My husband has gotten up early this morning; he is headed to Syracuse for the day. But first he is meeting some workmen who he has hired to paint our garage that were coming to the house this morning to begin their work. Our house was less than ten years old but the garage had never been painted and detracted from the overall beauty of the house. I had recently left my job and so was available to stay at home while he was gone and deal with any issues that might come up with respect to the workmen; to call him if any problems arose; dealing with problems was not my strength.
Having been up late the night before, I was still in bed as my husband strolled about, getting himself ready for his trip, but mostly preparing things for the soon to arrive workmen. Lying there, my mind was wandering, looking about the bedroom. Bright sunlight was coming in from the eastern facing window in our bedroom. Millions of small particles of dust were dancing in the rays of the bright sunlight; knowing these particles were waltzing throughout the room, a sudden feeling of suffocation quickly passed through my mind. The feeling came and went in an instant as the sound of the security buzzer broke the silence in the bedroom at around eight o'clock; someone was coming up the long, stone covered driveway.
Assuming it must be the painters, I did not bother to leave my peaceful resting spot to look out the window to make certain. Calm had overtaken my thoughts as I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling above, its color varying from dark shades of gray to a bright cloud colored white, with patches of yellow, red, and orange where the bright sunlight was dispersed into its primary colors as it passed through a lamp in the room. My left hand had found a warm, soft resting spot on the surface of the silk boxing shorts I was wearing, above the converging lines of my legs and the folds of my vagina. My hand lay still, not attempting to explore this area more thoroughly, content to simply rest it there while my mind wandered now from thoughts of dancing dust balls to elaborate dance halls, glasses of champagne, a very seductive cocktail dress, and admiring young men. Closing my eyes and letting the images float through my mind my thumb began to press gently down, feeling the softness of my lips beneath the silk of my boxers.
Slightly startled by the sound of the bedroom door opening, my eyes open, my hand quickly slips slightly to the side, resting now on the upper part of my thigh. I glance at the clock resting on the nightstand to my left as my husband enters the room. It is now eight-thirty.
Leaning over the bed my husband kisses me on the forehead and says, "I'll be home at around eleven tonight. If anything comes up just give me a call, I'll have my cell phone on all day. The workmen are here and they know what they're supposed to be doing and so I doubt that anything will come up."
I do not say anything in response and continue to lay there, my mind having not yet completely left the dance hall and admiring young men.
Heading out of the bedroom he turns and says, smiling mischievously, "These guys are very young and so don't go running around the yard in any of those skimpy bathing suits of yours. I don't know these guys and you don't want to be giving them any ideas."
"Yeah, right," I say. "I'm sure seeing me in a bathing suit is nothing a bunch of young guys would even take a second notice of."
"Believe me," he says, "they'll notice! I always do! Love you, got to go. Have a good day."
Not responding to the last question I say, "Love you too. See you tonight."
Closing the door behind him, my husband leaves the bedroom and heads downstairs. The sound of his shoes on the wooden stairs enters the room first, followed next by the sound of the hallway door opening and closing. A few minutes later I again hear the sound of the security buzzer as my husband's car leaves our driveway. He was gone for the day, and for some reason I felt the air around me lighten, the dust settling to the floor, the warm colors of the sunlight on the ceiling seaming brighter, and the warmth between my legs inviting.
Staying in bed, my hand repositions itself back on top of my silk boxer shorts, above the warmth of my crotch, my thumb again gently exploring the softness of my mound. Faint noises from the young workers below occasionally stray into the room, altering my thoughts. My mind is no longer thinking of either dancing dust balls or even of dancing handsome young men, my mind now is flashing images created from the words just spoken by my husband, "don't go running around the yard in any of those skimpy bathing suits of yours." Images of me sunning on the deck, bringing the men drinks, admiring their work, while they admired me in my "skimpy bathing suit" were the visions flashing before me now, causing my hand to explore more completely the mound beneath my shorts. My thumb reaches under the silk covering my crotch and slips slightly between the lips of my now moist vagina.
My mind becomes focused on images of me in my skimpy bathing suit, the excited young men sneaking glances of me as I feign some busy homemaker activity that forces me to parade in front of the group of young men. In the images the sun hits my tanned body precisely causing the tanning oil on my chest to reflect the white of the sun, highlighting the mounds on either side of my deep cleavage. The men are all smiles in my images. A sensual and comforting warmth envelops my body as a plan quickly develops inside my mind. A decision had been made; on a hot summer day like today it would not be too strange for the workmen to find me in a bathing suit. "Running around in one of my skimpy bathing suits" is exactly what I was going to do today.
