tagGroup SexUntouchable



Alicia stood in front of the full-length mirror, with the late afternoon sunlight from the nearby window falling on her. She began to take her clothes off slowly. Off came her gray tailored jacket, off the long gray skirt. She stood there in her cream satin lingerie, suspenders and silk stockings, and high-heeled shoes, her long blonde hair hanging down over her shoulders.

She slid her fingers over the satin lingerie, feeling the warm, soft flesh through it, and then ran her hands down her silk-covered legs. She eased off her shoes, unhooked her suspenders and rolled down her stockings; unfastened her bra, and slowly pulled down her panties, stepping out of them. She stood there, naked, except for a gold chain with a small gold heart on it hanging around her neck.

With her hands, she cupped her breasts, feeling the fullness of them, and then traced her fingers around her nipples until they hardened. She stared at herself for a moment in the mirror, then stepped closer, and slid her body up against it. The feeling of the cold glass pressing against her nipples sent shivers through her. She arched her back, rubbing herself against the mirror, till it was smeared with her juices.

Stepping back, Alicia sank into a big old wooden rocking chair, still facing the mirror. She bent her head down and licked each nipple in turn. Then, raising one leg over the arm of the chair, she moved her hand downwards and began to rub gently at first, then more rapidly, until she felt her body stiffen and heard her own cries as she came. Afterwards, she looked into the mirror and saw her face flushed and her naked body sprawled.

In the apartment block opposite, five men - two with telescopes, three with binoculars - had been watching Alicia, transfixed, their hands on their dicks. She smiled to herself and hoped they had enjoyed that day's performance.

Alicia loved the effect her body had on men. It turned on her to know she was turning men on. She sometimes wished she had become a stripper or a nude model. But growing up in an upper-middle class family, the only child of two lawyers, she had gone on to fulfill her parents' expectations by becoming a lawyer herself.

Working for a law firm challenged her mentally and earned her a good salary. But it also meant she had to repress her strong exhibitionist streak. In the conservative environment she was working in, she had a reputation to uphold. Yet nothing gave her as much of a thrill as turning men on.

Alicia knew there was a fine line between sexiness and sluttiness, and she was clever enough to stay on the right side of it. Mini-skirts were slutty, but longer skirts with a split were sexy, and could show just as much leg. Lycra was slutty, but woolen fabrics, which clung to curves in the same way, were sexy. Shiny black stilettos were slutty, but high-heeled Italian leather shoes were sexy.

Even more important than her choice of clothes was the way she revealed her body. She knew that if men thought they were seeing something they weren't supposed to be seeing, they wouldn't make any moral judgments about her. They would just consider themselves lucky.

Over the years, she had developed some highly-skilled techniques. She would explain a point by leaning over a man's desk at just the right angle, so that her jacket would fall open enough to reveal the curve of her breast and the edge of her pink nipple poking out from her cream satin camisole. She would bend down to pick up a pen or adjust her shoe just when a man's eye was on her, so that he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of stocking top. And it was far from accidental that she would walk up stairs or along corridors in front of men, so they frequently had the best view of her pert arse. Little did they know that she had planned it that way.

Alicia was the subject of an infinite number of fantasies at the law firm. Men who should have been drafting legal documents instead found their thoughts drifting to bending Alicia over the photocopier and taking her from behind or pushing her up against the wall and doing it there. And even away from the office, when the same men were lying in bed needing a fantasy to help them along, Alicia, in all sorts of positions, came to mind. They sometimes thought that if she knew, she'd be shocked. In fact, she would have been disappointed with anything less.

Then, of course, there were the growing audiences she had for her daily strip sessions. They watched, she knew they watched, but they didn't know she knew they watched. It was much more exciting for everyone that way.

All in all, Alicia had a very fulfilling sex life. But the only hands that ever touched her were her own. She needed men - to see the naked lust in their eyes and the uncomfortable-looking bulge in their trousers - but that was all she needed them for.

She wasn't a virgin. In her late teens she'd had a couple of brief, unsatisfying relationships. But men had no idea. Their fumbling fingers were always too rough, and never gave her the pleasure she could give herself. When they clambered on top and somehow managed to find the right opening, it was all over within a few grunts.

She was lusted after, she was fantasised over, but she was untouchable. She liked it that way.

Late one Friday afternoon, after a week of demolishing legal arguments and creating erections, Alicia cleared the last of the paperwork on her desk and decided it was time to go home. Her audience would be waiting for her.

She hurried into the nearly-full lift, just as the doors were closing. Dreaming of the evening that lay ahead, she was jolted when the lift stopped suddenly and the lights went out.

