It's all very well realising that 'less can be more', but there's always the fine line to be found – that gulf between not quite showing enough, and showing just enough. Or even, too much. In the couple of weeks that followed the highly successful dress shopping trip, there was much soul-searching and ideas-seeking in the Jess-Mikey household. There was even some peripheral pleasure hunting, given that we'd enjoyed our outdoor coupling so much.
It seemed at first that the genuinely accidental stumble in the little changing room – albeit assisted by Mikey's guiding hand – opened up a world of possibilities, but in practice we discovered that there is a fairly limited number of ways in which such 'accidental' exposure can occur. Sure, there's the ever-faithful 'delivery guy arrives earlier than expected' scenario, the 'I didn't realise anyone had arrived home here while I was changing' set-up, and any number of 'wardrobe malfunctions' that we could choose from – but oddly enough, very few, if any, of these had the 'shocked heroine' factor that I now discovered was the key to unlocking the new, higher levels of pleasure that I had experienced in front of (and shortly after) the stranger, Vic, back in the dress shop.
Mikey and I trialled a number of attempts at the sudden, shocking loss of clothes through things like a car pulling away with my dress snagged in the door (which came closer to decapitating me than showing off my charms), collapsing changing room doors (which proved extremely unpopular with a couple of rightly-suspicious store owners), and a near fatal attempt (I exaggerate, but not by too much) at having next door's Labrador retriever grab my dress and try to run off and bury it.
I might – should – have mentioned a few thousand times before that without Mikey, my life just wouldn't be right, and that it has been his gentle support and even gentler encouragement that has allowed me to discover and explore this new, daring side to my character. Who has, in effect, acted as midwife in the birth of Sexgirl. And it was Mikey who came up with the solution to my ever more kinky needs.
"Princess?"
I looked over at my guy who had been sitting at his computer for more than two hours, trawling through the more literate type of pornography, "What's up, buster? Need a fresh roll of tissues?"
"Not just yet," Mikey's smile lit up the room and my heart, "But we both might do soon. Do you know what 'sharking' is?"
"Unless it's something to do with dodgy loans or extreme tropical fish breeding, I can't say that I do. Neither of which do anything for me in the moist pussy stakes, by the way."
"Remind me to show you a video about eels, later, but for now come and look at this."
I crossed to my guy's side and looked at the monitor where a well-known rodent-related site was cued up and ready to play a video clip titled 'Street Surprises'. "So surprise me," I told Mikey. And with a click of his mouse, he did.
For those of you who don't already know, sharking is the practice of running up to young women in the street and yanking down their tops or pulling up their skirts – in this particular video's case, revealing as much as possible to a secretive cameraman. The majority of the clip compilation seemed to feature genuine assaults – and let's be clear, here, these were sexual assaults – and while the practice, as featured in the clip, was undoubtedly cruel and abhorrent, I felt a shiver of potential arousal. "What... exactly were you thinking, buster? I'm not so sure we could find anyone willing to take the chance of being caught or chased even if he were to be persuaded to try that on me..."
"Some stranger wouldn't, I'm fairly sure, but you do know that I adore you don't you?"
The cunning plan clicked, "You mean you'd play the guy assaulting me and would try to time it so that some unsuspecting stranger came to my rescue?"
"Exactly, my smart, horny lady."
I paused to think before nodding slowly, "Okay, but two things worry me.... First, what if some other bystander comes over all vigilante and goes after you? Or the target himself?"
"I'll make sure that the lucky guy is alone, or alone enough, and if we pick someone not too fit looking, then there wouldn't be any chance of him chasing a young, fit guy like me."
"Ignoring the fact that you're not exactly a teenager any more, and in the fitness stakes it's been a good few months since your last push up-"
"I've had more exercise in the last few months than the last few years thanks to Sexgirl," Mikey interrupted.
"Well, okay, I'll let you off that one, but secondly, then, I get the biggest buzz of all through you witnessing everything that happens and if you're the guy in the hoodie that runs off, that's not going to happen."
"You said it yourself," Mikey grinned, "Hoodie – I can just dash round the corner and strip it off, then come dashing back saying the guy got into a car and burned rubber or something. I'll only miss a few seconds at worst."
I was impressed and said as much, "Very clever, my Einstein with more than kinky hair." I looked down at the sundress I was wearing, "In fact, I think that sort of genius might even have made old Albert proud."
"You think it will work, then? Think it's the sort of thing you want to try?"
I could feel my blood stirring, and a glance down at the front of Mikey's jeans, cranked my pulse rate a few more notches, "That," I told him, "is a yes followed by another one." I pointed to the bedroom, "Want to come and help me pick out some suitably flimsy tops?" Mikey's fingers hooked around the top of my sundress, his thumb flicking the shoulder strap down my right biceps. I shrugged the other one down and smiled, "Seems like someone is looking forward to his practice sessions."
A sharp yank made me gasp, as my mind filled with the joy of exposure, both immediate and planned, quickly followed by another gasp as first hungry eyes and then hungry hands took in the exposed flesh.
My only remaining concern was that we'd end up fucking in front of the stranger...
Rehearsals took a few days – not because we couldn't find suitable attire, but because we couldn't stop ourselves from celebrating each successful faux-assault with an all-too-real fuck. That didn't cause problems indoors, but once we took our practice sessions out onto the streets (or more often, a multi-story car park ), there were one or two near-misses. Which increasingly became sources of arousal and inspiration in themselves.
Our only other problematic issue was in terms of the realism of my reaction to the 'assault' – I had to agree with Mikey's assessment of it when he pointed out that it was very unlikely that a victim of such an attack would yell at the rapidly retreating attacker's back to 'come back here and fuck me'.
In any case, we were soon ready for out first real attempt, and the outfit of choice for me was a strapless boob tube with rather dodgy seams, over a short summery skirt and extremely skimpy panties – three items that would, if Mikey's role played out to perfection, shrink to two as he would be able to yank the top right off before sprinting away. If this worked we had already earmarked the next item as a summer dress rigged in the same way as the boob tube – but being left in just see-through panties seemed like a natural escalation, and not something for a first attempt....
