Adult Stories

She settles slowly, tracing finger tips through chest hair, her body warm and close against me. My hard cock pressing into her hip.

"Drinks, I want more drinks Deuce Bigalow."

I gesture at her wine.

"Meh, I'm not a fan. More green stuff please."

I fetch two tall glasses from the kitchen and trickle minty marijuana liqueur over ice then top it up with lemonade. "Would you let me?" She calls from the couch.

"Let you what?"

"Fuck someone else."

"I don't know." I don't know if she's serious because I can't see her face and I don't know how I feel about it.

"I don't know if I could now," she says. "I've got used to just you. You know all my body and my bits. I think I'd be too shy about it."

"So you can wander about flashing your tits and twat at strangers but you'd be too shy to let them touch you? I'm pretty sure by the time you're done sometimes they know your body as well as I do."

"I haven't really thought about it. It's different things; flashing them and fucking them."

I pass her the drink and sit back down beside her. She's found a blanket and wraps it around us.

"Jen, do you remember that time we were hiking in the hinterland?"

She smiles in reply and I know she remembers. It was on our honeymoon a few years ago. We'd been hiking for an hour or so and she was getting bored. She could handle hot and sweaty but not bored. Crickets sang loudly and whipbirds called in the forest. Dust rose from the walking path and she took her shirt off and gave it to me to put in my backpack and continued walking in just her bra.

We'd been together a bit over a year all up and I'd seen her do this before; once or twice in a shopping centre trying on blouses, a few times at the beach. It was part of her showing off repertoire.There were not too many people on the tracks, but now and then a couple would pass and the men would glance and the women would frown. I could tell the game of it was making her hotter than the weather. For the next half hour or so, she grinned each time some scowling woman passed us and pointed out every man that slowed his step as he approached to draw out his perve time.

I was horny as hell and so was she by the time the two German boys caught up to us. They were young backpackers in their twenties, fit and strongly shaped and quite obviously striding along just a little faster than us but they settled in to a slower pace seeing Jens bare back.

"Hi." She turned and smiled at them allowing them a full view of her lacy bra and gorgeous tits. "Lovely day for a walk." They nodded in reply and I could see the evil in Jens eyes as she caught them checking out her tits.

A few minutes later she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. "This is new," I thought and low muttered foreign speech confirmed our friends were quite aware that my wife's breasts were free, soaking up the warm summer sun. She handed me her bra and I put it in my backpack.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a little nervously.

"Finding my limits." She smiled as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation for hiking on a public walking trail with your tits in the breeze. As we walked, the German boys followed unhurried behind us. The trail narrowed to single file stairs up ahead and I heard Jen giggle in anticipation. "Hold up Hon..." She stopped and pulled her knickers clean off with that weird hooky foot movement thing that they teach girls and passed them to me. "Pop these in your pocket?"

"You're shocking." I laughed at her.

"Hi" she waved to the boys behind us who were 'busy' looking at an information sign.

They grinned and waved in reply. Knowing she had their full attention, she turned away and bent double to 'fix' her shoelaces. An appreciative grunt of awareness let her know she now had their complete attention.

As we climbed the stairs, I watched Jens naked arse peek-a-boo out from under her skirt at eye level in front of me. Sweat and arousal glistened on her shaved pussy as her legs moved up and down and I could smell her faintly on the still air. I'm sure from their lower vantage point on the stairs the boys were afforded a much clearer view. Jen stopped on the stairs. An older couple were coming down the stairs and she moved over to allow them past and asked me for our water. The backpackers were not even pretending not to look anymore and drank in the clear view of her shaven pussy as she drank her water.

"Hi." Jen smiled at the man as they passed.

"Hmmph." His wife replied.

Jen handed back the bottle and kissed me. She unzipped her skirt and handed that to me as well, before continuing up the stairs completely naked like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

A few minutes later, we came to a lookout over the waterfalls. One of the backpackers produced a small camera and started taking pictures out over the gorge. He took care to appear nonchalant and I think Jen took this as a direct challenge.

"Come with me." She took my hand and pulled me towards the rail in front of the tourists. Still holding my hand, she shaded her eyes and pointed toward the loud falls whispering, "Is he taking my picture yet?"

I looked back over her shoulders to see the lad surreptitiously snapping pictures, trying to remain discreet but not wanting to miss the opportunity.

