Archive name: The Exhibitionist.HTM (M/F, Cheating, Voyeur, Hum)

Authors name: Paula Wilson ([email protected])

Story title: The Exhibitionist

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This work is copyrighted to the author and the Unfaithful Wife Organisation © 2003. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration.

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Scott Wilson had always thought himself to be a ladies man, until, that was he met Trace Carter and discovered her flair as an exhibitionist.

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Some women simply look dirty, you know, horny and up for it. It’s hard to describe the look, its more than just face; it’s her hair, eyes, walk, clothes, and mannerisms, what they say, even how they say it.

The blonde looked dirty, even in the pale green overall worn by all of the schools dinner ladies. She also looked hot and sweaty, but that only served to make her all the more desirable.

He hung about until the kids had been filed back into their classrooms and a semblance of order and most certainly silence descended over the dining room. He waited until the blonde and the other dinner lady had cleared away the plates and scraps of food, then he did his party bit by cleaning and putting back into storage the tables and chairs.

It was customary for the dining room and kitchen staff to share the left over meals if they wished. Sometimes he joined them; it depended upon the meal and also his mood. Today, buoyed by the sight of the blonde he decided to join them regardless of the fare.

He thought that he knew all the staff but she was new. He guessed that she was in her late twenties, thin and with a narrow face. She wasn’t a model but she had that certain something, like he’d already said, she looked dirty.

He noticed that she was sitting a little apart from the other women. In a way he wasn’t surprised, the staff were very much a tight little group of middle aged mothers, the blonde looked out of place and the seating arrangements confirmed that.

Still it gave him the chance. “Mind if I sit here?”

She looked up; her eyes were pale green with flecks of grey in them. “Be my guest.” She smiled awkwardly.

“Scott Wilson…caretaker.” He introduced himself.

“Trace Carter…occasional dinner lady and unpaid child minder.”

He knew all the kids, there were two with the surname of Carter, Julie was in year seven and her brother Todd in year six, in English that made them ten and nine respectively. The age of the Carter children was only important when you considered that he thought Trace was twenty-six or seven at the most.

“Julie and Todd are my step children. I married their father last year, just before we moved around here.”

Well that explained that! He grimaced. “Sorry, was it that obvious?”

“People always wonder. John, that’s their father, He’s almost forty and if he’d being honest looks and sometimes acts older still. We were once confused as father and daughter…and…don’t you dare send anything to anyone else.” She pointed a warning finger in his direction.

“Our secret.” He promised.

“Good…you had better bloody mean it.” There was a definite gleam in her eyes and he couldn’t take her threat seriously.

They talked about nothing much, he try to explain how a graduate ended up being a handyman and she tried to explain how she came to be the Carter’s step mother. It’s a convoluted story at the end of which he still wasn’t convinced he quite understood. He’d always imagined that older men usually met younger women

“We moved here through John’s work.” She finished with by way of explanation why she was here. “John thought that getting a part time job would help me to meet people.” She made that sound like a bad idea.

She finished her meal and pushed the plate away and then glanced at her watch. “Two twenty, which leaves about an hour to kill.”

He had a nice way to kill that amount of time but somehow he didn’t think that Trace dropped her panties that easily, still it would make a nice fantasy. He didn’t have anything much more to say as Trace stood up, making small talk had always been his problem.

“Thanks for sharing lunch.” She looks pointedly towards the other women. “They don’t like me, Chow.”

He watch her walk away, her buttocks jiggle as she sways and as vanity kicks in he wondered if this little show is for him.

………………………………………………………………………..

He forgot about their conversation, sure he saw Trace at the school but usually collecting her children. He didn’t see her helping out any more at lunch time and gradually her jiggle is consigned to the occasional wank. They exchanged the odd greeting but she seemed to have found friends and so he no longer seemed even a possible option for conversation

Term finishes and a week or so later the last of the teachers and admin staff have left for their break. It leaves the school in his tender care, a chance to repair the broken hinges and the like. It’s a couple of weeks when he can pretty much please himself what he does and when.

