Surprise Display

Dear Reader, I hope you don't find this story a bit tame. I grew up in a pretty straitlaced community, so some things that might seem rather ho-hum to a lot of people are hugely exciting to me. This story documents an experience that I find so thrilling to remember that I'm constantly reliving it and can't stop thinking about it. So I'm setting it down in words in the hope that sharing these memories and feelings with others will help get them out of my system.

My husband and I were both virginal on our wedding day and I was happy to think I was his "first." But a few years later I felt rather hurt when he diffidently confided in me that in his late teens he had indulged in a bit of window peeping, with little success except that one lady in the neighborhood, pretending not to notice him, had treated him to his first good look at a real live woman's breasts. I felt quite jealous of her, and long wished I could "unintentionally" display my own female attributes to some young man.

After some years I was eventually to find an opportunity. I'm now a ripe old 83 with gray hair, but was a 41-year-old honey-blonde at the time of this experience. My figure was apparently still not too bad then, because my husband was still often saying appreciative things about my body and breasts, and what he variously called my "big rosy nipples" or "big glowing nipples" or sometimes even "big radiant nipples" (from which I gathered that the human male finds big nipples very exciting!).

We were billeting Paul and Denny, a couple of recent graduates from our son Jason's former High School, in connection with a school Homecoming event. (Jason himself was living interstate on a college campus.) They were nice polite boys -- actually young adults, but at my stage of life they certainly looked like boys to me. Paul was a big lad, a bit awkward at times but a decent young fellow of neat and pleasant appearance. Denny was definitely the good-looking one, quietly spoken, with light brown wavy hair, even features and a trim athletic build.

To help the boys feel at ease, we encouraged them to address us by our first names, Marie and Jon. Perhaps because we made them feel so much "at home," they apparently soon learned to assume that Jon and I would always use our ensuite, and not the main bathroom, for I noticed that when nature called they habitually just opened the bathroom door without knocking and charged in. Or perhaps they didn't realize that the door didn't have a lock. Either way, the practice provided the starting point for my naughty, naughty plan.

I was in the habit, after a shower, of removing my hair rollers topless in front of the ensuite mirror. One day during the boys' stay, Jon had an appointment to keep. Knowing this, I purposely got him to help out with a couple of odd jobs that left him a bit short of time to shower before his appointment -- and when he was almost ready to shower, I "forgetfully" took a shower myself, which put him even further behind. To make up for it, so that he could shower as quickly as possible, I made the "noble sacrifice" of leaving the ensuite entirely to him and went out to remove my rollers in the main bathroom -- topless as usual.

The bathroom vanity unit and mirror were on the left as one entered, obliging a person using the mirror to stand more or less side-on to the door. My plan was to wait until I heard the voice of Paul or, preferably, Denny exiting from the rumpus room and then, as whichever of them bounded up the stairs, I planned to half-turn toward the door with my hands raised as if removing a roller from my hair. This was to serve three purposes. First, being turned to the door meant that on opening it he would immediately see both my exposed breasts, full on. Second, raising my arms above my head would afford an unfettered view of them, ensuring that he would see my nipples. Third, my raised arms drew my breasts upward a little and would flatter their firm appearance.

So I stood topless at the mirror, started taking the rollers out of my hair (as slowly as possible), and waited.

After a while I heard Denny's gentle voice and my heart leapt. As I had hoped, Denny was going to see my breasts! I could hear him coming up the stairs and with a beating heart I positioned myself as planned -- half-turned to the door, with my hands raised to one of the rollers in my hair. A quick check in the mirror -- oh, it was so daring, so wicked -- just so wonderfully rude -- two bobbing bare breasts with big, bold nipples, clearly on display!

What happened next only took maybe 30 seconds or so but this is the part I find most thrilling to re-imagine in slow motion. Denny opened the door -- and found himself looking at a pair of big female nipples on full, rounded breasts. Then he saw my face and realized they were my breasts! I imagined the thoughts racing through his mind -- no doubt in young men's terminology -- 'Those are Marie's tits, gee she's got big nipples, well so that's what her tits are like, they look good too.'

As soon as he saw my breasts I feigned a horrified gasp and an expression of mortified embarrassment, covering my nipples with my left forearm. (Of course, I gladly knew that it was too late -- he had now seen them!) He mumbled an awkward "Uh, sorry" and as he turned away I lowered my forearm, leaving my breasts exposed again. He half-turned back to close the door and, to my inner delight, stole another quick look at 'Marie's tits and nipples' before shutting the door.

As he went back down the stairs I had another look in the mirror... yes, there were my bare breasts. That was what Denny had seen, nipples and all, and he now knew what I looked like with my breasts exposed. It sent a wonderful glowing feeling all over my body. And then I realized with a thrill that he could probably still "see" my two breasts in his mind's eye -- his surprise at unexpectedly seeing a pair of big nipples had no doubt imprinted the image on his memory. My breasts and whole body tingled at the thought that he was even at that moment mentally "looking" at them.

Mission accomplished (and now with very stiff nipples), I packed up my roller set and took it back to the master bedroom (leaving the bathroom door open so that Denny would know it was safe to enter). I put my naughty rude breasts away in a bra and finished dressing, still enjoying a glow of satisfaction at my success.

Not much later Jon came out of the ensuite, none the wiser to the wicked act I had just been up to. Did I feel guilty about having, in a sense, cheated on him? Yes, just a little bit, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him -- I don't think to this day that he knows anything about it. And after all, since another woman had previously had him see her breasts, why shouldn't I have a young fellow see mine?

Anyway it actually worked to Jon's benefit in the long run, because when he made love I kept recalling the wonderful feeling of young male eyes looking over my breasts, and it all made a very passionate lover of me!

After the "accident," I found that both the boys had now started knocking before entering the bathroom. Denny must have told Paul what had happened. Had he described my breasts to Paul? I hoped so, because I rather liked the idea that Paul, too, would know what they were like. I'm pretty sure that he did know about them, because over the ensuing days I sometimes caught one or other of them surreptitiously eyeing my chest, as if mentally inspecting my bare breasts. It was exciting to think they knew what to imagine -- especially of course in the case of Denny, who undoubtedly did know what was in there, because he had indeed seen them.

About a week later the time came to say goodbye to our young house guests. We saw them off at the station, where they thanked us politely for our hospitality. Neither of them had ever said anything about the "accident" but I knew Denny would always remember the sight of my exposed breasts. For my part, I will never forget my feeling of fulfillment as they boarded the train, both knowing that I had good breasts and big nipples.