SHOW TIME
Last year, my wife and I spent a few days in Santa Monica. Our 7th floor hotel room was more than a little inconvenient. Its "breakfast nook" was superfluous, and the queen-sized bed took up most of the room's floor space. With a certain amount of contortion, you could actually glimpse a sliver of ocean from the large, floor-to-ceiling main window. It slid open like a patio door, but there was nothing on the other side except a 3' deep "balcony." But all that was okay. During the daytime, we had fun strolling along the bluffs, the beach, and out onto the famous pier. At night, we had other things to occupy us.
My wife and I had dabbled in B&D for years, but it was always just the two of us. And, while it hadn't gotten stale exactly, we had been looking for ways to freshen it up a bit. We'd danced around the idea of some public display, and we both found the idea exciting, but every time we'd begin to plan something, she'd always get cold feet. We're both cautious about our reputations -- afraid of getting caught, of falling victim to unforeseeable circumstances. I have to admit that all of those arguments were perfectly valid. Still, I dreamed of showing her off in public, stark naked, all horny, helpless, and scared to death...and somehow doing it safely.
This was the last night we'd be in town. We'd been running around all day, even out to Long Beach to visit "Queen Mary," and now my wife was taking a protracted shower. I dimmed the lights and opened the drapes. I couldn't see the ocean now, and traffic didn't interest me. But we were cheek-by-jowl with the next hotel in the string a couple of hundred feet away, and my gaze swept across the neighboring, fake-Moorish facade. I drew a deep breath. There, in a window right across from our room, was a man looking in our direction with binoculars! Perfect!
At that moment, the hairdryer stopped. I blinked the light to get the peeper's attention, and the wiggled five fingers at him. Hoping he'd gotten the message, I closed the drapes and considered the lighting and sight lines for a moment. And then my wife came out of the bathroom barefoot and wrapped in a damp towel, as if on cue.
She is in her late 30s, but looks younger, despite her prematurely greying light brown hair. She's 5'4", maybe 130 pounds, with a high forehead, thin expressive lips, youthful features, nice figure, and perfect skin.
"You look very tempting tonight," I said. "And I think you need to be tied naked as you are now!'
"OK!" she murmured. "How do you want me?" We hadn't yet had a session during this trip (despite my bringing some equipment, as usual). and she clearly had no objections to having one now, even though it was our last night!
I laid out my gear, all of it pretty innocuous: a couple of bath robe sashes, a pair of black domino masks (the other hotel wasn't that far away, especially because the guy was using binoculars. I didn't want to chance someone from the meeting who might know me recognizing me...or her!), a little canister that looked like pepper spray, a remote-controlled vibrating egg (baggage screeners are pretty blasé about such things, nowadays), a tube of ointment (mainly wintergreen and menthol), and a couple of latex gloves. The chairs in the breakfast nook were wobbly plastic resin, and the vanity/desk had only a bench, but fortunately there was a sturdy wooden arm-chair beside the bed, and I casually positioned it facing the big window. It was a familiar start. My wife sat down and put her hands behind the chair back. I used one sash to secure them behind the back of the chair. Working with a deftness born of much practice, I bent her legs and draped them over the arm-rests, then tied one end of a long sash to her right ankle, passed the sash behind the chair, and tied the other end to her left ankle. She was now fastened fairly loosely, but quite securely, with her legs spread wide and her crotch canted and thrust in the direction of the window. She could wriggle, but she certainly couldn't hide. The towel was still wrapped around her, and if she wiggled much, it'd come undone completely!! I caressed her a bit to begin with, just preliminary stuff, and then paused.
"Now, get ready," I said.
"For what?" she asked, puzzled.
"Well, you know how we've talked about showing you off, but, well, I've got an idea of how we can do that in complete safety."
"I-I don't....How?" She was already turned on, from being tied up and teased, and now the prospect of being seen was both frightening and exciting her.
"There's a hotel just next door. Now, if anybody should look this way, maybe with a telescope or binoculars, say."
"Oh, my God!! Oh, my God!!" she panted. "But...."
I held up the domino masks. "We'll be masked and unrecognizable. Nobody's likely to be able to figure out our room number from over there, and there won't be much opportunity for anybody to do much snooping, because this is our last night here. So...."
She chewed her lip and nodded. "I-I guess we really don't know that anybody is watching."
I shrugged and put our half-masks on, turned lights up and the thermostat down. Then I pulled out the blindfold, and over her protests, put it on her. Now she couldn't see what I was going to do next, and couldn't see for sure whether or not anyone, or how many, were watching us. I took hold of the drapes' cord.
"I'm going to open the curtains now. Okay?" I asked.
"I-I guess so."
"Then, iiiiit's ssshow-time!"
I opened the drapes with a flourish, imagining a drum roll and rim shot...and cheers and wolf whistles.
Now she began to breathe heavily and, despite the AC, to sweat. Fear, embarrassment, and excitement flickered across her face in succession. She stared at the hotel opposite, but our lights were bright, and Mr. Peeper's were now dim, but I could barely make out his form in the window. He was still there!
I began the show slowly, brushing my fingers lightly over her minimally exposed flesh. All that was available for now was her neck, shoulders, thighs, lower legs, and feet. The towel still had her 'more interesting' parts covered. She has always been very, very ticklish, and being tickled in bondage always drives her mad -- giggles and tears, squirming, pleading, gasping -- helpless, and increasingly aroused.
She wriggled and writhed, trying in vain to escape my fingers. She pleaded with me to have mercy on her, and that didn't work either. All the while, I noticed she was continually 'looking' at the window, wondering about the audience she couldn't see, but both feared and hoped was out there.
"Now it's time to begin the unveiling," I murmured.