He didn’t expect to see any one so imagine his surprise when one fine morning Trace is waiting for him when he arrived at the school. It took him a minute to recognise her. She looked different; the sweaty, distracted blonde has changed into a smartly dressed and manicured brunette. He can’t help but wonder what colour her bush is, light or brown. It’s a crude thought but he’d been unlucky in love recently and have been using his hand more than he’d care to admit to.

“Mrs. Carter.” He managed a smile and wonder why she’s here. He’d been polite because in a way she’s his employer as his contract up for renewal and if the parents start objecting then he’d be on his way out.

“Mr….” She pauses and he realised that she doesn’t even remember his name.

“Wilson, Scott Wilson, but please call me Scottie, everyone else does, now what can I do for you?” He smiled and she returned the gesture. She had white, even teeth, like someone who’s cared for them since birth. He unlocked the door to his office come store and let her enter first. There is the merest whiff of perfume as she chasses past him.

He offered her a coffee which she refused. That meant this was a brief and probably business visit. She does accept the offer of a chair, but only after he’d dusted it.

“Mr… sorry… Scottie, I have been told that you sometimes work for yourself. I was speaking to Carmine Hamilton; she said that you painted her porch last summer.”

He just smiled, so that’s it. She has a little job that her husband doesn’t fancy doing. Pity he had just entertained the thought that she was after his body. “It’s as they say, non tax deductible.”

“Excuse me?”

“Cash in hand, nothing on the tax return.” He explained.

“I understand, John says the fence needs creosoting and the kids play house also needs painting and just tidying up. He wondered if you’d be interested in doing the work.”

“I’d need to see, get an idea as to how much work, also when. I still have a few things around the school to sort.”

She looked mildly disappointed or maybe irritated. He had the vague notion that Trace was used to getting her own way. “When can you come around?”

“Later today, this afternoon?” He suggested.

“This evening, after six, John will be home then, he’ll need to meet you, and he handles the financial stuff.”

It’s the end of the conversation and after agreeing the time Trace jiggles her way out of my sight. She’s wearing a pair of denim jeans and her butt looks good. He wouldn’t say no, if He ever had the chance.

………………………………………………………………………..

He meet John and they agree a time and a price. John isn’t what he’d expected or imagined. Somehow thought of John as being overweight, weedy, and incompatible with Trace and meeting her sexual needs. Instead he’s six foot and looks in shape, the hairs still a rich brown and there are no crow’s feet on his face. John has that confidence that all successful men have, Scott wasn’t exactly intimidated but he didn’t haggle much over the price.

“You’ll find that during the week I’m away a lot so any problems Trace will deal with … won’t you dear?” John turns to wear a bikini clad Trace is standing. She just smiles and sips at her drink. Scott tried to hide his erection and later fantasized how he’d spend the next few days fucking Trace.

The house is on two levels and sits above the town on the sides of Fullers Rise, the developers had to build a series of terraces of packed earth and stone on which the place the houses. The views great if you can cope with the ever present breeze, it certainly means that poolside isn’t used that much.

He arrived on time and Trace ushers him through the house. He tried to strike up a conversation but she just smiled and ignored him. He was after all a tradesman, hired help and not a friend. After that, apart from the occasional mug of coffee he was ignored and he hardly ever saw Trace, who came and went from the house as if he wasn’t there. Gradually the fantasy of fucking her receded to a night time relief.

On one of the brief times she condescended to engage in conversation he asked where the children are as they were conspicuous only by their absence.

“At their grandparents, since we moved here they don’t get to see each other that much, so John ferried them up there this weekend, John’s parents will bring them back next week.”

He had to remember that they aren’t her children and emboldened by that thought he ask what happened to their mother.

Trace pulled a face and then shrugged. “Car accident, she was a passenger in her boyfriend’s car, truck hit them head on, no survivors.” She was so matter of fact in her description.

The word boyfriend has just an edge to it and seems to be an invitation for another question and the obvious one was about the boyfriend. So he asked it.