"Uhuh," I nodded. She bent forward over the rail to point at something I could see her smile as she heard the frantic clicking of shutters behind her. A cool breeze off the mist stiffened her nipples and brought a flush of goose bumps across her naked skin.

She turned back around to lean her butt against the rail and arched her back thrusting her breasts out and breathing deeply, watching the lads as they pretended to take photos of the falls. "Fuck me now." She whispered in my ear and proceeded to pull my hard cock out through the fly of my pants.

She bent forward in front of me and held on to the rail arching her back and I slid it full into her already wet cunt. She backed up hard against me and I pounded her there in the open air with the two German boys watching and taking pictures just metres away. It still strikes me that it must have looked a bit like dogs doing it on someone's lawn and the neighbours coming out to watch.

Jen gestured one of them closer and took his camera, putting it down in front of her and taking a close up photograph, she handed it back. They spoke quickly to each other and one took out his dick and started wanking it just feet from us. Jen watched it hungrily; it was larger by half than mine and the other boy rubbed his own cock through his shorts.

I shot deep inside her and slumped across her back. She reached down between her legs and masturbated herself to orgasm as I softened and slipped out of her. Standing there shuddering and panting in the cool breeze, Jen watched intently as the boy wanked himself. I wondered if she were going to reach out to it. Her hand moved over on the rail and she looked back quizzically at me for a moment then the German boy grunted, splashing semen on the dirt near his feet. As we gathered ourselves the boy zipped up and they moved off saying things to each other in German, one of them slapped me on the back in some sort of 'good onya' gesture.

"Yeah, those German lads. How big was that guy's dick?"

"I know right. I thought for a while there you were going to reach out and grab it or something."

"I thought about it. I was horny as hell and it was right there but it was a line to cross."

"That's it isn't it."

"Maybe one day hey? If it feels right and it's okay for both of us. Maybe then?"

"I'd like that."

"Me too. Hey, Mr 'Eighty Plus'..."

"Yup."

"Thanks for telling me your number." She pushes me back on the couch and holding eye contact lowers her face to my still hard cock.

She sucks it in and swirls her tongue around my knob, testing all the little ridges of me with the tip of her tongue, her mouth warm and wet on me. Slowly, up and down in hot slurps still holding my eyes full in hers she builds pace until she's bobbing like an apple in a tub, her lips just on the glans of my dick sending shivers through my core with each tiny movement. Then she sucks me deep down into her throat and holds me there.

My balls are tightening and I'm trying not to finish this before I've made the most of it. She can tell. Her hand moves on my balls and she slowly draws me out of her mouth. She smiles at me and moves to hold my cock between her breasts. They're warm and soft and close around it, smooth and dry, the cold chain from the nipple clamps tickling my belly as she moves them up and down. My fingers claw at the blanket and my butt cheeks clench to hold off my orgasm as she sits up smiling cheekily.

"Not yet lover." She kisses the very tip of my dick and lets the pre-cum stick in a trail from her tongue to my cock. Then with a lascivious smirk she licks her lips. "Mmm... my mugwump jism."

I try to pull my thoughts back from where they've bunched up in the tip of my cock. Part of me is here and now on a couch having half-stoned discussions of self-discovery with my lovely wife and part of me is in those mountains imagining those backpackers taking turns on my wife.

"I'm afraid of getting old."

"Oh..." I'm still surfacing.

"I turn forty this year."

"It's better than the options."

"What options?"

"Well not turning forty. Being dead."

"Fuck off. I'm being serious." She punches my shoulder.

It actually hurts a bit, dead-armed me."Ow, bitch."

She mocks crying with her fists, "baby need a tissue?"

"Forty isn't old. Eighty is old."

"Forty is the start of it."

"It is not, I'm forty-three, I'm not old yet."

She is quiet which is dangerous. She could either be pissed off or thinking. Both usually end with me being in trouble.

"Geoff cheated on me with a twenty year old. Ten years of marriage and he lies and manipulates me into believing I was being suspicious and needy for questioning his lies and checking his stories. All so he could fuck a younger version of me. I mean, if she had been tall, foreign, rich, had massive tits, was I don't know, just somehow, something different to me then I could have put it down to a choice. Maybe he needed a new flavour. But you know she was just me, younger. Same plain face, same average weight and height, same shoulder length hair, same everything really. I followed him from home one day. Felt a bit like a private eye, tailing him through traffic. I watched them have coffee then go to a motel. All I could think was how much she was just a younger version of me."

