I have always been a bit of an exhibitionist as I have found that it is quite arousing for me to be outdoors in some state of undress where I might possibly be seen. The feeling of being so exposed and vulnerable where at any time someone could come along and find me unable to get redressed quick enough is intoxicating to me.
I really thought that my days of fulfilling my little fantasies in real life were over as I had turned 40, moved away from my friends and collaborators, and due to my husband's promotion felt that anything wild and sexy would be inappropriate.
I began to write erotica and found an outlet for my exhibitionism through my stories, which often included photos of me when I used to 'play' outdoors. David Barclay became a reader of my stories and if you have read "The Task" as well as "Another Task" you will know the rest of the story to this point.
What I had never experienced before was what it would feel like to disrobe knowing not only that I would be seen but also who would see me. I can try to explain the extreme exhilaration and sexual arousal that swept over me when I dropped my skirt to the floor at the end of our monthly meeting at work, but you really have to feel it to understand how addictive it can be.
All I have to do is to think about it and those same feelings take over. It has been over two months now and the sense of embarrassment, anxiety, and excitement are as fresh for me now as they were the moment it all happened.
For the past five years I have often used a specific fantasy of mine to either write episodes regarding Ms. Harley on Literotica (posted under the pen name HarelyFatboy1) as well as to please myself whenever I found some alone time
My fantasy involves being bent over an executive style desk in a well-decorated office with my dress pulled well up my waist as the hem drapes itself over my back. In this manner I am exposed from the waist on down revealing my choice of lingerie, which in my fantasy includes a garter belt, a pair of fully fashioned nylon stockings, 4 inch heels and a teeny tiny pair of pure white and very snug fitting string bikini panties, of which I own more than one pair.
As the executive is reprimanding me for duties poorly performed my very vulnerable and very exposed bottom is being firmly spanked. The part of my fantasy that always brings on my "O" face is that while I am so vulnerable and exposed; another person walks into the office and witnesses my punishment further adding to my embarrassment and vulnerability.
I am getting wet just writing about this.
But how could this ever happen in real life without it being staged or feeling put on?
I have no desire to attend a spanking party although it would possibly provide some fulfillment of my fantasy. I doubt that my imagination of well dressed and elegant men accompanied by elegant women wearing beautifully crafted dresses, high heels and stockings even applies to spanking parties.
I am sure that I would be deeply disappointed and feel foolish for ever going. Besides my husband is barely ever home due to his added responsibilities and I can't imagine attending something like this without him.
Since my husband works such long hours I have gotten into the habit of dropping by his place of work at the end of my day and using my feminine wiles to persuade him to take me to dinner at least once every other week.
It really has been a perfect opportunity for us to spend some alone time together as well as to see each other.
On those too often occasions that he needs to go back to the office I will ride back with him from the restaurant, as I typically will leave my car at his work. Once we arrive back at his office every so often if I am in one of my moods I will walk up to his office with him.
My husband has one of those executive style offices that I often envision in my fantasy. I am sure that this fact adds to my desire to act out whenever I am alone with him. I have been inclined to not exactly behave myself and will pull my skirt up to my waist while sitting in one of his visitor chairs that sit directly opposite his large desk.
Then I will rub my fingers along my crotch while I coo at him about how horny I am.
I love to watch his eyes as a change comes over him telling me immediately that he desires me. I will keep my dress or skirt held high as I saunter over to his side of the desk. Sometimes I sit on his desk placing my feet on each of the armrests on his chair and touch myself while he watches.
Other times I will get down on the carpeted floor of his office and crawl over to him until I can reach between his legs and stroke his erection through his suit pants. Then I will slowly unzip his fly and extract his deep red and throbbing penis from his trousers and perform fellatio on him until he fills my mouth with his hot and creamy jism. Yummy!
The thought of being discovered in such a vulnerable position at his place of work almost brings me to orgasm without him even touching me.
I love the role-play that goes on in my mind, as I am the submissive secretary to this powerful executive unable to deny any and all of his requests despite their sordid nature. It really is a turn on for me. To add the element of being spanked makes it that much more exciting.
