Cindy's Awakening

I'm not exactly sure how to start this story, or really, group of stories about my "hobby", but I'll give it a try anyway. It began three years ago, after I divorced my first husband, Dan. It took me a while to sort out how I felt about things, and I had to deal with moving to an apartment and getting the kids into a new school, and then getting back to work myself so I could support them. Relationships and sex were the furthest things from my mind then - actually they still are. The only time I've fucked anyone since is the one time with Richard, and that was only because I had to. That is a story in itself, but it isn't really the beginning.

The first time in a long time that I remember feeling sexy was one day at work when I caught some kid trying to look down my shirt while I helped him at the computer. I work in a downtown branch of the public library as a research assistant, and that day I was helping find information on some old president. I was sitting at one of the terminals and the teenager I was helping was standing beside me as I did the search. It's an old system, and the screen is dark except for the words, and I could see his reflection, although he couldn't see mine because of the angle he was at. Anyway, he kept asking for new searches, and every time I started typing he would move a bit and look down. At first I thought he was watching my fingers on the keyboard, but I realized quickly that he was looking down my shirt. I knew he couldn't see anything, because my shirt was one of those light sweaters that fits pretty closely, and I was wearing a normal bra and everything, so I just sat up a bit straighter while we finished. This must have worked, because he lost interest in the search pretty quickly after I sat up! I kind of laughed as I stood up, and forgot about the whole thing for the rest of the day.

It wasn't until that night that I thought about what had happened again. The kids were asleep, and I was starting to get undressed for bed myself when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was still wearing my bra and the pants I had worn to work, and I was bending over to pick something up when I saw my reflection. My breasts are a B cup, and my padded bra kept them far enough apart that there was no cleavage to speak of, even when I was bent over. I slipped my shirt on again, and spent a couple of minutes trying to figure out how I could see what he had seen earlier. Finally I used a hand mirror and the big mirror on my dresser and managed to get close to the look he had gotten earlier. If I moved just right, I could see far enough down my shirt to see about half of the cup on one side of my bra, but I knew he hadn't been able to see even that much. I laughed, finished getting changed into a big old T-shirt, and crawled into bed.

I couldn't sleep. As I tossed and turned, I was really aware of my breasts moving under the shirt. B had always been a pretty good size for me - small enough to not get in the way, but big enough to jiggle around when I wanted them to, which wasn't very often in those days. Finally I sat up and turned on the lamp again. I pulled the T-shirt over my head, and put on a pair of sweats because I felt dumb sitting there completely naked. Then I looked at myself in the mirror again. As a teenager, I had always been most proud of my flat stomach, and boys had admired my breasts and nipples. As a 34 year old mother of two, even though I didn't exactly have abs of steel, my stomach had recovered enough that I had no rolls when I sat up straight, and the stretch marks from my pregnancies were nearly gone. My breasts were firm and when I looked from the side, my nipples still pointed slightly upwards. I was glad about this, because I had seen women my age at the gym with good figures but nipples that drooped from the bottom of their breasts, and I knew I didn't want that. That night, the cool air in the bedroom made my nipples stand up after the warmth of the bed.

My erect nipples had always been something that the guys seemed to like, but they were a bit of a bit of a pain for me. In high school, as I began to develop, they would stick through my shirt and bra, and I would hear comments like "Sure must be cold in here" and "Look, high beams". I learned quickly to buy thicker shirts that didn't cling when I wore an undershirt or camisole, or thicker bras that would hide my nipples despite the discomfort of wearing chunks of foam on my chest. As I had gotten older, this problem had gotten worse - not only were my nipples very sensitive to cold or touch, but they were the size of the end of a small marker lid when they were hard and they never softened to much less than the size of a pencil eraser. They were a dark red, with areolas the size of a quarter that shrank to no bigger than a nickel when my nipples were fully erect.

As I looked at myself in the mirror that night, I tried to put my finger on what had intrigued me about the unsuccessful peeper earlier in the day. As I said, the thought of sex didn't interest me, and I realized that the thing that had kept me awake was the idea that the kid had thought he was getting away with something that I didn't know about. As I sat there, I started to get warm at the thought, and I played gently with my left nipple, rolling it between my fingers until it was a hard as it would get, and then staring at it in the mirror. I opened my underwear drawer and inspected the assortment of bras and undershirts there. I remembered some lacy things that I had worn to turn Dan on when we were married, and I dug through the drawer until I found a white lace bra, which I hung on the back of the door. I wasn't sure if I'd have the nerve in the morning, but I was very aroused at the thought that I might.

