This was was prompted by Literotica's 2016 Nude Day Story Contest. It's a lighthearted tale featuring voyeurism and exhibitionism. Thank you to my editors, who were very kind and patient with me. Any remaining errors belong solely to the author, because she can't stop tweaking things.
This work has only been posted to literotica.com and should not be found anywhere else.
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Kara finished her laps around the track and maintained her pace as she headed for the sidewalk. Her legs really wanted to slow down but it felt good to push herself just a little harder. The November air was already cool, keeping her comfortable during her run. The great trees lining her street made a beautiful green canopy. Living in Wild Oaks, South Carolina had some advantages in terms of weather.
Up ahead, she noticed her neighbor approaching. He saw her too, but he looked down and began tapping at his phone.
Kara smiled to herself. Three months of avoiding eye contact! She didn't know if it was personal, cultural, or just introversion, but there was something funny about it. She found the young man's shyness, if that's what it was, rather endearing. She thought he was rather nice looking. He was a little taller than her and had a lean, active build. His tawny skin and features suggested some South Asian ancestry. He had (what Kara imagined was) an innocent expression in his soft brown eyes. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a gray t-shirt under a red jacket. She didn't know much about him. She thought they might have mutual acquaintances. She had once spotted him with some friends of hers, but she had been in a rush to cover for another TA that morning and didn't stop to chat. One of these days she'd have to ask Jules who he was.
Since they had already made eye contact, Kara put on a polite smile and raised her hand as she passed. This time he actually looked up and smiled back, albeit awkwardly, which pleasantly surprised her.
*
Kara made it back to her apartment, where she freed herself as quickly as possible from her damp workout clothes and turned the shower on full. While the water warmed up, she loosened her dark auburn hair from its bedraggled ponytail.
Out of habit, she avoided looking at herself in the mirror. Far too early in life, she had been subject to inappropriate comments on her figure. It didn't take long before she had started to hide under baggy clothes and a lack of effort. Hiding had helped some, but it had also, unfortunately, led to her not really
wanting
to notice her own body. She admired women who had the strength to dress for themselves and handle unwanted attention just fine. Kara, however, was not the sort of woman who had the comfort or patience to teach anyone manners. That, coupled with a few bad relationships, had left her with a preference for the safety that came with solitude. It was easy enough to throw herself into her work. For her, being alone was a deliberate choice. Except when it wasn't. The loneliness sucked.
She knew her body was improving from where she'd been even two years ago, but she still had a conflicted relationship with it. Her skin was pale enough that it was almost snowy white, a trait inherited from her Irish ancestors, but now she didn't dislike it as much as she once did. Besides, there was not much she could do about the shade of her skin without burning herself. Her body was more round than lean, with wide hips, a generous bust, and a backside to match. Even with her workouts, she didn't have any visible ab muscles to speak of, but she thought the soft, smooth shape of her belly was rather nice. Her sex was waxed, save for a strip of hair. Getting waxed regularly was something she did for herself. It was a delicious indulgence. She was actually proud of her legs now. No longer the short, pudgy things she'd had as a girl, they had finally lengthened into a more elegant, womanly shape. Sometimes she dreamed of being brave enough to show them off in something short and clingy along with a pair of fuck-me heels.
Kara finally stepped into the steamy shower. She lingered, enjoying the feel of her lathered hands on her body. Frustration simmered just below her skin. It had been more than a year since her last real relationship and she didn't care for the more temporary kind. She wasn't opposed to hookups in principle, but she really craved an emotional connection with someone before inviting them into her bed. She needed to trust.
Her fingertips traced circles over her nipples, under her breasts, then down her stomach. She'd been a little turned on all day, thanks to something she had been reading earlier. In between her regular translation work, she had discovered the private journal of a young noble lady who lived through the French Revolution. It was a treasure for historians such as herself, especially the rare sections that hinted at court gossip, but Kara had found herself distracted by the more personal side of the story.
It began as the diary of an ordinary, if slightly silly, 18 year old girl (although in that century, that girl was already a lady with expectations and responsibilities). The diary had notes about the young lady's country house and her favorite horse and and her friends and favorite games and who was seen at whose bedroom door late at night. Later entries turned to more private thoughts, mostly to do with a handsome young man who worked the stables. The entries that followed described, in vivid detail, scandalous liaisons with said stable boy. The most fascinating page was one Kara hoped to corroborate. If true, it would make a great chapter for her own book. Apparently this young woman stopped an enraged mob in its tracks by disrobing completely and climbing out on to the roof of her father's estate. She stood there in full view of the crowd below, and once she had their full attention, pleaded for a truce. Appeased with food, practical goods, and valuables, the crowd eventually dispersed in peace. How Kara had never come across this story in any other texts from that time period remained a mystery.
Kara, still under the running water and not thinking at all like a scholar, began to imagine herself in a stable in 18th century France. Her thoughts drifted to strapping young men with long, dark hair and open shirts, the type of men who took shocking liberties with rosy-cheeked noble ladies who were supposed to be saving themselves. Kara braced against the shower wall as she imagined being pinned against the wall of a stable. The young man's strong hands lifted her voluminous skirt. She bit her lower lip as his fingers found their way into the wet slit between her legs. With his forehead to hers and the two of them sharing warm breath, his middle finger probed deeply into her forbidden depths. Kara's own fingers slid in and out of her cunt, simulating his violation. And...
It wasn't working. She wanted to come. She
needed
to come and just couldn't. Kara sighed raggedly, slapped the shower wall in frustration, and rinsed off.
* * * * *
10:14 PM.
Don't do it. Don't look. It's so wrong.
Nate sat at a small desk in a dimly lit room, his face illuminated only by the glow of a laptop screen and a dull green desk lamp. His typing came in short bursts of activity. The young man's otherwise handsome face was fixed into a frown and his eyebrows creased in concentration. Today's lab notes, endless columns of numbers and times on an open page beside the keyboard, just looked like abstract lines and circles on the page. Instead, the mental image of a nude goddess with auburn hair occupied his thoughts. Below the desk, his cock twitched in anticipation. He took a deep breath through his nose and tried to ignore the tightening sensation in his pants. Just because an opportunity to get away with something was right there didn't mean he had to—
It's Thursday. She's probably home.
His hand went to the corner of the blinds and very discreetly moved them aside.
Oh good, she's not there. She's probably— damn.
The object of his preoccupation was in her bedroom, framed by the outline of a glass door to a narrow second story balcony within perfect view of his own window. Nate watched as the woman across the street peeled off her t-shirt and unhooked her bra, exposing her perfectly rounded, pale breasts and pink nipples. He felt guilt and arousal rise in equal amounts as she unzipped her jeans, pulling them down with her underwear over the ample curve of her ass. He imagined what it would taste like to run his tongue along one cheek and up to that small divot at her lower back. His cock stiffened and his lips parted as she bent over to search through a dresser drawer.
It reminded him of the second time he'd ever seen her. He had been lying in bed, trying to sleep, when a flicker of movement outside caught his eye. He had watched, transfixed, as she pulled out a massager, laid back on the bed, and spread her long, shapely legs over the edge. He continued to watch with utter fascination as she slipped a finger into her crease and teased her clit as she slowly brought herself to climax. He'd come harder that night than he had since he was a teenager.
