Kimberly Sanderson squirmed sideways on the hard wooden bench. The naked studs of the locker room wall were digging into her shoulder and back, distracting her from the simmering lust in her gut. Bracing one heel against the bench, the other in a crack on the floor, she fingered her nipple, pinched and rolled it, stoked the fire under her pot of horniness.
Feet and chattering voices passed the door of the cubicle. Kim thought of the teenage boys passing, thought of them seeing her toy with her naked body. Her lust soared. Closing her eyes, she imagined them watching her, seeing her mature tits, her thick brown bush, the pink petals of her inner pussy. Her lust boiled higher.
She let a finger steal down through the wiry kinks of her muff. She let her finger stroke the soft, puffy lips of her pussy, skate around the pleasure nubbin of her clit. A bar of sunlight speared through the foot-high gap above the top of the flimsy door and painted a warm stripe on her trim belly. When it touched the untanned skin that was usually under her bikini, it felt like it was burning her.
Kim pictured the sweaty faces of three of the boys from around the pool. She imagined their nude bodies, their cocks jutting out from immature patches of crotch hair. She imagined spreading her thighs wide before them, and fingered the sizzling heart of her cunt. Her finger touched the bump of her clit and a jolt of pleasure wrenched through her.
For a moment she froze, thinking she had heard something from the next locker. Only a thin wall separated the two cubicles. Then she relaxed and let the horniness sweep over her. Her hand cupped the warm weight of one breast, rubbed the rubbery button of her nipple. No sag at all, and she was pushing thirty. She was as trim and firm as the teenage girls that frolicked around the pool, teasing and taunting the boys.
She let her hand slide farther down on her pussy. She parted her warm, soft aunt lips, slid a finger between the damp inner petals. The tip of her finger found the slippery mouth of her aunt and cautiously explored the rippled orifice.
A heavy sliding sound from next door distracted her. A little afraid, and more than a little frustrated, she scanned the featureless wall. In the distance she heard laughing and splashing from the swimming pool. Someone was singing in the shower down the corridor, and there were footsteps one aisle over.
Was that panting? Concentrating, her lust fading, Kim fought to blot out all sounds but the soft huffing. For a moment, she thought she heard it. Then it was gone.
A touch on her clitoris, and her lust raged upwards once again. Drawing her knees up and spreading her thighs, she toyed with her pussy and breasts. The barely private setting of the locker increased her horniness. Thinking of how close she was to naked exhibitionism made her pussy steam. She let her finger slide slowly into her slimy vagina. She used her thumb to roll the squirmy little protuberance of her clit. She bit back a moan, and pictured Al Lomata, mentally stripped him naked.
How big was his cock? The bulge in his bathing suit gave the impression that he was hung like a horse. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a Mediterranean handsomeness – dark curly hair and flashing black eyes. Her eyes closing, Kim dreamed he had a jutting tower of a prick, aimed at her, and felt her twat flood with hunger.
This time the next-door noise sounded like a grunt or a groan. Kim's lust was too high now for her to lose much of it. Still fingering her clit to keep her lust boiling, she pried her eyes open just a slit and scanned the gray asbestos wall carefully.
For a moment, she thought she saw something. Then it was gone. She focused on the shadowy area just under the row of hooks on the horizontal one by three.
Then she saw it: a flicker, like a wink. A flaw on the wall became a hole, about half the diameter of a pencil. It was black now, but for a moment it had been white – like something had reflected the sun through it. Someone was behind that hole. Someone was watching her.
She didn't move. As her insides coiled tight, she felt ashamed. Who was watching her as she masturbated? The thought of being watched made her excitement rage higher.
It had to be kids, or a kid. A boy was standing on the bench in the next lockers his eye glued to the hole he had painstakingly augured through the hard sheet rock partition. He was feasting on her display, panting from the sight of her naked breasts, her gaping snatch, and the way she was playing with her most intimate parts.
