The Changing Room_(1)
I am using the name Jennifer Doalfer, even though for obvious reasons it is not my own name. However, it is similar to the name of a friend I had in university and whose personality I like to adopt when I write.
I am 35 years old and live in an old house in the suburbs of Copenhagen, Denmark, (that's a country in Europe – in case you don't know). I have two children and I am happily married. And no – I am not going to tell you what I look like – just imagine whatever turns you on. I can tell you though, that I am still attractive enough to make men's heads turn.
I am sorry to disappoint you; I am not a husband-cheating slut who cannot get enough sex. But what am I like then? I don't really know. I have always liked to write, and from when I was quite young, I have both documented real sexual experiences in my diary, and written fiction. Usually the fiction is based upon something that has happened, and which in itself hasn't been very naughty or exciting, but for some reason has got my imagination going. When my husband is away I often sit at the computer writing what I dream could happen. That really excites me and I love to write when I am in that condition. Later however, when I read them again I can feel quite embarrassed.
I am a little bit of an exhibitionist; I like people looking at me. In Denmark topless swimming at the beaches is quite normal. I love being at the beach, knowing people are looking at me. Fortunately stiff nipples can be explained away by the cold wind, of which we have a lot of there. I like to wear loose blouses or dresses and get quite excited when I discover somebody looking at my tits. I know my husband likes me to do it, and he often encourages me, but I cannot get myself to admit to him that I actually enjoy it. I just let him believe I accept it for his sake.
I have only had a few extramarital affairs, and they are not really anything I feel bad about, because they have only been single occurrences, and only driven by sexual desire, and not because I loved somebody else. Before I met my husband, I was quite wild and I feel I have experienced enough during that time, so that I don't need more than the relationship with husband can supply (which I am pleased to say, is quite a lot).
However, I do have these wild dreams. I wouldn't dare to dream of them coming true, but I like to write about them. The other day I found a site, which asked for people to submit their own naughty stories. I had never really thought of publicising any of mine, but all of a sudden, the thought excited me tremendously. I took one of the few stories I have written about a real occurrence and sent it in. I don't know what will happen to it – I can't be bothered to pay for access to the site to see if they feature it, but having done it and experienced the thrill of it, it has made me want to write and publish more of my writings.
What I would like to do is write stories and publish them in this newsgroup. There is a lot of SPAM, but some people seem to request real-life stories, so I hope to find an audience. My stories are either based upon some occurrence that has triggered my imagination, or they entirely fictitious or possibly some of the real occurrences of things I have written about in the past.
The following is the only thing that has come to my mind recently, but I hope you like it. Comments are welcome at email@example.com
In preparation for a big party we were invited to, my husband Poul and I went to the shops in Copenhagen. I wanted a nice, somewhat "daring" dress, and we had to go to the more expensive shops to find a suitable one. I used Poul as an indication as to whether the dress I was trying on, was "exciting" enough. I knew he wanted me to wear something which would show my body off, and I let him believe I was doing it for his sake. He likes the simple type with a bare back and just a couple of strings to hold up the front, usually tied at the back of the neck, or perhaps with a more elaborate string system. I like that sort too, as they show off my body nicely. As I tried on the third one in as many shops, I started to suspect that Poul just had me trying on so many because he liked that fact that I had to strip practically naked in the fitting-room to change into them.
He would usually manage to slip aside the curtain just as I was getting a dress over my head, and I know from the look at his face that that he was getting excited from watching me. I actually felt a bit excited myself, so I let him leave the curtain open a bit, so he could see in from outside as I changed into the next dress. I expected him to be looking at me, so I was surprised when I looked through the gap in the curtain, that I could not see him. Seeing I was decent enough now and I was wearing the next dress, I peeked out through the curtain. Poul was standing a bit further over to the side, and I realised that another couple was also trying out clothes in the fitting-room next to ours. He was pretending not to look, but I knew he was trying to peer into the other changing room. He finally saw me and came over, commented on the dress, but obviously wanting to get back to his old position. I don't know what he could see in the other fitting-room, but I could see the other guy doing the same outside the other one; looking in, commenting, hanging around bored and pretending not to look at me or the crack Poul had left open in the curtain into our fitting-room. I was slightly annoyed, but I could also feel myself getting excited. I looked out again, Poul never looked my way again, so I left the curtain about 8 inches open, turned my back to the gap and started to slip the dress over my head again.
I don't know if the other guy was looking in. I tried to look in the mirror but I couldn't see anything in that direction, and I was too embarrassed to turn around and maybe find him staring at me. I just made sure I turned sideways to the opening as I pulled the dress over my head, maybe leaving my arms up a bit longer than necessary.
