tagExhibitionist & VoyeurA Very Public Display

A Very Public Display


I wake early, my legs all tangled up in the hot covers.

Letting out a sleepy groan I kick them away down the bed and roll into the centre where it's cooler, long hair trailing out behind me. The nape of my neck feels damp with perspiration.

Despite the hour, the sun is already up. Shining through the gaps in the blind. Tiger striping my body with soft orange light.

Gosh it's hot. It's the first proper week of summer and already the papers are full of Heatwave! Global warming. Hottest ever...

I stretch out on my front. Enjoying the coolness of the sheets against my bare legs. Close my eyes again. My skin still feels hot. Tingly. The slightest remnants of a dream that I can't really remember somewhere in the back of my fuzzy head. I stretch out an exploratory arm but he's already gone. I vaguely remember something about an early meeting in the city.

Even the thought of him has me ready to go and despite my drowsiness I can already feel the familiar heat between my legs. I get this way sometimes. So horny that it's all I can think about. Like a hunger. An almost insatiable need to get myself off. My hand drifts down.

Our relationship is still relatively new. New enough to still be firmly within the honeymoon period at any rate. We talk all the time. Stay up late. Drink too much. I can barely recall a time in the last few years where I have laughed so much or felt so content and happy.

Oh, and we screw constantly. Like mink.

Sex with him is different. Exciting. Addictive. The other day we went to the supermarket together and I wore nothing more than my raincoat and heels. Teasing him with the occasional flash of skin when I thought no one was looking. Not exactly a normal shopping trip but typical of the kind of thing he has me doing.

I let out a little sigh of frustration. How quickly I've got used to him being here. Adam. My boyfriend. How quickly I've got used to our morning routine. I can't help but rub myself a little through my underwear. Still laying on my front. My favourite way to masturbate, fingers circling. Eyes closed.


The alarm shocks me from my thoughts. Jolts me awake. I open one bleary eye and let out a sigh, reaching across and above my head to switch it off.

It's late and only now do I realise I must have hit the snooze button three or four times already. My twin passions at the moment – sex and sleeping. I stretch out, trying to ignore the craving between my legs. Need to get up. Need to go to work.

I kick the sheets aside and sit up. Pull my hair out of my face with one hand and up into a ponytail. Slide out of bed. Pad sleepily to the bathroom.

As I go about my morning routine I gradually begin to wake up. I discard my clothes on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor. Catch my pale, naked reflection in the shower screen as I slide open the door and step in.

My senses come gradually to life under the hot cascade of water as it runs down over my naked body, slowly washing away all vestiges of last nights antics. I shampoo my hair before rubbing body wash into my skin. Scrubbing myself clean. I try to keep my mind empty, just focus on the job at hand but inevitably he seeps into my consciousness.

Just small flashes. The look in his dark brown eyes, his mouth full of me. Tongue swirling slowly back and forth. In and out. I squeeze my legs together at the memory. I still feel slightly tender down there. Close my eyes beneath the spray of water.

I need to get a grip. Need to get out of the shower. Need to stop thinking about his thick cock and the empty ache between my legs.

Somehow I manage to finish up and turn the water off. I grab a towel and dry myself quickly, the soft fibres feeling rough on my sensitive skin. A cloud of steam pursues me from the bathroom as I open the door into the hallway.

Once back in the bedroom I finish up my routine; deodorant, make up, perfume and hair. Pausing to take in my naked reflection in front of the mirror. The girl that stares back at me is a stranger. Face flushed, pupils dilated, Hard nipples on small, high breasts. She seems to radiate sex. A petite, naked, cock hungry slut.

Surely I can't go to work like this? Surely someone will notice? Will be able to tell what is in my head just by looking at me?

Another memory from last night flashes through my mind; the wet splatter against the tiles of the kitchen. Like someone upending a glass of water. My feet and legs suddenly drenched.

Even now I flush with embarrassment (and something else). I can't believe he made me come like that. Like something out of a porn film. Surely that kind of thing doesn't happen in real life? But it had. Jet after jet shooting out of me and onto the kitchen floor.