As far as I know no one gets spanked at work particularly in today's highly litigious society. Even though this makes perfect sense, fantasies don't follow any rules of rationality. I guess that is why they are fantasies.
The more I fantasize about being spanked by my husband in his office, the more I desire it to really happen. But who would be the unsuspecting audience and how could they possibly be made a part of my fantasy without realizing it.
Then on one particular evening as I sat on my husband's desk top with my skirt pulled up and my legs spread wide apart having rested them on either armrest of his chair, a male member of the cleaning staff inadvertently walked in on us.
I quickly dropped my feet to the floor pulling my skirt southward and stood up.
My entire body flushed with embarrassment and humiliation. But at the exact same time, I really got aroused.
I had been seen playing the 'sexy secretary' and it felt deliciously naughty.
The man excused himself, walked into my husband's office taking a hold of his wastebasket and then emptied it into a large container on wheels that was just outside the door. The entire time he stared at me with his deep brown eyes.
If you have exhibitionist tendencies like myself there is a certain look that you come to recognize particularly if you are caught doing something rather unexpected and very sexy. This man had that look. It isn't a creepy look. It is more of a look of appreciation for any woman that he considers sexy.
I knew that he had seen much more than a man without this look would have seen. In essence he has trained himself to notice aspects of a woman that most men would miss until it is thrown right into their face.
He would notice the little space that opens up whenever a woman crosses and uncrosses her legs. He would notice the barely perceptible line of elastic outlining a woman's bottom that creates visible panty lines despite how careful the woman might be to disguise them. He would notice the cleavage created when a woman leans over causing her top to drape away from her chest.
It is like being a connoisseur of women. If you are one of these types of men, you know exactly what I am talking about.
You enjoy most everything about a woman particularly if you like how the woman looks.
This particular connoisseur had just seen me with my legs spread wide and uncovered to above my stocking tops.
Our eyes met and that single look told me that he liked what he had just seen and would certainly like to see more.
Once he left I asked my husband who he was. He explained that he was one of the regular members of the cleaning staff that enters the building after everyone has left to clean. His name was Manuel and almost like clockwork he would show up at the door of my husband's office to empty his wastebasket. Once my husband had left for the evening then Manuel would also vacuum the office and do a light dusting.
During subsequent get-togethers what my husband said was confirmed, as Manuel would appear almost precisely at 7:00 to empty his wastebasket. I couldn't quite understand why I hadn't seen him before as my weekly visits to my husband's office usually coincided with his cleaning rounds. Could it be that he had seen me instead of me ever seeing him? After all wouldn't it be proper discretion to not walk in on a man and a woman while they were in the midst of something sexual? It also occurred to me that on this particular occasion Manuel's curiosity got the best of him and that was why he decided to interrupt us. Could it be that he wanted to see what I looked like up close instead of any furtive glances of me seen from the hallway.
Each time our eyes met I would recognize that look. This look has always sent the most pleasant little tremors throughout my body often resulting in my desire to act out again. I don't mean that I wanted to strip for Manuel specifically, but the thought of being caught again just to see that look made me giddy.
He was the perfect voyeur for my fantasy.
I pretty much filed the thought away in my mind dismissing it as another little fantasy of mine that would play a role in my masturbatory sessions. Then I started to perform Mr. Barclay's little tasks.
His tasks have awakened my wild side. The side of me that I had thought was put away for good. After all I was a maturing woman and mother and had responsibilities as well as a recently self-assigned reputation to uphold.
When I initially had exchanged thoughts of performing tasks for Mr. Barclay, I always reminded him that nothing that I did could affect my husband's reputation among his clients or co-workers. As a result Mr. Barclay has managed to create tasks for me that wouldn't become the talk of the town so to speak.
However since the performance of my last task where I literally lost my skirt in front of my managers and peers, my wild side has become quite dominant again.
And besides, never come between a woman and her fantasies.
So the thought of being spanked with everything from my waist on down being put on display was gaining momentum. What if Manuel was my unexpected voyeur as I was draped across my husband's desktop with my dress pulled up and over my waist?
The idea was too intoxicating and I was becoming obsessed with it.
But how to do it?