The Tree House

What is it that determines our sexual make-up. When do we first experience the things that will establish the basis for our sexual behavior for the rest of our lives. Surely it varies significantly from person to person, and perhaps throughout our lives experiences add to our development and evolution that are as complex as our intricate human personalities allow.

Even the thought of exposing herself to a man with an element of innocence involved caused Susan to become excited. She could remember far back the thrills she experienced interacting with the little boys on the block. She remembered the time when she was seven years old, behind little Bobby’s house, in the woods, when he and Tommy took her there to show her the tree house. She climbed the rickety boards they had nailed into the tree as a ladder to reach the roughly built platform nestled amongst the heavy branches. Below her she could hear them whispering and giggling about looking up her dress. Knowing they were looking exited her and when she reached the platform she stood on the edge as they climbed and pretended she didn’t know what they were doing. Later, she let them talk her into lifting her dress and let them feel the mound covered by her cotton panties. She remembered standing, holding her dress up as Tommy asked if he could pull them down. "Why?" she remembered asking, and when Tommy told her he wanted to see her naked she remembered the thoughts she had about exposing herself to them, the excitement she felt. She wanted to show them. The sensation of her panties being pulled down, and the cool air against her naked skin in the tree house as the boys looked was still in her mind as a memory of her early sexual awareness.

The excitement even then of exposing herself would cause tingles of sensation in her body and her mind, and the possibilities of further excitement titillated her. As she grew up she found herself consciously seeking out situations to recall the excitement of exposing herself to the boys, the control she felt knowing they were drawn so strongly to peek if they could, and yet the feeling of being controlled as well, of being coerced to let them look and maybe touch. On more than one occasion growing up she found a way to live out her fantasies. When she was fifteen, her fourteen year old brother brought a friend home one day to spend the night. He was much more aggressive than her brother, and subtly flirted with her when her brother wasn’t paying attention. The boys spent the night in sleeping bags in the backyard. Susan talked on the patio with them until late and when her brother fell asleep she left to go to bed. Her open bedroom window was clearly visible from the patio, and she knew her brother’s cute friend was still awake and could see into her bedroom.

Susan remembered the feelings she had when she turned the light on, knowing the boy was watching through the half open curtains. She wondered how far she dared go as she began to unbutton her blouse, walking casually across the room toward her dresser, pretending she didn’t know. She felt a shiver of excitement as she stood in full view in front of the window and slipped the blouse off her shoulders. The pretty pink bra she was wearing failed to hide the hardness of her nipples. Susan could remember vividly, turning toward the dresser again and opening the drawer which contained her nighties, searching for the one she thought would be the most pleasing to the young boy watching, and then taking another out as well when a second idea crossed her mind. Would she dare, she wondered, and laid them both on her bed.

When the moment came to show him her panties she turned resolutely back toward the window. Her fingers nervously fumbled with the snap of her jeans, and she felt the wetness spreading between her legs as she pulled the zipper down. Gathering her courage, she pulled the front of her jeans open, slid her thumbs under the top and slowly pulled them down. For a moment she stood there with her jeans at her knees feeling his eyes on her, the full effect of her exposure, looking down at the tight cloth clinging to the mound between her legs. Then she bent to slip the jeans off and stepped out of them. Lifting her arms to stretch, she stood on her toes with closed eyes, her slim, shapely young body clothed only by the scanty underthings she was showing to him. The excitement of her exposure surged through her body, and as she lowered her arms she knew she would go further.

