some point, I realized an old gent walking his dog across the street had stopped under a tree. He stayed there close to five minutes and looked toward my window often. I worked out that from his angle and because of the sunlight, he probably had a clear view of my left breast. I pretended I didn’t know he was looking and enjoyed his voyeurism as much as he did. This only warmed me up for what happened next.
The whir of a small gas engine became discernible and slowly grew louder. The groundskeepers use gas-powered blowers after mowing but they hadn’t mowed yet so I was puzzled. The shoulder of a man coming into view right outside my window startled me. I almost jumped up to leave the room - but I was already sexually excited. I sat there unmoving, naked, my legs parted, sunlight bathing my skin; and I waited.
He moved over a step. He was a younger man with a thin mustache. His gas-powered trimmer waved back and forth over the bushes three feet in front of me; his vision intent on his work. Moments after moving over another step, he noticed me. I saw his eyes look up from the shrubs to stare through the glass at me. His trimmer stopped in mid-swing and its motor dropped to an idle. My heart started to pound.
The groundskeeper looked at my breasts for a full half minute; more than once, he looked me in the eye. After glancing around to see who might be watching him, his machine revved up and he made trimming movements again. His trimmer wasn’t touching the bushes and I could clearly see his eyes watching me pluck my nipples.
He bent over slightly, as if gauging the levelness of his trim work but I realized he was looking under the table. From his close position, he easily looked over the shrubs, under the table, and straight at my splayed vulva. I was in full-on exposure mode now. My fingers reached down to rub my clit. His jaw went slack and his eyes got wide.
My arousal went out of control. I stood up from my chair. He could see all of me without stooping. I grabbed a small tack hammer from the table and began using the handle like a dildo. I could see his khaki work pants tenting as he stared, his trimmer at full throttle but motionless. I worked my labia apart with the hammer handle, then angled the wood up and into me. I was so excited, I came in less than a minute, shuddering so heavily, I had to lean on the table to keep from collapsing.
When my orgasm ebbed, I suddenly felt remorse for where I was and what I did. I left the room quickly. I knew from peeking that he continued to work in front of the window for several minutes, hoping I would return. Throughout the day, he went by several times, taking a look at my window each pass. I worried what he might do, what he might say to the other workers. Only after my husband came home and the groundskeeper saw us standing on our porch, did I stop worrying.
I know he enjoyed my show. I might put on another one if I think he would be content to only look.
We have a spare bedroom that doubles as my sewing/crafting/scrapbooking space. Sometimes I use my laptop from there in support of those activities. The window looks out on the street. Inside, I have a long white folding table against the window as my workspace. Daylight is helpful and enjoyable but direct sunshine in the morning can make the room very warm.
I often work in my pajamas or nightgown, sometimes in a bathing suit or underwear, once in a while naked. Aware of pedestrians and vehicles passing by, my husband and I have checked to see how much someone can see from the outside in the daytime. Clutter on the tables and glare off the window glass and screening make my presence hardly noticeable. Shrubs cover the lowest part of the window, blocking the view under the table from the lower street level. Even if a passerby looks directly in, not much detail can be observed. Cloudy overcasts make the outside/inside contrast less and if I add lighting to see my work, I have to be more modest ... or careful.
I’ve come to enjoy secretly working in various stages of undress as people go by unaware. My imagination can arouse me almost to orgasm when I pretend a delivery man stopped to take a long look. My fingers usually finish the job.
We live in a complex that has dedicated groundskeepers. The same group of Asian men and women work every day of the week from a company equipment truck. I’ve seen them mow the grass in front of my window, but it has always been in the afternoon and I’ve been dressed.
One day last week, I was up early, sewing doll clothes for my granddaughters. The early sun baked the room quickly and soon I was naked with the ceiling fan on high. I wasn’t too worried about the sun shining on me like a spotlight because I was sitting behind my sewing machine and most people don’t look in windows while passing.
At some point, I realized an old gent walking his dog across the street had stopped under a tree. He stayed there close to five minutes and looked toward my window often. I worked out that from his angle and because of the sunlight, he probably had a clear view of my left breast. I pretended I didn’t know he was looking and enjoyed his voyeurism as much as he did. This only warmed me up for what happened next.
The whir of a small gas engine became discernible and slowly grew louder. The groundskeepers use gas-powered blowers after mowing but they hadn’t mowed yet so I was puzzled. The shoulder of a man coming into view right outside my window startled me. I almost jumped up to leave the room - but I was already sexually excited. I sat there unmoving, naked, my legs parted, sunlight bathing my skin; and I waited.
He moved over a step. He was a younger man with a thin mustache. His gas-powered trimmer waved back and forth over the bushes three feet in front of me; his vision intent on his work. Moments after moving over another step, he noticed me. I saw his eyes look up from the shrubs to stare through the glass at me. His trimmer stopped in mid-swing and its motor dropped to an idle. My heart started to pound.
The groundskeeper looked at my breasts for a full half minute; more than once, he looked me in the eye. After glancing around to see who might be watching him, his machine revved up and he made trimming movements again. His trimmer wasn’t touching the bushes and I could clearly see his eyes watching me pluck my nipples.
He bent over slightly, as if gauging the levelness of his trim work but I realized he was looking under the table. From his close position, he easily looked over the shrubs, under the table, and straight at my splayed vulva. I was in full-on exposure mode now. My fingers reached down to rub my clit. His jaw went slack and his eyes got wide.
My arousal went out of control. I stood up from my chair. He could see all of me without stooping. I grabbed a small tack hammer from the table and began using the handle like a dildo. I could see his khaki work pants tenting as he stared, his trimmer at full throttle but motionless. I worked my labia apart with the hammer handle, then angled the wood up and into me. I was so excited, I came in less than a minute, shuddering so heavily, I had to lean on the table to keep from collapsing.
When my orgasm ebbed, I suddenly felt remorse for where I was and what I did. I left the room quickly. I knew from peeking that he continued to work in front of the window for several minutes, hoping I would return. Throughout the day, he went by several times, taking a look at my window each pass. I worried what he might do, what he might say to the other workers. Only after my husband came home and the groundskeeper saw us standing on our porch, did I stop worrying.
I know he enjoyed my show. I might put on another one if I think he would be content to only look.
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