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....
To try to ensure that the adventure went without a hitch, we indulged in a brief couple of hours of predictive sexing – draining as much feeling from us as possible – before finally heading off to the multi-storey car park that had provided the most frequent number of ideal backdrops during our rehearsals. And despite the energetic exercises we had undertaken, I was still quivering with anticipation when we pulled into a parking bay on the top floor.
Mikey turned to me one he'd killed the engine, "You sure about this, princess?"
It was a question I'd asked myself a hundred times in the previous few days, and the only variable that changed was the volume at which I said 'yes'. The scenario captured everything that was most arousing for me, including the added unknown of our victim's reaction. As Mikey set out during one of our more rabid sex sessions after a rehearsal, we couldn't even rule out that the guy and Mikey would end up fucking me somewhere in the car park if temperatures soared high enough. The very minimum that would happen is that the guy would get to see my exposed breasts, and the maximum... well, there wasn't one.
I looked my guy in the eyes, "I'm sure. Completely. Are you?"
Mikey smiled, took my hand and placed it in his lap, "What do you think?"
I giggled (sorry, sometimes a girl just can't help it), and gave the prodigious bulge in his shorts a gentle squeeze, "Nothing like a demonstration in place of a word. Are we really going to do this?"
Mikey plucked the keys from the ignition, "Oh, yes."
In a state of shivery tension we took the lift down to the first floor – chosen because it was seldom used by shoppers (most cars here belonged to staff from the adjoining shops), and close enough to the stairs that Mikey's 'escape' would seem natural and fast enough. After that, we only had to wait for seventy-hours (or possibly about twenty minutes – time seemed a little screwy that afternoon) before the lift doors pinged open and a middle-aged gent emerged, weighed down with carrier bags full of shopping.
I was at the opposite end of that level of the car park and immediately started to walk in the direction of the lifts, seemingly oblivious to everything except a 'phone call' I was apparently taking on my iPhone. Mikey, suitably hooded, was standing to the left of the lifts and fell into silent step behind the guy with the bags.
The plan was that Mikey would follow behind the guy until I was within a few feet and then dash past, yank down my top and sprint for the stairs. We'd rehearsed the scene a dozen times on the very spot, let alone countless others back at home, and I was so familiar with the routine that even the surge of adrenaline I felt – slightly higher than the average tidal wave – didn't stop me yakking intently into the buzzing phone, to all intents and purposes unaware of my approaching fate.
I somehow managed to continue feigning my indifference, even when the gap between me and bag-man had reduced to just ten feet without Mikey making his move – we'd mentally prepared for a gap of around that distance – but when there was just six foot or so between us, I began to suffer pangs of disappointment, figuring that Mikey had heard or seen something that prevented him carrying out the plan. That, though, didn't explain why he was still so close behind the stranger...
I was almost within touching distance when Mikey sprang forward, past bag-man, and his proximity, coming so soon after my pangs of disappointment, made m react in a way that could only ever be seen as genuine shock – because it was. My top was torn from me in a second and my breasts suddenly on view. With commendable bravery and ad-lib ability, Mikey stuffed the torn top in his pocket and even managed to lift the front of my skirt for long enough to get me struggling to cover my barely covered pussy, my bared boobs jiggling mere inches from the slack-jawed stranger.
Mikey pushed between the two of us, his right hand sliding across the front of my suddenly soaked panties, before he spun away and sprinted for the stairs.
Shocked – genuinely – I stood with my arms wide, useless phone in one hand and bag in the other before I squealed and covered my breasts with my arms. My eyes flashed up to the stranger's face where he was just reluctantly tearing his focus away from what had been – or at least felt – like the most exposed breasts ever. We were both open-mouthed, both momentarily tongue-tied – in his case, genuine shock, and in mine a mixture of both surprise (at Mikey's late movement) and a sudden need to stay shtum so that my overwhelming excitement didn't become apparent.
Bag-man glanced down at his bags and then across to where Mikey had disappeared, "I'm... I'm really very sorry I can't exactly go after him..." He swallowed, "And.. er... sorry also that I... well... stared rather than doing anything practical. I... that is, if you just give me a moment to set these down," he nodded at the bags once more, "I will... that is, let's see if I can find something to help you, um, cover up."