While I take this in, she removes the nipple clamps. Her tiny buds are red and sore looking. I take an ice-cube and put it in my mouth, sucking her nipple in and rolling the ice around it.

"Woah..." Her sharp intake of breath gives way to a sighing groan. "Oh that's good, so..." Her eyes close and she pushes out her chest so I move to the other breast.

"Oh, you're an arsehole..."

"Lovely..."

"You know it."

She pulls the blanket back around us.

"I need you to help me get this layer off."

I pull aside the blanket... She punches me again then giggles.

"Fuck my life... You might be forty-three but you only act like your three."

"And therein lays the fountain of youth."

"So..." She glares at me momentarily, "I challenged Geoff eventually and he said he was afraid of growing old. Now I face the same fears but don't want to fuck my marriage, my world, just to feel young."

"You're not him though are you? You're not sneaking around fucking a younger version of me. Or are you trying to tell me something?"

"No. I couldn't hurt you like he hurt me. I couldn't do that. I just wonder sometimes where the line goes. Is flirting and showing off just my version of trying to stay young?"

"You know, I bet the thing that really hurt wasn't the fucking. I bet it was the lying and sneaking and how he let you feel."

"Exactly! It wasn't the sex. It didn't matter who put who's dick in which hole and how often. It's loyalty and trust that matter. It was that he let me feel second best and then made me feel wrong and bad for not trusting him."

"So?" I ask; she's built up quite a head of steam and the mood is tense. The telly chatters crap in the corner, giant blue bitches and spaceships forgotten for a while. "You feel old, or you are worried about feeling old? Or you want to fuck some other people now? Or where are we heading with this?"

"Good question. I don't know yet. I'm cranky just thinking about. Fuck me with that rabbit thing while I turn it over in my head."

"Your wish my lady..." I mock a jester's bow. She slaps me playfully on the top of the head while I fumble in the toolbox for her favourite vibe. It's a purple gel one, with beads in it and a rabbit thing on the top that sits against her clit. She stretches matter-of-factly back on the couch, spreading her legs gynaecologically, and offering me complete access in the most unladylike way. I've found it and I put it under my arm to warm it up a little. While I'm waiting I lick my thumb and push it in between her thick flaps. I still marvel sometimes at her vagina. It's such a pretty looking thing. I've seen a few but I like hers the best. It's tidy looking with a puffy white shaved mound and dark red almost purple labia that hang out just enough so you know they're there. They stretch when I pull on them and I like in our home movies how they wrap onto my cock when I fuck into her.

Her clit is pink and thick but not massive. The hood of it like a little monk bowed in prayer until she is aroused and the monk pokes his bald head out like a tiny dick. I push my thumb in, circle it around in her wet hole, and mash the hard knuckle of my palm against her clit.

The vibe is warm so I turn it on low and trace it up her thigh. Holding her lips open, I smear her wetness along its length and tease it around her clit. Her head falls back on the couch as the vibrations find her core and I ease it slowly in. Gently I move it in and out, twisting it as it buzzes in her depths. I push it slowly fully inside her until the buzzing rabbit is hard against her clit and slowly increase the vibration until she is moving herself against the force of my hand holding it in her. She moans quietly and puts a hand down onto mine to hold the pressure hard against her.

I press a little button on the end of it and the shaft starts squirming deep inside her. Beads grind against each other and the look on her face tells me it's like a live thing in her. I wonder if this is how it would look to watch her fuck someone else. She's bucking against it now and pulls my face to her breasts. I nibble and gnaw at her offered nipples and smile to myself as she cries out in orgasm. I hold a nipple hard between my teeth and the vibrator deep inside her as she rides out the waves of pleasure. Slowly, the arch of her back comes back to the couch and her hand releases mine. I release her nipple and keeping the vibe deep inside her I turn off the squirming action and slowly wind down the buzzing until it just rests inside her, keeping her full while she catches her breath and settles.

"That's so fucking hot to watch."

"I... phew... kind of liked it myself... I've decided."

"What have you decided lovely woman?"

"I'm not old. This is a perfect age for a woman. Geoff was a fuckwit and deserves everything he got."

"Cheers to that." I lift my drink in salute, "Nothing like getting your rocks off to clear your thoughts hey?"