Afterwards he had to hold me up, supporting me where my knees were weak. My body still in spasm, causing little trickles to run down my legs.

I try to focus, to be normal. For a moment I think the urge might fade but of course it doesn't. I feel like I'm going to implode if I don't do something about it.

I want to wank. Want to drop to my knees on the carpet and rub myself off. I want him to come home and fuck me again. What I really, really don't want to do is to have to spend the entire day at work in this condition!

My hand snakes between my legs, almost of its own volition. Just a little bit, I think. Just to see how wet I am.

I part my legs slightly. Trace my fingertips over my freshly shaven skin. Jesus I'm horny. Coated in a warm, slippery wetness. Swollen with arousal.

Heat radiates from within, drawing my fingers and I slide them deep and back out again. Up and over my clit. All slick now with my juices.

I'm so turned on. If I was any hornier it'd be running down my legs! A cacophony of images flickers through my head as I begin to frantically stroke myself, my body screaming for release.

More from last night. Except this time, instead of me cleaning up with kitchen towels while he showered, I imagine Adam behind me, fucking me in the mess I've made. Pushing my face down into it. The sweet taste on my tongue.

I come hard, bent almost double with the exertion of release. panting like a dog. No finesse or patience, Just pure resolve. An addict needing a fix.

Fuck, I needed that. Slowly, I straighten up, rational thought returning. God, what is wrong with me at the moment? No time to savour the feeling. Need to get to work.

I let out a series of shaky breaths and look in the mirror, afraid of what I will see, but it's not too bad. Just a few minor fixes to the make-up. No time to clean myself up or shower again.


My eyes drift to the tortoiseshell glasses on my bedside, my latest wardrobe addition. I still can't quite believe I have to wear glasses. I have somehow passed thirty and instantly become some kind of short sighted mole girl!

It's not that they're not stylish. They are. God knows they were expensive enough. It's just that I still feel so self conscious wearing them. I can't help but feel like some kind of nerdy scientist. Like I've left my lab coat somewhere.

I'm hoping that this will pass. That I can wear them without feeling like a dick, but I'm not there yet. Also, is it even possible to look beautiful wearing glasses? Or is the best I can hope for some kind of "hot librarian" look?

I let out a sigh, thinking for the umpteenth time that I need to sort out contact lenses. Oh well.

I quickly dress, thankful that I had already ironed my work clothes for the week. I am halfway though buttoning my trousers when I remember I have a meeting today. Shit!

Quickly skim them down my legs and off, frantically rooting through the wardrobe for something suitable. My eyes linger momentarily on a tan business skirt I bought last year, ironed and on its hanger.

I quickly pull the tight material up over my hips, tuck my crisp white blouse into the high waistband. Not bad. There. Not bad at all. The skirt clings to my legs and hips, but in a good way. I look businesslike. Professional. It is only when I turn that I remember how high the split in the back is and why I rarely wear this outfit but what the hell, it seems to fit my mood and at least it makes me look a little less of a geek.

Tights? Too hot. Stockings? Too risky with that split. Bare legs then. Definitely warm enough. I look at my reflection a final time. Undo two buttons, do them up again. Too much cleavage. Undo one. Then the other. Fuck it. Heels, handbag and phone and then I am out the door and click clacking my way down the stairs on the way to the subway.


The first part of my morning passes in the usual blur of activity. Thankfully I am too busy to focus on anything but preparation for my meeting and so have no time to dwell on Adam or what he may have planned for me later.

Around 10.30 James finally swans in. Pausing only to distract at least three of my staff from their work. I swear he does it on purpose, cocky little shit.

James is a consultant who is purportedly here to help us improve efficiency but who apparently prefers to spend his time flirting and generally being an arrogant prat. He can't be much more than 22 or 23 and apparently only got the job on account of being the son of one of the directors. Needless to say, we do not see eye to eye.

I can't quite put my finger on what it is about him that I find so irritating. I have noticed that he always seems to be watching me whenever he thinks I'm not looking and sometimes when he knows I am. Other people have noticed this too.

