Sophia is a Kinky Girl

My boyfriend Mike and I had just finished making tender love. Mike got up to use the toilet, but as usual, I was not ready to get up. I need to remain in bed a while after making love. I've always been like that.

Sadly, though, I had to get ready to go to work, and I believe in the importance of a good breakfast. So, I forced myself to get up. I did not bother to put on clothes. Since Mike used a rubber, I was not worried about dripping cum on my nice, clean floors.

Mike emerged from the toilet and he came into the kitchen. He gave my behind a loving pat. "I love you, Sophia," he said, as he kissed my neck.

"Oh Mike," I said. "You just love it when I make you breakfast in the altogether. And you're especially affectionate right after we do the deed."

"And when you moan," Mike added.

"Did I moan?" I asked, as I put the scrambled eggs on two plates.

"It was barely audible, but yes, you did. Why do you moan so softly?" Mike asked.

"I don't know. I guess I got started that way. When I was in college, it was too embarrassing to make noise like that when having sex. Roommates would hear me," I said, as I put out the toast, jam, and butter. I added, "I guess I just got in the habit of enjoying sex quietly. I still enjoy it you know. A lot."

Mike replied, "People love hearing moans. You'd be surprised."

"You mean that you, Mike, love hearing moans. I'm not sure people in general do. It embarrasses them to hear the intimacies of other people," I said.

We argued to and fro about this for a while. It was stupid. Finally, I said, "Let's just agree to disagree, okay?"

"Okay," Mike said. "But will you do me a favor? Moan loudly for me next time?"

I said nothing as I put our plates on the table, adding tableware and napkins. I had already put down the juice and toast. Mike kissed me again, and sat down. He had shorts on, and I was nude.

"Let's eat on your back porch. It's such a nice morning!" Mike said.

"Good idea. I'll throw something on," I said.

"No, you look beautiful as you are. I love looking at your boobs. Do it for me just this once. Please?" Mike said.

"Neighbors might see me, Mike," I said.

"They're either asleep, or busy getting ready for work, or have already left for work. Come on, don't be so shy. You have such a beautiful body, Sophia!"

We did it. We ate breakfast on my porch. Mike had shorts on, and I was nude. It was thrilling. As it turned out, it was also the beginning of a change in my life.

*****************

Mike and I broke up about a month later. I was now alone. There were two residues from my affair with Mike: I now moaned loudly during sex, and I still made breakfast, and ate it, too, in the nude. Sadly, though, I had no reason to moan anymore, because I had not even dated a man since Mike and I broke up.

How we broke up is a sad story. One time I slept over at Mike's. I was now accustomed to moaning loudly during sex. Initially it was to please Mike. But I enjoyed it too. In a way, it served four purposes: (1) Mike felt macho, having his woman moan up a storm due to his sexual prowess; (2) I actually got more turned on when I moaned, leading to an orgasm arriving faster, if one was destined to arrive; (3) Mike wanted to torment his roommate, in effect bragging how he was screwing me in the neighboring bedroom; (4) I felt like a slut by moaning that way, and it turned me on, even though I was not being a slut, just fucking my boyfriend. I had it both ways.

Truth be told, I also liked reason number (3). One day near the end of our relationship, we spent the night at Mike's place, instead of mine. This time Mike had to leave early, and I got to sleep in late. I was therefore alone at Mike's. I was recovering from Mike's enthusiastic fucking a little earlier. I enjoyed the quiet. You could have heard a pin drop.

I got out of bed and went to the kitchen to see what Mike had available for breakfast. Not thinking, and even if I had it did not matter because I was alone, I was making breakfast in the nude, as now was my habit after sex with Mike. So, it was a bit surprising when Mike's roommate Dan emerged from his bedroom. "I smelled the eggs..." His roommate said, and he stopped talking when he saw me there, nude. He simply stared at my nude body.

What do you do in a situation like that? Well if you're stupid enough to get in such a jam, you still might thing of the obvious things to do: (1) run away, screaming; or (2) find something, very quick, to cover yourself with, even if it is only your arms and hands that you use. I did neither: I just stood there, paralyzed, like a deer caught in headlights.

Dan and I just stood there, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a good two or three minutes, when I finally gained enough aplomb to cover myself with my hands and arms, and to apologize, "I'm so sorry, Dan. I thought I was alone in the apartment, and, well, I cook breakfast in the nude at my home, and ..."

