Angie Jones was lounging around the living room in her bra and panties as she did so often on these warm humid nights. Stan, her husband had been gone for several weeks now. His air wing was deployed for the second time since the war in Iraq began back in 2003.
"I hate this war." She muttered to herself.
"What did you say Mom?" Audrey Jones, Angie's daughter yelled from the back of the house.
"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking out loud." Angie said with a sigh, settling down with a book to relax and read. As she began to read her mind wandered to those nights when Stan would find her like this, bra and panties, lounging lazily, and would tease her mercilessly insinuating that she was 'parading around naked'. She would intone that she was dressed well enough, besides it was her home, wasn't it? A smile crossed her lips as his stern look melted into a boisterous laugh, invariably followed by cuddles and kisses, and sometimes, if they were alone, they would have sex right there in the living room.
Audrey shocked her back to reality, "I'm headed out Mom."
"Be back by ten young lady."
"Oh come on, eleven, OK?" Audrey pleaded.
"You're seventeen, and ten is late enough for a girl your age."
"OK, bye." And she was gone with a slam of the door.
=*=
The staccato noise of a lawn mower immediately outside her window drug Angie reluctantly from her slumber, she grudgingly rose to face the day. Managing to rustle up coffee and toast she sat in the kitchen nook with her breakfast and watched Pete mow the lawn. Pete lived across the street and had mowed the lawn since he was big enough to push a lawn mower.
He was a nice boy, not real bright, but well mannered and reserved. At eighteen he was a year older than Audrey and had an infatuation for her that was not mutual. Angie and Stan were glad for that; Pete was nice, but certainly not what parents expect for a beautiful young daughter. Were they snobs? Perhaps, but expectations drive parents to extremes sometimes.
Angie recalled when the kids were small and inquisitive about their differences. She had watched them together in the back yard giggling as they showed each other their private parts. Angie had scolded them for their transgressions and sent Pete home crying because he couldn't play with Audrey for a week. Angie smiled, remembering the hurt look on his face; he wasn't so concerned about being caught as he was hurt that he couldn't play for a week!
She then remembered his little penis. It was little then, maybe an inch. She watched him now as he pushed the lawn mower and wondered if it had grown as much as he had. Looking intently, she didn't notice he had seen her watching, he waved, and suddenly she realized what she had been doing and blushed, rose from the chair and left the kitchen hurriedly.
Angie showered and as she dried off with a large towel, moved to the bed room to get dressed. Every time she dressed it was a ritual. She was meticulous about the way she went about the entire act of dressing, even if it was just jeans and a blouse. She laid first the underclothes on the bed, followed by a pair of slacks. She stalled there for a moment trying to decide on what blouse would be appropriate for the day's activity.
Totally oblivious to her was that Pete was watching her every move. She had left her bedroom door open, and from the side yard there was a window that allowed an unobstructed view down the hall into her boudoir. Pete couldn't believe his good fortune, for years he had done yard work for the Jones' and had tried numerous times to see Audrey naked, without any luck, now he was watching her mom, finally.
Angie finished dressing, walked kitchen and cleaned the dishes, table and counter. She moved to her purse and pulled out her check book to write Pete a check for his labor. She met him at the back door just as she had done a hundred times before. She opened the door and greeted him "Hi, Pete, here's your hard earned pay."
Pete appeared nervous and fidgety, but reached for the check nonetheless. As he grasped the edge of the check, for that instant that it took for one to grasp and the other to release, there was a joining of their eyes, just a glance, but so profound that each felt the surge that flowed through the connection. Angie felt flush and started to retreat. Pete, visibly disturbed, spun on his heel and ran through the patio to the side gate and then home.
Angie did not realize what had happened, she hadn't recognized the reaction as sexual at all. But there had been a reaction, a connection. She forgot about it soon enough, and busied herself with house work and as the evening approached she began to miss Stan. It was Saturday and they always went out on Saturday nights. Not tonight, she thought, sadly.
Audrey had plans for the evening and had left Angie to her own devices. Angie ran a tub of hot bubble bath and soaked until the water cooled. She dried off and went to dress, then thought better of it; why dress at all, there wasn't anyone around, "I'll just go commando!" she said out loud to her self.
She found a quaint rose wine that she had saved for an evening just like this, poured a glass and stretched out on the living room rug to listen to music and read. She read for hours, it was now about nine and she had finished the bottle of wine. Rising on unsteady legs, she staggered to the hall bathroom to relieve herself, as she peed she heard someone, or something rustling along the side of the house. Startled, she finished abruptly, forgetting to wipe, and peered out the doorway looking toward the front of the house, she couldn't see through the curtains and surmised that who ever it was couldn't see in either.
She ran to the bedroom and grabbed a dressing gown, quickly donning it and then slowly returned to the living room. She moved to the window, pulling the curtain back slightly and looked left, then right without seeing anything suspicious. Just as she was convinced that it was nothing, she spied someone across the street in the partial shadow cast from a shrub off the street light behind it. She pulled back, but continued to peer intently, trying tenaciously to keep the nebulous form in sight. For a split second the thought of a burglar crossed her mind and she lurched for the phone, terrified by the thought of being caught home alone with a mad man outside stalking her.
