tagExhibitionist & VoyeurMeeting Carmen Ch. 04

Meeting Carmen Ch. 04


On Monday morning, Memorial Day, I woke up with an erection of patriotic proportions. Not the coda to an erotic dream, but anticipation of the day to come. "Easy there, boy," I said as I hopped out of bed.

Yesterday had been intense. Two gorgeous women -- Carmen, and Gary's girlfriend Lynn -- dared each other to show off more skin in an outdoor garden. This accelerated delightfully out of control, leading to both girls naked, Gary getting to second base with Carmen, and Lynn screaming and punching him. To cap off the afternoon, Carmen sunbathed nude in the park, and then climbed on top and fucked me silly. (See previous chapter.)

Before she left for home last night, she wondered how we could possibly top that for today. I had no idea. It hardly seemed possible.

As I showered and dressed, a fiendish idea bloomed. I called Carmen's cell phone. Voice mail picked up, and I left the following message: I would be upstairs working with some music files, and might not hear the doorbell; so just call my cell (which I'll have in my pocket) when you arrive. Thanks, see you in a bit.

The truth was, she wouldn't need to call at all. My townhouse has a stairway leading up to the bedrooms. At a landing halfway up, a small window provides a view of the front step and anyone standing there. I would spot her as soon as she arrived. About ten minutes early, I settled on the landing and waited.

She didn't know about this vantage point, which I had also used the two previous days she visited. Yesterday, she had pushed down her own sweatpants while she waited at the front step, wearing nothing underneath, a daring herself to stand bottomless in public. Onlookers would have only seen her bare bottom, but that was a glorious sight indeed.

Today, I wanted to see as soon as possible what she was wearing. I watched the sidewalk like a sniper. The minutes crawled by.

When she arrived, my heart nearly stopped. She walked briskly, eyes straight ahead, willing herself to be brave. Her sweatpants were already off. The only thing she wore was the skimpiest top I had ever seen: robin's egg blue, scoop neck, and hand-cropped nearly to the point of disappearing. It extended a mere inch or two below her nipples. The lower swells of her breasts hung invitingly below. My fingertips twitched in anticipation.

She carried a small shopping bag; inside was a folded pair of light-blue sweats. Had she stripped them off in the car, or on the way to my door? Had she driven from home wearing only that top? I admired her creativity. She was absolutely finding ways to outdo what she had done yesterday.

I watched her reach in the bag and fish out her cell. I answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Carmen. I'll be right down."

"Hurry, It's a little chilly out." Just by chance, she turned my way, though she couldn't see me through the small window. The frontal view was spectacular: beautiful thighs, dark trimmed pubic hair, slightest roundness in her tummy, and bountiful breasts barely concealed by that crop top. Her nipples, poking defiantly against the blue fabric, so close to being in open air, made my mouth water. Clearly she was also excited by the situation.

"Why, what are you wearing?" I said innocently, trying to keep my voice steady.

She laughed. "Not much! My sweats were just falling down so often, I took them off. So all I have on is this dainty little top that hardly covers anything."

I smiled. She made it sound accidental, but it was clearly deliberate. "I can't wait to see it. You're actually bottomless?"


"Is anyone looking?"

She turned toward the street and shaded her eyes. The act of raising her arm to do this lifted her top just enough to expose the nipple on that side. A dizzying expanse of bare skin fell away from there to her sandals.

"Not that I can see." When she lowered her arm, the top wrinkled a bit and stayed in place instead of sliding back down. She noticed this, smirked, gently pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and tugged the top into place.

I briefly thought about a notional fourth date, where she could wear this top, but with another two inches cropped, so no matter what she did, she would be exposed.

But there was plenty of fun to be had today. "While I'm coming down," I said causally, "how about you take off your top?"

"No way!" she exclaimed. "It's the only thing I have on! It's scary enough just like this!"

"It would be a bigger thrill. Completely naked, standing there, where anyone could see you."

"No. I need at least something."

"It's just for a few moments, until I let you in." I had to stop myself from pleading with her. At that moment, I was just obsessed with getting her to stand there nude.

"Well, if I stand with my back to the street..." Good, she was being sold on the dare.

"I'll be down really quick."