Susan turned toward the bed and picked the nighty which was her second choice, a shortie, with matching panties. She held the top up against her, in full view of the window, then turned halfway to stand in front of the mirror as if deciding what to wear, turning and posing, showing more of herself to the boy on the patio. Then she draped the top on a chair and reached for the panties on the bed. She held them in front of her, looking down, pulling them away to look at the panties she wore, to show the boy. Finally, setting the panties she held on the chair, she turned back toward the mirror and reached behind her back to unfasten the pink bra. Excitement welled up inside of her, gripping her, as she caught a movement outside the window and knew the boy was no longer in his sleeping bag. He had moved closer to the window. She knew he was watching everything, and she slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders and let it fall away from her breasts. They stood high on her chest, the nipples perked and hard and she turned toward the mirror, examining them as she had done many times before, alone in her room with the curtains drawn. This time the boy outside her window watched her every move, watched her standing with only her skimpy, clinging panties covering her. Susan thought about what he could see, and looked down again at her panties.

As she stood there almost naked before him, Susan knew she would reveal everything. She knew she must show him what he wanted to see and she thought of the words he wanted to say if he could have. He would want to see her pussy, she thought. He would want her to pull down her panties for him, and take them off, and stand in front of him naked. He would want to watch her undress completely, to expose herself to him. Thinking of this, she stood again in front of the window, closer to it than before. In the darkness outside she could faintly see his shadowy figure standing in the bushes. The panties she wore fit tight against her. She looked down at them once again and thought of him telling her to pull them down so he could see her pussy, like the little boys in the Tree House. Then Susan looked toward the boy, slipped her thumbs under the waist band of her panties, and began to pull them down.

She could remember feeling the cool air from the open window on her wet vulva as she lowered her panties, exposing it. She could remember a faint flicker of light from the boy’s eyes as he watched her pulling them down, pulling her panties lower, letting him see her, wanting to show him. She pulled them down as far as she could without bending over, paused a moment, then bent forward, aware of her nakedness, slipped them over her knees and let them drop loosely around her ankles. Then she stood up straight in front of him. Her pubic hair was trimmed, leaving a neat tuft above the lips, full and exposed. She remembered the excitement of the moment as she breathed short, quick breaths, swallowing involuntarily with a rush of sensations, blushing from the sudden warmth which flushed her cheeks. She remembered thinking of him looking at her breasts, her nipples, her pussy, its exposed lips, and she remembered thinking about how excited he must be, seeing her naked, watching her.

For a long moment, Susan stood with her panties around her ankles, thinking about the boy outside. Then she stepped out of them and turned back toward the mirror. She looked examining herself with her eyes, as the boy was doing, turning around, thinking he could see her butt, liking the sound of the word. Such naughty words she thought, pussy and butt, and she grinned as she said them to herself. Reaching for the frilly little panties which went with her nighty, she bent down to step into them, and pulled them slowly up. Then she lifted the nighty off the back of the chair and slipped it over her head. She stood in front of the mirror, as if looking at them to decide if she wanted to wear them, and walked over to the bed to pick up the other nighty. It was longer, with no panties, and much more shear. She often thought about how revealing it was when she wore it, and if anybody was around she had to wear a robe over it, but not tonight. She held the nighty up against her in front of the mirror, tilted her head and laid it down on the chair. Swallowing hard again at the sudden rush of excitement she felt about undressing again in front of him, she lifted the nighty over her head and laid it on the chair next to the other one. Then she stood closer to the window again, and pulled down her panties.

It seemed to be almost as exciting to her as it was the first time, and as she stepped out of them she thought of doing something which excited her even more. She stood naked for a moment in front of the window, reaching down to touch herself, examining the short stubbles of pubic hair which had grown since she last shaved. Could she dare to open herself to him as she had to, to shave? Would he tell her to do it if he knew what she was thinking? She knew he would. She would have to sit in the chair at her dresser, and turn it toward the window. Would it be too obvious? Might he guess she knew he was watching? The idea made her blush even more as she continued to examine her closed pussy in front of him. She wanted to open it for him to see. She could sit on the chair sideways and he wouldn’t know.