Trace seemed un-naturally talkative. “John and she had split the year before; she had custody of the children and had moved in with a fella from her works. It was a minor miracle the children weren’t in the car as well, but they were with John. After the death they just stayed and John tidied up the legal stuff. That was just about the time I arrived on the scene.” Trace made it all seem so easy but she had just described the death of her step children’s mother. It should have been a clue to how Trace felt about people but he was gawking, just happy that she was talking to him.

“I’m expecting a visitor so I wonder if you can stay put of the house for the next couple of hours, you could finish off the play house.” Trace finishes with. She took his coffee mug and jiggled her way across the patio without a backwards glance.

So he’d been dismissed again and tail between his legs he step up onto the terrace where the play house is situated. With the steepness of the hill all the houses have been built on artificial terraces. In the case of Trace’s house this means two levels for the house and an additional three levels for the gardens, the pool and patio dominate the first of these terraces, the second has been designed to overlook the pool and the final terrace belongs to the children, here they have their play house and other toys.

He made his up via the twisting pathway. The whole garden has been well landscaped, a professional job, even the playhouse is one of those custom built jobs. John Carter was a wealthy man and not just judging from who slept with him.

Scott saw the open topped Porsche 911 approaching. He had a hobby of recognising expensive cars, like the expensive women he would never be able to afford, but he could dream.

The driver is male and Scott guessed middle aged. Trace greeted him on the driveway; they kissed cheek to cheek and then vanish from his view. He didn’t think anything of it and carried on with his work.

It’s only sometime later when his bladder finally admits defeat that he descended towards the house, there was a toilet on the patio and he headed there.

He only hear the voices after he’d finished peeing, he was about to flush when he hear Trace laugh and then he froze. She’d told him to stay away from the house and as yet he hadn’t been paid so he wasn’t about to upset the lady of the house. He left the door to slide to on its own and start to creep away when he hear her laugh again.

“I have ssoooo missed you.” She laughs; her laugh is as dirty as her looks.

“Like wise.” The stranger answers.

He looked around; they are close, very close but obviously they can’t see him. He strained his ears, trying to get a sense of direction.

“I forgot how good this feels.” Trace laughs again.

A cold thought occurs to Scott, whoever is with Trace, they ain’t just sipping coffee. He should just walk away, whatever they are doing, is their business and not his. He even managed a couple of steps away from the house and then through a crack in the blinds he caught a glimpse of movement.

They are in the summer extension, the flat roofed addition leading to the patio and pool. It’s equipped almost as a second lounge with chairs and couch. He took a step back and pressed against the wall, from there it’s only a couple of cautious steps and he next to the extension with only the shuttered blind between him and Trace and her what? Lover? Scott felt his dick begin to stiffen.

He can’t see much except that they are on the couch and embracing.

“What about the hired help?” Scott heard the man ask. Scott knew that he was the hired help.

“Scott? He’s a pussycat; anyway he has the hots for me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s watching us right now…”

He froze and did feel very cold, then he begin to creep away, cautiously at first and then in a rush so he don’t hear the end of the conversation.

“So where is he?” The stranger asks.

“Painting the kids playhouse, peak through the blinds and you’ll see him.” Trace suggests.

“So … if we opened the blinds …” The stranger suggests.

“He’d see everything we do …”Laughed Trace.

“Well…?”

“Fucking in public, what a neat idea…lets go to the bedroom, we can really put on a show there.” Trace continued, tears of laughter running down her face.

He reached what felt like the comparative safety of the play house and sat there, his heart was pounding and he couldn’t help but imagine what was taking place in the house below him. The silence and privacy was intense, the house was only overlooked by its own terraces and Scott began to realise just how secluded the spot was. Absently he rubbed his cock and was almost tempted to pull it from his jeans.

Then he saw the movement in the master bedroom with its huge picture window overlooking the entire rear of the property. It was the sort of design that you could only make in such a secluded spot.

