Wetting My Lips

Modern interior of a country house at night

What happens while the world sleeps.

Last night was one of those nights. I won’t go into the what’s and why’s exactly, except to say that there was trouble in paradise. Up until a certain point we’d been absolutely fine, and after that, not so much. We’ve talked, the ball has moved forward, things will resolve once more.

Up until that point, things had looked perhaps a little bit… promising. Post shower, I basked on the bed in my naked, recently shaven glory. It’s always been something of a treat for me, an indulgence, just to enjoy my body and the cleanliness of my freshly washed skin.

“Oh hi! I noticed you’ve shaved” Matt said. He wasn’t noticing my form, I’d ticked it off on the chore list app that we share, that I still use because it helps me stay organised with everything from groceries and chores to vet bills. After the Captain and I broke up the last time, I fell into even more chaos without the app. At the very least, I needed the app in my life to help me stay organised. Any more than that would have been a bonus.

“Perhaps I have” I smiled. It was neither confirmation nor denial, a tease, just as was natural for me.

Unfortunately, by bedtime the mood had progressively soured. We didn’t swap so many words, but there were very clearly tensions, and there was very clearly to be no escalation. I settled down to some Youtube Shorts to try and take my mind off of things instead.

One of my biggest problems is that by nightfall, I nearly always get thirsty. I take a bottle of water to bed with me, and for whatever reason, I nearly always finish it while I’m in bed. I don’t think it’s anything medical, actually, I think it comes down to not prioritising drinking enough water during the day, something that I should endeavour to resolve. As soon as my body gets a sip before sleep then, suddenly it can’t get enough.

Which means that I’m usually back out of bed again half an hour later.

I took my water bottle with me and tossed it onto the sofa with plans to stop off at the kitchen afterwards and refill it again before sleep. I paused for a second to consider whether I should slink into my dressing gown ahead of my little adventure. I should really, shouldn’t I?

Fuck it.

Ever since my naturist swim days, I’ve never been ashamed of my naked form. I’m an advocate of the ‘free the nipple’ movement and a firm believer that nudity, sex and sensuality should not be hidden from the outside world. I’m not an exhibitionist exactly, but I believe that sex and desire are natural, and just as we embrace other natural things, so too should we embrace them.

But I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t a rush from a little bit of teasing, too.

I knew the rush well. There was the rush of being desired and craved for who and what I am, and I had to admit, I lived for it. I supposed that some might see it as being unhealthy in a way, and perhaps at one time it might have been. These days though all of that has changed, and these days it’s an acknowledgement of all that I am, exactly as I am, and not an iota of me minds sharing it.

Within my own predetermined limits, of course.

I particularly remember David from ‘swim’. David was in his mid-thirties, somewhat muscular, slightly balding with a short black beard. David had slight learning difficulties, but they weren’t so advanced that they stopped him socialising normally with people, particularly me. I have to be honest, I did like David, but he was missing that edge in the end. David was just too… nice.

I remember how badly I used to tease David, and looking back, a little bit of me feels a bit guilty now. The changing facilities were always made unisex before a swim – there was no point in keeping the boys and girls separate when we’d all see one another naked anyway. I used to intentionally go into the mens’ changing rooms, and I repeat that here – intentionally. My goal was only ever to torment poor David.

I used to goad David a lot, tormenting him about how Bristol Rovers were better than Bristol City (his chosen team), how shit stinks, and how the same can be said about shitheads (the local name for a Bristol City supporter, the others are gasheads). I used to float front up in front of David, giving him a good view of all that he wanted. He couldn’t touch me, of course he couldn’t, that was against the rules.

And quietly, I knew that too.

I used to fantasise about David having his wicked way with me, about him confronting me and showing me what happens when you tease men. There was a sort of hidden spot underneath the stairs just outside of the sports bar, and a part of me imagined him summoning me and teaching me a lesson in manners there while our parents socialised at the bar after our swim. I even told him directly what I was into, taking it all apart and fully explaining BDSM to him. Even then, bless him, poor David still didn’t get it.

So when he kept saying that we would make love, I had to tell him no. After all, and to reference here, I don’t make love. If you know the reference, you’ll get the joke.

Back in the kitchen, I padded my way barefoot towards the sink. The sink is located underneath the kitchen window, which overlooks our enclosed rear garden. There are houses on the back, but it was 3AM and I had no doubt in my mind that most people would be sleeping. Still, the sensor kicked in and the kitchen light turned halfway on.

I stood in front of the kitchen window for probably longer than I should have, my creamy, perky breasts and their rosy nipples exposed to the outside world. The countertop was all that stood between the window and my bared pussy, what little of my modesty that would be spared. I didn’t mind who saw me, I didn’t care who saw me, this was exposure all on my terms. It was intoxicating, empowering, beautiful.

I breathed softly, heavily, my breasts rising and falling with every breath. Daring more, I leaned slightly onto my toes, thrusting my chest forward as I did so. I wasn’t ashamed anymore, I wanted the world to see.

With one last smile and a soft giggle, I stepped away from the window again, grabbing my water bottle on the way through and making my way back to bed. I slipped back into bed with another soft giggle. Oh heck, I knew I shouldn’t have done it as a committed woman, and yet…

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