I knew he must be watching, what guy wouldn't? I just hoped Poul being there didn't make the guy shy. I bent down to get my shoes off (I had brought high heels along to try on with the dresses, as they don't look good in flat shoes), even though I could have waited until I had my T-shirt on again. I only had on my small tanga panties, which I was going to wear under the dress, and as I imagined him looking at me like that, I felt my nipples go hard. I found and changed the shoes. I took a long time to *find* my T-shirt and get it on. Finally I was finished and had to emerge. The other guy was in a perfect position to look in – but he didn't look at me, or in any way indicate if he had been watching. As my excitement subsided I felt a bit embarrassed and we hurried out of the shop. We went back to the first shop, tried on the very first dress again – but this time the changing was entirely uneventful, and I finally decided on that one.
Thinking back on this and writing it, makes it feel much more exciting than it was at the time. I don't even know if anybody saw anything – but gosh, have I been dreaming about it ever since.
Let's backtrack a bit: I looked out again, Poul was not looking my way, so I left the curtain 8 to 10 inches open, turned my back to the opening, and started to slip the dress over my head again. In the mirror I saw some movement through the opening. First I thought it was Poul, but then I realised the other guy had positioned himself so he could pretend to be looking into the other changing room, but also have a clear view of me through the opening in the curtains. I decided that if Poul could look at other girls, I could have a bit of fun too. I changed my mind and let the dress drop down again. I turned around looking at it from all sides.
I pretended to check how revealing it was by lifting the material away at the sides baring my breasts. I turned back and forth pretending to look at myself in the mirror but actually I was looking at him. He was handsome, with a rather square face and sand-coloured hair. I found myself getting really excited and I wet my fingers and squeezed my nipples hard. I let the material cover my breasts again and pretended to check how much my hard nipples were visible through the material. I wondered how that made him feel. The dress clung to my body. I stretched it down over my backside pretending to see how much my tanga strings were visible through the material. I decided they were too obvious and lifted up the dress so that I could try to reposition them, and at the same time letting him see a good deal of my bottom. I was still quite tanned from the summer, and I had a distinct white area where my bikini bottoms had been. I always find that this area is rather private, because it indicates where you haven't otherwise been willing to reveal in public. Having tanned breasts shows that you sunbathe topless, but baring the white parts of my bottom is to me really exciting. After having dropped the dress again I could still see the outline of the tanga, so I lifted up the dress once again, and this time removing the panties completely. I made sure the dress stayed up above the cheeks of my bottom as I bent down to untangle the panties from my shoes, giving him a perfect view of my upturned rear-end. I keep my pubic hair neatly trimmed as I cannot otherwise wear small bikini bottoms, but I still leave enough hair to make it look as though I'm not completely shaved. However, I know that from that position he must have been able to see my swollen lips, which were probably obviously glistening wet from my excited state.
As I stood up again I looked in the mirror. He was right at the opening, not even pretending not to look in. I wondered what Poul was doing. Was he so concentrating on what he was seeing in the other room that he wasn't noticing? Or was he finding it exciting to let the other guy watch? Maybe they had agreed to swap positions to look at each other's wives? As these thoughts flew through my head I realised that he was looking straight at my eyes in the mirror, and was obviously well aware that I was looking at him also.
I didn't look away but kept staring back – provocatively indicating that I didn't mind. He could look as much as he liked – or more if he dared.
I looked away again, smoothing the material over my backside. Obviously now there was no outline, but on the other hand it clung to the body in a way which also definitely showed that I wasn't wearing anything underneath. Did I dare to go to the party like this?
As I was pondering this question I felt more than saw the curtain move. I looked in the mirror and saw the guy slipping in. I didn't know what to feel. The situation was unreal. I know I had been goading him along, I know I was getting very excited myself, but I hadn't really thought it would come to this! I kept thinking that as long as Poul was outside it was safe to go along with this guy. Now I could see Poul standing in the gap looking in, but quite obviously not intending to interfere. A shiver went through my body as I realised that Poul wanted this guy to be in here with me. All of a sudden I felt so horny that my legs almost buckled under me. Fortunately the guy was now up against me, holding his hands on my shoulders. All I could do was lean up against him resting my neck on his shoulder. He smelled nice. I looked in the mirror and saw him slowly sliding the straps down over my shoulders and lifting the dress free of my breasts. My nipples were as hard as I can remember ever having seen them. I am quite proud of my tits; even after two kids they are large and firm but maybe not as firm as when I was 18. The softness makes them wobble when I walk, making it clear when I am not wearing a bra, which I know makes guys look at me. Now this guy cupped them, lifting them up and squeezing the nipples. I closed my eyes as he kept working them over and kissing my neck. He grabbed my hair and forced my face towards him so he could kiss my mouth. I was hungry for a kiss. He smelled of excited man and I could feel a harness against my bottom as he was getting more excited. Boy, this was so naughty. How could this be happening? We were only five feet from his own wife and from Poul, who had now moved the curtain further aside and made no secret of watching us.
I didn't really care what, where or who, I was loosing it. I just wanted this to advance to wherever it might lead, and the circumstances just made it more sexy and exciting.