"You're such a dick. Pass my drink." She slurps noisily at her drink.

"Also, I will fuck some other guys one day but you'll have to be there and you'll have to say when it's ok. I want to feel safe."

"Holy fuck."

"So is that 'Holy fuck ok' or 'Holy fuck no way'?" She looks genuinely worried that she's crossed a line.

"Mostly 'holy fuck that will be fucking hot!'"

"Do you think I'm old?" Switch... just like that mid moment.

"What. You can't ask a bloke that question. It's too loaded." "Well what do you think about it? Forty is a milestone."

"I remember when I turned thirty-seven being scarier for me than forty. I don't know why but it was like 'holy shit' there's fuck all left of my young adulthood. It was like the top of a hill that once you passed you couldn't turn back from."

"I know right, that's what forty feels like for me."

We sit quietly for a while watching alien nonsense for a while. Blue people talk about the home tree or some such dribble while we gather our thoughts and plot a new course.

"So long as you're not gonna run off with someone half my age." She says.

"Oh fuck that with a stick. How much of a pain in the arse would a twenty year old girl be... Take me to the club, buy me this, you don't pay me enough attention, you don't like my friends, your music is shit, wah wah. Besides I'd have to teach her all your bedroom tricks and it would take ages to train her."

"Your music really is shit tho... Fetch drinks for your old bitch."

I make more drinks. Naked in the kitchen, the cold creeps around my ankles from the open fridge door and I suddenly feel out of place. I look through the doorway at her lying on the couch naked. She's beautiful. Not just physically. Her loyalty and warmth and something about her spirit just glow around her and I'm amazed by the physical presence of this perfect complement to my own insecurities and imperfections. In her brokenness and simplicity, she matches holes made by my own missing pieces and together we make a working unit.

As I walk back in the room she watches me. "Stand still."

I stop. She watches for uncomfortably long moments. Her big brown eyes assess me as they travel up and down my body. She examines my hairy legs, my balls, the left one lower and larger than the right, my very average dick (it's a grower...), my dad-bod gut and hairy chest. This must be what it feels like when aliens probe you. Her eyes find mine again and they are tender but insistent. I feel unguarded, unmasked, thoroughly vulnerable and truly, deeply, naked; a stripped soul.

She smiled warmly. "I love you. You’re perfect for me."

Something strange happened. My eyes began to well up, my stomach tightened, and my mouth went dry. A single tear, the first I’d shed in many years, slipped quietly from the corner of my eye and down my cheek. Feeling a bit nervous, I put the drinks down and wiped my face in embarrassment. She wrapped me in her arms on the couch.

"It's okay, I'll handle it for you." She whispered through her own quiet tears, and I gently kissed them away.

The salty truth between us welds our hearts in broken places and she pushes me back on the couch, gathering the blanket around me and straddling me. She hugs me close as we lie there and my cock stirs between us, pressing into her and growing upwards into her wet waiting hole. I fill her and she moves slowly on me, rocking me inside her, enveloping me in her. Her hair is all around my face and she kisses me wherever her lips find skin, my eyes, my nose and finding my mouth her tongue fills me and we are one.

She picks up pace and bucks her pelvic bone into mine, mashing her clit against me and driving me up into her hot clinging cunt. I can feel the ridges of her walls rub on me as she thrusts me harder inside her again and again and again until she moans into my mouth and sits upright forcing me hard against her cervix. She freezes and teeters, then with just one small deliberate movement of her hips, her whole body erupts in orgasm around my cock.

I can feel the spastic grabbing of her pelvic floor around the base of my cock and it tips me into my own orgasm. I spurt thick and hot inside her and it feeds her own jerking waves. Together we crash and tumble into bliss. She pulls the blanket down over our heads cocooning us inside the dark and we know only our naked bodies, the panting warmth and leaky sticking fluids.

My wife is stoned.

I'm not the intuitive type. I don't see the tiny nuances of body language that would hint at her insobriety. I'm not even what you would usually call 'observant'. I'm typically fairly self-absorbed and intrinsic. It has even been suggested that I'm a bit of an aloof prick sometime. But, call me Sherlock fucking Holmes, the woman is staring at an onion. She has been for longer than it took for the Seven O'clock News to finish.

"Darlin?"

"Ya?"

"You doin?"

"Hahahahaha."

