She knew he was around somewhere but she was too mortified to go looking for him.
She had sat while he’d unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it from her, giving him his fucking ‘boon’ damn him to hell.
Then he’d pushed her from her chair and sat, one leg crossed over the other knee, arms crossed, and watched as she continued stripping for him.
It was unsettling to peel off clothing in the full light of day. He’d had her take off her slacks, her shoes, her knee highs, leaving her the dubious sanctuary of her bra and panties. He’d gestured for her to turn in a slow spiral, his face expressionless. When her back was to him, he told her to unhook her bra, and lower it, teasingly. He never said the words “strip tease” but oh, it hung there in the room over her head.
She was so fucking embarrassed!
She never did this for her husband. She’d never done it for anyone. She took off her clothing in the privacy of the bathroom. Not that she was shy about her body, it was okay. Her left tit was bigger than the right, something that had caused a brief period of consternation when she was a teen, but she got over it in her 20’s. Her belly was softly rounded. While she wasn’t much overweight, ice cream had definitely contributed to a bit of extra flesh here and there. She shook her head. Why was she thinking about this now?
She slid one strap from over her shoulder, then the other. She reached behind finally, and unhooked the bra, and paused. Leaning forward slightly, allowing her tits to swing free and be seen a tiny bit, she let the bra slide down her arms to her wrists. Slipping her left hand free, it dangled on her right wrist for a moment, then another. With a shake, and a wiggle of her hand, the bra was finally tossed to the side, even as her arms crossed protectively over her chest.
“Release your hair.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes were devouring her. She lifted her arms, pulling out the pins that held her chignon in place. A wealth of hair began falling, layers of waves. Some danced around her ears, others fell as far as her lower back.
She wanted to pull some forward, to cover her naked breasts, but didn’t quite dare.
His words were terse, a bit dark. She thought he was cruel to push away this final barrier.
“This is a really big boon,” she said, her back to him, her arms to her sides.
“Those are very tiny panties. So, not too big a boon, n’est pas?”
This time she heard the laugh in his tone. Bastard. Pig. Fuck.
Slowly she peeled down the thin layer, leaving her fully exposed.
“Turn for me. Slowly.”
When she was facing him, he crooked a finger at her. Reluctance written all over her form, she took one step, then another. Her throat was thick with some undefined emotion. She couldn’t speak, nor swallow it away.
His finger raised to touch one nipple, then the other, standing at full mast. She was confused by the answering pull deep inside her pussy. His hands went to her hips, pulling her closer, and his lips took in her left nipple, sucking deeply. Her eyes half-closed, she almost moaned. His tongue twirled around the hard peak of her breast, his hands kneading her hips gently.
Then he pushed her back, and stood. A fast swat on her butt made her open her eyes.
“Go play, little girl. I’ve got things to attend to.”
With that, he’d stepped around her, scooping up her clothing in one big hand, and walked from the room. At the door he paused, but didn’t turn.
“STAY naked, capiche?”
He didn’t wait for her reply, but strode out.
Now here she stood, naked, and embarrassed, and nervous. There was that other guy…Reggie. Was he in the house too? Which was to be her room? Could she hide there?
She heard footsteps coming closer before she could move. The door swung open, and as if thinking of him had conjured him there, Reggie walked into the kitchen. He stopped dead.