"Um... um... okay. I'll take it off now." She pulled the mini-top over her head, stooped down, and folded it on top of the sweatpants in her bag. "Okay, it's off."

"I'll be down in a sec." I switched off and stayed on the landing for as long as I dared, gazing at the nude girl through the window. She occasionally peeked over her shoulder to see if she had an audience. This was obviously heating her up; her erect nipples were probably visible from low-flying aircraft. She had to be getting moist as well. I should be getting down soon.

She shivered: cold outside, in the shaded doorway; or fear (or hope) of getting caught? She checked for peeping toms again, then faced the doorway, expectantly. She folded her arms over her breasts, but left her lower body uncovered.

I waited, counting to ten. Maybe I could get her to play with herself, stick one finger in that gorgeous pussy while she waited? Or would that be pushing my luck? I didn't want to goad her into things she wasn't into.

She checked her phone again; not irritated yet, but I figured it was past time to come down and welcome her in. I opened the door and hugged her in the doorway, my hands roaming her bare back as we kissed.

"What took you so long?" she said between smooches. "What if somebody saw me?"

"That's a risk you take. Wasn't it fun, though?"

"Yes... But do I have to keep standing here? Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Of course. I've got big plans for you."

I took her inside, shut the door with my foot as I held her in one arm and started fondling a breast with the other hand.

"Hey, patience, Rocket Man," she said, giggling as she pushed my hand away. "Youuu have to wait."

"You're killing me here," I protested. "Just one little romp. I promise it won't take more than ten minutes."

She reached for her clothes. "Patience," she said, wriggling into her top. "When we get back. Anticipation is much more fun." She smirked. "I can't believe after only three days I'm showing up on your doorstep naked."

"So what do you want to do while I spend the day undressing you with my eyes?" Damn, she was putting on pants now.

"Let's go back to the craft show. I think I want to try on more things at Stu's booth." His was the clothing booth we had visited Saturday, where she modeled the miniskirt for Stu and I. A repeat of that show? Or something more?

As we walked to my car, I let her go ahead, in order to get a better view of those pastel blue sweats, hanging precariously off her hips. How could they be loose enough to slip off in a slight breeze, yet still show off the shape of her curvaceous caboose? Shut up, brain, I thought. Don't question such things.

Her top was driving me crazy. The light fabric showed her nipples and areolae easily, and even then it didn't completely cover what it was supposed to. I wished there were a way she could walk around topless. But that was probably too deliberate and would get her in trouble. For an "accidental" showing, she had to be wearing some kind of top and bottom.

These pleasant thoughts occupied me as I drove down the freeway, resting my right hand on her thigh.

At the fair, the weather was just as warm as Saturday, and the women were just as scantily dressed. If only it could be summer all year round: a wish that the state of Wisconsin was probably not inclined to fulfill. But who knows: maybe all those months of cold weather helped create this display of pent-up, provocative sun worship when summer finally arrived. Year-round summer might just lead to year-round plain shorts and T-shirts. Today, it was like a fireworks show: one amazing sight after another.

Today, in her skimpier top, Carmen was more conspicuous than on Saturday. No one overlooked her. There seemed to be a few more people that changed their itinerary to match ours, hanging on the periphery, almost stalking.

"How're you doing?" I asked, in a whisper.

She sighed. "Wound up. It's... hard to describe. Like I'm drunk, and had too much coffee, and finished a marathon, and about to bungee jump... naked, in front of my parents, everyone I've known in school, the church..."

I chuckled. "That's fairly eloquent, for being hard to describe."

She gritted her teeth. "I am trying to convince myself not to chicken out. All the time." She took a deep breath, as if about to dive underwater, and leaned forward to inspect a ceramic reindeer. Her top gaped forward, lifting off her breasts. I could have kneeled underneath, faced upward and kissed her nipples without touching any fabric. She picked up another animal, taking her time, and then looked at another on a lower shelf. Her sweats, which had been riding low, passed the point of no return and slid down. For a moment she stayed there, basically wearing nothing at all, before exclaiming "Ooh!", standing up, and putting her clothes back together.

I glanced around us for reactions. Some guys looked as astonished as if they had seen Elvis step out of a UFO.

She bit her lip, then smiled at me. "That was pretty good."

