This is the fourth part of a story in the "NEIGHBORLY RELATIONS" series. It's best to read them in order, but a quick recap will help here. Neighbors Emily Porter and Patty Trent have taken up a lesbian relationship. Patty's husband knows about it, but Robert Porter does not. Robert did, however, accompany Emily into the Trent back yard to watch his exhibitionist neighbor screw her husband through her bedroom window. The Porter children, Elaine and Danny, know about it, too. In fact, they have video. And, they have video of their parents screwing that excites them very much. Oh, yes, Danny and Elaine have taken up masturbating together lately. And playing doctor, too. MEANWHILE, Jenny and Daryl Peterson had a sex party with Terry and John Carter, and now both couples want more. Everyone will get more, very soon.
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PART FOUR: THE WIVES' CLUB
CHAPTER ONE, The Ugly Duckling
When Patty Trent was growing up, she'd felt that she was plain, less than attractive, because of her braces and greasy skin, lank hair, and a pimple beside her nose that would never go away. Her sister was a beauty, and she had boys fighting to take her out, but Patty knew she'd never have that happen to her. No, not Ugly Patty.
The girl she had been then couldn't see beyond the surface to admire the straightforward prettiness of her face and the inquisitive glow in her eyes. No, she didn't see anything worth much there. So, as she grew, getting rid of her braces in her senior year, and as her breasts began filling out to their eventual pleasing weight and her bottom rounded seductively, she didn't see it happening. No, she was just plain old Patty Rasmussen, Charlotte Rasmussen's ugly little sister.
It was in college that she began to change her opinions about herself, beginning in the dressing room at the campus pool, where a very pretty blonde coed said, "Damn, I wish I had your ass, Patty. My butt is flat as a boy's butt." Patty had been confused by the compliment, but she returned to her dorm room to study herself in the full length mirror on the back of the door. Yes, her ass was pretty good, wasn't it? And her tits, while they weren't yet to their eventual D cup size, were shapely and firm. Really not so bad at all.
As for her face, well, she still had trouble seeing what she was looking at.
One night, she was trying on clothing in preparation for going to a movie with her roommate and her roommate's boyfriend. She couldn't decide, and went from one blouse to another, finally settling on a pale yellow blouse that would require a change of bra. She removed her bra and turned to pick up a white one that wouldn't show through. That was when she happened to see the sidewalk outside the window. On that sidewalk, lit by one of the tall lamps gracing the campus, five young men were standing, grinning, and clearly enjoying the sight through her second floor window. Patty was shocked, and she froze for a moment, facing them directly before the boys realized that she was looking back and ran for cover.
The boys had been watching her change clothes. They had been turned on by what they saw. And, the next time, when she "accidentally" exposed herself, she felt a hot thrill that someone out there, perhaps unseen, was enjoying the view.
At first, she didn't admit to herself that she was purposely exposing herself, but that is what she began doing. Her closet was nearest the window, so she had a perfect excuse. She never left the drapes completely open, as they had been that first time, but about half closed. It was fun capturing the attention of passersby, randomly stopping boys and girls, even a couple professors. Some took a quick look and hurried away in embarrassment, while others stood and stared. It was an erotic thrill to be looked at like that. It made her nipples hard, her pussy wet.
It was far too fun to stop.
One night in her junior year an Engineering student named Charles Trent stopped outside her window. She'd been putting on these impromptu shows for a year by then, and he knew what he was looking for. Charles wasn't someone who got off by peeping in windows, but he'd been admiring Patty Rasmussen from affair for several months while never working up the nerve to talk to her. When he mentioned to his roommate that he thought she was hot, the other boy agreed and mentioned that, if he was patient and timed things right, he might get to see her naked.
So, he'd come to look, already enraptured by her beauty fully clothed. This new image was nearly too much to bear. She saw him on the sidewalk, staring at him in return, and he held his ground and didn't run away.
Patty held her ground too, emboldened by the knowledge of her appeal. She came to the window, still topless, and called through the screen, "Hey, you're that guy from English class aren't you?"
"Yes, I am," he replied. "Charles Trent."
"Okay, see you in class tomorrow," she said, closing the draperies.
A little bit over a year later, they were married.
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They set up housekeeping together, and, while he worked construction, she taught elementary school. They had two children, Debby and Kelly, and they moved into a house on a nice quiet cul-de-sac in the suburbs. Eventually, Charles rose to foreman of the whole operation, and, when the school cut back on teachers, they decided that Patty shouldn't worry about work just then. She became a stay at home mother.
In all that time, Patty had never purposely exposed herself again. She had a muscular husband with a very large cock who loved her more than life itself. She didn't need anyone else to testify to her attractiveness. She forgot about the thrill.