The next morning I woke up late, and was at work before I remembered my late night plan from the night before. I spent the day doing all of the normal things that need to be done at a library, but I kept my eye open for chances for the same thing as had happened the day before to happen again. I realized that the best time for someone to look down my shirt was when I was doing exactly what I had been doing the day before, because there was a good reason for someone to be standing right beside me as I worked on the computer, and I would be sitting still enough for them to get in the best position to see as much as they could - or as much as I let them! I promised myself that I'd wear something the next day that gave a bit more opportunity for someone to get a peek.

The next morning I woke to the sound of my alarm earlier than usual. I had to have time to experiment a bit before getting the kids out of bed, so I hauled the lace bra into the bathroom along with my panties, a white shirt, a button up sweater, and a navy skirt. I hurried through the shower fast enough that there wasn't even any steam on the mirror when I got out, and dried myself off. The rough towel against my breasts made my nipples stand up as it always did, and I rubbed some lotion onto my nipples to keep them moisturized during the day. It took me a while to dry my hair, and I watched myself critically in the mirror as my breasts bounced with the movement of my arms. My vagina was still wet from the shower, and I dried my pussy hair, which is a bit darker than my blonde hair and quite thick. The towel rubbed my clitoris, which felt good, and I reached down and spread my lips with two fingers on my right hand, only to realize that I was wet enough to slide a finger inside without spreading anything. It was the first time in months that I had something inside my vagina. I knew I could have an orgasm if I worked at it, but I also know that if my day went as I hoped it would, I would be twice as hot that night, so I decided to make myself wait.

I put on my panties and skirt, untangled the straps of the bra, and began putting it on. I always turn the cups around behind my back so I can see the clasp when I do it up, and then slide the bra around my body to get it facing the right way. I put my arms through the straps, bent forward so my breasts fell into the cups, and slid the straps over my shoulders. As I checked the effect in the mirror, I remembered that the lace on the right cup had a small tear from the washing machine, and saw my nipple poking right through the hole. It wasn't too different from the left side, though, because the fabric was thin enough that I could see the color and shape of my other my nipple clearly as well, and I decided it would do. As I started putting my arms into the shirt, I my breasts were moving as though I wasn't wearing a bra at all - what a difference from the padded ones I normally wore! I buttoned the shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone, and bent over again in front of the mirror. Inside my shirt I could see all of both lacy cups, my stomach below, and the top of my skirt where my shirt covered it. With a little shift I could see my nipple poking through the bra clearly. I stood up and saw that I would need to wear the sweater, because the shirt was sheer enough that I could easily see the pattern of the lace and the darkness of my nipples through it, although if I hunched my shoulders forward, it became a bit harder to make out what was underneath. I put the sweater on, went through my normal morning routine with the kids, got them to school, and headed to work, very aware of the swaying of my breasts as I walked.

When I arrived at work, I realized I had a couple of problems. First, the sweater was heavy enough that it held my shirt close to my body, so in order to let someone see down my shirt, I would have to lean over so much that what I was doing would be obvious. Second, it was making my shirt rub my exposed nipple, and by the time I arrived it was getting tender enough that I tried to adjust myself so that the hole was beside my nipple rather than right on it. This worked for a minute or two, but every time I moved quickly or lifted something, my breast shifted inside the bra and it poked out again. I tried this a couple of times by sort of pushing my nipple sideways into my breast when it was soft, but every time I pushed it, it got hard and poked straight ahead again. The obvious solution was to take off the sweater, but I couldn't do this until I was at a computer with someone, because if I walked around without it, the other librarians couldn't help but notice the movement of my breasts or my nipples showing through the shirt. By noon I was going crazy, and I just wanted the day to be over! I spent my noon hour in the lunch room hunched over to keep my shirt away from my chest, and I decided that I had enough time to run across the street and buy a different bra to put myself out of my misery. As I left the lunchroom though, everything changed.