"You kidding? That was sublime," I said. "Can we go home now?"

She scowled. "No!" She took my arm. "You guys are all alike; you never want to go shopping."

I put a hand above her hip. Her warm, smooth skin felt awesome. She threw an arm around me and we walked like that for a while.

Scarlett's Scrunchies caught her eye. To a guy, the booth seemed overly specialized, offering only hairbows: little elasticized fabric rings to corral an impromptu ponytail. About every color and style you could think of was arranged on three rotating racks with small mirrors at eye level. Carmen ducked inside, pulling me along. Scarlett noticed her outfit and eyed her suspiciously from her perch in the corner. We stood in the back; the racks partially blocked the view from the outside.

Carmen tried on several bows, one at a time, checking over her shoulder in the mirror, and asking me what I liked. I found it impossible to give a meaningful answer. To put each bow on, she needed to reach over her shoulders, gather her hair, stretch the bow with her fingers, and pull the hair through. During this whole process, her top was pulled up well over her nipples, basically exposing her entire breasts, made even more prominent with her arched back. She knew all this, of course.

After trying on the first bow, her top wasn't able to drop down all the way, caught, as you can imagine, on her hard, dark nipples. She feigned annoyance at this, and pulled the top back down.

After the second bow, she didn't bother, so her nipples stayed out. Unconcerned, she scanned the rack, looking for another bow to try. I knew by now if I touched her she would brush me off, wanting to prolong the tease. So I hung back.

I actually would have had no problem with her continuing like this until sunset. But Carmen was building up to something. While trying on bow five or six, she was facing away from me, arms upraised, what was left of her top basically covering only the shoulders. I remember this moment, hoping she would turn back around, when she gave her hips the slightest wiggle. Her sweatpants, to which I hadn't been paying much attention, slid down over her delectable ass and drifted to the ground. From the narrow light-blue fabric of her micro-top down to her ankles, there was nothing but bare skin. Turn around, turn around, I thought.

She finally did, arms still up, adjusting her scrunchie. "Having problems with this one," she said, with an impish grin. That ridiculous top exposing most of her breasts made the scene even more erotic than if she had simply been nude. "How do I look?"

I said nothing, walking toward her. My predatory intent must have been clear, as well as her vulnerable state. Her eyes widened and she put both palms forward, to fend me off. "No! No, Ken, you have to wait!"

I busted up laughing. It was like she was a circus trainer, and I was a tiger cub, still feral but mainly harmless. I guess I looked a little downcast afterward, and she gave me a quick hug, contrite about the mood being broken. Then she got dressed. As well as she could.

We returned to Stu's booth. Fortunately, he was there; if his mom or someone else was running things, we wouldn't have bothered stopping in.

He was quite happy to see Carmen, practically wagging his tail. "Hi guys! Glad to see you back! We've got some new items in today."

"Cool!" Carmen said. "And I promise I'll buy something today."

"I have just the thing for you," he said, pulling something out of a small wicker box. It didn't look like anything at first: a thin brass ring, about four inches in diameter, atop a small pile of gauzy dark material.

"What is it?" Carmen said.

"It's a skirt," Stu said. "Material is silk. Put the ring at your hip, wrap the material around, and tuck each end through, underneath. It needs to be tight enough on the ring to stay up."

I understood now. It was diabolical. Only friction would keep the skirt where it was supposed to; if the smooth silk started to slip at all against the brass ring, everything would quickly come apart. In a way, it was similar to the sweatpants Carmen was wearing.

"Can I try it on?" she said.

"I was hoping you would," Stu said.

We went back to the back corner where she had tried on skirts two days earlier.

"It's less private here today," she said, looking around. She was right. There were fewer clothes hanging along the sides to block the view from outside. I tried to rearrange them to make an uninterrupted wall, but couldn't avoid leaving a few peepholes. Perhaps Stu, anticipating a return visit, had hung the clothes higher. From most angles outsiders would able to see Carmen from the waist down. Imagine a shower curtain that only hung down to a girl's navel. Not much privacy there.

Carmen was not deterred. She took off her top, evidently planning to model for Stu topless again, covering her breasts with her hands. With the miniskirt on Saturday, this was quite a show for him; I had a feeling the wraparound skirt he devised for her, even if it didn't fall apart, would reveal even more. There wasn't a lot of material there.