It couldn't be Al Lomata; it wasn't his family's locker. She visualized him anyway, thought of the aching hard-on he would get from the sight of her. She slipped her finger deeper into her hole, and moaned. Her hips shifted on the hard bench. She began pumping her finger in and out, fucked her pussy with a wet, squishy noise. She deliberately did it so the action was blatantly exposed to the unknown watcher. Let him get his biology lesson. The knowledge that he, whoever he was, was watching, made her lust rage higher and higher.
Lifting her head, she glanced down at her gaping display. She wasn't able to see her own pussy, which was frustrating. Then she remembered the mirror on the shelf beside her, and grabbed it. Sitting up for just a moment, carefully not breaking her mood, she propped the mirror against the wall at the end of the bench. When she leaned back, she had a perfect view of her aroused twat. A slight shift, and the bar of sun that had spilled on her belly washed into the creaming heart of her snatch.
She watched herself, imagined herself being watched, and finger-fucked herself. She fingered her clit, saw the little nubbin writhe as she tried to pinch it against her pubic arch. Then, using both hands, she spread her cunt lips wide, displayed her whole hot gash to herself and her Peeping Tom.
The only intrusion on her carnal pleasure was a stray thought about her husband. If it weren't for that damn work-a-holism of his, it would be his dick and not her finger that was pumping in her twat. Her digit was a skinny imitation of his pecker.
Deliberately, she slid a second finger into her boiling shaft, and pinched her clit hard, tried to blot out any distractions. She focused her mind on the Lomata youth, less than half of her thirty years, hung him with a wang like a baseball bat, and groaned. Then she reminded herself that someone was watching her display all her charms. She was getting there. She was getting close to the peak.
Whining aloud, letting her hips hump and squirm, oblivious now to the way the planks were grinding into her tail, she pumped her two fingers in her sodden twat. She pinched her clit between her thumbs and dragged her vagina open with her fingers. Christ! She wished there was no wall between her and whoever it was that was watching. He'd come down on her, and hammer his dick into her ravenous hole, and she'd be full, full, full. His cock would burn twat walls as it pistoned into her. She would finger her clit, let him crush her hand with his pubic arch, while she massaged herself to a screaming cumming.
Like the one she was close to now. She was getting closer, and closer, and closer. She heaved her head up and took one more look in the mirror. Her cunt was wide, and the hairy labes framed the finger-widened tunnel. She thought of the youngster watching her, and her belly convulsed in a rippling, rutting contraction. She gurgled with ecstasy, and her throat knotted closed. She rubbed her clit into a fireball. She was aware of her vaginal walls spuming around her finger, and felt the gush of cum as her insides coiled themselves around the bonfire of her cumming.
For an eternity, she held her clit between her thumbs, pinched it while she wiggled the fingers in her vagina. Then, her insides aching and satisfied, she went limp, her hands slid out of her cunt and her hairy labes closed. Just the pink ruffles of her still-distended inner folds showed in the dark brown heart of her muff. She painted the insides of her thighs with her cunt juice and then slouched don, exhausted.
Weakly, she blinked the pleasure-fog out of her eyes, and looked at the peephole. It was black for a moment, then changed to a lighter shade. Her watcher had abandoned his post, in spite of the fact that she was still as wantonly exposed as ever!
After a few moments, when there wasn't any sign that whoever had been spying on her was returning to the peep hole, she felt a twinge of anger. What could be more important than admiring her naked beauty?
Quietly, she got up and eased over toward the opening. She felt the hot summer breeze stir the air, dry the sweat on ha naked flesh. Very cautiously, wary of the watcher returning unexpectedly, she put her eye to the peep hole.
For a moment there was only a confusion of lines and angles. Then she managed to sort them out. To the right, something cut off her view. A towel on a hook, she decided. Then she looked down, and bit back a gasp.