A thousand tiny glass wind chimes jingle then shatter every time she giggles. I've laughed before simply because she is laughing. It's the kind of sound you would imagine fairies dream of making when they laugh but can't quite achieve, leaving them feeling kind of less than perfectly fairy like; a bit of a fraud in their wings and tutus prancing around amongst flowers thinking, "Fuck it, I'll just be a leprechaun or something."

"I'm looking at this onion."

"I noticed."

"Heh, it's layered."

"Have you been watching Shrek again?"

"No. I was going to make pizza."

Oh god I love this woman. Pizza!

"Pepperoni?"

"Nah."

"Ham and pineapple."

"Nah."

"So..."

"So I was thinking what is inside an onion?"

"What?" Now, I seriously doubt I'm going to get pizza. Our tangents diverge.

"You know, when you get all its layers off. What's inside?"

"Nothing."

"No shithead, there's got to be something."

"Look, I'm gonna order out." She's been in the kitchen for more than half an hour. We were going to have pizza and movies night but I think she's found my 'Green Dragon' pot liqueur.

"Don't you ever wonder?"

"I'm wondering Hawaiian or Mexican?"

"Shithead... you're killing my tangent. Just order what you want, oh grr... and garlic bread. Lots of garlic bread. Fuck it, forget the pizza just get garlic bread."

"Haha, you're a messy kite."

"Fuck you. You're an onion."

I call Domino's and place an order for a pepperoni with extra jalapeno and two rolls of garlic bread. They promise it will be here in half an hour and clarify my address. The movie we've chosen for movie night is 'Avatar'. Jen loves it.

"Babe?"

"Yeah."

"You get garlic bread?"

"Yeah."

"I love you."

"I love you too Darlin'."

"Fucken liar. Onion Liar."

"What?"

She sits beside me on the couch smelling like soap and shampoo. She has a towel curled up like a turban on her head and has stolen one of my t-shirts again; my new Steel Panther t-shirt.

"Hey, that's my new shirt."

"Haha, it was lonely and afraid in the drawer so I gave it a home." She pats her boobs gently. "Poor widdle shirty wirty..."

"Hff..." I probably can't ever wear it again now, its overtly sexual and rebellious tones thoroughly ruined by 'widdle shirty wirty'."

"Ok then..." My emasculated shirt and I sit in silence.

"Hey so..." she shoves me with her foot. Her long legs flash flesh at me and I can't blame my t-shirt for wanting to go and live on her gorgeous tits.

"So..."

"So... you're an onion."

"Wha..."

I don't know what she means. I'm a bit annoyed, she's off on a road trip without a map and if experience serves me, my only option, and usually the most enjoyable one, is to jump on board and ride along.

"So... Each ring the onion has, it put there. It made that shit. Out of dirt even." She sounds incredulous at her own analogy, "It made a wall or clothes or a mask or something that it wanted the world to see instead of the little tiny onion soul inside and over time changed until it looked nothing like what it really was inside. Until it was nothing like its true shit, it's true soul."

She stares absently into space for a moment lost in internal philosophy then continues, "So now it was just an ugly brown onion so I cut it open to see inside."

"So there was a happy little brown round dude and you stabbed it? Fuck...."

"No, I cut it." She shoves me with her foot again. I like her legs . "I cut you!" I make a stabbing gesture and ham it up.

"Drink! I hate you straight when I'm a pipe cleaner."

"Pipe cleaner?"

"All twisted bent like a little pipe cleaner doll. Did you ever make a pipe cleaner doll?"

I shake my head, she butterflies from thought to thought; I love her but she confounds my sobriety. I take the tall green drink she's brought me and slug a good mouth full down. She natters about the movie for a little while and I nod and trace the path of drugs through my body. My mouth tastes first the mint, chocolate and raw alcohol flavours; my stomach warms. In just a moment, I can feel the alcohol surge through me like a flash fire. A few moments later, the THC slides over me like a favourite old winter coat and I can feel my mouth twist in the corner like a playful thing waking from a week long sleep at work.

"Hellooo... Friday night."

"Ha... It's good right. Shut-up, I like this bit."

I ride the buzz to a peak. It hits smoothly, and woah... It mellows sweetly to a body buzz.

"Hey..."

"Yeah?"

"So onions?"

"What?"

"You were talking about onions."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You were... Layers... or something. I was listening but I was hungry."

