While visiting family in Ohio, my husband, Neil, had been to a birthday party where he was exposed to Covid. Although we were not overly concerned, as we both are fully vaccinated, he had suggested that it would be best to isolate for a few days.
While I was of course concerned and did not want Neil getting sick, I felt a total rush of excitement because that meant one thing: I would be getting a hotel room. Which in turn meant I had an unexpected chance to immerse myself in my secret life as an exhibitionist.
Please understand that I do love my husband. Not in a passionate way any longer but in a way which is in some ways stronger and better, the type of comfortable love that is glowing embers of warmth and security. That being said, though, I crave with a burning and all-encompassing desire to show myself. This is my secret life, which in so many ways I prefer over the beauty of those warm embers of security.
“Do you have any preference on hotels?” Neil asked.
While I absolutely did, and was excited even thinking about my choice (as this is a venue I have been to before), I feigned indifference and contemplation before asking if the Courtyard Marriott near the Dayton Mall would be okay.
“They have nice rooms, and there are plenty of things to do in the area, since I guess I will have to be there for a few days unfortunately.” That was a lie, though, as I knew I would likely never stray far from the hotel.
As he was in the process of paying for my reservation, I was quickly packing my suitcase with a vengeance. While he was on the phone securing the details for my stay, a thought occurred to me.
“Oh! Can you ask if they have any courtyard view rooms on the ground floor?” I asked.
As he glanced at me with a puzzled look, I was thinking to myself, “Shit! I shouldn’t have asked that.” I quickly said, “It’s just easier to not carry my things up and such, and since I will be there for a few days, I don’t want to be looking at a parking lot.”
He nodded in agreement, accepting my explanation. I was in a tizzy, realizing that I had covered the true reason I wanted that sort of room.
I was glad that he did not watch me pack my suitcase. Not so much because I did not want him to see the items I was packing, which are innocent enough, but if he ever looked in my oversized travel suitcase he would see what is in there.
What is in there are gallon-size ziplock baggies labeled with a sharpie, “Blue lingerie set”, “Black lingerie set”, pink, white, purple, red, etc. Others are labeled “Transparent tops” and “Transparent dresses” and “Sexy panties” and “Crotchless panties” – it just goes on and on. It’s just that it helps me keep things organized for the outfit I am in the mood to go with when I do get these chances.
If he ever looked in my suitcase, he would not understand as I no longer wear such things for Neil anymore. I suppose if he ever did (which is unlikely) I would respond in a tone suggesting that I miss our intimacy, and I will never give up on being ready if you desire me again. It is possible that explanation would work I suppose. Though that is a situation I never want to have to be in.
If he looked apprehensive and questioning, I would just break down in tears and get very emotional, and retreat into a truth, that truth being that I do miss the days when I felt I was not invisible to him. That is most definitely very true. My secret life never started until it was obvious that I had become invisible to the man I love the most.
Anyway, after what seemed like an eternity to me, but in truth was under half an hour, I was packed and ready to go. There was an awkward moment when I was leaving, because I wanted to give my husband a hug and a kiss. I guess mostly because it makes me feel less guilty about things I hope will be happening. But because of the situation with potential covid exposure, instead, I just said, “I love you and hope you test negative.” That was true.
I started walking away with my suitcase but turned around and said, “I’m going to miss you.”
But that was a lie. It was time for my husband’s wife, me, Jane, the exhibitionist, to try to reign free again and take full advantage of this very unexpected chain of events.
“I love you too,” was Neil’s retort as he chuckled a little bit, adding as he nodded at my suitcase and said, “I’ll never understand why you pack a huge suitcase for just a few days.”
I was thinking, If you only knew, and heaven forbid you ever do know, yet the words that escaped my lips were simply, “Because I’m a woman.”
I don’t think I can explain enough how I was feeling as I got in the car and underway. But I will try. All of this helps explain my desperate need of fulfillment.