"It's fine, Sophia. No worries. You are a beautiful woman, and I am enjoying seeing your body. Mike is a very lucky man," Dan said, while I blushed. Dan told me that my entire body turned peach color. I had a full body blush.

"Relax, Sophia," Dan continued. "Let's eat the eggs while they're hot. We can share them, okay?"

I went to get dressed, but Dan followed me and said, "Don't get dressed on my account. I love seeing your nude body. You are so beautiful; it's like looking at a work of art in a museum."

I know you will think I'm an idiot, but I fell for that. I remained nude. But something was going on that was not in my active consciousness: I liked Dan. I liked Dan in a way that was more than simply liking a friend. You know what I mean. But of course, he was forbidden, being Mike's roommate, so I did not allow those feelings to enter my head. But they were there, under the surface, to be sure.

We ate the eggs, and I got up and made a second round of eggs, adding some toast and juice for Dan, all the while remaining nude. Throughout this time I sinfully enjoyed having Dan drool over my naked body. I thoroughly enjoyed showing off my body to him, too. I felt naughty, and feeling naughty like that is a turn on.

Dan had headphones on, so I asked what he had been listening to. Now it was his turn to blush. He did not want to tell me, so I did not push. We sat in silence for a while. Finally, I got up from the table, and said, "Excuse me please, Dan. I'll go and get dressed for the day now."

"No Sophia, please don't. I want to gaze at your body some more," Dan said,

"That's not smart, Dan. We both know what you will want to do with me if you see me naked for too long. You're my boyfriend's best friend and roommate. We do not want to go there. I had better get dressed," I said. I turned to leave, showing off my sexy behind as I did. I wiggled it, just for fun.

"Please stay, Sophia. Please," Dan was almost begging now. He was wrestling with something, and then with more drama than he intended to use, I'm sure, he said, "I'll tell you what I was listening to if you stay."

There was something in the drama of it all that made me think it was important to know what Dan had been listening to. Obviously it was not just the latest hit music. Knowing Dan, it surely was not an educational podcast, either. I sat back down, still naked. Staying naked a little longer would not hurt. Dan got a little speaker, and plugged his iPhone into it. "This is you, last night with Mike," he said.

To my horror, I listened to a good ten minutes of my sexual moans while Mike had ravished my body. It took me a little while to realize what I was listening to. When I did realize what it was, I cupped my hand to my mouth in horror. "How? Why?" was all I could say.

"It was Mike's idea. The microphone feeds are in his room. I get it by Bluetooth in my room, and I record it onto my iPhone. I can now beat off to my imagination of what you're both experiencing whenever I want to do so."

Dan then found a particular spot on the recording, and he played it for me, and he said, "What's happening with that moan, Sophia?"

"Dan, this is outrageous. It's much too intimate. Turn that off, and erase it. Now," I said.

"Sophia, I think you are an angel. If you were not Mike's girl, I would want to date you and convince you to fall in love with me. I am hard as a rock just looking at your luscious, naked, perfect body," he said.

This was a great way to change the subject. It did affect me, perhaps profoundly, but it was not sufficient to change my mind. "Dan, I like you, too, but I don't want there to be a recording of my moans. You need to destroy it," I said.

"How about if I never tell anyone it's you doing the moaning? This recording is priceless, Sophia. It's obvious your moans are not faked. You're not some porn actress. This is the real thing."

Dan thought for a minute, and then he added, "I did not even have to tell you that it existed, you know. You can trust me," Dan pleaded.

We argued back and forth for a while, and we finally made a deal. I would answer his questions about the recording. He would get to take me to his room and have fun with me above the waist for a little while. Then he would destroy the recording, and I would get dressed and begin my day.

I knew this was a bad deal. It was even ridiculous, to describe to him my most intimate feelings, and to agree to limited sex in such a way. But to be honest, and I always try to be honest, the deal kind of turned me on. Being extorted for sex is an old and recurring fantasy for me.

This was stupid, of course. I should have simply got dressed and left at that point, but I kept the deal. He played one particular series of staccato moans. I told him, "That's when Mike's cock touched my g spot, I think."

He did four or five more, and to my surprise I remembered what had happened each time. This was forcing me to relive Mike's fuck in my head, while sitting there naked in front of another man. I don't think I had ever been this turned on before!