"Oh yeah." She pounces on me. "You do listen sometimes."

Her soft arms are round my neck and she hugs me intimately and close.

"So..."

"Yup..."

"Want to play a game?" she mumbles coyly into my neck.

Her lips move against the skin of my throat and I think my dick responds, "Hell yeah!" before I do.

"Kay, so... clothes are like layers too right?"

"Guess so."

"So, you take off a layer, I take off a layer... capiche paison?" She tries on a Mafioso face and puffs a pretend cigar, her playful mischief written in naughty twinkles in her eyes.

"Mmhmm?"

"You volunteer a thing that changed you, that made you grow a layer. Show me how that layer grew and help me know you more and I remove a layer."

"Sounds fairly one sided. I have to tell you my deepest darkest things to get your gear off?"

"Hmm. Fair point. I'll sweeten the pot." She thinks a little pointing out stray things in the movie.

"Fuck, look how tall they are. Have you ever fucked a chick that tall?"

"They're ten foot tall aliens. Do you know any ten-foot tall alien chicks? I'll try anything once."

"Oh yeah, hey... I've got it. Quid pro quo and a layer of clothes. So if your story tells me something I didn't already know about you, I remove a piece of clothing then I have to tell a story and if you already didn't know it then you have to get some gear off."

I quickly do an item count. That one that you learn to do in early teen games of truth or dare and strip jack. Neither of us is wearing much anyway so it should be fair and fun.

"So... you first." She shoves me with her foot again.

"Let me think a bit, I can't just vomit something profound up just like that."

"Okay, well I'll go."

She gets comfortable and fluffs cushions, like she is mentally gathering papers on a podium. I see nervousness underneath the ritual, "You know how you always ask about my baby photos? There are none."

She waits for my attention and when I hold her eyes she continues, "I was kind of an ugly duckling teen. You know, gangly with a too big head and no boobs, funny teeth. I always felt ugly. Kids at school would tease me about my ears, my braces, my eyebrows. You know what they are like."

"When I was eighteen, nineteen I started filling out, learned a bit more about grooming, plucked my caterpillars, got my braces off, was suddenly normal. Not pretty but not ugly, and I made friends easy cause all those years of getting bullied grew me a personality."

She sips her drink, "I was horrified that people would find out what I used to be like so one afternoon I gathered all the photographs I could find at home of me as a child and burned them in the incinerator."

"Fuck really? Beth and Bill would have loved that."

"They spewed. I was in so much trouble. I kept one picture. It's in an old year book. I kept it to remind myself that I was ugly once; to keep me humble."

"Pff... You can't have been that ugly. I get gangly teen, I was the same. Took ages to grow into myself."

"I'll show you, I kept it." As she walks to the bedroom I try to objectify her appearance. She is not tall, not short, five foot six to my five foot nine. She's fit but deliciously curvy, has nicely shaped everything, especially her arse which waggles under my t-shirt as she walks away. She has shoulder length hair that keeps changing colour (it's currently red) and she has a pretty heart shaped face with big brown eyes and well maybe her nose is a bit big but she fits together well into more than averagely attractive package. She has to be exaggerating her self-loathing. She could never have been truly ugly.

She returns and plonks down on the couch. Launching from a few feet away and crashing onto it like a sullen teen. She's removed the towel and brushes her hair as I stare at the yearbook she drops in my lap. I flick through, "St Mary's High 1993." Try as I may, I can't find any pictures of her.

"Here." She snatches it away and flicks to a page near the back. "Where?"

She points at a picture of two kids holding a trophy. I must still look confused because she taps one of the girls on the face and says, "That one."

She is watching my face for reactions and she finds them. "I told you so."

"Fuck, wow, those ears..." I don't want to be shallow and harsh but I don't want to be dishonest either. She was truly unpretty. The child in the year book is tall and skinny, flat chested, and mostly like every other teen except she has ears that stick out sideways like car doors. Not big ears just they point the wrong way. Her nose is overly big for her young face and her front teeth look like a rabbit that has run into post. Her eyebrows meet in the middle and are really fuzzy and thick.

"It's ok to be shocked. I wouldn't have shown you if I wasn't prepared for that."

"But how did..." I gesture at her beside me now. "All this hot..."