It was only twenty-eight minutes to the hotel, so said the GPS. But I needed to be there yesterday, not twenty-eight minutes from now. At the first red light I came to, I issued a slur of words I just do not usually use. I kept thinking as well red light green, red light green, and some other choice words. When I got on the interstate this continued, I was mentally cussing at traffic that was moving too slowly, even though they really were not.
The anticipation was building with every mile closer I was getting to the hotel. I was trying to calm myself, reminding myself that I am always this way, likely things won’t work out as expected anyway so just calm down. But that rational part of me lost the battle, because there are times when things DO go well when I do this. This is a struggle I have every single time I do my routine (yes I have a routine which will be explained in vivid detail before I start showing myself, it’s really much more of a RITUAL rather than a routine).
Finally, I got to the hotel which only took thirty -two minutes and of course, I was cussing about the extra four minutes. When I was checking in, my heart sank because they advised they could not accommodate the request for a ground floor room courtyard view, they were fairly well booked as there was a soccer tournament in the area.
Talk about being instantly deflated that’s how I felt. I figured oh well, I’ll try to make the best of it yet my hopes were evaporating of course. I did ask if they at least had a balcony room then.
“Yes, I am showing a balcony room as available, although it is not courtyard view.”
I said okay and figured I had missed a wonderful opportunity to do what I need to do for myself, but sometimes, well, most times really, that’s how things go. I took the room.
The room I got was a balcony room, and was parking lot view yet there was a Motel 6 on that side that overlooked my room. I was on the second floor. I thought well maybe this will work but I doubted it. I got my suitcase in the room, and had brought a bottle of wine too. That’s part of my ritual. It’s just that I can pretend I’m sexy and desired if I have a wine glass in my hand, and tipsy, except this time it was paper cups, not wine glasses.
Anyway, I wasn’t expecting much but went about my ritual to get ready regardless.
My ritual is as follows: the very first thing I do is put the do not disturb sign on the door. Please let me explain why this is so very important to me. That “Do Not Disturb” sign helps protect me. It helps protect me from myself. In person, I am shy, very soft-spoken, insecure and, unfortunately, submissive. I say unfortunately because this has, over the years, got me into some situations which will be a story for another day. For now, let it suffice to say that I have not exactly been a perfect and ideal wife. I wish I could say that I have been faithful to my hubby, but that would be a lie. I simply lack the ability to say “no” so everything is always consensual. So you see, that do not disturb sign adds a layer of protection for me that I desperately need.
Then I shower. Even though I have always already showered, this is important to me as part of my ritual because I am washing away my regular life in favor of my secret life.
Another very important part of the shower is shaving. Not my legs, my vagina. My legs are always shaved but I only shave my vagina in a landing strip shape when I might be able to have a chance at being what I am. I don’t ever shave there except for times that I have a chance to show myself, I want to make sure I am presentable if I have the fortune of being seen.
I used to have a full bush, but I wanted a landing strip for myself. I had considered shaving totally clear, yet realized that some pubic hair does make me more visible so a landing strip is what I do and it suits me well. The first time my husband noticed he thought I had trimmed my bush for him. I’m surprised he even noticed and he didn’t seem interested after my creation of my landing strip regardless. I just smiled. I didn’t want to tell him it’s not for you. It is for me. And men that I want to see me. And sometimes, women. There is a totally different erotic I feel when I get to show to other women. It is softer, more beautiful really. Although I have only had one experience with a woman, that to is a story for another day. As I am a submissive exhibitionist, I tend to focus on men who are more apt to want to see things.
So this is my ritual.
I showered, and shaved, and even my ritual takes to long though it’s really very fast but never fast enough it’s just something I have to go through is all. For myself. And for any voyeurs because I need to be photogenic in case anyone ever does take a picture or video. This is something else that I want to happen, I want to find myself posted on the internet, it’s hard to explain why I want this yet erotic desires don’t have to have a rational reason, they just simply exist.
This is more than a want, it’s a craving that I need to experience for myself. I need this. I need to live it. I need to breathe it. I just simply need this. Exactly as my profile says, I will not rest well without my unfulfilled fantasy.
