A Nudist Kitchen Story

So my wife and I are watching "Isidingo", a popular South African soapy, one evening after we had both arrived home from work. It's high summer though, so the early evening is a lovely combination of moisture and heat - great for those who like sweat... bleh! As usual I had already shed my longs, shirt and underpants in the bedroom almost as soon as I had arrived, so I'm now standing in the kitchen in my birthday suit busy preparing dinner. I have forgotten two things, however. The first is my blue striped apron (hot oil and nudism do not go together) and the second is the only rule that my wife insists on when I strut around naked - close the doors, front and back (no pun intended) both of which open out onto the common property of our complex. Our unit is quite private, since we are in one of the corners and also since we are below the road by a metre and a half, but our open doors do allow a clear view out onto the tarmac that is surrounded by a number of other units. My wife does not like to share me... regardless of my opinion on the subject.

The first mistake is not a problem initially, as I am still at the preparing-the-food stage... no hot oil yet. The second mistake, however, soon does become a problem.

I'm standing at the counter, facing forwards towards our lounge, where I can see both my wife and the TV through the serving window that fronts the self-same counter. My back is to the court-yard. Chop, chop, chop. Slice, chop, giggle... giggle? No, I heard right, that was definitely a giggle, and a nervous one at that. I turn around... and there behind me is the open back door. Worse, through the door I can see our next door neighbour's youngest daughter (19 or 20 years old - left school in grade 10 I think) standing on the steps that lead down to our front door! She often gets sent over to our house to deliver financial stuff from her Mom, who is the complex's book-keeper. I'm the chairperson of the Body Corporate, and so I get to sign all the checks etc. Lucky me.

Perhaps turning around was not such a good idea either... darn for not having an apron on! The poor girl gets a peek at my pecker, so to speak. She quickly averts her head though, bringing the papers she has clutched in her left hand up to shield her face. This all takes place in a split-second, and we do not make eye contact. This means that neither of us is sure just how much the other saw, lacking the visual confirmation of looking into one another's eyes. She ducks down behind the side wall. I turn back to resume "watching" the soapy. I brazen it out... talking to my wife about the events that are currently playing themselves out on the TV. I hear more nervous giggling from behind me, somewhat stifled by the poor girl in an attempt to stay hidden.

A few seconds pass. I then hear a tentative knock on our front door. Oh shit... the front door is also open. I'm trapped in the kitchen. What do I do? I can't close the back door without acknowledging the fact that the previous event took place, and I can't exit the kitchen to hide in the bedrooms because the front door is also open. By this time my wife has gotten up to answer the knock.

"Um, hello, could you please have Mike, um, sign these." says the girl.

"Fine, ah..." replies my wife, who cannot complete her sentence because the girl thrusts the papers through the front gate, abruptly turns around and starts up the stairs.

My wife closes the front door, and turns to stand in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Did she see you?" she asks me, with mock sternness.

"I think so," I reply, "but only for a second or so. Good grief," I laugh, "I've ruined the poor kid!"

My wife also laughs and then walks off to the bathroom, saying over her shoulder, "Shut the doors... I'm going to bath." Before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Smiling ruefully to myself, I turn back to my vegetables and carry on cutting. But I feel uncomfortable... like I have a pair of eyes on me. I pause... then shift to my right, knowing that in doing so I am standing more fully in the viewable part of the kitchen. I turn around to put a plate in the sink, making sure that I do not look up. My penis is now misbehaving, long years of nudist training undone by a decidedly erotic mix up. I turn back to the counter and start cutting the chicken breasts into strips - we're having a stir-fry. I still feel the eyes boring into my back.

I carry on for a few minutes more, before I decide to turn around and look up. There is my neighbour's daughter, standing on the steps, looking down at me. Her lips are slightly parted. I step forward to the open door and say, "My wife has gone off to bath."

I lean on the washing basin edge and cross my left leg behind my right. Marcy comes down the stairs and stands in the back court-yard, leaning against the wall. I see the reason for her parted lips. She's got her right hand stuffed down the front of her low-cut jeans, and from the position of the bulge it's quite obvious what her fingers are doing. I stand and watch the exhibition, Marcy's fingers moving back and forth beneath her jeans' zipper. My prick is now standing ram-rod straight, my nipples are hard, and my breath is heavier. But I'm not about to ruin the spectacle by pumping my dick... this is only happening because of the illusion of a voyeuristic situation. We're both pretending that she is still watching me without my (or my wife's) knowing. I play my part, standing relaxed in the back doorway as if this is just a normal day, nothing to see, dum-dee-dum. My eyes are locked on her fingers, her heaving stomach muscles and her face.

Her eyes are staring through me now, the very knowledge that I am standing there naked being enough to fuel her masturbation. She's grunting, groin muscles spasming, approaching a fantastic orgasm, most assuredly unique and never-to-be-repeated. Her left hand moves from her right breast (small but nicely rounded) down to her zipper. She runs the zip down to her crotch, spreads the flaps open and frees her right hand. I see that she has on a blue G-string with pink edging. The front is pulled to the left, having been shifted out of the way by her right hand. I look closer, licking my lips at the sight of her labia, pink and puffy. Her cunt is open before me, lips glistening wetly as her middle finger swipes her clitoris back and forth. Her left hand moves down further till the tips of her fingers are lying at the entrance to her vagina. They grip her left labia, biting into the flesh as she begins to shudder with the impending orgasm.

"Oh, ah... shit, ahhh."

"Shhh..." I laugh/whisper, "my wife... ."

She quietens down, but only marginally.

This has been going on for a good few minutes. I look up into the car-park, scanning the other units for signs of life... signs that we have been spotted. But there's nothing to see, just trees, shrubs, garages and roofs. I'm getting worried about how much longer this game can go on without discovery. Here I am, standing naked in my back doorway, with my neighbour Marcy opposite me, leaning against my court-yard wall, busy frigging herself whilst ogling me. Her jeans are halfway down her thighs, her pink and blue G-string has been pushed aside, and her fingers are busy rubbing her clit. What's more, I have a perfect view of all of this... and so would anyone else who happened to step out into the common property just now.

Just as I settle back to watching my young neighbour once again, the show draws to a close as she shifts a bit further down the wall, spreads her legs wider and doubles over as her orgasm washes over her. It lasts a while, since she throws herself back and forth a number of times, all the while sinking lower and lower, as if her height above ground is proportional to the remaining length of her orgasm.

Long seconds later she's totally spent; panting, gasping, deliciously spent. We end our game. Marcy hauls herself upright using the wall as support, straightens her G-string, reaches for her zip, pauses... then changes her mind. I stand up, wondering what's wrong, getting very worried about discovery, especially in view of the fact that my brain is not orgasm-addled.

Marcy quickly drops her jeans to the floor, steps out of them and then whips her G-string off. Dropping it beside her she wriggles back into her jeans, zips them up, straightens her crop-top and then bends down to pick up her panties. She brings the underwear to her nose, sniffs, wrinkles her nose, pulls a face and then tosses the G-string to me. I catch it, smiling broadly.

"Don't like the smell... but I'm sure you will." she says, "Thanks."

I bow my head, step back and close the door as she likewise turns and heads up the stairs.

I shake my head. That's not what nudism is meant to result in... "nude is not lewd" they say. But in this case it was great fun to break the rules. My wife had better be ready for some good fucking tonight... I'm very much in the mood.