She had been right, it was a boy. She tried to think of his name, but couldn't. She had seen him around the pool all summer. He had blond hair and a nose that was perpetually peeling from sunburn.
What had made her gasp was that he was as naked as she was and his hand was curled around his jutting hard-on. Just the pinkish purple head protruded from his fist. He was slouched back on the bench so just part of his ass was perched on the edge. His trim legs were stretched out in front of him. Sweat beaded his downy upper lip as he stared at his dick – and pumped its lean length.
Kim felt her insides wind themselves into a knot. What a beautiful dork! Her palms itched to fondle it, to feel the soft satin skin slide over the rock-hard core. She could seethe skin wrinkle first one way and then the other as the boy's hand moved up and down his pecker. The head was shining with pre-cum, and each movement of his hand brought another thick, slick emission from the slit at the tip.
Perry? That was his name. Perry McBride. He was lean and graceful – no fat on him. His cock jutted up from a pale red bush of fine hair. His belly was barely tanned. Freckles sprayed across his shoulders and down his arms, and over his cheeks and forehead. His nose was raw pink where the dead skin had peeled away.
But that cock! That lowly, lovely cock kept drawing her eyes. He was rubbing it, up and down, up and down, slowly, as if he was trying to prolong the pleasure. Kim's mouth watered. It wanted a chance at that lovely popsicle! The thick clear drops from the tip oozed down and pooled against Perry's fingers as he squeezed and pumped his cock.
Kim could her his jacking off! It was a wet, sticky, crackling sound. Every downstroke made the little mouth at the tip gape. Then his hand moved up, and the mouth closed, and another clear drop welled up, caught the sunlight like a jewel.
As she spied on the youngster, Kim slid a hand down into her crotch and fought to keep from moaning aloud. She slipped a finger up into her still-dripping hole, and felt a fresh wave of juices flood down. She dreamed of that dick sliding up into her hole, and the walls of her cunt spumed.
Perry's eyes were closed now, his teeth gritted, as his hand moved up and down his dong. For a moment, she thought he had shot a glance in her direction, and almost flinched back from the peep hole. She decided that as long as she blacked the light, as long as she didn't move, he wouldn't know she was watching. It was because he had backed away for a moment that she had seen the light change and spotted the opening.
She pressed her forehead against the wall and blinked. Her eyelashes brushed the partition she was so close to it. Her nipples pressed the cool hard board. She deliberately squirmed, made her tits slide over it.
She ignored the drop of sweat that tickled its way down between her breasts. All that mattered was that lovely, lovely cock that was being jacked off. The boy's hips were shifting and squirming now, and his hand was moving faster on his thrusting prick. He was panting, licking his lips.
He groaned, and curled up a little. He looked down at his dong. His hand squeezed, his toes curled.
Kim choked.
A creamy, pearly jet of cum spouted from Perry's dick. It leaped, in a smooth, flashing curve, and fell with a heavy "spunk" to the gray planks of the floor. It was followed by a second, then a third, even larger one. The last one got the greatest range.
The carnal squirting went on and on, vigorous, copious beyond belief. Thick pearly-gray spoutings arced through the air and spotted the gray floor and spilled through the cracks, dripped into the crawlspace beneath the lockers. Kim's cunt twisted with frustration as she watched Perry's spurting spill uselessly on the uncaring wood and onto the sand and rock below. A soft groan of misery escaped her lust-knotted throat. This time she was certain Perry glanced at the peep hole.
Without thinking, she fell back away from the hole. She slouched down on the bench, and drove her hands deep into her flaming crotch. Grabbing blindly, she found a fresh, full tube of suntan cream and aimed the cap into her ravenous cunt. Sprawling her legs wide apart, she drove the cold plastic into her twat, raped herself with it. She humped herself on the phony phallus and held in her mind the memory of Perry's spurting pecker. She pumped the plastic shaft in her spuming cunt, the harsh edges of the cap scrape her tender walls. She recalled the first thick jettings of Perry's cock spilling down over his cock-head as his exhausted muscles lost the power to shoot his cum up, were able only to wring the first thick waves out.