Susan turned quickly and disappeared into her bathroom. Once there she fumbled nervously for the razor and cream. She stopped for a brief moment before leaving the bathroom, realizing her nakedness again, and thought about what she was going to do in front of the boy. She reached down, placed a finger on her clitoris, rubbed it, and wondered if in the process of shaving her pussy she could come in front of him. The thought was overwhelming. What if he realized what she was doing? It would still be OK if he didn’t know she knew he was watching. Susan shivered at the thought, and stopped rubbing her clit. My clit, she thought. He would see my clit. He would see how I do it. She walked back into her bedroom.

The shadow of the boy was still visible when she returned. He would see everything now, she thought, if she could do it. Susan set the razor and cream on the dresser and picked up the shear nighty. For a moment she let him look at her again, and then slipped the nighty over her head. It was very shear and she knew he could see the darkness of her pussy through it. She sat on the side of the chair, and lifted it over her knees. Then she put some of the cream on her fingers. Lifting the nighty above her waist, she slowly opened her legs. She could feel the boy watching her, and the sensations she felt as she sat with herself open to him were the strongest she had ever felt. "Do you like it?" she asked him silently. "Do you like my pussy?"

The cream was cold at first. She spread her legs open as wide as she could, exposing herself to him as she applied the cream to the areas she would shave clean. Then she started to shave it, talking to herself the words she wanted to hear from him. "Your pussy is so pretty and open, Susan. I can see the lips. Part them for me. I want to see inside you. I want to see your clit." As she shaved, she pulled her lips open, carefully and gently pulling the razor through the cream covered stubbles, all the time exposing more of her pussy to the boy outside her window. Susan didn’t stop when the cream was gone. She set the razor down on the dresser. Her legs were still opened widely. She dabbed her freshly shaven pussy clean with a cloth and felt how wet it was, and then she asked him silently if he wanted to see her clit. Of course he did, and Susan parted her lips wide to show it to him. She could hear him say he liked it, and asked him if he wanted to see her rub it. Her body shook as she spoke. Would he like to see me play with my clit? She knew he wanted to see her play with it. She knew he wanted to see her masturbate. What naughty word, she thought to herself. She wanted to be completely naked for him again, and pulled the nighty over her head.

When Susan pulled the lips of her pussy apart with two fingers of one hand, exposing her swollen clit, her wetness glistened for him to see. The hole below was dark and open, and Susan slipped her finger inside, feeling herself, and letting him watch everything she did. Pushing it in deeply she probed for places that felt good and thought about what he could see, how open and exposed she was. She pulled her finger out after a few minutes of showing him how she felt herself, and moved it up the slit to her clit. She knew he was telling her to rub it like she does in private, when no one is watching, but she knew he was watching and telling her how much he liked it. She rubbed it in tiny little circles, slowly at first, and then faster and harder and he knew she was starting to get very close.

"Will you rub your clit and make it come in front of me?"

"Oh, yes!" she sighed. "I want you to see me come." Susan looked up, out the window, directly at the shadow of the boy in the bushes, and as their eyes met she started to come. Her body jerked in the chair. Waves of orgasm, peaking and subsiding and peaking overtook her. It seemed forever until it started to slow down, and she spread her legs as far apart as she could, and her pussy as open as she could, while she rubbed her clit for him and jerked in orgasm for him.

In her thirties now, Susan was still a very good looking woman. Her body was slim, shapely and firm, and she knew men enjoyed her. Her sexual experiences were varied and she was still experimenting with new ideas when she could, but the thrill of exposing herself in different situations remained her greatest sexual desire. She would often dress specifically for the purpose, and her husband had been aware of her desire to show off her body almost since they first met. He enjoyed it as much as she did and they would talk about it often during love making, fantasizing about new experiences, or reliving old ones. Sometimes he would participate, but when he didn’t she would always tell him about what had happened, explaining to him everything in explicit detail.

