She told me to come by after work. I got off a little earlier than usual and headed over and I figured I might even beat her home. I pulled up to her place and lightly knocked on her door. I could hear something inside, a faint noise, like a tv or something. She had always told me if she doesn't answer and the door is open to come on it; as she may be in the shower or doing something where she can't hear the door.
I tried the knob and it was unlocked. I slowly opened the door and asked "Laurie? Are you home?" No answer. As I slowly entered inside, I identified the sound I heard outside her door. It was music, louder, now that I was inside. "Laurie?" I asked, louder this time to announce my presence. No answer. As I walked around her front room I followed where the music was coming from. It led me down the hall to her bedroom. The music was soft and kind of jazzy, and by the time I got to her bedroom door I could tell this is where it originated from and was loud. No wonder she couldn't hear me.
The door was halfway open and there was space between the door and the wall by the hinges, space enough to peer in. I wanted to see if she was there first and not just walk in unannounced and startle her, especially if she is in state of undress. Besides, I was early. I would feel funny about just barging in; not that she would mind. If fact, I know she would love that. Maybe it was my proper upbringing that it just didn't seem right. So, I peered in; I could see her-- she apparently had just gotten home from work, still had her work outfit on: a white blouse, dark brown knee length skirt, legs encased in sheer nude pantyhose and matching brown heeled pumps. Nothing special, her typical professional attire.
She was viewing herself in the full-length mirror, turning to the side, then to the front, then turned so she was almost had her back to it, her head turned around so she could see part of her back side. She was swaying softly to the music. She was trying different poses, seeing how she looked. She ran her fingers through her silky blond hair. Her nails were done in a lustrous cherry red, which perfectly contrasted her fair features. She then ran her fingertips along her cheek, down the nape of her neck, closing her eyes, as if imagining her hands were an invisible lover. Was she thinking about me? Or a hot celebrity? Or someone totally imaginary?
Her breaths were deep and heavy. Her fingers traced a line down to her blouse. She circled the top bottom first, before slowly unbuttoning it. Her eyes were open now, looking in the mirror, as if she was looking at her imaginary lover. Then, slowly again, unbuttoning the second button. She paused for a moment, as if teasing her unseen lover. More of her neck area was exposed now, almost milky white and smooth. I was frozen in my place. Maybe I wasn't early; maybe I was exactly on time. Did she know I was there? Or was this how she was passing the time waiting for me? I couldn't interrupt now, so I watched, unseen by her, a secret voyeur.
Next, a third button, revealing the top of her breasts; breasts that I have always loved touching, caressing and sucking. But now, I was just watching. The next button revealed her bra—white, professional, with a touch of lace. After what seemed an eternity, all the buttons undone, she pulled the bottom of her blouse out from her skirt, pulling open slightly, admiring her almost nude torso in the mirror. She slowly pulled her blouse off her arms and let it drop to the flow. Seeing her in her lacey bra otherwise topless had me so aroused. I was hard, but transfixed on her unable to move.
Next, she moved her hands behind her waist and she slowly unzipped her skirt. Her skirt loosened around her waist but her curvy hips prevented it from dropping to the floor, till her hands assisted, pushing around her curves till gravity took over and her skirt puddled at her feet. There she was, all of her outer clothes removed; she was only in her bra, and pantyhose and heels; I could see her panties through her hose. They were a match to her bra—white briefs trimmed in lace. Even in this state she was so sexy.
After a few poses in front of the mirror she stepped over her discarded clothes and sat on the edge of her bed. She then removed her heels. She didn't kick them off, she used her hands. Her legs were crossed and she ran her hands slowly down her legs, starting at her hips, as if they were a lover's hands, slowly caressing her nylon covered legs till they reached her foot. A hand slowly pushed the back of her pump off her heel, so that it only hung on by her toes, teetering. She paused before slowly pushing it completely off and letting drop to the floor.
She then re crossed her legs and did the same procedure to her opposite leg. Even through the nylon material I could see that her toes had been painted, a perfect match to her fingers. Still sitting on the edge of the bed she started caressing and rubbing her foot with her hands. She let out a sigh as if her imaginary lover were massaging her foot. Her hands starting running up her leg, massaging as she went. By the time her hands reached her hip she uncrossed her legs, moved her hands to her opposite hip and this time massaged her hose covered leg, this time starting at her hip and working down. Her breathing was becoming a little more ragged now, an occasionally let out a sigh.
Next, she hooked both her thumbs inside the waist of her pantyhose, slowly easing them down. She raised her butt of the bed for a moment the get the hose past her hips, then sat back down, her hands slowly inching the hose down. I loved seeing her sexy smooth legs being revealed, inch by inch. Finally, they were pushed completely off, revealing her beautiful feet with sexy painted toes.
She stood, now and viewed herself in the mirror—still, I did not know if she was admiring her own body or if she was showing herself to that imaginary lover in the mirror. She ran her hands, fingertips only, along her belly, up between her breasts then one hand pushing her opposite arm up above her head. I could her soft moans and I could the flesh on her arm covered in goosebumps. She repeated the process on her other arms and I hear soft moans escaping from her lips. She arched her back, jutting her beautiful bra covered breasts out. I was so turned on I felt like I was about to explode. Not yet, not yet. I composed myself as much as I could and remained the silent voyeur.
Next, she placed each hand on the opposite shoulder, and slowly eased the straps off her shoulders. This caused her breasts to drop slightly, exposing more of her sexy, milky skin, so that the bra was only covering her nipples. Her hands reached behind her, unhooked her bra, and it remained for a second as if the bra were unsure what to do then fell from her body, joining the rest of her discarded clothes. Her hands cupped each breast, pushing it up like they were a push up bra, then squeezing. She was biting her lip and moans, louder now, were escaping her mouth. Her eyes were closed and I sensed she was lost in her passion, her head back, hair falling off her shoulders.
Then she used both hands on one breast; one to cup and squeeze, the other hand to tease her nipple—first light touching, then pinching and pulling. I heard her moan "Ohhhh!" Her hands then repeated the same on her other breast. Her nipples now were erect and hard. She drew her index finger to her mouth, sucked on it making it slick and wet and traced circles around one nipple then the other, her other hand squeezing and kneading her breasts. She was moaning now, loud, drowning out the music. She was in full blown arousal now, her hips gyrating, back arched.
As my eyes gaze down to her remaining garment, her white laced panties, I could see a small wet spot starting to form at the bottom. She was beyond wet now; I knew she was ready. As was I. But yet I remained frozen, as if hypnotized by her.