Lisa overheard him talking about me to one of his little consultant pals in the canteen last week as well. Naturally she then immediately told me all about it. Apparently he called me a cougar. A cougar! I'm 31 years old, not some predatory old slapper! He then went on to say how I wouldn't act so high and mighty if he had me bent over my desk. As if.

It's not like I am a complete stranger to being checked out in the office though. In fact most of the time I don't mind at all. It's sometimes a nice boost to the ego to know that someone finds you attractive as long as it's not too creepy or obvious.

But James just bugs me.

Anyway, with all of this last minute meeting preparation I'm really not in the mood for him today. Plus, if he says anything about my glasses I swear I'm going to smash his face in!


As it turns out, my fears are completely unfounded and James is nothing but charming. We work together on the presentation and I even have to admit that some of his ideas are actually quite good. However, as we work, I begin to notice him taking surreptitious glances at me. I'm sure he thinks he is being subtle but to anyone else watching us I'm sure it is completely blatant.

Much to my consternation, I guess there is a small part of me that quite likes the attention though. I will concede that he is quite handsome in that public schoolboy, chiselled jaw kind of way. Always impeccably dressed. It's not really that I dislike him. He's just so...young. And annoying.

As the morning goes on I find that I am even more aware of his gaze than usual. I must confess that I maybe play up to it a little. Put a bit more arch into my back as I bend over to talk to another colleague, knowing he will be watching. Perhaps pushing my bottom out a little further than normal.

I only intend to tease him a little but as lunchtime draws closer, I receive my first email from Adam and my excitement is instantly ratcheted up to a level bordering on pornographic.

There is no subject line and it simply reads: I have a surprise for you later.

I wiggle a little in my seat, knowing full well what kind of surprise it will be – something dirty.

What Kind of surprise? I respond straight away. Nothing if not predictable.

It takes fifteen minutes for him to reply. A good one. You are going to be a very naughty girl later...

I am suddenly and absurdly wet. A side effect of my wandering mind? What has he got planned? What is he going to make me do this time? Oh god.

I can feel the heat settling between my legs again. The tightening of my nipples beneath my shirt. He must have emailed me from his blackberry. Sending me messages from his business meeting. Is he thinking about fucking me as his colleagues sit around talking about mergers and share options? Is he hard?

An image of me naked and on top of him explodes into my mind. Sliding up and down on his thick cock, his hands cupping my breasts.

As I look up, guiltily, I become acutely aware that James is still watching me. God I hope I'm not too obvious.

I have a genuine moment of concern that he's going to come over and know how turned on I am. Somehow be able to tell just from my face. Or be able to smell me or something. Or that I'm so wet that I will leak through my skirt. Is that actually a possibility? My underwear feels sodden where I am so suddenly and ridiculously turned on.

Please, not now I think as I try despairingly to will my errant body back under control. Ignore the craving between my legs.

He keeps glancing my way and I find myself wondering what he is thinking? Is he thinking about me? Does he want to screw me? Is he hard? I wonder fleetingly what it would be like to fuck him. Wait till everyone else has gone home and then let him have me on my desk the way he wanted.

On my back, legs spread wide, shirt open. Hands all over my breasts. His knees prying my thighs apart, pinning me to the desk with his weight. My tight pussy stretching around his cock as he fucks me.

God but I'm horny. What am I going to do? I even fleetingly think about rubbing myself off in the work toilets but then discount the idea. Too risky. Distraction then. Lunch.

I grab my phone and bag and bolt out into the sun, away from Adam. Away From James. Away from the unwanted images in my head.


When I get outside, the relative coolness of the morning has been scoured away by the heat of the sun and the air feels dense, close and muggy. Not even the slightest breath of wind.

I slow my pace, trying not to get too hot and sweaty but I'm fighting a losing battle. I can feel the perspiration on my body and the dampness at the nape of my neck. I pin my hair up which helps a little but not enough.

Despite the distraction of the heat, I am still barbarously aroused. I pause briefly, undoing another button on my shirt. Most of my cleavage now on display. Right at the limit of what could be considered decent.

Other people notice too. What is it about the hot weather? I don't have big boobs. A nice handful is how an ex once described them. However, at least three guys that I pass blatantly stare at my tits. Their eyes travelling over my body. Shamelessly looking me up and down.