She loved to tell him about the reactions of the unsuspecting but excited men who saw her raise her skirt to show off a new pair of sexy panties, or how far she dared go those times she found a way to show them more, or show them everything. Her husband would prod her for the details of her thoughts when she knew the man could see her open pussy, why she liked pulling down her panties for him or taking off her clothes one by one while he watched from some hidden place. She would tell him of her excitement when a shoe salesman could see up her dress as he slipped a shoe on for her to try out, about the panties she was wearing at the time, about how many shoes she tried on before she found the pair she liked and how big the salesman’s bulge was when she left. Her husband would remove the still wet panties and caress her moistened lips as she talked about raising her dress a little higher and watching the salesman’s eyes when he could finally see her panties plainly visible between her open legs.

They had favorite incidents she would tell him about often at his insistence. On one occasion, when she was about twenty eight they planned together an event they had talked about often ever since. Her husband was taking a photography class at the local community college at the time to improve his skills for his favorite hobby. He had become friends with one of his class mates, a good looking young man of about nineteen. When he came up with the idea, Susan was very excited, and they planned all the details carefully, fantasizing what could happen and wondering how far she would dare go. Although she had not revealed yet to him many of her past sexual adventures, her husband somehow sensed she wanted him to encourage her to be daring as he explained the plan to convince his class mate to photograph her. Susan had told her husband of the tree house incident when she was a child, and he secretly had this in mind when he began to put the plan into effect. He didn’t tell Susan.

Over the next few weeks he carefully approached the young man, at first only alluding to the idea of someone taking boudoir-type photos of his wife, suggesting to him the photographs should be taken at their home explaining he didn’t want to take the photographs himself, that it might inhibit his wife, and they both wanted them to be as natural as possible. They discussed it occasionally at breaks during class, and it soon became evident the young man’s interest was growing when he started to bring the subject up himself. One evening he hesitantly volunteered to take the pictures himself. Susan’s husband faked a return hesitation, expressing his concern the young man might not have the experience necessary to pose her properly, but as they discussed it further he began to consider the possibility it might be better that way, creating a more amateur affect. The young man, trying to hide his anxiousness to participate, agreed with all concessions Susan’s husband made and soon the plan began to take shape. There would be some surprises for Susan.

Susan was excited but nervous when she heard the young man had agreed to take the photographs, and the reality of their fantasy becoming real set in. They discussed it the evening he returned from the photography class and reported his success with the young man. It was then he told her the photographs would not be taken at their home, as originally fantasized, but in a woodsy park he knew of just out of town. He told her about a tree house there, not far into the woods. He told her she would have to do what the young man asked, but he didn’t tell her everything. Susan’s mind drifted back to her childhood, the little boys and the tree house, and she became aware of a growing wetness between her legs.

The day Susan was to meet the young man a bright Sun shined warmly over the park. It was mid morning when she drove through the gates. There were few cars in the parking lot, typical for a Spring Thursday. On a weekend it would have been crowded. She had been nervously anticipating the day all week, despite her excitement and the eroticism building between her and her husband over the constant discussion of the coming event. The night before she had even had difficulty sleeping, and dreamed of another incident in her childhood with Tommy and Bobby in the tree house. The young man’s small pick-up was easy to find, but when she did Susan was reluctant to acknowledge it. It was one thing to play out her fantasies with a man who didn’t know she realized he was there, or was seeing anything. She could act so innocent and unsuspecting. It was quite another to be so obviously revealing, and she almost decided to forget it, and might have if she hadn’t thought of how disappointed her husband would be. It had been his idea, and after all, he really wanted her to do it. She turned her car into the parking lot and stopped it next to the pick-up.

"Hello!"

Susan was startled when she heard the voice. She hadn’t seen anyone in the pick-up. In fact she hadn’t seen anyone at all in the parking lot. She turned suddenly to see who it belonged to.

"Are you Susan?"

He seemed so young, younger even than nineteen, but he was unusually good looking. His blond hair was cut close on the sides, neatly trimmed, but laid long and loose on top as if he had just combed it back with his fingers. His eyes were blue, she noticed them immediately.