But one day, in mid winter, the thrill returned. She had just finished her shower and wanted to apply lotion to her legs, but the bottle wasn't in the bathroom. After drying herself, she walked naked to the bedroom looking for the bottle. It wasn't there. Oh, yes, she'd used it in the living room. She walked immediately out to the brightly lit living room. The lotion was on the end table by the picture window sitting under a lamp that was providing some of the illumination on a dim winter day. Giving no thought to the open drapes, she picked up the bottle and poured some lotion on her hand, thinking to put her foot up and apply it right there.
As she put her foot on the chair, she happened to glance out and see the mailman standing in the middle of the street with a handful of letters and a lust filled expression on her face. Patty's heart hammered within her, as though his scrutiny was an electric charge. Her pussy grew moist as she lowered her leg and turned away from the window, still aware of his eyes on her butt as she slowly walked away.
Patty wiped the lotion off on a towel and lay on her bed to finger herself to a monumental climax.
In bed that night, Patty rolled toward her husband and said, "Remember how we met?"
"Yeah, I'd been told there was a cute little stripper on campus and I went to take a look," he said, sliding his hand down over her shoulder and along to her hip.
"The mailman saw me naked today," she blurted, not knowing any good way to say it. She related the entire story to him, complete with her masturbation, and waited for a reply. His cock, growing against her knee as she lay facing him, presaged the answer.
"I bet her liked that," Charles said.
"Yes, it looked like he did, before I ran away from the window."
"You never run away from anything," he teased her then. "You want to be seen again, don't you?" Charles always cut to the heart of the matter, and this was no exception.
"Yes."
"You don't need my permission, really," he said. "It's your body."
"It's your body, too," Patty told him. "We're married. I wouldn't want to do anything you don't know about."
Charles thought about it, taking his time even as he traced the curve of her buttocks with one hand and moved his cock in to slide up over her knee. Finally, he spoke.
"Well, I believe that what a person does in their own home is their own business," he said. "I suppose the matter gets tricky when it comes down to leaving curtains open on purpose. Still, to each his own, right?'
Patty gripped his cock in reply, stroking, smiling.
"Just be careful," he told her. "And I don't really have to tell you, but make sure you're not prancing around when little kids might see you."
"Absolutely," she said. "God, I love you." She kissed him deeply, filling the kiss with all the love she had inside.
The next day, after all the school buses had gone, Patty opened her front curtains and vacuumed her carpet in the nude. Her neighbor, Robert Porter, was just leaving for work, and he slowed as he drove down the street. He was her first audience member, and she thrilled to the idea of giving that boring banker a stiffy.
Over the next couple years, Patty continued her hobby without problems, and without ever really knowing if any one other than Robert Porter saw her or not. Their little neighborhood was a quiet place that went on its way quietly. Nobody complained, so maybe nobody was watching at all.
Patty couldn't know that both the Peterson's and the Burtons had clear views through her front window from their own darkened living rooms. She didn't know how Daryl and Jenny Peterson, both in their early 50's, liked to watch her and then have a little quickie before Daryl drove down to his car dealership. And she didn't realize that Ralph and Betty Burton had gone so far as to record a couple of her little shows with their high-def camera and have some special loved ones over to enjoy it. She didn't know because they were twenty years older than she was and didn't appear to be particularly sexually active.
Those neighbors liked her shows because of their old school charm. She wasn't masturbating, fornicating, or standing on her head. She was vacuuming the carpet or dusting furniture. She was just showing off, and they found that rather sweet.
Over time she'd taken to scampering out to her detached garage to sit in their mini van and masturbate while watching the street. Her husband and chief enabler backed the van into the garage for her specifically for that purpose. She loved the thrill of exposure felt during that brief run between the house and the garage.
It was a Wednesday in May when everything changed. Patty had spent the morning cleaning, dusting, and had even gone into the back yard to retrieve some stray toys. Then, in the afternoon, the temptation of the van in the garage was too much to ignore. She hurried out across the driveway with the garage opener in hand and took up her position in the passenger seat of the car. The part of her brain that told her this activity was stupid was no match for the part that was thrilled. Her heart was racing, her pussy wet, and her hand went to her groin immediately.
And then Emily Porter came out of her house and started the sprinkler on her lawn. She turned, spotted Patty, and approached her where she sat naked in her mini van. Patty finally felt the mortification of discovery. It wasn't a man, who might appreciate the sight and just let it pass. No, it was Emily Porter, the perfect in all ways mother of two and wife of Robert, the staid banker. She would probably call the police and they'd have to leave the neighborhood in shame.
Patty burst into tears.
"Please don't," Emily said as she hurried around the car to get in on the driver's side. "Don't cry. Don't. I didn't mean to . . ."
