Angela Discovers Exhibitionism

On the other hand, I was free of Rick, and free to see other men! Scott just happened to drop over during all this, and he invited me to dinner and a movie. You've got to love a man with timing like that!

**

A year passed, and I received another Valentine card, a really pretty one, from 'a secret admirer.' It was identical to the one I had received senior year of high school. At the same time, I had a Valentine's Day date with Scott. Scott made an effort, and he drove me down to Indianapolis for a romantic dinner, and we then went to the art theater there, since he knew I loved European, American, Korean, and Japanese art movies.

We ended up at Scott's apartment, making out on his bed, with the famous one-way mirror on the wall, right next to us. It was that mirror Scott would hide behind to watch Dante and me do the deed. "Since you're right here with me, you can't be behind the mirror. I guess you can't have everything," I teased.

"True, and I know how that turned out on, to have me watching," Scott said.

"Right you are," I confessed, for the first time.

Scott then entered me. He didn't fuck me; he made love to me. It was a perfect fuck, and I realized as he fucked me, that it was the first perfect fuck of my life. There was no incest, no voyeur, it was just Scott and me, and it was wonderful.

"Scott, I love you," I said, as he pumped away.

"I've always loved you, sweet Angela," Scott said, as he gave me a particularly strong thrust.

"What about all those other girls you laid in high school, and now in college?" I asked.

"They were fun, and practice so that I could give you my best," Scott the romantic said.

"Did any of them give you an STD?" I asked, as Scott fucked me hard, making me gasp with pleasure. Scott didn't answer my eros-killing question, he just fucked me without mercy and drove me to a spectacular orgasm.

**

We continued fucking in Scott's bedroom every Friday and Saturday night for the rest of the year. Just after winter vacation, Scott asked me, "Do you ever imagine someone behind the mirror, watching us fuck, and wishing he were me, or she were you?" It was getting close to Valentine's Day, again,

"What are you saying, Scott?" I asked.

"Well, would it freak you out if one of our friends was behind that mirror, tonight, watching us as we make love?" he asked.

This took me by surprise. I thought only Scott went into the small, dark space to watch. Now he was suggesting other people might be watching. My pussy tingled. "Have people been watching us, Scott?" I said, horrified at the idea, and yet at the same time, aroused.

"Not yet. I've been waiting for Valentine's Day," he said.

"Who would it be?" I asked.

"Someone you know," he replied.

"You're not going to tell me?" I asked. I knew he was not; I knew Scott all too well, at this point.

"Someone I trust," Scott said.

I never did find out who peeped on us that Valentine evening, as Scott drove me to heaven with his cock. It was just after he shot his load inside me, however, and I had the climax of all climaxes, that Scott proposed. When I said yes, whoever it was behind the mirror applauded. I never did find out who it was!

I always wondered, whoever it had been watching us, if he or she had attended our wedding, enjoying the memory of our naked coupling as Scott and I said our vows. It was the most amazing Valentine's Day present a girl like me could have received.

**

Several years later, as I was lost in my own world checking Facebook while sipping coffee in a café, Bob Ferguson found me. It was the first time I'd seen him since the wedding. I was happy to see him, and instantly asked about Michelle. I was pleased to hear they were still happily married, and I confirmed my ongoing marital bliss to Bob. After those relatively standard formalities, we began to discuss our friends in common, and we inevitably drifted back to our high school times.

Bob managed the impossible, and I was impressed. He managed to ask me, delicately, if I still enjoyed exhibitionism, and he confessed his unrelenting attraction to being a voyeur. Indeed, he only rented apartments in New York (where we both lived and worked) if the prospects were good for peeping on some women in various states of undress.

"Old habits die hard," I quipped.

"Well, it's because of you I have the habit," he replied.

"Because of me?"

"Don't be coy, Angela. You flashed all the boys at summer camp after your morning showers, and more than a few of us developed crushes on you. That time you went braless in the dining tent still lives in my memory. Then when you followed up in your bedroom ..."

I cut him off. "Okay, okay," I said. "You've made your point. You know how it is when you're young; those days were long ago."

"They were fun, though, weren't they?" Bob asked.

"Yes," I admitted, "They were fun."

"Say, whatever happened to that stud who was always coming to town to lay you, back in the day?" Bob asked.

"He was Dante," I said, and I almost slipped up and said, "Uncle Dante."

"Yeah, what happened to Dante?"

"Oh, he's around. I see him from time to time, mostly at family functions," I stupidly, stupidly said. Bob is nobody's fool, and I could actually watch the mischief entering his eyes.

"He's your cousin, isn't he!" Bob said, and it wasn't a question. "You had incest with your cousin? Angela, you little minx!"

"No, he's just a friend of the family. It's a long and complicated story," I said.

"Tell me, we have time," Bob said.

"I'd rather not," I replied, as my mind went into overdrive. I ended up telling him a long and convoluted story about how our family and Dante's were friends, and it finally exhausted both Bob and myself.

Bob had a strange look on his face. I felt he had been undressing me in his mind as I recounted my long, fabricated story of Dante, my occasional incestuous lover, but there was something else he was remembering, something for the life of me I couldn't figure out.

Suddenly, I began to wonder. I had told my hubbie Scott about how Bob had peeped on me in high school, and how it led to him and Michelle hooking up and later marrying. Scott gave me the third degree, wanting to know if Bob ever extorted sex from me, due to the pictures he had, and no doubt still has to this day.

I denied it repeatedly, but finally, I had to admit it. Bob extorted a date from me. At the end of the date he drove us to Cherry Hill, and since it was a weekday, he had me alone in the traditional teen make-out spot. Many a girl had been deflowered at Cherry Hill; it was practically a tradition.

Bob quickly undressed me to the point I was naked in the backseat, and in exchange for never revealing his pictures of me, ever, I caved, and gave my body to him. I didn't tell Scott, but what Michelle had told me was true: Bob was a sexual Don Juan. It was the best sex of my life, and still is, to this day.

After I confessed about my shameful deed back in the day, I asked again who it was who was watching us consummate our marriage? After all, the applause of the anonymous voyeur turned me on to such an extent that I practically raped Scott for a second post marital consummation. My orgasm, spurred on by having an anonymous voyeur, was over the top.

"Please?" I asked Scott.

"No, I promised never to tell," he replied.

"I just confessed to you how the evil Bob Ferguson extorted sex from me, back in high school! You can at least tell me who the voyeur on our wedding night was," I said.

Scott looked at me thoughtfully. "Our wedding night voyeur told me he had always had a crush on you, but he wished us happiness, since thanks to you he had found the love of his life," Scott said, and that was enough. I knew. I finally knew who it was who applauded, from behind the one-way mirror as we consummated our marriage.

"Thanks, Scott," I said, and we kissed.