"Yes!" She answered with a gravelly voice, tempted to put her still idling engine in reverse and back out despite her instant attraction to him, maybe because of it. "Are you Peter?"

"Yes!" he smiled, dropping his eyes insecurely.

He’s so cute, she thought. Why does he have to be this cute? Donald didn’t tell me he was this good looking. A long, uncomfortable moment passed before either of them spoke.

"Are you going to turn the engine off?"

"Oh! Yes! Of course!" The stark silence after Susan turned the key lasted the eternity it took her to gather her courage and look back up at him. Her skirt had risen up her legs, exposing part of her shapely, tanned thighs. She had not worn hose.

Peter reached for the door handle and pulled the door open. Still looking up at him, Susan swung her legs to the side. She could see his eyes glance down at them. She swallowed hard at the thought of what was about to happen and got out of the car. As he closed the door behind her she could feel her heart beating.

"Where are we going?" she asked, finally finding the courage to speak again.

"Let me get my camera equipment out of the car, and I’ll show you."

They walked across the parking lot and into the park. Little was said between them for several minutes, just a remark by Susan at how pretty the park was which Peter acknowledged with a self conscious smile. A robin flew as they approached it, crossing a grassy area toward the woods on the other side. Susan’s light, short skirt bounced seductively as she walked. A slight gust in the breeze lifted it once or twice. She could feel it under her skirt, high on her legs. The camera swinging on a shoulder strap bounced against Peter as he walked.

There was no trail to follow when they reached the woods. "Where are we going?" she asked again. "How far is it?"

"It’s not far," he answered. "I got here earlier and found it." He could sense her nervousness, but doubted it exceeded his own. "It’s this direction."

They walked a while longer, deeper into the woods. The tension Susan felt seemed to grow with each step. The sounds of the woods were accentuated by the silence between them. The sensations she felt seemed somehow familiar in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on at first. Then she thought of Bobby and Tommy. Susan followed, but Peter looked back often at her, usually avoiding her eyes. At one point he stopped, searching for a familiar landmark.

"Do you see it?" she asked.

"I think it’s over in that direction." He spoke in a low voice, as if afraid he might draw the attention of someone passing, but the woods were silent.

Susan was equally as cautious, searching the deserted woods as she followed in the direction he had pointed.

"There it is!" he said finally, almost in a whisper.

A lump grew in her throat, and she swallowed to clear it. The tree he pointed at was a large oak. At first Susan could see no sign of the tree house it was supposed to hold, but as they approached it the edge of a board nailed to its trunk came into view, and then another. Just the sight of the rough ladder disappearing into the leafy branches above caused a sudden rush of excitement that even Susan didn’t expect. She recalled the dream she had the night before, the visions of Bobby and Tommy in the tree house, watching as she lifted her skirt. She could see the look in their eyes as her pretty pink panties came into view. They talked about playing doctor, and told her she would have to take her skirt off and lie down so they could examine her. She could feel the rough texture of the boards against her bare legs. "Why do you have to pull my panties down?" she had asked them.

"Do you want me to climb up first?" The sudden sound of her own voice shocked Susan. She blushed so obviously at the intent of her question she wondered if Peter could tell what she was thinking.

"Yes!" Peter didn’t say anything else. He took the camera out of its case and backed away from the bottom of the tree.

Susan knew the silk panties she wore were wet as she lifted her leg to the first step. She could hear the sound of the winder moving the film to the next frame. A quick gust of wind in the breeze caught the back of her skirt and lifted it high on her thighs. She wondered how high and heard the winder again. Part way up the tree she turned to look down. Peter had moved closer to the base below her. The camera was against his face. She looked back up and started to climb again. The ladder turned at a large branch above, and disappeared from her view. She could hear the winder often, below her. When she reached the branch she found a hand hold and struggled to pull herself up onto it. Then she turned and looked down at Peter. Her skirt fluttered in the breeze. She made no effort to contain it. Peter moved around on the ground to different vantage points, pressing the buttons to operate the shutter and the zoom lens whenever he liked the shot. Then he put the camera back in the case.