"The lift's stuck," murmured a voice.

"Shit," cursed Alicia. She knew how disappointed the men in the apartment block opposite would be if she didn't appear in front of her window at 7 pm sharp.

"Shouldn't be long," said a calm voice.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," chimed in another. "Didn't you hear about Clayton and Pete being stuck in here for an hour last week?"

"When are they going to get bloody lifts these fixed?" someone else demanded angrily. "It's just not good enough!"

Everyone was silent for a couple of minutes, then the calm voice said, "Well, there's not much point standing around. I'm going to sit down and at least be comfortable while I'm waiting."

There was movement as people found spaces to sit on the floor of the lift. Alicia stood stubbornly, sure the power would come on and the lift would start moving again, but it didn't. Eventually she heaved a sigh and sat on the floor. With the height of her heels, her legs were beginning to ache. And it had been a hard week.

Alicia tried to work out who was in the lift with her. She'd been so preoccupied when she entered that she barely noticed the other people, only taking in a blur of suits. She thought maybe one of them was Harry, a partner at the firm, and another might have been Ed, a keen young lawyer who'd just joined them. And that calm voice she'd heard earlier - was that Calvin? How many others were in there? Two or three?

She leaned her head back against the door of the lift and breathed in deeply. She could smell cigarettes, aftershave and male sweat. The atmosphere was close. She wondered how long she'd have to wait.

Suddenly Alicia felt a hand on her thigh. She opened her mouth to scream, "Get your filthy hand off me, you pig!" but for some reason, the words didn't come out. She closed her mouth again. The hand rested for a moment on her thigh, then slowly slid down till it reached the split in her skirt, then slid upwards again, separated from her flesh only by her silk stocking.

I should put a stop to this, Alicia told herself. She knew she could end it any time she wanted, by just speaking a word or brushing the hand away. But the sensation of someone else stroking her was so unexpectedly exciting that she didn't want to.

Now the hand had reached the top of her stocking. Alicia gave a tiny gasp as the cool fingers connected with her bare skin. She found herself sliding towards the hand, to encourage it further up. But whoever the hand belonged to wouldn't be rushed. His fingers stroked the silken smoothness of her thigh, getting close but never quite touching that place between her legs which was rapidly growing wet.

Alicia was finding it hard to keep her breathing quiet, but was determined that no one else in the lift should know what was going on. What would they think of her, letting someone - she didn't even know who - touch her body in the dark like this?

Then she felt someone else's hand on her other thigh. I've got to say something, she told herself fiercely, but the two hands gently stroking her were taking her to such a state of arousal that she felt quite weak and wondered if any voice would come out, even if she tried.

A moment later, someone else removed one of her high-heeled shoes, first rubbing the sole of her foot, then taking her toes into his mouth and sucking them gently through the stocking. At that point, something inside her let go. The whole situation was so unreal that all the inhibitions that normally governed her behaviour no longer seemed to apply. She abandoned herself to the moment.

Soon her other shoe was removed and the toes of her other foot were being sucked. By this stage, Alicia was no longer trying to keep silent, but letting out moans of pleasure. Now she felt fingers undoing the buttons of her jacket and then a hand creeping underneath her satin bra, caressing her right breast. A jolt of pleasure shot through her hardened nipple. Next, a mouth took the place of the hand. A tongue circled the nipple, then lips lightly tugged on it. Alicia cried out, yearning for another mouth to do the same to her other breast. She didn't have to wait long.

Alicia was desperate for the hands gently stroking her thighs to find their way to her clit and her pussy, which was by now dripping wet. She wriggled downwards, and finally the hands were where she wanted them to be. She felt one finger thrust into her pussy - fuck, that felt good! - then another, then a third. Meanwhile, the other hand was working its magic on her clit, rubbing as surely as she herself would have done it.

The excitement was building. The sensations she was experiencing all over her body were incredible, and although she tried to hold back from coming for as long as she could, it was impossible. She felt the orgasm approach from a distance - it was like watching a tidal wave from the shore - and then she let it wash over her, screaming in pure ecstasy.

Alicia lay there for a moment, panting and helpless. Gradually, she regained her composure. She put her shoes back on, did up the buttons on her jacket, and stood up again, rearranging her clothing and brushing herself down. She stood facing the door of the lift. The men around her began to stand. As if by some signal, the lights came on again, and the lift continued on its way downwards.

When the lift reached the ground floor, Alicia walked straight out, through the lobby and into the street, not turning around once.

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