behind the curtains

Published by Emmaleela in the blog Emmaleela's blog. Views: 619

I didn’t close the curtains.

It had got dark and I still didn’t close them. On the third floor of a 3- storey shared house across from a university Halls of Residence where a lot of international students live I walked into my room. Through the open curtains and fast fading light outside I saw some windows across in darkness, other with lights on and people moving around in them or sat at desks studying, and so they should be!

I’d had of busy, busy week of running around helping people in my role as a peer guide and finally the end of the day, time to stop and spend some me-time in the weekend before next week and normal lectures of the semester begin again.

I didn’t close the curtains but just without thinking kept the light on. I was aware that anyone, if they looked, could’ve seen in easily, especially as it was quickly getting darker. With so many windows from the opposite Halls facing my house then of course, and I wasn’t naïve when I didn’t close the windows, just decided for some reason not to do so.

That day I’d been wearing a blue patterned skirt, skater skirt cut, not short mini, a leather braided belt and black leggings and some flat-heeled calf boots. Also a white loose lace blouse, see-through, but I was also wearing a dark blue sleeveless tee under it, not see-through!

I discarded the boots, first thing to always come off, followed by me black leggings, letting the air to my skin again and it was warm in here so didn’t need them as much as I did outside in the winter. Sitting at my desk to the side of the window I sat and tried to get down to some quick study notes, which I managed for all of 10 minutes but kept finding my mind wandering. I was definitely distracted.

I didn’t close the curtains.

I stood up and facing the open-curtained window through which the outside world was all but faded into dark except for the light from some of the windows in the Halls opposite. People milling around behind them doing this and that. I found myself staring out, just two feet back from the large sort of bay window. My hands run down my neck finding their way carelessly down my lace blouse and over my breasts and down over my torso, my belly where they fanned out to over my hips over my skirt. Gathering some of the material of my skirt in my fingers I felt them pulling it up in the process. I close my eyes for a moment or more. My body felt tense, I stretched all my muscles inside my body to ease some of this. Sensations quivered in my stomach.

Opening my eyes I stood staring out of the window not really focusing on anything as such, almost absent-mindedly. I pulled up the material some more and found and touched my knickers underneath. Feeling the lace reminding me how soft they feel to wear. Lace hems around my legs, soft, light, secure against my skin.

I didn’t close the curtains.

I felt let my fingers find my inner thighs under the cotton lace of my knickers. I was warm, I knew it and touched to prove what I already knew. Warmth, and I just knew also moist. I teased my skin. I felt gently dizzy, light-headed, but kept touching, lightly tracing lines of my intimacy there under my skirt. Inhaling I found a tenderness that brought a smile to my lips. With both hands I took the hems of my lace blouse and lifted it up and from me leaving me stood here in my sleeveless blue tee and skirt and breathing, breathing, breathing…….

Once again my hands run from my neck down over my breasts, staying for a moment, then down my belly to my skirt. I rubbed the palms over my skirt teasing it up a little and down and over again. I tried resisting myself from moving too quick which was difficult. My body had come alive in ways sensual. My hands felt like someone elses. They moved all over me like someone elses, my clothing, pulling at my clothes like they were restraints I needed to escape. I pulled my tee shirt up like my lace top a few moments before and over my head leaving me wearing my corded lace purple plunge bra. My hands impatient moved over my belly again and down to my skirt, again, pulling up the hem, up to my waist not knowing why I was exposing under my skirt and my purple knickers towards the window

I didn’t close the curtains……

…… and fingered the small violet ribbon on the waist band slipping both hands between my legs firmly across my intimacy beneath their fabric.

I leaned forward and bit my lip, pushing my hands between my thighs, someone elses hands, squeezing them tight. I was warm, and moist, every nerve-ending electric to each and every tiny move.

I didn’t close the curtains.

I rubbed my purple knickers feeling a wetness through them. I wanted more. I unfastened the belt of my skirt, unzipped the back zip, still stood by the window letting it fall away to the floor. Stepping out of it I stood there in the window in my underwear, just purple knickers and purple lace bra. A sudden bout of self-consciousness and I turned my back to it, not knowing who might be seeing, peeking, looking form across the road. One hand moved to my bra and pulled down one cup and felt my nipple making it grow erect, and aroused. Then with the other, pinching, wincing but I did it anyway and after the first did it again and again, and again.

I didn’t close the curtains.

With my back to the window I slid my hand over my purple knickers feeling them all over, how they sat on my thighs, against my skin, over my buttocks, between my legs. My shape beneath, my mound, my folds, buttocks and hips. I slid my hand down my knickers over my bum with my back still to the window, the open curtains and caressed, kneaded my skin and eased them down just a little.

I pulled them down more knowing full well I was revealing my naked bum to the window. My hands moved their way to the front on my knickers sliding over my pubic mound through my light hairs and between my thighs. My knees buckled slightly when I touched tightening my legs and thighs to my fingers. I caressed inside my material relaxing although exhilarated by the sensations arising, forgetting about the window behind me. I parted by a few inches my legs while I reached around to unhook my bra letting the straps loosen the cups from my now aroused breasts.

I left the bra loose and once again slipped my hands down my knickers filling them pulling them down a little. Should I turn around and face the window?

I didn’t close the curtains.

I didn’t. Instead I turned sideways and pulled my knickers down a little exposing a glimpse of my soft hairs and kept feeling, rubbing, slipping over, teasing myself into submission. I surrendered to this intimacy and the possible voyeurism unable to stop myself. Slipped over my sex I caressed tenderly, unfolding me to explore just that spot which almost made my legs collapse entirely.

By the window I stood, beyond stopping. I firmly grabbed my breast and pinched my nipple still partly covered by my loosened bra. Again my thighs and stomach tightened reflexively, fingers rubbing my sex harder spreading moistening through my now glistening hairs and my hand. I masturbated there, side on to the glass, couldn’t stop, hands inside my knickers threatening to pull them off and away completely. I whispered no, no, but thought yes, yes.

On and on this rollercoaster beyond help, craving, feeling my whole body screaming for release…. who was watching I didn’t know, didn’t care, felt all the more taboo and so wrong it was right because of that…. then suddenly in a rush I orgasmed, almost unexpectedly, as though I wasn’t ready but my body was, wanted it, needed it and it let me know making me scream as it seemed to swallow my whole body, demanding I surrender. I did, completely, bra falling loose, breast half-exposed, hands pulling away in my knickers and collapsing to the soft carpet on my knees still coming feeling a release extraordinarily powerful in full view of the window, the open curtains, the eyes of anyone, if anyone had, from across the road.

I lay spread on my carpet in my dishevelled underwear, arms and legs now floppy and body absolutely sated. Will I do it again? I answered without a word, yes, yes.

© Emmaleela 2016
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