Susan waited without moving while Peter climbed the tree. She knew her panties were often visible to him, and did nothing to limit his view up her skirt. As he climbed toward her, closer, she could see his eyes often focusing away from the ladder, on her legs and between them. He seemed to move up the ladder even slower than she had, stopping often to look up at her. The feeling was more intense than any she had experienced. It had to be the blatancy of exposing herself to a man who knew what was happening, and such a good looking one as well, and so shy, almost as shy as Bobby and Tommy had been.

When Peter finally reached the branch they looked at each other almost awkwardly. Neither knew what to say. Susan felt as if the situation was controlling them both. Peter looked up at the ladder. He knew where it lead because he had climbed it earlier. Susan did not know, and could only faintly see parts of the tree house above through the thick foliage.

"Do you see it?" he asked.

"Yes!" she answered. "You go ahead this time."

She watched him work his way up the tree, and couldn’t help looking at the muscular butt covered by his jeans as he climbed above her. His legs parted often as he lifted them from one board to the next. The bulge between them was obvious. Nothing of what she remembered of little Bobby and Tommy compared to that. Would her husband mind if she looked, if she told him about it?

"Give me your hand," he said, and when she did Peter helped her the last few feet up to the tree house floor. Cluttered with small twigs and dried up leaves, it had obviously not been used in some time. The original builders had gone on to other phases of their lives. Hauling odd pieces of scavenged lumber into the woods to prepare for imaginary adventures in the trees had long been forgotten by them. What a shame, Susan thought. She wondered if any little girls had played doctor here with the boys who built it, or the ones who must have discovered it’s privacy since.

Without saying anything, Peter took the camera off his shoulder and opened the case. Susan knew she would have to take the lead, as she had always done before. A second platform had been built a few feet above the first in nearby branches. She silently complimented the architects as she stepped onto one of them. Turning back toward Peter, she sat on the edge, dangling her feet. Her short skirt rose up her thighs, and she could feel the familiar rough boards on the back of her naked legs.

Peter was looking at them, and when he saw she noticed he tried to hide his obvious interest by raising the camera to cover his face. She realized he could watch through the camera lens at anything he wanted without being obvious. Would she be able to continue more at ease with this thought, she wondered? He crouched on bent knees with the camera against his face. Could he see her panties from that position. Was there enough light between her legs to expose them? Did she dare raise her skirt higher? She could feel the faint breeze tickle her legs under it, like fingers exploring her thighs. The airy feeling made her yearn to free them for him to see.

Susan leaned back resting her weight against her arms braced behind her on the floor. She tilted her head back against her shoulders and closed her eyes. The movement pulled her loose skirt further up her legs, past mid thigh. She could hear the winder in the camera, and then again, and the motor for the lens pulling her closer to him. He could see her white silk panties now. A breeze cooled the thin, moist fabric that covered her.

"Pull it up higher," he said.

Susan didn’t expect to hear his voice. She opened her eyes and lifted her head. He had dropped the camera from his face. She looked at him. He raised the camera. Her skirt was high on her legs. She could just see the tip of her panties exposed below her skirt, and knew from his vantage point he could see much more. Breathing quickly, she slid back on the platform and stood up, reaching for the hem of her skirt. For a moment she hesitated, as she had when the boys had asked to see her underpants, but as she had then she felt the excitement growing within her and pulled the skirt up high, above her waist, to show him her pretty white panties.