There are always two research assistants during the day, and we stagger our lunch breaks so that someone is always available to help people. That day the other person on duty was Richard, a slightly built man of about 25 who I suspected was gay. When I left the lunchroom, he was busy with a group of people at the computers by the circulation desk, and I knew he'd be tied up until he went for lunch in 15 minutes. At the same time I saw a man standing by one of the computers near the reading area. He was two finger typing, and the look on his face said that he wasn't getting the information he needed. I decided that this was my chance, because I knew that there would be fewer staff around, and if I sat at one of the computers facing the desk, I could see anyone coming. I unbuttoned my sweater casually as I walked over, said a bright "Hi", and asked him if he needed any help. He said he was looking for books on a particular kind of math theory, and I told him that the computer he was using had been acting up all day. I took my sweater off, hung it on the back of the chair at the other computer, and sat down. He grabbed the other chair and sat facing my side so he could see both me and the computer screen. I asked some questions about his research topic, and began searching the database.

He must not have noticed anything at first, because he chattered away about whatever project he was working on, and was obviously completely focused on this. He was on my right side, so I set the paper and pencil I was using to copy down call numbers on my left, using this as an excuse to reach across my body and write. As I did this, I held my body straight so my shirt pulled across my breast, and I held my arm up high enough that I knew he should be able to see the shape of my nipple underneath it. I was so nervous that my stomach was hurting and I had to press the pencil into the paper to keep my hands from shaking. At the same time, I could feel the warmth between my legs starting. As I was writing the third book down, his rambling stopped abruptly and I felt him go tense beside me. I knew that he must have noticed something to stop so suddenly, and I knew that I had to give him an excuse to stand and move around to my left if he was going to be able to get the best view. I started the next search, and then reached for the paper and asked him if he wanted to go and find the books I had written down while I looked for some more. He hesitated for a moment, but when I pointed out where they were, he got up and went over to the book stacks.

By now I was really getting wet, and it was everything I could do to stop myself from reaching under my skirt and rubbing myself. Instead, I looked around to make sure nobody was watching, and then looked down at the top of my shirt. I pushed the front of it into my chest above my breasts on the left side and adjusted the right side so that it gaped open. I knew that if my shirt didn't move and if he stood beside me and looked down, he would be able to see the entire right cup of my bra and my nipple poking through the hole. At the last minute I had the idea that if my shirt was close to my body underneath my breasts, it would give a white background for my nipple, so I did this for good measure. I figured that if he had any brains he would come back with the books, notice the shirt, and stand on my left rather than sitting on my right. I pretended to continue the searches, and wrote down a couple of books that didn't really exist because I wanted him to have the maximum viewing time when he returned!

It seemed like a long time before I saw him returning with a book, but it probably only seemed that way because I was sitting so still for fear of my shirt shifting. Finally though, he walked up, and started to return to his chair. At the last moment, though, he sort of mumbled something and moved around to my left. He was standing quite close, and I thought it must have worked! He said he had only been able to find one book, and I told him I would check for the others at the desk when we were done the search. By now I could feel the back of my neck trembling, and I had an irresistible urge to stretch my arms over my head and get rid of some tension. Unfortunately I knew if I did this, my shirt would be sure to move and he might not have the same view as I knew he had now, so I just took a deep breath and began a new search. Midway through I stopped and asked him some question about one of the math things, so he could talk and I could watch his reflection in the screen. Sure enough, I could tell that he was looking, and I knew that he had a perfect view of my nipple. I was so distracted that I didn't know if what he was saying made any sense at all, and I was hoping that he was too! By now my legs were trembling, and I knew I'd have to move soon unless I wanted my whole body to shiver. I wanted to turn and see if I could see the outline of his penis in his pants - if he was hard at all I should have been be able to tell because I was at the right level to get a pretty close look, but before I could think of an excuse to turn, a tremor shook my entire body and I had to jump out of the chair to hide it. I turned to face him and he stepped back with a reddening face. He must have thought that he'd been caught, but as he opened his mouth to say something, I said that we should check at the desk for his other books. I turned to get my sweater, aware of his gaze at the shirt stretched across my breasts and of the wetness between my legs. Of course the books weren't there, and before we could return to the computer, someone else asked for another search and he said he thought he knew how to do it himself, and that was the end of my first experience as an exhibitionist.

That night as I lay in bed after the most horny day of my life, I knew that I had found something good. I reached down and slid two fingers as deep into my vagina as I could, and instead of moving them in and out, I just rubbed the inside of my pussy wall by making tiny circles with my fingers. I could touch my clit with my thumb, and I had the most violent orgasm of my life, with my face in my pillow so I wouldn't wake the kids. I fell asleep with my hand still touching the outer lips of my vagina, and had the best sleep I had had in ages.