Seductive Exposure (part 2)

The continuation of Seductive Exposure (part 1).

* * *

Sliding the panties off my hips revealed more than just my nudity to the man whose bedroom I was standing in.

It revealed a shyness I knew I needed to conquer. Or at least acknowledge as an acceptable part of my vulnerability.

He watched me from his position by the dresser. His body was rigid; only his eyes followed along as my hands peeled my panties past my knees.

When they reached the floor I slowly stepped out of them.

Mission accomplished, I thought to myself. I was now naked in front of a still fully dressed man.

He inspected and appraised me in the way men do with nude women. It felt a little like being judged by experienced eyes.

Was he judging me? I watched his face closely.

I didn’t see judgement. His eyes were soft, and kind.

I felt encouraged. And aroused.

This, I realized, was a step I needed to experience as part of my recent awakening.

You wrote the script, I reminded myself. It was your idea.

I turned my mind inward, recalling the circumstances where I had consented to this performance. Conceived it, really.

Feel the embarrassment, I told myself. Let it arouse you.

My somewhat hedonistic unveiling implied a sort of deceptive safety. It was risky, stripping down in front of a man who has not seen me naked before.

Not in the flesh, at least.

But here I was, doing it anyway. There was finally some forward propulsion in my relatively stagnant life.

I yearned for more.

The whole scenario was confusing, and a little anxiety inducing.

But again, arousing. I could feel the moisture pooling between my thighs.

You trust him, I reminded myself. He won’t lunge at you, or attack you. Allow the sensations to wash over you.

It seemed that temptation had reared its wicket head. For me, but also for him.

I saw him shift his body to soothe a tension I knew he had been living with for some time.

An urgent tension demanding relief. Begging for it.

I besought my body’s compliance with the telltale signs of female arousal. To prove to myself I was in working order. And to show him I was willing, and ready.

His eyes remained fixed on my most alluring parts. He imbibed on my body’s hills and valleys, processing all the imminent possibilities. And seeking out the moisture, no doubt. Anticipating his next move.

His gaze, confident and patient, revealed just as much about him as it did about me. His desire is simulated by mine.

I endeavored to arrive at a willingness to submit to the urges that had been buried beneath my inhibition all this time. I wanted him to want me.

But I feared the opposite would happen. Like panic, or a stop in flow. I did have a habit of getting spooked at the most inopportune time.

Again, I glanced at his face. He was still watching me. Absorbing my assets, soon to be his to caress and play with: my pussy, shaved and engorged, my nipples, erect and hard. This was, in fact, the aspired outcome of our burlesque undertaking.

“Turn around,” he suddenly said out loud.

Startled, I woke out of my trance.

To be continued…part 3

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