She stepped away from the meeting and breathed a sigh of relief. Four weeks into a new job in a totally new area of work, she was starting to hold her own at these network meetings.
She walked back to her car, taking in the rural English countryside around her on a beautiful summer's day. She left the venue and headed back across country towards the Midlands, keeping an eye on the rapidly diminishing fuel gauge.
As she drove down leafy country lanes and through villages, she felt exhilarated at how well the meeting had gone, with a sense of freedom at being out of the office in a location miles away from where anyone knew her.
She felt a stirring inside and in a random, out-of-character act, she pulled her bra up, exposing her breasts to the summer sun as she drove along, smiling. She'd been feeling horny for a few days but hadn't done anything like this in years.
At 43, she'd had her time of giving her now-husband public blow-jobs in darkened alleys, of going out without knickers on, of him making her come in an alcove of a medieval pub in the centre of town, but that all seemed in a distant haze now, the last 7 years being devoted to having kids, struggling to turn from an exhausted mother-figure to a functioning human being, let alone a sexual being. Her husband had waited patiently, putting up with the intermittent sex.
But recently, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the haze was lifting, and she was starting to feel her way back to herself. A tiny scrap of a blank page to redefine who she was and what she wanted, instead of other people's needs coming first. The constant touching from little hands was beginning to lessen, leaving space for her skin to breathe and to perhaps even ache to be touched. She felt like maybe she could see herself again, instead of just being someone's mum. She knew she was overweight but that was the next aim, to get back in shape, but it meant her naturally large breasts were currently a very generous G cup.
She tweaked her nipples, wanting to feel something, wanting someone to drive past her and notice her breasts. The bra was digging in where she had lifted it so she looked for a lay-by, pulled in and whipped her bra off. She laughed to herself: what on earth was she doing?!
There was a car parked up ahead of her. She imagined getting out, walking up to the occupant and asking what the time was or asking them to confirm where she was, anything for them to notice her gently swaying breasts under her red blouse. But no, she didn't have the nerve to do that, so started up the car again and set off.
Without the structure of the bra creating a dip for the seatbelt to lie in, the blouse provided no traction as her seatbelt kept sliding off her left breast, pressing into her neck. She pulled the material up out of the way and the belt fitted nicely in between her large breasts which jumped and jiggled with each bump in the road.
She went deliberately slower on the dual-carriage ways, hoping with each car and van that passed, someone would look over and see her, getting frustrated when they didn't. She approached a roundabout and noted a van would draw level with her in the next lane as they stopped, but lost her nerve at the very last minute and pulled the top down slightly. On the motorway, she felt more confident, knowing she could speed away if anyone saw her so she exposed her breasts again and so she played a game with the traffic, going slow when a van was approaching so it would overtake, or speeding up to reach lorries then slow down as she passed the cab.
LOOK AT ME.
JUST LOOK AT ME.