Trace walked into the bedroom with Grant a pace behind her. She was hot, hot and horny and not just from seeing Grant again, but now also the prospect of a show for that poor sap Scottie. Had he really thought he could hit on her at school and she’d just drop her knickers? Jesus the guy was naïve, not ugly but naïve and she liked her men like Grant and John for that matter, men who knew how to fuck.

She made her way to that huge picture window. When John had suggested the design she hadn’t been sure now she sure a real reason for the thing. She could really flaunt herself and somewhere skulking in the kid’s dam play house was that hapless wimp Scottie.

Real men didn’t wait to be asked if they could fuck you, they made the first move. Grant came and stood behind her, close enough so that she could feel the hardness of his dick. He put his hands about her waist and pulled her even closer, Trace wriggled just long enough to trap his dick between her buttocks. She liked the sensations that Grant brought from her, they were dark, almost wicked.

“Is he there.” Grant asked as he nuzzled her neck.

“Hmmm! Inside the play house. Hmmm! I like that.” She slipped her hand back and stroked his erection, even through his pants it felt large, but then she knew that. She had been with Grant long before she’d met John. If he hadn’t been married, well maybe she’d be Mrs. Grant Gemmell now and not Mrs. John Carter. It was all the same, she liked older men with authority, a sex drive and money. So Grant or John, it was all the same, she was happy with her life, very happy.

Scott had expected to see them again, but there they were, barely ten meters from his hiding place, in full and open view. He watched as the man began to stroke Trace’s body, lingering on her breasts. He was very hard and it was a real struggle to get his cock out of his jeans in the confided space of the play house.

Trace shivered with delight as Grant’s experienced and sensitive fingers stroked her breasts until her nipples were hard and erect. He knew she liked being touched and played with, just like he knew when she just needed to be fucked and despite the months apart what she wanted now was a long, slow shag.

She now had her arms resting on the glass of the picture mirror and her forehead was resting on her arms. She had her legs splayed and was totally open to his exploring fingers. She wanted it this way; so that he could take his time and explore her unencumbered by anything.

“Strip me.” She whispered. “Let him see me naked.” She turned just round just far enough to exchange a frenzied and hungry kiss. It was going to be a struggle to take her time when Grant feeling like he did.

They were kissing and he was fondling her body. Scott fought down the temptation to really wank himself, he’d come in seconds if he did. Already there was a bubble of that pre come stuff to be smeared across the head of his dick. Instead he left his dick mostly alone and resisted the attraction to shoot.

Trace was wearing a pale yellow lamb’s wool top with short sleeves, a knee length skirt and nothing else apart fro her knickers. She dressed deliberately like this to please Grant; he liked her wearing longish skirts but little else. Beneath the skirt she wore a burgundy red thong; Trace knew that thongs showed her buttocks off to the best effect.

The top went first and was quickly followed by her skirt. Trace felt Grant’s hot breath on her naked skin, his tongue traced the outline of the dragon tattoo she’d had done one drunken weekend. At least the then boyfriends name wasn’t included in the design, so that the tattoo had become part of her erotic games.

She wriggled her butt into his groin and then turned around so that her back was pressed against the cool glass of the windows. She had her arms around his neck and they kissed whilst his hands cupped her buttocks and eager fingers drove into the cleft between them.

Scott’s dick was beginning to hurt, it throbbed, the head now an angry purple. It was so bad that he barely dared to touch himself and when he did he was left breathless and heaving with the strain of not coming.

Trace began by unfastening Grant’s slacks; he never wore jeans, and then pushed them down to his knee, his shorts followed and his hard dick was once more in the palm of her hand. She gave it an experimental wank, knowing that his self control was such that he wouldn’t come from such slight provocation.

“Still big enough for you?” He breathed.

“Big enough and hard enough.” Trace laughed. “Big without hard is just no use.” She dropped slowly to her knees; her eyes locked on his and then began to lick on the bell shaped head of his member.