My outfit of choice for this time was my tiger striped club dress, black see through bra and see through black panties. And black four inch stiletto heels (the same outfit as my cover photo for my story).
I felt sexy when I opened the drapes with gusto. And opened the balcony sliding door. Full of anticipation and hope.
I stepped onto the balcony, and had a cigarette watching the traffic at the Motel 6 across the way which was quite busy. I decided to just watch things standing there in my form-fitting club dress. And had another cigarette. And then yet another. And I poured myself some wine. I was enjoying the afternoon which by now had transitioned to early evening. I was feeling very happy and content.
Then, the gentleman appeared. I’m guessing he was in his late fifties, and he was staying at the Motel 6. I saw him before he saw me. Remember, a true exhibitionist will be forever scanning the environment to see if we are being watched. It’s a desperate need really, a craving that knows no end, that is more satisfying than even sex itself if you are more than a casual exhibitionist which I am most definitely.
I didn’t figure he would see me. He was outside his hotel also smoking and that seemed like it was too far away from where he was to see me in my little dress. He was sitting down on the curb. But I kept my eye on him hopefully waiting. Hoping he would notice me. Getting ever so much frustrated, just willing him to glance my way.
Then he stood up and I figured oh well he’s going back inside to his room, feeling again unhappy with my room assignment.
But instead of going back to his room, he started ambling across the parking lot. He was starting to walk towards me, and I was all in flutters thinking oh please, please please keep coming this way.
Which he did. I started getting wet, and my nipples were hard. To distract myself, I took my heels off so I was barefoot. I pretended to be playing around with my phone. He walked over to Courtyard property not where he was staying at Motel 6. He walked towards my balcony. I pretended not to notice but he was looking in my direction at my second-floor room, at my balcony. At me. He was looking at me in my dress. He was looking at ME.
I realized that I am not invisible now. I am being watched, and it is showtime.
As he walked by my balcony, I casually stretched and stood up on my tip toes. I slowly turned around to open the sliding glass door, and slowly walked back into my room, leaving both the sliding glass door and the screen open.
He passed out of sight. There was an uncomfortable moment as I waited to see if I was the reason he had walked over to my hotel. If so, surely he would walk back again? My heart was beating rapidly, a rush of adrenaline will do that as I waited to see if he was going to walk back my way.
Moments like this always seem to take forever. Time slows. I once was trying to avoid hitting a dog that had run across the street, and not being that good of a driver anyway and a really big animal lover, I went into a fishtail and then a total spinout. I saw the telephone pole that I was headed towards and everything seemed like it was in slow motion. I didn’t hit the dog, nor the telephone pole. But my mind was racing. This is relevant to my story because I have a theory, that it is not time itself that is slowing. It is your mind speeding up, to help you process intense situations. This was a very intense situation for me.
Then, it happened.
As he was passing back, he again was glancing at my balcony. I started taking my dress off. It was time. I let my dress fall to the floor.
He literally froze in his tracks. He just froze, he stopped walking and just stared at me. Like a deer in headlights, he just froze. I was now dripping wet, the sexual energy of this moment was unbelievably intense.
I was standing there in my bra and panties, and I bent down to pick up my dress, giving him a view of my tush. I put my dress on the bed, and noticed he still didn’t move. He was still staring at me.
I continued to pretend I didn’t see him, and I slowly took my bra off. He didn’t move an inch. I was so wet, feeling his hungry eyes upon my now topless body.
I was thinking to myself, he is really enjoying this, so he deserves to see more. I pulled down my soaking wet panties, letting them fall to the floor (just as I had done with my dress) revealing my freshly trimmed landing strip and very erect nipples. I was now completely nude, completely, one hundred percent vulnerable. This was one of the most intense moments of my life, the energy was simply amazing.