"Mum and Dad gave me surgery for my eighteenth birthday. I had my ears pinned, see..." She leans close and pulls an ear forward. I can see a tiny scar behind it. "...and my nose tidied up a bit. My teeth took until I was about twenty to sort out completely. Mostly it was just correcting the bite and my face growing to fit them. And well, that eyebrow... Just a matter of learning to take care of my appearance."

"Far out, you don't look anything like that now."

"But it's still me. Inside, I'm still that ugly kid sometimes. Inside, boys ignore me, girls make fun of me and I hate me. The new me, I like. Just sometimes I'm the old me for a bit."

"Well, that's definitely a layer I didn't know about." I peel off my shirt. It's warm and I'm more comfortable without it anyway.

"Well your turn now."

"Hold up 'fugly', I'm thinking."

She belly laughs and punches me, "Arsehole," as she goes to make more drinks.

We're at that part of the movie where Jake is promised surgery in exchange for information and she tells the flat screen, "Don't trust that arsehole, Jake. Haven't you seen the ending?"

"Haha, the ending hasn't happened for him yet."

"Well it's out on DVD, rent a copy fucker!" she yells at Jake.

"That's it. That's a layer I can give you."

"What, the DVD. I own it already."

"No..." She's so literal to my metaphoric. "I don't trust men. My layer. My thing. I don't trust men. That's why I don't really have any close mates."

"You are one, a man. How can you not trust them?"

"Coach... When I was at uni my coach abused me."

"Like molested you or something?"

"Something like that."

"Fuck... how. You were huge as a young bloke." She mocks flexing her arms.

"At an end of term football party. It was some sort of initiation or hazing thing. They did it to all the rookies. Coach wore a strap on dildo. We all had to bend over and he stuck it up our bums while the older players laughed and cheered. Worst part was I got a boner. I thought that meant I'd liked it; made me gay or something."

"Holy shit."

"So, now I hate football and I don't trust men." I shrug as if I don't care.

"You should have made a complaint or something."

"It was easier to run, just fuck off. I quit my scholarship and joined the army."

"You trust my Dad though right, you guys go fishing and stuff."

"That's different, Bill's like my dad."

"Oh... wow." She is quiet and gobbles popcorn, eyes glued to the television while I imagine I can actually see her mind ticking over.

"Great. So I bare my soul and you're more interested in giant blue bitches."

"Shh..." She frowns at me. "I like this bit."

She does some sort of epileptic python dance with her arms under her t-shirt and produces a bra. Still watching the screen, she hands it to me. "Happy?" I take it, looking at it strangely. This is acceptable currency for knowing my deepest shame? It's lacy and I figure I can't be too cut up about her dispassionate response, because I seem to be getting a boner. Still, I've kept this thing locked in a tiny box in the recesses of my mind for millennia as it shames me so deeply. It can't really hurt me anymore, all the sting has gone out of the memories but... Well, really, I can't think why I ever kept it from her. It seems like a useless layer now. Perhaps this game has merit.

"I think I feel a bit raw."

"Like exposed?"

"Yeah."

"Good raw? Bad raw?"

"Like it doesn't really matter raw."

"Like you forgot to put a shirt on but it doesn't really matter because you're at home anyway?"

"Yeah something like that."

She puts some popcorn in her mouth and scootches a little closer on the couch. Her right arm reaches round my shoulder while her eyes never leave the television and she pulls me a bit closer.

"I love you anyway you gimp fucktoy."

It's my turn to belly laugh embarrassment off. A euphoric wave of acceptance and gratitude, babbles out of my mouth in a series of ape-like sniggers.

"You have the shittiest laugh. Seriously, don't ever laugh again." She puts a hand over my mouth and nose, "Just be sad or angry or something ok."

"Horny count?" I mumble.

"Ooh... I like horny."

The doorbell rings.

"Pizza O'clock!" she claps.

"Hang on buddy, I'm coming." I shout to the door.

"I'll get it." She stands and grabs her purse from the coffee table.

Almost to the door she stops and turns.

"Hey..."

"Yup."

She makes real eye contact and bites her lower lip before saying, "That really was a substantial layer. Thankyou for trusting me." She pulls off her shirt (my Steel Panther shirt) and throws it to me.

I catch it and watch her open the door and pay for the pizza.

In nothing but her undies and socks.

The pizza boy is a spotty kid. Old enough to have a licence, vote and drink but too young to have a proper job or by the looks of things a girlfriend. He's all open mouth and fumbling hands, wide grins and 'holy fuck' faces. Jen is just so matter of fact. I love her. I am going to fuck her hard for this. She's such a shocking tease.

