A Planned Exposure

Sue nervously checked her phone for the umpteenth time. First, the map app to make sure she was in exactly the right location. Then the time. 14.57. Three minutes to go. She put the phone back in her walking trousers pocket.

She asked herself, yet again, how she, a perfectly respectable 61 year old woman, had come to be here, alone in a Norfolk wood, planning to do what she was.

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The story had started a couple of weeks earlier. She had found herself in an erotic chat room, which she did from time to time when she was feeling in need of company, or escapism, or just a bit horny. She avoided most of the more extreme conversations, but sometimes found a connection. She had somehow got chatting with The Man about a story they had both read, about an outdoor bathing woman exposing herself to a hidden man. She confessed that the idea of being the woman, being spied on by the man yet pretending not to know she was being watched really turned her on. They fantasised a bit about them being in the roles in the story and discussed the emotions of exhibitionism. She described her naked body for him better to imagine the scene

They mused on the faux-innocence of displaying herself to the hidden onlooker, whilst pretending to him- and to herself -that she was alone and unaware. They agreed that this contradiction made it all the sexier for both parties.

"But of course, it is just fantasy. I could never do it for real", she declared

"Why not?" he asked.

She gave a dozen reasons. Fear of getting caught. Fear of the voyeur being someone she knew. Fear of the man's reaction. Body confidence. Lack of opportunity. Just sheer lack of pluck.

"What if we make a plan to make those go away?" he asked.

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Sue took her phone out of her pocket again, just as the numbers flicked over to 15.00.

She scanned the woods around her one last time. No sign of another soul. She took a deep breath and bent down untying her hiking boots, kicking them off and putting them neatly side by side. She quickly unzipped her jacket and folded it next to her boots.

She paused for a second - the next step was a big one- then took the plunge pulling her walking top over her head to expose her bra, then dropping her hiking trousers. Both again were folded neatly on the pile.

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She had deliberated long and hard on her choice of underwear. She had emptied her drawer onto the bed and picked out possible choices. At first she picked out her sexiest stuff- black lace bra and knickers, even a red basque. She tried them on in front of the bedroom mirror. Face on. Profile. Looking at her bum over her shoulder, critically appraising her body and her lingerie. Imagining what The Man would see. How he would react. At 61 she still had a fine body and she was pleased with what she saw.

But the sexy lace and satin weren't right. She was meant to be caught off guard, thinking she was alone. What she was wearing must be mundane, every day. Maintaining the fiction of innocence. She picked up the cream T-Shirt bra that she had been wearing all day. From the pile on the bed she picked up some olive green cotton boy shorts. She pulled them on and inspected herself in the mismatched set.

Perfect.

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The woods around her were quiet. Her head jerked to a perceived sound, in the opposite direction from which she had come -- about South-East she knew from her meticulous attention to the map - but she saw nothing. She remembered herself and stood up straight and bold in her underclothes (and socks) and walked slow and catlike in a circle, scanning the undergrowth as she went.

Her hands moved behind her back and unceremoniously unclipped the bra. There was no need to tease, because there was no one watching after all. The bra joined the other clothes on the pile. Her breasts, she would admit, were bit lower on her torso than in her prime, but her nipples were large and erect -- it didn't matter if it was the chill air or the occasion that made them so, and at that moment she was prouder of them than she had been for years.

She rushed on to the last item before she had time to lose her nerve. She pushed her fingers into the waist band of her boy shorts and pushed them off her hips, revealing the thick bush of greying dark hair, then sliding them down to her ankles and stepping out of them. She stood completely naked

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His plan, she read as he typed in the chat room was that he proposed a time and place. He would be ahead of her, hidden, and if all was clear, at exactly the agreed time she would undress. They wouldn't meet or acknowledge each other. She would strip. He would watch.

The flaws in the plan were gaping. They only addressed a few of her concerns, and there were still great risks. They both knew it. They both knew that they both knew it.

And she instantly, without hesitation, typed "OK"

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The only hint of movement had been to the South-East, so she made sure as she bent over (deeper than she needed to) to place her underwear on the pile, that her backside was facing shat way. She was sure any observer from that direction would have got a view of her labia from behind. And a hint even of her anus? She shuddered at the thought. She stretched and gave a slow pirouette. There really was no sign of anything. Had he been delayed? Thought better of it? Was she showing herself to the empty forest? She turned and sat, facing South-East on the pile of clothes. She took a paperback book from her trouser pockets, and arranged herself thighs apart, knees bent. Her full pubic hair and pussy lips were there for any observer. She pretended to read the paper back, eyes still scanning. One hand draped over her belly, stroking and teasing nonchalantly at her bush.

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They had exchanges emails to complete the planning. He chose a spot he knew not too far- but far enough -- from her home. Weather was checked. GPS coordinates confirmed. A time agreed. And two weeks later, she was sitting on her clothes with her legs open in a Norfolk wood.

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Sue was loving the nakedness, loving the exposure, loving the thrill but she had no idea whether she was being observed or not. The tension was palpable. Was he watching her? Was he aroused? Maybe even masturbating? Should she call out to him? Get confirmation that all her efforts were appreciated?

This was not what she expected. She had thought that she would be able to see where he was hiding and she would simply role-play ignorance of his location. But as she analysed her feelings, as she contemplatively stroked her bush, she admitted to herself this added another level of erotic tension.

Then her phone buzzed gently. The alarm she had set for 15.10. She stood, and briskly dressed again, according to the plan. She retied her boots and started the short hike back to her car, still unsure if any mammal higher than a squirrel had seen her show.

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Sue sat back in her car and gave a huge sigh. The tension had been immense. She was just about to start the engine when her phone buzzed. There was an email from The Man. No words, just a picture, of her in the midst of her naked pirouette. Naked breasts, bristling bush, short grey hair and half ecstatic smile. He must have been very close.

And as she sat there her body started to tremble with arousal.