Exposed Ch. 09 Pt. 01

Two Children and Eight Years Later.

An Interpretive Dance

Taking on the responsibilities of being a mother puts everything else away in a closet so to speak.

Just finding time to ourselves seemed to be a thing of the past much less any thought of me putting on any private performances.

My preference for being outdoors in something skimpy didn't entirely disappear as I found myself quite comfortable in a string bikini around my parents and my brothers and sisters as the accompanying photo can attest.

I had had my first child a little more than a year previously and was quite proud of how I had gotten back in shape.

I guess having my first child entitled me to no longer worry about family opinions or perceptions.

It was almost like a rite of passage to become a mother and having my own child. It seemed to allow me to be more myself in front of my family.

I still remember how it felt to step outside in my string bikini to the accompanying whoops and whistles of my brothers and sisters as well as their spouses.

My stomach was filled with butterflies remembering how often my mother would ask me in an admonishing tone, "Are you going to wear that in public?" when I was still a teen.

Now here I was in my early thirties wearing much less than what the term "that" meant and in front of my entire family.

It is interesting how experiences that seemed a big deal when we were younger weren't anything like we perceived them to be.

The photo was taken by my mother and remains a part of her family photo album. On the back of the photo she labeled it with the words "Club Lido."

It was as if she were saying, "My daughter has become a woman."

My interpretation of her wanting to control me was simply her caring about what message I might be sending to a young man on a date.

Thankfully she doesn't know the entire message that I used to deliver.

Two and a half years later my second child was born without any appreciable change in my outdoor activities i.e. I was still behaving.

It was frustrating for me to periodically become very sexually charged without any opportunity for expressing my latent desires.

Being sexually charged wasn't quite the same as feeling horny. It was more than that.

When I feel sexually charged, I want to act out, to be and feel sexy, and most importantly to do something risqué.

One way or the other something was going to give.

That something occurred one summer day when my youngest was napping and my oldest was outdoors playing with the neighbors. I was taking a shower as it had become the last thing that I would do once my daughters were dressed and fed.

On this particular occasion, I found that my body could feel virtually every single drop of water that hit it and than ran down. I was hypersensitive and becoming very aroused.

I had often found myself quite aroused while performing common daily routines. It was another way that my sexual frustration manifested itself.

Something as simple as vacuuming would find me straddling the vacuum hose making sure that it rubbed my lower lips as I moved it back and forth across the floor.

Wearing a short skirt made it even more special.

But this time it seemed different.

This time it seemed that I needed to act on my hypersensitivity. My children were temporarily occupied which seemed to make the desire to do something almost overwhelming.

I dried myself off as my entire body trembled with some sort of nervous anticipation. I put my robe back on and walked into our bedroom. Opening my lingerie drawer I was greeted with the sight of my very favorite pair of panties. They were a teeny string bikini style in a provocative leopard print.

I should pause here in my narrative to give a better perspective of what leopard print undies were indicative off i.e. at least for me.

From the first time that I saw a bra and panty set in an animal print be it leopard, cheetah, zebra, or other, I felt a stirring in my lower regions.

I had and still have the perception that any woman that chose to wear animal print undies was sexually mature and confident, and wanted to show them off.

I wanted to be that kind of women. So I bought my first pair of leopard print panties.

The first time that I wore them I knew that something was different. I felt alive and sexually adventurous.

I couldn't wait to have them seen by my future husband.

Now here I was over ten years later in a much more abbreviated pair experiencing that exact same feeling.

I wanted to act out and with my children temporarily occupied it seemed the perfect time.

Maybe it is more correct to say that I needed to act out sexually. Like right now.

I pulled on my barely there panties and immediately my nipples reacted as if I had stepped inside a walk in freezer.

They were so hard that they ached from the swelling.

Does this mean that I had a case of "blue nipples?"

I could hardly contain myself as I wanted to grab my crotch and grind myself into orgasm. However my self gratification would have to be delayed for now as I had other plans.

Slipping on a pair of dark brown snakeskin high heels and taking a deep breath to calm myself, I walked out of our bedroom and down the hall with my heels making a distinctive clicking noise on the ceramic flooring.

I felt just like that woman that I imagined when seeing my first pair of leopard print panties.

Because we lived in a split level home, our lower level had full windows either facing out the back to our yard or across to our neighbors.

I hesitated outside our family room making sure that no one was just outside the window facing our neighbors house by taking a quick peek through the entryway.