She fumbles far too long with her purse and counting change, making sure her tits jiggle with each coin she passes from one hand to the other. She smirks as she watches him blush and dart his eyes back and forth from her tits to her face and then the floor and the tits again, but mostly the tits. Eventually, he relents pretending and just stares openly at her breasts. He takes the money. She could have counted cornflakes into his hand and he would not have known. He musters courage and breath to speak.

"Thanks for ordering Dominos and hey," he nods to her tits bouncing just a few feet from him, "thanks for the tip."

She bridges the gap too quickly for him to shrink away and hugs him tight, pressing her lovely breasts into his shoulder and cheek. "Drive safe now honey."

The door closes and she does a gorgeous little wiggly jig of naughty happiness and self-satisfaction. This kind of showing off is her bug powder dust; her drug of choice.

"Haha," I shake my head, "You fucken pricktease, you made that kids night."

"He deserves it, they pay those kids shit." She looks me up and down, stopping to gaze at my crotch. "Looks like he enjoyed the show too."

"Ha. What's not to love."

"Well." She interrupts her sudden seriousness, to put the pizza and garlic bread on the coffee table. "My showing off for one thing. How do you cope sometimes. I am such a fucking slut."

"I kinda dig it."

"Seriously? Like sometimes I can't believe myself." She has a stern face on now, some mercurial flip from flirty to sullen.

"Pizza boy is one thing, a bit of fun, but I'm relentless, you know it's like I need the constant attention from men to show me I'm not that buck toothed, flappy eared, mono-browed, beaver-caterpillar-elephant hybrid anymore. And you let me do it. Is there something wrong with you?"

I open the garlic bread and offer her the crusty end piece.

"See, just like that. That selfless shit you do. I know you love those bits."

I think on this as I look at her enjoying the garlic bread. Her eyes roll in almost orgasmic bliss as she savours the taste and textures. I take the other end of the loaf and say, "There's two ends to a loaf."

"What?"

"Two ends. You know, you love the attention, it re-affirms your attractiveness and gets you off somehow but I love it too. I get the other end. I get to know that those men wish they were me. I get to watch their faces while they watch. I get to see their jealous wives, their dropped jaws... For a short moment I'm not the 'mail room guy', I'm 'the guy with the hot wife'."

She just watches me strangely. I can see cogs turning back in her eyes.

"Hey also, you're fucking hot and I get to watch too."

She reaches for some pizza, taking the slice I had been eyeing off. The skinny piece with lots of pineapple and really browned crispy cheese. She's watching me intently while she does it and as she bites the perfect piece she mumbles with her mouth full, "The perfect slice."

"What?"

"You. The perfect piece of my cosmic pizza."

"Fuck off hippy, you're stoned."

She shoves me with her foot and smiles at me with her mouth full. "Thankyou for letting me show off. When they watch me, it's like they are my high school friends who teased me. I am making their boyfriends want me, I am prettier than them. I am hot and I am pretty and I can have any one of those boys I choose. Payback bitches."

"So technically, that counts for a layer?" I ask.

She shrugs in reply.

I offer her my underpants.

She laughed softly, spitting out pieces of pizza.

“Seriously, you’re terrible at these games. You’re still wearing your watch and socks. You should probably take one of them off first.”

“I know,” I replied. “I already know how this is going to end; there’s no need to avoid the inevitable.”

“Oh, so you think you can take off my pants? You can’t have any secrets left, Mr. Perfect! What did you do, kick a puppy?”


"Well, give me a moment."

She rolls her eyes and sighs. "Fine, how long do you need to make something up?"

"Oh I could make some shit up but that wouldn't be fair would it? Let me finish eating, maybe I'll think of something."

"Kay then... Just so you know, I'm down to my knickers..." She snaps the elastic of her cotton undies. They are daggy grandma pants with little flowers on them. It's very 'girl next door' for a self-confessed exhibitionist, but that's part of her allure. She's not a façade of make-up, Victoria's Secret and a false persona. She's just Jen. When we are out and she shows off, it's the fact that she's just another normal woman in the street who is displaying parts of herself out of context that make it so intensely arousing as opposed to the sensationalised efforts of attention whores with their special costumes and choreographed public 'oops' moments.