Where ordinarily such behaviour would annoy me, today it doesn't. Today I feel sexy and wild. Today I want to be noticed. Lusted over. I wonder what they are thinking? Are they thinking about what it would be like to undress me? To touch me? Fuck me?

I watch myself in a shop window as I pass. Put a little more sway into my walk than normal. Slim hips moving beneath the tight skirt. My legs look tan and worked out. Something sexy in the way my ankles flex with each step in my high heels.

I'm also glad I wore my glasses now. They give me an air of respectability in contrast to my low buttoned shirt. I am not normally anywhere near this daring. In fact, before Adam I normally dressed quite conservatively.

I have become a bit bolder though. It's not that I dress inappropriately or anything. More that now I will wear a dress where previously I may have worn trousers and a jumper.

My new wardrobe has apparently not passed by unnoticed by the guys in the office either. This is a relatively new discovery for me. The kind of thing I would probably have been completely oblivious to, pre Adam. But now the amount of guys I notice checking me out is crazy!

It is quite flattering. Especially that so many of the men are so much younger. I guess the fact that I'm a manager and good at my job is another point in my favour.

I know that Adam would approve of my outfit today anyway. If he had his way I'm sure he would have me dressed just the right side of prostitution most of the time!

I pause to buy a sandwich and eat it on a bench in the park, the sun hot on my bare skin. I try to keep my thoughts neutral. Mundane. It works to a degree and by the time I return to the office I feel more in control.

The icy blast of the air conditioner hits me as I step inside, further helping to dampen my ardour. I need to concentrate. To be focussed for my meeting. It's an important one and will take most of the afternoon. Quarterly planning meeting with the other department heads.

Back at my desk I put the finishing touches to my presentation. I just have enough time for a quick freshen up in the bathroom before heading to the lift and up to the boardroom.


There are a number of other people already there when I open the door. Although the meeting hasn't yet started, a man I don't know is talking about "business integrity" or some such nonsense. Naturally Ken is already there in a desperate bid to impress and can't resist butting in.

Ken is one of those dinosaurs that you still get in most offices. He is a throwback to an earlier time - the golden age of sexism and afternoon golf. Naturally he holds all women in disdain and considers them inferior, despite having the equivalent intelligence of a guinea pig!

Despite this, he still feels the need to offer his opinion on everything from government policy to the middle east peace process. How his kind aren't yet extinct I don't know.

I take my seat, nodding hello to a few people I recognise as James bustles in with a boyish grin, barely on time.

Most of the big departments are represented. Legal, Marketing, Finance. Eventually John arrives, takes a seat at the head of the table and calls the meeting to order. I like John. He always comes across as a decent guy and despite only being in his early forties, is already part of the exec.

The first hour or so passes by with updates from the other departments until it is my turn. I begin my presentation, going through performance to date.

The figures, whilst nothing spectacular, are marginally up on forecast and seem to be well received. I then hand over to James to walk everyone through our department plan for the next quarter. He has barely time to start talking when Ken interrupts with a question.

Ken, of course, is utterly useless at his job. How he is still here and how he holds on to what is a fairly senior role is beyond me. I look at him now, with his doughy face and lank, greasy hair. A garish pink shirt struggling to contain the weight of his belly.

Despite his own obvious failings, he is the kind of guy that will seize upon any hesitation or mistake and use it to belittle you. As though the best way to distract people from his own poor performance is to constantly try to stitch everyone else up. Even more so if his target is female and pretty. As such, he is universally despised by all of the women in the office, myself included.

James hasn't really been here long enough to know what Ken is like and seems thrown by the irrelevance of the question. While I have no great love for James I can't just hang him out to dry. Besides, the plan in question is largely mine after all.

I let James squirm for another few seconds before I interject.

"Sorry Ken, I'm not quite sure I understand the relevance of your point. Perhaps if we could let James continue and ask any questions at the end?"

I am perhaps unnecessarily condescending but Ken knows enough not to push it in the presence of John. As I turn away I can still feel his eyes boring into me as James continues his presentation.

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