She stripped out of her sweats, well aware that even though she couldn't see anyone outside, they could see a lot of her. She stepped out of her shoes, and now wore nothing at all.

I couldn't wait any longer; I at least had to have her in my arms. She didn't protest this time, and we kissed for a little while, not long enough. My hands roamed along her back, from her shoulders down to her butt. She moved in closer, pressing against me.

"How about right here?" I said.

"Mmm-mmm," she said, shaking her head. "I have a skirt to try on."

By this time my balls were navy blue. There's only so much a man can endure! I reluctantly let her go.

It took a few tries to get the wraparound skirt set so it would stay up. Even then, its hold was tenuous. She set the ring low on her right hip, and wrapped the thin fabric around. There wasn't much coverage: barely enough for her pubic area, top to bottom, and a valiant but failed effort to completely cover her butt. Almost the lower third of her cheeks were exposed under the swath of fabric gently climbing from left to right. It was completely impractical, and not suited for wearing in public.

"Ready to show Stu?" I said.

She nodded and covered a breast with the fingertips of each hand. We walked around to the front.

Stu's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "That looks fantastic! How do you like it?"

Carmen slowly turned around, showing him front and back. Stu looked her up and down, pleased with what the skirt revealed, and probably irked that she was once again covering her bare breasts. "It's very daring," she said, peeking down, making sure the skirt was still there. "But I love it. How much is it?"

Stu shrugged. "There's a tag somewhere on it. Probably on one of the ends, tucked inside."

We knew that was bullshit; if Carmen hadn't returned today, Stu's improvised skirt would probably have never left its box. There was no price tag. There was no price.

"I'll go in back and change out, then," Carmen said.

"Actually, if you stand right here, I can just reach under and find it."

Carmen eyed him warily. "I'm not so sure about that. Can I trust you?"

"Sure," he said, his expression blatantly contradicting this. "Just step closer." He sat on the edge of his chair while Carmen stood in front of him. She leaned back a bit and shook her head, to move her hair off her shoulders. She couldn't use her hands to do this. She wouldn't be able to use her hands to prevent anything Stu might do.

"Let's try here," he said, holding her right leg above the knee with both hands, as if to steady her. I saw Carmen tense up as he slid his hands upward, milking this opportunity for all it was worth. She deliberately made herself vulnerable to his advances. As his fingers reached under the skirt, they also pushed it up, exposing her pussy and some of her bush. Her feet were shoulder width apart; she was already sexually excited. No doubt it was a spectacular view. He paused for a second, staring, his brain locked up.

He remembered he was supposed to pretend to be searching for a tag, and continued that charade. "Not here," he said. His fingers probed near the ring, then slowly navigated forward along her hip and pelvis, like climbers inching along sheer cliffs. They stayed beneath the curtain of dark silk, intimate in their touch. "Can you turn a little to your right?" He reached around to place a hand on her bare bottom, guiding her.

She slowly turned, cupping her breasts in her hands, covering not much more than the nipples, letting Stu explore below more and more freely. He meticulously searched for the tag which we all knew was not there. When she faced me, and he was openly caressing her hips and ass, she looked at me with a tight grin, wide eyes and arched brows: Can you believe this?

I smiled. It was all cool.

Stu fondled her buttocks with both hands. He seemed to be looking for the right time to be really impudent and finger her pussy, no more pretending. His hand did move forward, inching toward her pubic area, when the silk material lost its hold on the brass ring holding it together. It happened pretty fast. The ring bounced on the ground and rolled to Stu's feet. The skirt lost all shape and drifted inkily after it.

Carmen gasped and shot one hand down to cover herself, momentarily baring a breast before repositioning her top arm to cover both. In back, there was nothing she could do, and that was the side that faced Stu.

"Ken, can you cover me down below?" she said. I placed my left hand on her bottom, covering the cleft between her cheeks, and my other palm covered her pubic area. She resumed covering her chest with both hands. I loved the scratchy-soft feel of her pubic hair. With my middle fingertip, I touched between her legs, just testing; yes, she was excited. She could have reached a hand, if she could spare one, to confirm that I was enjoying this too.

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