She squirmed silently in her bed, still half asleep. She lay face down in her pillows, one arm was pinned beneath her. Fingers gently teased between her thighs, and inside her delicate folds. She whimpering softly into her bedding, hips ginding onto her own hand in search of relief.
More awake now, she turned onto her back. She kicked away the covers to lay exposed and naked in the bed. She opened her legs wide. Her fingers pushed gently through the soft moist triangle of hair as she reached down again. Her other hand gripped her large breast, lifting it into a soft pale mound with a dark sensitive peak. Her thumb and forefinger pinched the peak, and rolled it as two fingers enter her.
"Uuuh." She whimpered softly and started to fuck herself. Writhing alone on her bed, almost there, almost. A single bead of sweat from under her big soft tits ran down her side. Tickling and distracting as the hot flush took over and her skin was covered in a thin damp film.
"Fuck it." Claire whispered, exasperated, and rolled out of bed to stand naked at the window. She was Silhouetted against the starry night sky. A little shorter than average, and a little fuller-figured than average. Not to mention that everything seems to hang a bit lower than it did. But a busy lifestyle meant she was still in good shape for a menopausal mum.
The wind was blew hard outside. The trees swayed, their hissing so loud it was all she could hear. She opened the window wide, and the breeze rushed in. It wasn't cold, but her skin tingled nonetheless as it was caressed. Tiny hairs stood on end sending delicious waves of pleasure dancing all over her.
Outside there was no sound, but the hiss of the wind in the trees. No movement in the dark shadows of her neighbourhood back gardens, but for the swaying of the wind in the trees. She turned her head, the clock said almost 3am. She was wide awake, uncomfortable, and restless.
"Oh for fucks sake." Claire sighed, thoroughly fed up now. She grabbed the dressing gown from the end of her bed and put it on. Sneaking quietly passed the kids' rooms, not even knowing if they were home, she hardly saw them these days. By the time she had reached the kitchen, Claire was sweating again. She stood by the window, drinking a glass of water, and watching the trees. She could still feel the tingle of the wind's caress on her skin from before.
With no clear thought or agenda, Claire unlocked the back door and stepped outside. The door closing behind her seemed to shout a loud and rude interruption to the trees' song. But soon the memory of the harsh sound is gone, shushed away by the tree's enticing call.
Claire meandered through her small garden, stretching her toes into the soft cold grass. Throwing her head back as the wind blew her long, dark, wavy hair off her pale face. The breeze cooled her, caressing her, tugging gently at her gown. All the time telling her, shhh, it's ok.
She looked around at the backs of neighbour's houses surrounding her. All the windows are dark. The world was asleep, there was just the breeze and her. She took a long deep breath and sighed softly as her tension eased. Then Claire pulled at the belt tied loosely around her waist. The thin strip of cotton fell away and a slight gap opened in her robe. The wind seemed to notice and sent a gust her way. Flipping one side of her robe open, as if the breeze itself was trying to undress her.
Her breathing became a little faster, and her hands trembled with nervous excitement. Claire eased the robe back off her shoulders, letting it fall and catching it on her elbows. Standing almost naked in the starry night, her gown dragging behind her. She caught her breath as the wind wrapped its arms around her. Delicate electric fingers stroked her pale skin, sending tiny shocks of excitement through her quivering body.
"Aaah." Claire gasped quietly, feeling her skin tighten in response. The cool hands of the wind toyed with her, touching her most intimate places. Her dark sensitive nipples hardened into firm pink mounds. Standing proud, almost begging for attention. As they stiffened they sent powerful shocks of desire sparking all through her, to earth in the throbbing wet folds between her thighs.
The night had been a failure so far. Ryan knew it was too windy for his telescope to see anything clearly. But that wasn't the only reason he enjoyed star gazing. He had just spent the last hour sitting back in his chair, watching the trees sway above him and relaxing. He spotted a couple of shooting stars and brushed up on his constellations. But most of the time was spent just thinking and enjoying the peace and quiet. His musing was brought to an abrupt end by the sound of a door closing nearby.
He sat for a moment, listening, but couldn't hear anything apart from the trees shushing him. He didn't know why but felt he should remain quiet. So he carefully eased himself out of the chair beside his telescope and got to his feet. He turned in the direction he thought the sound came from. And there, standing in the middle of her lawn, was his next-door neighbour, Claire.
Between them was a waist-high wooden fence and a large bush. Ryan peered around the bush at her as a lump started to swell up in his throat. He felt sure he should make himself known in some way. Say hello, cough, anything. But couldn't seem to make a sound. Then, all of a sudden, it was too late, his chance to casually say hi was gone.
As he watched from behind the bush. Claire unfastened her robe and slid it back off her shoulders. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the stars. Her large soft breasts swaying gently as she moved held him captive. Her little round belly and soft thick thighs converged in a dark triangle of soft curls. Her long, wavy, dark red hair blew out behind her in the wind.
"Oh fuck." Ryan mouthed to himself, and he knew he was lost. He could hear her gasp and whimper at the touch of the cool night air and his excitement grew. Glancing back at his own house, he made sure there were no signs that his family was awake. Then he turned his attention back to his neighbour.
She had not moved, but stood almost naked in the middle of her small garden. Her head tipped forward as if she was looking down at her own body. Her dressing gown was still caught over her elbows and hung behind her like a figure in some old oil painting. Her arms were bent and her fingers moved delicately across her skin. As if trying to replicate the touch of the breeze.