Dan fooled around with his phone to find another favorite, and he played it for me, too.

"Mike was screwing me then, and his cock kept gently rubbing my clit. Dan, this is embarrassing and humiliating," I said.

"Yeah, I know," Dan said. "Want a copy?" I nodded.

Dan then came to me, took my hand, and led me to his bedroom. He lay me on the bed. He put on the background music of my moans, and we kissed, while he played with my boobs.

It was not part of the deal, but I was so turned on I was glad when it happened: Eventually he fingered me, too, and I moaned on top of the soundtrack of my moans. It was weird.

Dan was fairly good at fingering a girl, and I was getting much too turned on. Dan had undressed and he had his hard cock pressed against my thigh as he fingered me. I was constantly aware of it, and tempted to let him lovingly put it inside me. Scared of myself, I put a stop to it.

"I'm Mike's girlfriend, Dan. We should not be doing this," I said, as I began to squirm away from his fingers. Just then he found my g spot and I groaned. It was the exact groan on the soundtrack just then, and it made the soundtrack sound as if it were an echo.

After enjoying his fingers another minute or two, I finally got away, and I stumbled back to Mike's room and found my clothes. I got dressed, and Dan kissed me goodbye, and I left, filled with shame, with guilt, with lust, and with a good breakfast.

Dan's kiss had me aroused for the next hour, at least, as I could not get it out of my head.

Mike found out about the limited sex I had enjoyed with Dan. We had a ferocious fight. I was mad at him for secretly recording my moans and for sharing them with Dan (which he claimed was not his original intention; it was Dan who was the tech wizard and had set it up for him. How was he to know Dan was such a pervert?), and he was mad at me for making out, naked, with Dan.

The upshot was that it was over between Mike and me. Dan came after me once I was unattached, but I shot that down right away.

*************

Anyway, now I'm alone. But I'm still nude in the morning around my apartment, until I get dressed to go to work, and I'm sure if I were to have some good sex, I would not only moan, but I would moan loudly.

The nudity is the larger problem, especially because I eat breakfast, now alone, nude on my porch. I do have neighbors. They are not well placed to observe me, but if they crane their necks, well I guess it is possible.

Okay, I claimed to be honest. The truth is that a few neighbors could easily see me nude out there if they wanted to do so. They would have to be home and awake and looking when I have breakfast, though.

Again, I'm trying to be honest here, so let me add that after my experience with Mike's roommate Dan, it made me wet to think that someone might be peeping at me. I decided to imagine that there was in fact someone peeping at me, and I gave him the name of Tom, for the obvious reason. This was just a fantasy, however.

There is, however, one particular man who is one of my neighbors. He's around 50 years old, or maybe a little older. (I'm 25, myself.) He is one of the few who could see me easily. Perhaps he did?

In my mind, his name is Tom. Sometimes I see him on the street, walking his dog. We both say hello, but recently he has looked at me differently, and I can feel his eyes on my ass as I continue walking. I may have an overactive fantasy life, but I think he peeps.

************

It's been a few months. I was lonely. I decided to try to meet someone on line. As I was looking at one of the dating sites (no, it does not matter which one!), I was getting very depressed about being 25 and resorting to this. Just then, as if by magic, is when Dan called me. He asked me out.

Well, I already knew Dan. Shit, I had already let him finger me that one time. He was nice, quite a reasonable guy, with a perverted creepy streak, sure, but was that so bad? I'm a little strange myself! I think Dan was a little surprised when I agreed to go out that same evening with him.

It was reassuring to date someone I knew, someone whom I know is good at fingering a girl, than to meet a stranger by swiping right on a web site. Dan was a nice guy, and definitely not an ax murderer. The downside is that he is my former lover Mike's best friend. That's a big downside.

Now came the big decision. What to wear? This was our first date, but he had already seen me nude during a prolonged breakfast, he had heard me moaning during sex with his roommate, and we had already made out with him even fingering me, so it was an unusual first date, shall we say.

I took a bubble bath and went through my wardrobe choices in my head. I decided on a sheer blouse with a push up bra, and a mini skirt that was a beautiful shade of blue. Also, the skirt hugged my behind, in case he was one of those men who likes a girl's ass.

