Eight months, three weeks, four days and, let's see, eleven hours. That's how long it's been since my husband and me had sex. I remember because it was my 53rd birthday. I wouldn't say since we made love; we haven't done that in years. We've never really had much of a sex life, not since my daughter Suzie was born, and she's 27 now. We don't really do much together at all anymore. If it weren't for me cooking his meals and washing his clothes, I'm not sure Don would even notice me. Sometimes I think the only reason we stay together is that we can't be bothered with the effort and expense of getting divorced.
My name's Ruth, and I live in a little place called Penarth, just outside Cardiff, Wales. I'm not a bad looking woman for my age. I'm small, five-feet-three, with a helmet of short nut brown hair and I suppose I'm a bit dumpy – I could do with losing 20 pounds or so. But I've got a smooth round face, twinkling green eyes, plump, sensuous lips and a dimple in my chin. I've got big knockers too – I take size DD bra cups. Don was only the third man I ever slept with, and the last – until recently.
Perhaps it's just my hormones going berserk, but these days it seems like you're surrounded by sex. It's on the TV, in the press, on the Internet, everywhere you look. I'm a secretary at the local secondary school, and it seems like all day long I'm seeing teenage kids flirting with each other, kissing, touching each other. The teachers have to patrol the toilets at break times to make sure none of the kids are shagging in there. Never mind behind the bike sheds – a couple of them were caught at it in a classroom one lunchtime a few months ago, actually doing it on the teacher's desk! The boy told the teacher they were both 18 so it was none of her business, cheeky little fucker.
So, with all this sex around, I couldn't help wondering why I wasn't getting any. I'd given up on Don, and at my age you can't just wander into a local bar and look to pick someone up; in London maybe, but not here. I seem to spend hours looking at websites where you can advertise for a one-night stand, and where blokes with cocks the size of Big Ben sell themselves. I wouldn't have the courage to use a dating website though, and I'm certainly not paying for it.
The answer to ending all my frustration arrived one morning a few weeks ago, quite unexpectedly. The school summer holidays had just started, so I was at home all day. I stayed in bed till Don had gone to work, then wandered over to my bedroom window and stared out of it, as I often do when I'm getting my thoughts together first thing in the morning. As usual I was dressed in my flannelette nightie. Our house is on a street corner, and the back of the house looks out at an angle onto the back of the first house down the side street, perhaps 30 yards away. Just as I was about to go and have a shower, out of the corner of my eye I caught a movement in a window of that other house. Not moving my head I swivelled my eyes – and saw a small brown face staring straight at me out of the window.
I thought about it as I was showering. That house is owned by a Pakistani couple. They're nice enough, but I don't really know them much beyond saying hello. The husband's a pharmacist in the chemist's shop in town. They've got two children, a 16-year old girl, I'm not sure of her name, and an 18-year old boy called Salman. I knew that the room where I'd seen the face was Salman's bedroom – I'd seen him in it sometimes. He didn't go to our school, but he would be on his holidays too at the moment. It was probably just a coincidence that he'd been at his window the same time I was at mine. I chuckled to myself at the notion of a nice looking teenage boy bothering to ogle a woman old enough to be his granny.
The next morning, though, when I stood in my window I turned my eyes in that direction, and there he was again, half-hidden behind the curtain, staring at me. A naughty thought went through my mind, and I pretended to yawn, stretching my arms above my head, making my boobs ride up under my nightie. Then I got a shock. I saw him lift something up – and I realised the cheeky little beggar had a pair of binoculars trained on me! I skittered backwards from the window so fast I banged against the bed and sat on it with a thump. At first I didn't know whether to be amused or furious; but then, he hadn't really seen anything, only me in my nightie, and I'd answered the front door to the postman dressed like that more than once.
I tried to put it out of my head, but all day long I was thinking about young Salman spying on me like that. Later in the day I was looking at a website of sexy grannies, telling myself I looked a lot better naked than most of them. There was one in particular who was leaning through the window of a caravan, her enormous tits hanging down below her like barrage balloons. Looking at her, in the window, I suddenly got the most wicked notion, and sat back giggling to myself. Right, I thought – if Salman wants to stare at me, I'll give the dirty little sod something really worth looking at!
I woke at dawn the next morning, and lay awake for ages with my stomach in knots, wondering if I really had the nerve to go through with my plan. At the usual time I swung my feet to the floor and made my way nervously forwards. Then, taking a deep breath, I took the last step to the window. I didn't even glance in the direction of Salman's house, I just assumed he was there. I waited about 30 seconds then, my heart racing, I reached down to the hem of my nightie and pulled it over my head, leaving me standing naked. My big boobs would be clearly visible to Salman. As if to confirm it, my eye was caught by a movement as he twitched his curtain back to get a better look, then a flash of sunlight reflected off his binoculars.
I felt myself blushing, but weirdly I found I was enjoying my exhibitionism. I put my hands under my tits and lifted them up, as if weighing them. Then I let one fall back and, still holding the other up, began to play with my big brown nipple, making it stiffen. After a few minutes I stepped back and went for a shower, giggling like a naughty schoolgirl. Over the next few mornings I repeated the show. I found that by craning my neck slightly I could actually get my nipple into my mouth, and actually rather enjoyed the sensation as I sucked on it, stroking my fingers along the flesh of my stretched breast. I felt quite heated up afterwards, and frigged myself under the shower, thinking about Salman watching me. Later that same day, as I was walking out of my front gate, he just happened to be walking past my house. When he saw me his eyes widened in terror and he hurriedly changed direction and headed back to his own home.
Sitting at home all day, looking at porn on the Internet and thanking about Salman maybe wanking himself as he watched me, I started to develop a little fantasy: that I would invite him into my home and seduce him, satisfying both our rampant libidos. Though he had a handsome face he was short, only the same height as me, and quite skinny, and on the few occasions I'd met him he seemed a little shy and reserved. Knowing what the kids at my own school were like I suspected he probably hadn't had many girlfriends. I spent a while thinking about that, but I don't think I seriously intended to do anything about it. Then fate lent a hand.
Just after lunchtime on one particularly hot day, I was struggling back to the house with several bags of shopping. I put them down outside my front gate, to wipe sweat out of my eyes and find my key...and at that moment my voyeur came round the corner and almost tripped over my bags. If I'd had even a second to think about it I'm sure I wouldn't have done it. As it was, acting on instinct, I heard myself say, "Oh hello, Salman isn't it? You couldn't do me a favour, could you love, and help me inside with these bags?"
Salman had been brought up to be a good, polite boy and, giving me a nervous smile, he hefted up my bags and carried them to my front door, then through to the kitchen where he placed them on a counter. As he was turning to go I said, "Thank you love. Oh, you look as hot as me now, would you like a drink? I've got Coke in the fridge, or I was just about to do myself a nice cup of tea."