Anxiously getting out of bed, after making my decision, I walk over to the previously mentioned window, which has a partial view of our long, winding driveway. Parked outside, barely in view, was a small, red pickup truck, and parked a little further down the driveway was my car, a Toyota Prius, which must have been moved there by my husband. I can only see the back of the truck for it is parked close to the garage entrance. The truck is dusty and the bed of the truck is loaded with various items used by painters. Large white cans of paint are pressed against the side of the truck bed wall, multiple paint splattered drop cloths are resting on the bed, and two step ladders are partially hanging out the back of the truck, resting on both the bed of the truck and its tailgate which now hangs fully open, attached to the truck by two chains which are pulled taught.
Leaning on the windowsill, kneeling on the small sofa next to the window, my silk boxer shorts pulled tight against my body, my breasts hanging freely in my loosely fitting, sleeveless t-shirt, the roundness of the sides of my breasts and nipples are completely exposed. I stare out the window, my mind alternating between the images of what I see and the images of what I would like to see. Nobody is currently near the truck so I assume the workers must all be inside the garage. Continuing to peer out the window, my mind again wandering, I occasionally see workers walk to the truck to get some tool or other item from the back of the red truck. The two men that I have seen so far are very young. The image that is now fixed in my mind is that of the two young men looking up toward the window, smiling when they see my erect nipples and the fullness of my breasts hanging freely from the side of my t-shirt. The image is only imagined. I resist tapping on the window, waving down to them, and giving them their first glimpse of the day.
Exposing my body, in various states of dress, to a bunch of men working at my house has been at the center of many of my past fantasies and it now seemed likely that I would soon be acting on it, at least to some level. I was certainly older than the two men I had just seen through my window, but I was certainly in very good shape. In fact, just recently while crossing a road in downtown Vancouver while on vacation, a young man drove by and hollered out the window to me, "Absolutely perfect!" It wasn't the first time strangers have commented, out of the blue, on my looks. The two workmen in my garage certainly looked pretty young but I'm certain if I wore the right clothes I could get their attention; I was definitely going to try. I headed into the bathroom to shower, thinking about what today might have in store for me.
Heading into the bathroom, I stripped completely naked and took a good, hard look into the mirror. I was pleased with the fact that my lightly tanned body was looking pretty good. My body is in very good shape, having exercised multiple times a week since I was in my early twenties and having recently been tanning at my health club in preparation for a trip to St. Martin. My breasts, though not large, are full and round, and hang nicely with no signs of any approaching sagginess. My nipples are a natural shade of red and become erect quite easily; my husband likes it when I wear clothes that accentuate my breasts, showing as much cleavage as possible. My legs are also long and thin, which makes them look especially nice and long in very short skirts. My waxed mound also looked great today and I rubbed my hands across it, amazed at how soft and smooth it felt.
The potential to arouse these young men was definitely there, I just needed to decide on the how and the what. How was I going to do it and what outfit would best help my cause. The thought of running around all day in a skimpy bathing suit, barely covering me, while these young men worked in our garage was really exciting. Bringing them food and drink throughout the day would definitely have to be part of my how. I couldn't believe I was actually planning on doing this.
First, I took a hot shower, washed my hair, and waxed my legs and brushed the razor across my crotch. My crotch was already waxed and so it just needed a quick run over to make it perfectly smooth, but I took extra care to make certain it was as smooth as my naked ass. Having these men stare at my body while they worked was all I could think about as I stood under the hot soothing spray of the shower. My head tilted back, the hot spray of the water soaking my breasts, I thought about the men sitting on the deck with me, having lunch, while I sat in my skimpy bikini, drinking beers. Maybe walking out to the garage to bring them some more beers, anything that forced me to parade in front of them. My hands washed every inch of my body as these images kept flashing through my mind.
After my long shower I towel dried and brushed my teeth. Standing again naked in front of the mirror, I envisioned wearing a bikini bottom as low as possible, letting the men get a good look at the top of my completely bare crotch. Not able to resist, I slid a finger deep inside the lips of my moist vagina, then slowly removed it, letting it slide firmly across my enlarged clit.