I giggled when I realized he had seen me nude, and he had made out with me rather intimately, and I did not even know if he were an ass man or a boobs man! Well, I thought, we'll find out tonight, won't we?

I put on the recording of my moans that Dan had given me, as I got dressed. I caressed my boobs a bit before putting on my bra, remembering how much Dan had enjoyed caressing them. Yep: he's a boobs man.

As I pulled on my tight mini skirt, I remembered how much he had fondled my ass, and even how he had fingered my asshole briefly (God, that was hot!), and decided: Yep, he's an ass man. He's two - two - two men in one!

Most of all, of course, he's a pussy man. Aren't they all ultimately pussy men? I thought, and I giggled some more as the speakers moaned away. I had yet to meet a man who did not want to get into my pussy. Most failed, I'm proud to say. On the other hand, perhaps a few too many succeeded, too.

After all, I'm 25. I've been sexually active for, well, let's just say at least seven years. And with me, active means active. Quite.

I applied perfume liberally, under my boobs, on my wrists, and on my neck. I chose a nice shade of red, not too aggressive, for my lipstick, and I put on mascara, eyeliner, and blue eye shadow.

I stood back and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Jesus, I thought, this is too much! I look dressed to fuck, and Dan is going to want me a bit too much! I decided to lower the temperature of my outfit but just then the doorbell rang. Too late.

Was Dan early? I went to get it, my best smile at the ready, and I gave my smile to my neighbor, the one I call Tom, whom I always see when he is walking his dog. His real name is Bob. Completely flummoxed, and not knowing what to do, I invited him in.

I waited for him to explain why he was dropping by for the first time. "You look smashing this evening, Ms. Bacchelli," he said.

"Call me Sophia, please. We're neighbors, after all," I said.

"Okay, Sophia," he said. "I'm Bob. Bob Gibbons." We shook hands, and then stood there awkwardly, with Bob staring at me strangely. Now I was sure he had seen me naked on my porch; he was undressing me in his mind, I was fairly sure.

Finally, Bob managed to speak. "Do you by chance have a cup of sugar you can lend me? I need it for a recipe. I'm baking cookies."

Relieved that was all he wanted, I smiled and went to the kitchen to get some. He followed me in. He said, "You can see my place from your kitchen. It's right over there," and he pointed.

I realized if I could see his apartment from my kitchen, he could see my kitchen from his apartment. I wondered if he could see in when I was cooking breakfast nude? Of course, he could! The only question was: Had he seen me? The smart money said yes. Hell, the smart money screamed yes.

He was standing behind me, very close, as I reached for the sugar canister. My behind grazed his pants, and damn if I did not briefly feel his erection. Perhaps more correctly, he had arranged for my behind to feel his erection.

I was quite glad I had turned off the audio of my moans just before Bob dropped in. I ushered him out rather quickly once he had his sugar, since now Dan was due any minute, and in fact they met as Bob was leaving and Dan was arriving.

As Bob left, I whispered to him, and to him alone, "Check out my kitchen late tonight." With that cryptic message in his ears, he left.

Dan came in, took one long look at me, took me in his arms and kissed me. He took my hand and led me to my bedroom.

"Dan, you said we're going out," I said, as he held me up against him, his hands going all over my ass. "I spent time trying to look nice for you. If we fool around first, I'll have to start all over. We'll miss the movie."

Dan relented, especially because what I said seemed to give the promise that we could "fool around" after the movie. Dan took me for a nice dinner, where Dan did his best to try to get me drunk. He succeeded too, albeit to a limited extent. I tried to split the check, but Dan insisted he pay. I let him.

When I'm taken to dinner on a first date, and do not want to put out for the man, I try to pay my share of the dinner check. That way I do not "owe" the man anything. When I let the man pay for me, in my mind at least, sex is a strong possibility.

Walking to the theater, which was close by, Dan's hands seemed to be everywhere. We were in public, on city streets, and it was a bit embarrassing to be so flagrantly sexually mauled as we walked. I let him get away with it, however, because counterbalancing the shame and embarrassment by letting a man be so free with me in public, was the huge turn on I felt from letting a man be so free with me in public.

Anyone seeing us would have thought I was a floozy, and that Dan had already laid me, perhaps many times. Maybe I am a floozy? I thought. Sophia Floozy Bacchelli? No, fortunately it did not sound right to my ears. No floozy here.