Satisfied that I would have only one audience member I sauntered suggestively into the family room.

My husband looked away from the TV, which had occupied his attention until my appearance, with his mouth agape.

I relished the look of surprise on his face knowing that he would enjoy my planned performance.

I slowly began to gyrate my hips letting my hands explore all of my erogenous zones.

Caressing my tiny breasts with both hands I pinched my hard nipples between my forefingers and thumbs.

Saliva was starting to fill my mouth and I could feel a small droplet of drool running out of the side of my mouth.

A somewhat unusual side effect when I am very aroused is that I salivate. It seems that my extreme arousal gives me a sort of oral fixation for hardening flesh.

With my head now rolled back and my eyes half-closed, I reached down between my legs rubbing myself until I could feel the moisture starting to soak through my crotch.

Without any pre-thought whatsoever I found myself on our ceramic floor with my knees pushed wide apart leaning forward onto my extended arms. In this posture I could just barely rub the front of my swelling lower lips on the floor.

I was like a cat or dog when they slide their romps across a floor only I was sliding my crotch.

I stared into my husband's somewhat shocked but very pleased expression as I humped the floor into a state of pre-orgasm.

The wetter that my crotch became the easier I slid.

I had no plan to actually orgasm, but I was beyond the point of controlling my urges.

With my leopard print covered cheeks squeezed as tightly as I could squeeze my entire focus was on keeping my protruding nub stimulated.

While pressing myself firmly down against the floor and wiggling just enough to keep the erotic sensations constant a long awaited series of convulsions took over my body.

I had never masturbated in front of anyone before as I considered it to be a very private and personal act of sexual release, but at the moment I was anything but self-conscious.

I wanted to be outrageous, and I was.

It had been too long.

My head involuntarily arched back as my legs bent upwards at the knees as if my feet were trying to touch the back of my head. At the same time my crotch was pressed against the floor as firmly as possible.

My eyes went out of focus as my concentration was no longer visual.

Sweating from the exertion required to make love to the floor I was emitting little moans as my orgasm took over.

I probably looked like a very satisfied spastic convulsing with every orgasmic wave until their frequency and intensity waned to a mild tingling sensation.

I smiled to myself as I thought, "Well, that released some of my pent up frustration."

However the emphasis was on the word "some" as I was far from completely satisfied.

I most certainly was not done.

I walked or sauntered suggestively over to my husband straddling his legs so my wet crotch was resting on one knee. Pushing my bare breasts into his face I encouraged him to lick and bite my eagerly awaiting nipples as I used his knee in the same manner that I had just used the floor.

As the pressure was again building between my legs not to mention my husband's own filling squirt gun, I happened to focus out the window which was just over my husband's shoulder to see my neighbor and friend watching from behind a partially closed curtain.

I don't think that I could have moved much faster springing off of my husband's lap and his encouraging tent pole. I ran away from the couch shaking with embarrassment and humiliation.

The idea of having my neighbor watching me as I sexually performed rocked my sense of security.

I had no idea how much of my show was seen by her, but she certainly had a perfect view of my nipples being sucked.

I was absolutely mortified wondering how I would ever face her again.

For just a few seconds it seemed to be the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen to me.

I am sure that being so sexually aroused while at the same time seeing my neighbor's eyes looking directly at me caused my already overloaded senses to overreact.

Obviously I knew that most couples have sex, but this felt so invasive of our privacy.

Once I was out sight I began to laugh uncontrollably knowing that undoubtedly I would have done the same thing had I seen my neighbor and her husband having sex.

My husband had no idea what had just happened until I motioned to the window and let him know that our neighbor had been watching my almost naked activities.

He casually glanced over his shoulder and saw our neighbor's curtains quickly close.

It just seemed so typical that the exact moment I needed to act out, instead of having to worry about our daughters walking in unexpectedly, I picked my moment to perform almost directly in front of a window that faced our neighbor's kitchen.

Because we were on a lower level from her spy perch, she undoubtedly was able to see my lack of clothing and possibly my floor dance and resulting orgasm.

To add to my frustration, almost immediately after scrambling away from the window our front door sprung open and the question, "What's for lunch?" sent me scurrying back to the bedroom to get dressed.

I was once again resolved to behaving myself and fulfilling my role as a still sexually frustrated mother.

My poor husband was relegated to hiding his physical reaction to my performance by quickly placing a sofa pillow across his lap while our daughter yelped and played in front of him, while I prepared our lunch with a soaking crotch and an unrequited yearning for what might have been.