She had an urge to squeeze the tube she was fucking herself with. She wondered if she could squeeze it hard enough to pop the cap off. Then she could flood herself with suntan cream – it would be lanolin-loaded semen. The cap would jam in her vagina, be a hard knot at the end of her tunnel. The thick, oily cream would flood her crevices. It would be cool and exciting against her aroused folds. It might even seep up into her cervix and womb.
Her cumming coiled like a snake then struck up through her. She laughed – a hot, crazy mad lust laugh – at her insanity. Perry was probably watching as she pistoned the suntan tube in her twat.
It could go on all day! First she would jack off and get him horny. Then he would beat his meat while she spied on him and got horny. Back and forth, back and forth, like a tennis match.
Then her cumming raged through her and wiped away all thought and she let the memory of his gorgeous cock swirl through her pleasure-racked brain. Her cunt spasmed around the cool shaft of the suntan lotion. It was really a most satisfactory cumming. She clung to it for a long, long time, then eased the fake dick out of her aching, exhausted twat.
She thought of fishing out the cap, and was glad she hadn't managed to pop it off inside her. She wiped the tube clean and put it back on the shelf. Then, her knees bent and her legs spread, she lay back on the bench. The hot summer sun dried her pussy as she caught her breath.
She heard the door of Perry's locker slam, heard his footsteps fade away down the corridor, and sighed. She should, she thought, feel some shame.
She didn't. She felt a vague sort of vengeance toward Walter. Her eye lighted on his jock strap, dangling from a hook near the peep hole. She wondered if he really needed the thing. She was beginning to think that he didn't have anything to put in the knitted cup.
How long had it been since he had made love to her? She couldn't even remember. Served her right for marrying a man twenty years her senior. Sure, he had all the financial security she had demanded. Only now she was realizing that money couldn't fill certain holes.
Her less shaky, Kim struggled to her feet and reached for her bikini. Donning it quickly, she draped a towel over her shoulder and headed for the pool. On the way she passed a full-length mirror, and paused to study herself.
Her breasts bulged invitingly from the cups of her bra. The soft, tanned mounds were still firm. Her belly was trim, her hips and ass shapely. Her legs were long and graceful and slack.
She tried not to be vain, but did wonder how Walter could find balance sheets and profit and loss statements more interesting than her. Maybe if she had a graph tattooed on her he would pay attention to her. If it led to her cunt maybe he'd stick his nose in there to see what the dividends were for the quarter.
"Hi, Mrs. Sanderson," Al Lomata said as he padded past.
Kim's heart gave a nervous flip-flop as she returned the greeting. She watched his trim enroll with his easy steps. If he felt her gaze, his back didn't show any signs of it.
With a soft sigh, conscious of the post-cuming ache in her gut, Kim went out to the pool. For a moment, she stood on the porch of the bath house, looking down the expanse of deck and at the clear cool aqua of the water. She was conscious of the circle of wives knitting their gossip shrouds. She knew that Walter's continuing absence from the country club was a constant topic of speculation.
Deliberately, Kim stood straighter than usual, knowing that her sleek shape was a source of envy. It would be a shame, Kim reflected, for them not to have something to talk about.
Her eye lighted on a shock of pale blonde hair at the diving board, and she felt her gut knot. As she watched, Perry McBride walked to the end of the board, paused for a moment, then hurtled into the water. A glistening explosion of water sprayed high into the air. The light of the gleaming drops reminded Kim of another, hotter shower a few minutes ago. She writhed inwardly, and waited. Perry emerged from the pool ten yards away from her.
He glanced at her, and, she felt his eyes strip the suit off her. Then she saw a flush pink his cheeks, felt her own face burning. They turned away from each other simultaneously. Kim found a lounge chair and stretched out on it.