She fumbled with the phone and was shaking so badly she couldn't press the correct numbers for the police. First she dialed 811, then 119. Thinking she was taking too long, she parted the curtains again to verify that the stalker was still there, and as she looked into the dark street a face appeared obliquely to the left, moving toward her. She brought the handset close to her face, keeping the man in sight and dialed – 9 – then looked again – 1 – trembling now – then she recognized the face – Pete. What was Pete doing? She continued to watch him as he moved to the side window. She lost sight of him, but he couldn't see her either.
"What the fuck?" she muttered under her breath. Was he peeping on her? Had he been watching her all night? She pulled the robe tighter around her shoulders and crossed her arms in a defensive posture. Her mind raced, should she call the police? No, she thought, she would confront him herself. She stood and tied the robe belt with a quick knot and moved to confront Pete.
As she caught sight of him leering into the darkness of the side window he was looking down the hallway away from her. Then she froze. A perverse thought ran through her mind, what if she just teased him a little then busted him? That would serve him right for scaring the shit out of her. She backed out of sight, loosened the knot in the belt, and let the front of the robe fall open loosely. She then began to wander around the house, here and there, giving a show to the young man in the window. As she wandered through the house she was mindful of his presence, and didn't leave his sight for long.
Her persistent dramatic indulgence was taking its toll on the young man, as Pete began masturbating to the sight of Mrs. Jones prancing around, half naked. He massaged the crown gently at first, then more vigorously as she flashed the neatly trimmed bush that perched just above the dark shadow between her legs. He was hammering it now, the full length of it became hot and thick and pulsed as he convulsed raggedly, standing there, clinging desperately to the window sill. Hot streams of semen shot forth from his turgid penis, splattering the side of the house with his liquid lust. Slowing, he watched as she bent over, the robe she wore sliding to one side exposing her buttocks to him. This is the picture he stores as he turned from the window to retreat to the safety of the darkness of the shadows and his own home.
Unbeknownst to Angie, Pete had left the window while she was still putting on the show for her secret admirer. She pretended to look at her leg as she placed it in a kitchen chair, stroked it, and parted her thighs ever so slightly, teasing Pete with the prize that hid there hot and well lubricated from the fantasy act she put on for him. Or was it for her benefit? She had enjoyed it immensely. She thought for a moment, no harm was done; he was just watching, maybe she could let it go – this time.
In bed that night, Angie masturbated herself to orgasm, and recalled the satisfaction she experienced prancing and dancing for her secret admirer, for Pete.
=*=
From time to time the following week Angie would catch glimpse of Pete observing her as she came and went. She had come to expect his presence at any moment during the day; she was comfortable with him watching her. She had spied him several times watching through the window into her bedroom. Funny, she thought, it hadn't occurred to her that she could be seen in her bedroom while dressing. Now she made sure he could catch glimpses of her fully nude, only glimpses though, she wanted to tease not please.
The week wore on dreadfully. Both Angie and Pete were frantic by Friday afternoon. Pete for his part just prayed that Mrs. Jones would stay in for the evening. Angie had prepared a show just for the evening, and hoped that her secret admirer would return to see what she had devised for him.
Audrey had plans and prepared to beg her mom to stay out a little later than she normally was allowed. "Mom, do you think that just this once I could stay out a little later?"
"OK, but home by midnight, Audrey."
"You're the best, Mom," Audrey squealed, "see yah." And out the door she went.
Angie bathed languorously, appointed herself as if she was going out on a date, and thought through the evening's presentation. Finishing, she stood, moved to the bedroom, and found a red sheer lace teddy, crotch-less panties, and matching slippers. Dressing had never been such an erotic act for her as it was this night, knowing that Pete was watching, waiting, and wanting her. She picked up a satin throw, a shawl really, and what looked like a travel bag, and walked into the living room.
Angie had planned to take advantage of every visual angle so as to make it difficult for Pete to see everything; her intention was to tease him unmercifully while satisfying herself sexually. She placed the throw on the rug, and opened the bag, removing a flask of oriental jasmine body oil and opened it. She began by pouring a generous amount into her palm, and spreading it along her inner thighs, paying special attention to the creases in the back of her knees. Glancing toward the window, she looked to see if he was there. She doesn't see him, and wonders if he had been detained. But before the thought is completed, she hears a brush against the glass that signaled his presence.
Angie reached for the bag and removed a bottle of personal lubricating oil – as if she needed it – and a small battery operated vibrator with a slender shaft, upturned at the end for proper 'g' spot stimulation. Daubing a smattering of the oil to the shaft, she places it at the opening of her silky folds, pressing, and then retreating slightly before pressing it fully into her vaginal opening.
Pete was in position to see Mrs. Jones fully from the waist up from his position at the window. If only she would slide back, he thought, he could see what she was doing between her legs. He struggled to see more fully the scene unfolding there before him. He then thought if he could just get a little higher, he would see everything clearly. He looked around, but the only thing around was Audrey's bike. He thought against it, then changed his mind and wheeled the bike under the window, propped it up securely, and carefully placed one foot on the seat then the other on the handlebars. Balancing spread eagle in the window, Pete returned his attention to the object of his desire.
She lay gently stroking the slim shaft in and out of her vagina. Reaching down, she turned the knob at the end of the shaft and it began to vibrate, a dull throbbing pulsation.
Pete had never seen a real vagina – pictures yeah – but not a live woman. In his excitement his right foot slipped almost toppling him from his perch, catching himself, he tapped the window accidentally.