The breeze against her bare stomach felt cool and free as Susan stood there in the tree house exposed to Peter. She listened to the winder and felt the moistness growing between her legs as Peter lowered the camera. The excited look in his eyes seemed to contrast with the silence of their secret place in the woods as he watched her, and she remembered the shyly expressed request of the boys to see her naked. Did he want to pull her panties down for her while she stood with her skirt held up for him to see? How much of the story of the tree house had her husband told him? Would it be as they had fantasized, true to past memories which aroused them both so much the night before? Did Peter know the full extent of her desires, the private secrecy of her most intimate thoughts? Would he dare to follow through as she knew he wanted to? Would she dare to let him? Her heart pounded in her chest as she stood there, as he watched her, and the thought of her exposure encircled them both like the breeze which wrapped their tree in a private world.

His voice was soft, but in the silence of the woods nearly shouted his acclaim of her desire. "Can I pull them down?"

"Why?" she said only to herself, on legs which threatened to collapse from her excitement as he walked toward her. She could feel the warmth of his hands as he felt for the waist band of her panties. Her body throbbed as she watched him, his fingers sliding under at the sides, the sensation of the elastic moving at her waist, against the bareness of her skin. She pulled the skirt against her tightly to prevent obstruction of her view and leaned forward to look as he slipped her panties slowly down. She could feel them sliding lower, around, behind and saw the hair peek out from beneath as he began to uncover her. True to his instructions, he would stop at perfect intervals, releasing her panties from the grip of his fingers, stepping back, then circling her, the winder humming, and then return to expose her more. She watched his eyes as he looked at her and thought of naughty words and felt her panties slipping, sliding lower, freeing her to his view. As in a surrealistic dream she saw herself exposed to him, the neatly trimmed patch of hair above, then lower to the hidden little bud and her closed but swollen lips, wet from her excitement. He photographed in detail her panties being lowered down her legs, past her knees, and left her standing with them loosely at her ankles, at last exposed completely.

Susan stood there in the tree house with her skirt held high, in front of the handsome young man who had pulled her panties down, for him to see the privacy of her thoughts, the intimate details of her desires, and wondered what would happen next. Her body was not that of a little girls any longer. Peter could see and feel a woman if he dared, if she let him, and she knew she would.

Peter looked at her from every angle before he asked her to take the rest of her clothes off. He was standing behind her when he whispered into her ear, "I want to see all of you."

Susan let her skirt drop and unfastened it at the side as he walked back in front of her. The sound of the winder excited her again as she slipped the skirt down, let it drop to the floor on top of her panties and stepped out of them both. She removed her blouse after unbuttoning it slowly and dropped it to the floor on top of the growing pile of her clothes. The idea of undressing for the first time in front of a total stranger had always been her favorite fantasy, but this time it aroused her more than any other time in the past. She knew she was the complete focus of his attention when she reached behind her and unfastened her bra. Her breasts weren’t large, and because of it they remained firm and high, and when she let the bra slip away from them she stood proudly in front of him to look at as he wished, and he did.

Bobby and Tommy had seen her like this, totally naked in the tree house, exposed to the youthful curiosity that burned within them even then. They had done more as well.

"Sit on the edge of the platform, again." It was the way he said it, as if he wasn’t certain she would do what he asked, which excited her most. His insecurity at leading her to do more, hoping she would give in to him, fearing he would cross some unknown threshold she wouldn’t allow, was what she yearned to feel in him. In return she could recall the intensity of the moments the boys had tried so uncertainly to manipulate her into doing what they wanted her to do, and the excitement of allowing their manipulation. It was the boys who asked her to go into the woods with them, but it was she who followed knowing what might happen, secretly hoping the forbidden feelings she felt would grow stronger. Even unwilling to admit it to herself, she followed them to the tree house and did what they asked, and hoped they would somehow find a way to make her do more.

She could feel the smooth, weathered texture of the wood on her naked skin as she did what Peter asked. Her breathing quickened as she realized he knew what her thoughts were, but might not dare risk her disapproval if he was wrong. Did she dare risk some slight hint of encouragement, some little gesture to let him know he should try? Her heartbeat seemed to dominate the fainter sounds of the woods as she thought about what she would do, slightly part her closed legs, and how. Lean back against braced arms, and in that careful movement timed to catch his eyes, move her knees apart, just a little, and hope that he will notice her desire.