I started to use the remote control, changing channels while keeping him in my peripheral vision. He moved a little bit further away and sat down on the curb nearest my room. I walked into the bathroom, to look at myself in the mirror and fuss with my hair, and wipe my wetness with a tissue. That didn’t help, I instantly was just as wet again. He was still sitting there as I walked back out and he got another view of me. I poured myself some more wine and noticed he was trying to stand up and I realized he must have been drinking. He continued to walk further away, but in the opposite direction from his hotel, and walked out of sight.
I thought I had lost him, but was appreciative of the encounter. Yet it didn’t stop there. He had moved on, or so I thought. He must have had to walk around the hotel and figure what room I was in.
When I heard a knock on the door, I was concerned. At first, I thought it might be hotel management or some such or even worse, police. Topless in Ohio is allowed, but totally nude can get you in trouble. I walked to the door to look through the peephole.
It was my voyeur.
I did not answer the door. After another five minutes or so, I heard another knock. Waited that out too, but then there was a third knock. I was thinking to myself but I have my do-not-disturb-sign up. My hand was trembling as I hovered over the doorknob.
If he knocked again, I knew I would open the door. And I knew if I opened the door what he would be wanting. And I also knew that I would be giving him what it was that he wanted.
We were now standing no more than three feet away from one another, with only two things between us: the door, and my do-not-disturb-sign. My hand was still on the doorknob, which let me know that on the next knock the safety of the door would disappear. It was going to be opened. I closed my eyes in surrender waiting for the knock.
And waited. And waited still. When I opened my eyes and looked through the peephole, he was gone.
At this point, I was feeling two things, really. One of those was a calming relief that I wasn’t going to be cheating on my husband. The other thing, though, was regret for not opening the door. I obviously had turned him on to the point he took the effort to find my room and ignore my sign. In a strange way, I felt that he deserved to have me. And, yes, unfortunately, the other way around as well. That is the downside of neglecting your spouse, or so I was trying to justify it to myself.
I looked out over the parking lot and saw him walking towards his hotel. Figuring that things were over, I laid down on the bed, remaining nude and feeling my wetness. My curtains and the balcony door remaining open as I softly touched myself however not to orgasm. I was replaying this beautiful encounter.
I started watching TV, and by now it was dusk. It had been at least an hour if not longer since he left and I got up to use the bathroom and pour myself some more wine.
But then I glanced outside and noticed that he was back. He was sitting on the curb again, but this time directly in front of my balcony. He had several cans of beer I could tell, and I wondered how long he had been sitting out there, hoping I would reappear, perhaps? He must have gone back to his room for more beer was all, he wanted another show.
I again got instantly wet, and again my nipples were erect. I was simply in heaven. I didn’t know how this was going to end, I just knew I didn’t want it to end.
So I decided to do a little bit of a fashion show. I moved the luggage rack closer to the window and put my suitcase on it. Looking through my selections from my suitcase I decided that it was definitely too late to be trying on clothes. Probably too late for lingerie to, since he’s already seen me totally nude. My mind was racing again now, I had to come up with something appropriate.
Then I came across the ziplock baggie labeled “lace robes”. Perfect, that is perfect. I started with my satin black one, shedding that in favor of my shere transparent white lace robe, shedding that in favor of my red one of the same sort, then the blue then the burgundy. That one is my favorite anyway, it’s floor length and it is see-through although not completely sheer.
He continued watching me as I tried on my variety of robes and he was still drinking.
I was in the mood for a cigarette again which meant I had to go out on the balcony. I figured what the hell I might as well and since I was rather tipsy by now that did definitely help.
I poured myself more wine, let my robe stay open and walked onto the balcony.
Off to the left, I heard a whistle and some guys speaking in Spanish. Realizing I now had even more of an audience, it was almost too overwhelming for me. I was nervous but again dripping wet and feeling even more vulnerable.
I pretended not to notice when my precious voyeur started trying to stand up and walk over to my balcony. It was dark by now, and I had made sure every light in my room was turned on. There was also a light on the balcony so I was very visible.
Not until he spoke to me did I attempt to pull my robe closed but failed at that, just covering my breasts while leaving my landing strip exposed.
“Hi.”
“Oh my, hello.”
