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This is the sixth part of the story "The Cottage", you may want to read Part 1 first.
It had been a boring day at work, everything had ground to a halt because of an outside strike. I had spent much of the afternoon thinking about horny things, so I decided this was going to be the night.
While the late news was on I slipped up to the bedroom and stripped, changing into a black cotton mini dress. I hiked the skirt up as far as I could and wrapped a black belt around me and over the folded material. Black thigh highs and black kid shoes with two and a half inch heels (in case I needed to run) completed the outfit.
Gliding into the living room on such low heels, I said to Jack: "I'm going out for a walk, wanta come"
"Holy Jeez, you're really gonna do this aren't you"
"Oh yeah. I've wanted to have this shaved twat out where the world can see it for years. It's just that society doesn't accept the idea. This way, its covered if you glance down, but it is really bare under there and the breeze can blow over it as we walk along. Who knows, maybe a little puff of wind at the right moment...."
"OK, OK, I'm horny already, lets try a block or two."
As we stepped out the front door and stood on the porch I realized that anyone could look up at my twat. I shuddered with delight, and with renewed resolve walked on. I had picked a route that would provide alternatives for getting back quickly if I needed.
The first leg of the trip was to the end of the street, where there was an intersection and a bright street light. I experienced all sorts of twinges and tingles as we strolled down the sidewalk and past several small street lights, little gusts of wind flipping my "skirt" about and cooling my crack. I could not tell until we reached the corner if anyone would be coming down the other street. One part of me hoped there would, while another tightened my gut nervously.
We rounded the corner, and sure enough, there was an old man out walking his dog. Jack squeezed my hand (I wished it had been a tit, but that would be later) reassuringly and we strode on. The old man walked up and tipped his hat and made small talk about the weather, not noticing a thing (or then, maybe he did and was going to go home and plunk his wife for the first time in months), while the dog sat quietly staring up at my crack, his dripping tongue hanging out. That gave me some unusual sensations, I can tell you. I rocked nervously atop the too short heels. At last we moved on down the street to the lane that entered the park behind our house.
Strolling down the park trail in the soft partial moonlight was a great treat. The wind was jerking my hem up and soft bluish light was splashing over my cunt. Just then, from up ahead, a teenage boy came rushing towards us on his bicycle. With no time to turn, and just as the wind gusted, he saw us -- or rather part of me -- his eyes went wide, the bicycle slewed and off he fell. Jack and I rushed over, and then I remembered, and sat down firmly on a large rock at the side of the trail, my legs firmly crossed. The boy was OK and Jack picked him up and set him on his way.
"OK babe, you can uncross your legs now," Jack smiled, and I gave him a show of rock and tight lips.
Well, I was glad the boy wasn't hurt, hoped I was his first midnight twat viewing, and thought he would probably go home to whack himself off and sleep with it in his hand. Too bad he wouldn't have some shaved female to curl up with instead.
"Jack, here's the path back to our street, I told him, lets walk back and I'll put on some higher heels and wait on the bed while you shower." That's what we did, and a lot more. I shared the story of the walk when I phoned Judy the next day, but not the "lot more".
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