Scott could almost feel Trace’s lips close around his dick, he knew how she’d feel, how her tongue would tease him, drill into his slit. He stopped, the pre come was oozing from him and he was beginning to shake. He had to come soon or he’d just explode.

”I can see him!” Grant grunted. He had his hand in her hair, keeping her face pressed to his dick. In his opinion Trace gave head as well as anyone he’d known, and that was quite some number. “Wonder if he’s come yet.” He laughed and resisted the temptation to wave towards … towards Scottie. He was perversely pleased in remembering the peeping tom’s name.

“We should fuck!” He said, easing Trace’s ever willing mouth from his dick.

“Nice idea.” Trace agreed, she flopped onto her knee’s and crawled towards the bed, making sure that Grant and Scottie got the best possible view of her ass. She climbed onto the bed and watched as Grant finished undressing before joining her, his impressive dick leading the way. She took the dick once more into her hands. Trace always marvelled how hard a cock could become, how such a flaccid little thing could grow so large and give such pleasure.

She felt a knot form in her stomach, she needed him inside her. Grinning she turned onto her knee’s and casually presented her rear towards him. She even gave a little wiggle as she settled into her favourite position.

“Do you know what this does to me?” Grant laughed as he settled behind her; with a casual roll he eased her thong down and with her held pulled them clear of her body. They were damp, as he held them to his nose, he realised that damp wasn’t a true description, they were saturated.

Grant slid a finger inside her. It was ssoooo easy, Trace was sopping, oozing her juices onto his fingers. He finger fucked her for a minute or so until Trace was just whimpering with each move that he made. He rubbed his thumb across her clit and knowing how near Trace was to her orgasm just kept the pressure ever increasing until her keening moan announced her climax.

In the play house the sight of Trace reaching her orgasm was too much for Scott, he just touched himself once and then convulsed as stream and stream of sperm ejaculated from him. The effect was almost so physical that it actually seemed to hurt. He cried out and he’d himself, allowing the last eruptions to cover his hands with the sticky gloo.

Scott’s head slumped forwards; he was drained, not just of sperm, but physically and mentally and for the time being he ignored the mess he had caused.

Grant had pulled the rubber onto his dick, this was the only downside to fucking Trace, she always insisted he wore protection and no matter how far gone she was, her tight little pussy was never unlocked to his dick until she was satisfied that he was safe. Now and finally her restraining hand left his dick and he could slip into her. It was always worth the effort; Trace was one hell of a good fuck.

He started to move faster and faster, after the blow job and with the added thought of the peeping our mistress he couldn’t last as long as usual. Still he held onto until Trace started her second orgasm and then as she came then so did he.

Scott didn’t dare move. He hadn’t figured this before, but if he could see them then they could see him, and right now they were lying naked on her bed, the curtains still open. He had to just sit there and wait and wait, until he left or they drew the curtains or something.

He looked down on them, they had started again. The man’s head was between Trace’s legs. Scott knew what he was doing but his dick was too drained to appreciate the sight.

Grant parted Trace’s legs, he’d deposited the used condom in the toilet and flushed the evidence away but now between her legs he could see the evidence, her pouting lips, the specks of her orgasmal juices. He was gentle in his probing as after being fucked most women were sensitive down there. He should have just lain with her but the lure of that cunt was too much and it had been months since they’d last fucked.

Trace didn’t mind, this was why he was here, this was what she wanted and if Scottie was still enjoying the show then that added to the pleasure mix. She drew his head towards her clitoris, Grant was always so good on that little piece of flesh.

Epilogue

Scott had only escaped when they’d drawn the curtain and that had seemed like hours later. He’d crept away feeling and looking soiled and dirty.

The next day the Porsche had gone and Trace was back in her cold, distant mode. It suited him. He couldn’t look at her in the face much less strike up a conversation.

He was actually glad when the job had finished and when the Principle came to talk to him about renewing the contract Scott informed him that he’d be moving on.

Somehow he knew that Trace had spotted him and that everything had been for his benefit. He had never felt so little or dirty and couldn’t face meeting her again.