Lena's Window Show for the Street Wife

Lena stood in the glow of the downtown apartment’s recessed lighting, the floor-to-ceiling windows turning the entire living room into a brightly lit stage for the busy evening street below. At twenty-eight, she had the kind of body that made men forget their destinations—full, heavy breasts with wide, sensitive nipples, a narrow waist that flared into rounded hips, and long legs that ended in bare feet painted cherry red. She wore nothing but a thin white tank top and a pair of black lace panties that already showed a growing wet spot at the crotch.

Mark lounged on the low leather couch ten feet behind her, one arm draped over the back, his cock already thickening inside his sweatpants as he watched his wife begin her slow, deliberate striptease for both him and whoever happened to look up.

She hooked her thumbs under the hem of the tank top and peeled it upward, inch by inch. The fabric dragged over her stiffening nipples, making her gasp softly. When the shirt cleared her head, she shook out her dark hair and pressed her palms to the cool glass, arching her back so her bare tits flattened against the window. The sudden chill drew a low moan from her throat. Down on the sidewalk, the first pedestrian slowed, a man in a business suit who had been checking his phone. He glanced up, did a double take, and stopped dead.

Lena’s breath fogged the glass. She rolled her shoulders, dragging her hard nipples back and forth across the smooth surface while she watched the man’s eyes widen. Another couple paused beside him, then a group of three college-aged guys. Within thirty seconds a small crowd was forming, necks craned, phones discreetly pointed upward.

“Fuck, they’re really looking,” she whispered, voice already husky.