I put on a provocatively erotic purple playsuit with tiny strips to cover my nipples and an only slightly wider strip over my sex trench, stepped out onto my poolside deck, arranged a large towel, slipped off my high heels and lay back on the recliner, feeling my nicely tanned body soak up the lovely California sunshine.
On the table next to me I placed a large margarita and my phone. Adjusting my Gucci sunglasses I lay back smugly. My filming of poor old ZeeZee and his spanking and sexual enjoyment of my full, firm, body had been superbly captured on the video Julio had supplied me.
It had arrived by courier just after breakfast, along with a note from Julio himself. "How the fuck could Mr Shithead divorce YOU, you're a star?" I grinned when I read it. Julio was a long-time acquaintance and he knew very well that I now always refer to my ex as "Mr Shithead".
Julio had done a marvellous job. The sound was crisp and clear, all of ZeeZee's sexual desires, all of his carnal lusts, all of his playing around had been captured in crystal-clear volume. All of our frenzied love-making, including his bare-buttocked spanking with my paddle, had been crisply and faithfully caught. Was he in for a surprise!
Just then my reverie of my "performance" in that motel cabin up in the Valley was interrupted by the impatient beep of my phone.
I picked it up and gave my customary response: "This is the number you dialled." I really have to find another line, but it suits me.
I heard a sexy chuckle from my caller. "Hi Sharon, it's Stella here," she told me. My heart skipped a beat – ZeeZee's stunningly tall and attractive wife, the lovely 40-year-old former lingerie model sounded almost as sexy as she looked. And she looked hot, hot, hot.
"Hi Stella," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, but feeling a tingle of excitement running through my crotch.
"That's a wonderful bikini you're wearing. Where did you get it?" said my next door neighbour.
"Well, it's not really a bikini," I said, carefully, fully aware that I was being "perved" on, "it's more of a playsuit, and I got it from Wicked Temptations. Do you like it?"
Stella chuckled again, and again I felt a frisson of sexual excitement trickle through my body.
"It's wonderful, I love the way the little straps gleam in the sun – purple is such a lovely colour."
I decided to take charge of the conversation now. "Well, Stella, thank-you very much, but I must say this is very naughty of you, spying on me like this. It
is
naughty, isn't it?"
Stella paused then replied, and her words were like music to my ears: "Yes, Sharon, very naughty. I suppose I should be spanked, shouldn't I?"
"Most certainly," I said, "and I know just who should be doing the spanking, you wicked lady."
"Anyone I know?" asked my caller, cheekily.
"Certainly – it's me," I said and paused.
"Oh that would be wonderful," she said. "I often try to get ZeeZee to spank me, but for some reason he's not into that sort of thing."
I know very well he's not into that sort of thing, I thought to myself. But I had to tease her a little.
"But ZeeZee looks such a sexy man, darling," I told her. "He must be a terrific lover."
"Oh, yes, perhaps," said Stella, with some hesitation in her voice. "He's got a lovely cock, just over eight inches, he's not circumcised and I
love
uncut cocks, love teasing the foreskin – but there are times I'm simply craving for a more dominant person."
"I know exactly how you must feel," I said.
"And I know this isn't right," said Stella, "but would you stroke your pussy? Just for me? I've got my binoculars trained on that straining little gusset – god you're gorgeous there, have you had a brazilian?"
"Sure have," I told her, "there's not one trace of pubic hair left. All right, I'll do it, but since it's a rather forward request, it's going to cost you some more spankings, agreed?"
Stella gasped slightly, then said: "Agreed, agreed, I'm being so wicked, I know, but stroke yourself for me, pretty please?"
I ran my forefinger down my cleft, feeling the labia lips part slightly under the pressure.
"Oh that's so wonderful, Sharon," said Stella, "are you wet down there?"
"Yes, I am," I confessed.
"Oh hell, I'd love to be your finger," said the caller.
"What are you doing, Stella?" I asked. "Are you playing with yourself? Show me what you're doing. Part the curtains wherever you are so I can see you."
I knew damn well where she was – her step-daughter's bedroom, the same room from where ZeeZee had perved on me less than a week ago. Then the curtains parted and I could see Stella standing, binoculars held to her eyes with one hand, a mobile phone to her ear with the other.
I couldn't see much of her face, but I could see that she was naked! Her breasts were wonderfully full, firm globes, her mons had a small patch of fair blonde hair but even from this distance I could make out that her pussy lips were pink and moist.
"I love those breasts," I told her. "How big are they?"
Stella laughed. "They were 34s when I was modelling, but now they're closer to 36," she told me.
"And that backside that I'm going to spank – turn around, show me."