Then, her heartbeat in her ears, she did what she was thinking. She could feel the skin on the inside of each thigh touching, sticky from her dripping wetness, and the tingling sensation as they pulled apart, opening her slightly to him. The breeze tickled her, brushing against her hair, and Peter could faintly see the bare closed lips below.

"Open your legs," he whispered, just audible over the rustling breeze.

The blood rushed to her face, blushing her cheeks, pumping through her brain. Dizzy with sensation, Susan looked up at him, then dropped her eyes shyly and watched what he was watching as her legs parted. She couldn’t look back up at him but thought what he might say. "You’re so open to me, your privacy is no longer yours." What naughty words would he say to me, words forbidden to our first experience? Would he talk about my pussy, whisper to me secret thoughts of opening my lips with fingers shaking from its touch, and searching for my little button, my clitoris? If I would let him would he touch me there, feel me in my darkest place?

"Open them wider," he whispered.

Naked in the tree house, the breeze playing with the leaves, her panties on the floor, exposed for him to see she spread them further yet. She dared to look back up and saw his eyes on her. The photographs he took of her like that, so open to him, would tell her husband everything. Peter set the camera down as she watched him walk toward her, creaking softly on the old wood.

"Is this your fantasy?" he asked, standing over her.

"Yes!" she answered. "Yes, it is."

"Is it all?" he asked.

"No?" she admitted with a blushing question, knowing he already knew.

"Tell me the rest!" he told her, to make her say it.

Her throat contracted to flush the saliva flowing through her mouth. "Whisper in my ear," she said. "Tell me what my husband told you. Tell me what you know about me."

Peter knelt beside the naked older woman of his dreams, open totally to his eyes. "He told me everything."

"Yes?" she asked for more. She could feel his lips against her ear. His breath, like the breeze on her open pussy, rushed to her senses.

"He told me of the tree house, the boys pulling down your panties."

"Yes?" she begged.

"They watched you climb, and peeked up your skirt. You let them see your panties, you let them pull them down. They touched you, a little girl playing doctor in the woods with the boys."

"Yes!" she pleaded.

"He told me other things."

"He did?" Susan whispered back in excited anticipation.

"Yes! He told me what you like to hear. He told me to talk about..." Peter paused, as if he was embarrassed.

"About what?" Susan whispered. "What did he tell you to talk about?"

"Well, he told me to talk about...your pussy!"

The sound of him whispering the word in her ear sent chills throughout Susan’s body. She stretched her spread legs yearning for him to keep talking, to titillate and tease her as she had so often done to herself.

"He said you would want me to tell you things. Would you?"

"Yes!" She could barely speak.

"To whisper naughty words to you."

"Yes!" she breathed.

"He told me things about you he liked, your pretty pussy, your lips so wet and full, your clit all swollen and open to my eyes," and she writhed and waited for his fingers. "Lie back!" he finally said, and like the boys playing doctor, he tentatively touched her.

She watched his fingers feel her, searching for the little spots she hid from most, save those lucky few she chose to show. Deep inside he probed and felt, exploring for her pleasure, then out and up and finally to her clit. Examining it, touching, pinching, twirling, swirling, circling, and she laid open on the floor for him, letting him, wanting him to look and feeling what he felt until she finally came for him, so he could see her jerk and buck as waves of pleasure overtook her.

Susan’s clothes were mussed and wrinkled, and covered with little pieces of the woods when she returned home to her husband. He was waiting and saw the smile she wore when she came in. They kissed with a passion only he could have from her, and she told him all the secrets of her day in all the glorious detail of her fantasies. On more than one occasion the two of them returned to the tree house, where for his pleasure she exposed herself to him once again and told him as she showed him what she’d shown Peter there, in the silent woods where the breeze brushed the leaves and her panties fell before him.