Kelly Lane - Wet and ready

The first few times he didn't or if he did, he didn't let me know. So I tried to be obvious. I stood in front of him, bent forward, and almost pushed my tits in his face. Once I sat across from him, and when he was looking at me, I bent forward and leaned my tit on the table. The sight of the swollen orb drooping heavily over through the thin material caught Gus' eye, and I felt my cunt begin to quiver when I saw him staring at it.

This success prodded me to take other more obvious steps. Since I wasn't wearing a bra, I reasoned why not let him actually see my naked tits?

I'd come in wearing a scooped-neck tank top and accidentally drop something in front of him. Then I'd have to bend down and retrieve the object. The front of my blouse would fall away from my chest, and my jugs, with their stiff, pink-tipped nipples, would be exposed to his view.

The first time that I exposed myself to him, I thought I was going to come in my pants, I was so excited. Did I actually enjoy letting Gus see my nakedness? Was I an exhibitionist? I didn't really care. All I knew was that it excited me to let Gus see me. Knowing he was watching made me feel erotic and sexually excited. If that was being an exhibitionist, then I enjoyed being one.

I looked up after I had bent down, and I caught Gus looking down my blouse. His eyes were open widely, and just the faintest blush of excitement colored his cheeks. He turned quickly away and pretended he wasn't looking.

After that, I looked for reasons to bend over and give Gus a free show. I was afraid of overdoing it because Mimi began to give me curious glances. I think she was aware of what I was doing; women are usually more sensitive to things like that than men are, and I had to curtail my clumsiness at dropping things.

I was gratified to find that Gus was picking up where I left off. He would stand behind me, and I could almost feel the sweep of his eyes across the pale pink hills of my tits. Without arousing Mimi's suspicion, I tried to give Gus as much of a look as I could.

I began to employ other techniques, and I let my warm thigh bump into Gus' each time we sat next to each other; our knees rubbed back and forth when he sat across from me. The first few times I tried this, Gus pulled back as though the contact had been an accidental one. But when I continued to apply pressure, my cunt grew wet to feel him pressing back against me. Now, whenever we sat down, covered by the protection of the table, Gus' knee or thigh automatically fell into place against me, and we rubbed erotically up and down against each other. It was our own private game, and we played it silently but very seriously. When I began to masturbate to get myself aroused so that my tits showed through my blouse, another sexual idea suddenly came to me. Once I masturbated by putting my hand down into my pants, pressing my fingers tightly against my cunt. When I pulled my hand away from my body, I could still smell the sweaty aroma of my cunt clinging to my fingers.

I ran the wet fingers back and forth under my nose for a few seconds, then pulled my shorts down and rubbed my whole hand between my legs. I opened the lips of my cunt and ran my fingers through the wet slit, rubbing the tip of my clitoris to awaken more of a discharge in my cunt. After a few more seconds of this, I slid my fingers, two at a time, in and out between the lips of my cunt, bathing my hand in the wetness of my pussy.

When I pulled my hand out, it was still wet. I held it under my nose. It reeked of cunt.

I quickly pulled my shorts back on and went into the kitchen, desperately trying to think of a way in which I could allow Gus to smell the perfume on my fingers.

Gus provided the opportunity. "Hand me my cigarettes," he asked once I sat down.

My fingers trembled as I picked up the package of cigarettes. I carefully pulled a cigarette from the pack and reached across the table and placed the white cylinder between his lips.

"Let me light it for you," I said, aware of the quavering in my voice. I ran my still-wet fingers up and down under his nose, lingering there longer than normal, rubbing against his nostrils so that he couldn't avoid my intention.

The moment my fingers went under his nose, I watched his nostrils flare, and I almost heard the intake of breath as he inhaled the smell. His eyes narrowed, and Gus looked directly at me, breathing deeply.

"Thank you, Tootsie," Gus said cryptically. He sniffed up the smell.

"It's my pleasure," I answered.

I tried this method twice more: once by pretending to rub Gus' nose because his sunburn was peeling, and once when I rubbed under his nose and asked whether he was growing a mustache. Both times I felt the cool tickle of him inhaling the raunchy smell of my cunt; both times he gave me that same strange, piercing look with his eyes. He was aware, unquestionably, of my intention.

How far would I go, though? I could almost read the question in his eyes.

My goal was to let him know. I pressed on.

The bathroom was a good room for developing Gus' awareness, and I used it whenever I could. Whenever Gus went to the bathroom, I would try always to get close to the door. I would listen to see whether he locked the door behind him. He always did except for one time, and I knew I had to take advantage or it or lose my chance.

I watched him close the bathroom door, and I listened intently for the click of the lock. When it didn't come, I found myself wondering whether he had really forgotten or whether the omission was intentional. In the past I could tell that he was aware of my eyes following him to the bathroom; sometimes he would stare at me for a moment from behind the open door a second too long before he closed and locked it. He knew I was watching him. Was that why he had left the door open this time? I didn't know.

But I took advantage of the situation; one for which I'd been hoping ever since I began to watch him. I held my breath and listened. Mimi was in the kitchen, talking on the telephone with Margo, her sister. I put my ear to the bathroom door, and I could hear Gus pissing.

My fingers trembled as I touched the doorknob. My mouth was dry and I licked my lips with my shaking tongue. The toilet was directly ahead of me in the bathroom, straight ahead and on the far right wall. Gus would be standing in front of it, facing sideways, with his cock in his hand. I fixed my stare on the space where I judged that Gus' profiled cock would be, and I threw open the door with a sudden thrust.

"Oh, my!" I said suddenly, perhaps too suddenly, almost before I actually saw Gus' cock. "I thought the bathroom was…"

I never finished my sentence, but closed the door quickly, pretending still that I had opened the door by accident. But I didn't close it before I took a long, steady look at Gus' cock.

The image was so vivid in my mind that I can see it now as clearly as when it first happened. His cock was almost erect, for it seemed thick and swollen. It was bent over heavily in his hand, and I could see tufts of hair silhouetted against his open zipper. A pale stream of piss made an arc from the end of his cock through the air and into the toilet. I could hear it streaming into the water.

I saw all of this in a momentary flash, and then I closed the door. My excitement at seeing Gus' cock, for the first time now in daylight, perhaps overshadowed something that I wasn't aware of, something that I only realized after I played the image back in my mind several times.

Gus had been looking at me! I thought. He had been looking at me!

Was it an accident? Had his head spun around when I opened the door? Or was he anticipating my intrusion?

I didn't know. It was too dangerous an act to repeat to find out for certain. All I know is from that day on, each time Gus went into the bathroom, he didn't lock the door. And before, he always did. Was he waiting for me to come in again?