“I’ve been watching you. What’s your name, doll?”
I said, “I’m Jane, I am so sorry I’ve been drinking and just not paying attention to what I’m doing I hope I haven’t offended you.”
“No, not in the least. I’ve enjoyed looking. I tried to knock on the door a while ago.”
As I let my robe fall completely open, I lied, “Oh, I thought I heard knocking but I was using the bathroom and thought it was another room.” More excitement amongst the Spanish-speaking men. Even my voyeur turned his head briefly towards them.
“Do you want some company?” my voyeur inquired when his gaze averted back to me.
I expected this question or something similar when I made the decision to walk back out on my balcony in this fashion.
I simply replied, “I would love to, except I’m in isolation because I may have been exposed to Covid.”
He accepted this, and we talked for a while, just casual conversation as I still felt his eyes sizing up my nudity. I just couldn’t get enough as I had gotten bolder the more empty my bottle of wine had gotten.
Waving my empty paper cup in the air I said, “I’ll be right back, just give me a moment.”
I poured a little more wine, and wrote my email address on a piece of paper, walked back onto the balcony, and floated it down to him. We both watched the paper as it fluttered to the ground. He was really struggling to hold his balance as he bent over to pick it up.
When he saw what it was, he thanked me and he mentioned he also was drunk and needed to use the bathroom. I told him to have a nice night, and he retorted it has been.
He ambled his way back towards his hotel, and I watched him until he went inside. My thoughts were with him as I realized he didn’t turn around to look at me again after I had floated my e-mail address to him.
This in a way made me feel sad. Yet also relieved. But at this moment in time, I was much more sad than relieved as I watched him stumble back to his hotel. My heart was pouring out for him. Wishing I had opened the door on the third knock. But wishing more though, that he had knocked just one more time. Then he would’ve had me. I wouldn’t have been able to resist that last knock on the door, even protected by my do not disturb sign as I have said above.
As I had another sip of wine, by now too much wine and we have all been there, I realized I can’t be both faithful to my husband as well as have a physical connection with my beautiful voyeur.
The Spanish guys were still by their trucks and drinking as I finished my last cigarette and laid down on my bed. Everything seemed so delicious, so erotic, just perfect. I needed an orgasm. I desperately needed to cum.
I have a purple vibrator that lights up and got it out of my purse. It felt nice as I inserted it Into myself, turning it on. The gentle humming was a welcome feeling I was aching for, pushing it in and out. I turned it up a bit more and the humming intensified.
I am not quiet when I orgasm. I moan. And with a good orgasm, I cry with passion. Cry as in really real tears, it just becomes much to intense for me so I start crying. I simply become a puddly mess of emotion and can’t stop crying. It just who I am. And if I have a great orgasm (which does not happen often anymore) I outright scream.
I had left my balcony door open as I was masturbating though not on purpose exactly, It’s more that I just wasn’t paying attention to anything at this point.
When I cummed, my orgasms came in fairly rapid succession. Moaning first as I was imagining my voyeur doing exactly the same thing in his room, that I was doing right now in mine.
Then, the crying. Fantasizing that I had opened the door wide, fantasizing that I was being taken like a living fuck doll.
My third, and last, orgasm was my most intense. My mind had gone back to that intense moment when he froze like a statue. This was just too much, and I could feel it coming. I pushed my purple toy full deep, on full power as my crying turned to screaming. My back was arching up at the moment I began to scream.
My screams were met with laughter and approval from the Spanish gentlemen. That brought me back to reality, I had cummed so much, and I was definitely more than a little bit embarrassed.
I turned off the lights, and collapsed back onto my bed without even cleaning myself up first. I was just spent.
I never did get an email from him. For quite a while, I would check though I never did. Nor did I ever find a picture or video of myself posted anywhere. If you view my profile, you will understand. And to this day, this is my most intense encounter with a voyeur so far. At least that didn’t involve sexual contact that is.
I still touch myself, remembering how perfect everything was, at least when I want more of a guilt-free orgasm, that is.