I felt his hand travelling down my stomach, grabbing a handful of skirt and pulling it up. I looked in the mirror as my thighs became visible. Again he lowered his hand, this time grabbing the hem at the bottom of the dress and pulling it all the way up, baring my crotch. I could clearly see where the tuft of hair I had deliberately left stopped, and the shaven part of my pussy began. I lifted my hands over my head indicating that I wanted him to take it off completely. Being in front of the mirror added extra excitement, because it really made me even more aware that I was now standing in front of a stranger, completely naked, just letting him do whatever he wanted. I turned sideways to him, making it easier for his hand to reach between my legs. I knew I was wet, but only when his hands started to travel over my pussy, lightly touching my lips and spreading the wetness all over, did I realise just how wet I had become. I put one leg up on the small chair in the corner of the room, allowing him easier access. He took advantage of that and soon found my clit, but only teasingly, touching it lightly. I grabbed his hand and violently pressed it on me, rubbing it hard against me, the way I now craved. I could feel the nails of his other hand travelling down my back. I thrust my bottom towards it, wanting it to join in the game. He wet his fingers in my juices, and then travelled back up to my other hole, wetting it. I was going wild; I just love that feeling. He wet it a bit more and inserted a finger carefully in my anus. I almost jumped. He was now working me over really well. I clung on to his head as he kissed me; he worked on my clit with one hand and slowly worked a finger in and out of my anus. I wasn't long before I came in a violent shudder. I finally removed my mouth from his as his finger slipped out of me. I was still shaking as I whispered in his ear "fuck me". I don't usually use that word, but it seemed the only appropriate one on this occasion.
He didn't say anything – as a matter of fact I never heard him say a word – he just turned me around again facing the mirror. My face was flushed, I had red blotches on my tits, and my hair looked like I had just come in from the rain. I wanted him to grab my tits again, but realised he was undoing his trousers. When his hands finally grabbed my tits again I felt his penis straining against my bottom. I lifted my hands over hid shoulders, folding them behind his head. I stood on my toes so he could get between my legs, but he was so tall! He moved my hands and bent me over, so I rested with my hands on the chair. I spread my legs and stood on the tips of my toes, and finally I felt it sliding past my anus and in between my legs, but still not penetrating. I looked up in mirror. With his eyes closed he moved back and forth sliding his penis against my wet lips. I looked between my legs and saw its head poking at me. It was bent like a banana, with quite a large blue head. I grabbed it with my hand and forced it against me, as I also started to move against it. I looked in the mirror again. He was obviously now also getting really excited. His face was red and his hair dishevelled. I could just barely see Poul at the entrance. I was wondering again what he thought of this, when I felt his penis sliding into me. He had finally had enough of playing around and soon we were going at full blast. I had to hold on to the arms of the chair as he plunged into me harder and harder. I like being taken from behind. I like my tits hanging free, bouncing with each thrust. I often do it with Poul this way, also in front of a mirror, as he loves watching my bouncing tits. I was well aware of him looking at me now. It was just so erotic and exciting, doing it with somebody else, right here in front of him. I know he has been dreaming about experiencing this, because he had told me many times before.
With one hand the guy let go of my hips and when he found a dangling tit and nipple to squeeze, I almost came. I thrust back against him as hard as I could and soon felt him speeding up. He grabbed my hips again with both hands so he could pull me harder against him. I started to shake. I could so clearly feel his big mushroom head pounding into me, and actually watching it in the mirror was just such a turn-on. I had a hard time not letting out small yelps as I started to come, but managed to bite my lips to stop it. I started an uncontrollable shake as at just the right time, he slipped a wet finger into my anus again. I was still shaking as he came inside me. A couple of strong thrusts almost knocked over the chair, and he was done. But my aftershocks were only just subsiding as he grabbed a tit with his free hand, and moved me to an upright position, still with a finger up my backside. As he squeezed my nipple hard and worked his finger in and out of me, I came again in a small orgasm. Finally he slipped the finger out and let go of me. I grabbed my tits myself because I like playing with my orgasm-hardened nipples right after I have come. I realised he must have been busy getting his trousers back up, but when I looked up he was gone, and instead I saw Poul coming in. I leant against him totally spent.
"Is this the dress you want?" he said as if nothing had happened.
"No," I said, "I think it is too provocative, you never know what might happen, if I was to wear a thing like that."
He slipped out again, and this time I noticed he closed the curtains completely. "Closing the barn door after the horse has bolted," came to my mind as I got dressed again. I still looked like I had been in a thunderstorm, and I could still feel sperm running out of me, but that just kind of confirmed what had happened; I still really couldn't believe it. I never saw see the guy again, and Poul never spoke about it either. But he did manage to get me to go to the party with no underwear – so maybe the experience had changed something for me after all.
Back to real life again. I just loved writing like this! It gets me really excited. I wish I could jump into my stories and actually experience them, and then jump out again if I felt bad about it.
Hope you like the story; I am off to bed now.