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The Bad Teddy Bare

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Good neighbours introduced me to Literotica, it's been a useful source of inspiration. As a way of saying thank you I have become a member and collated one of our own stories for you. We do hope that you find it enjoyable.

*

I'd pulled up the weeds, trimmed the bushes, clipped the hedges and was relaxing in the garden with a book resting on my bosom and a well earned cup of tea at my side. A lens caught the sunlight in the attic of the house opposite. The sun was low but not that low and the reflections were quite distinct. The Cleggs.

She's a bossy boots but he seemed nice enough. I saw them twice a year, at the Johnson's Christmas party and at the brownies Summer Fete, which was odd because neither of us had any children. Well it's a good cause and I'm the wicked witch who bakes the brownies. God, unlike my brownies, that joke had become a little stale over the years, I mused.

What was Ted Clegg up to. He was still there. Still watching and there was nothing at all to see. Out of curiosity I went indoors and sneaked a peek from the back bedroom. No one was in either of my neighbours gardens. Next door but one, up the hill, Jack was sat at the door of his cabin drinking tea but Ted could not possibly see him screened by the high hedge as he was. Down the hill a rabble of kids were playing football which explained why the gardens of my immediate neighbours were empty. Teatime, fairy cakes beckoned and I forgot all about Ted.

Well I did not forget Ted entirely. Two days later he was there again and on the following Monday too. Still there was nothing to see, I checked discretely. All there was was me, Christine Walters, fat, fifty and widow of this parish. Ted was in his late twenties and that idea was just ridiculous. He had a beautiful if rather jealous wife and both of them had good jobs; well, well paid ones at least. She marketed whatever it was that her company sold and he made web sites from home.

That was where the brownies came in. Brown Owl had cajoled him into maintaining their web site and jolly splendid it was too. The girls did the work but he kept all the balls in the air for them and provided continuity too.

I decided that on Wednesday we would see. I laughed at myself but I was intrigued, somewhat puzzled and more than a little curious. Something was most definitely not quite right. Wednesday afternoon was a dismal failure, it rained. Yes the garden needed the water but dash it all. Thursday was, however, sunny once more. So Thursday afternoon I baked and then went into the garden. That Thursday, however, I had, for the first time in fifteen years, donned stockings and suspenders rather than either tights or plain bare legs under my frumpy floral print 'gardening' frock.

I placed my tea on the little table as usual. I lounged on the folding green canvas sun-bed and unusually I dozed, or at least pretended to. As I twisted around in the hot sun I permitted the hem of my frock to ride higher and higher until my stocking tops and a little white thigh were in clear view. I peeked through my sun glasses and yes there was Ted and yes he was clearly watching me through his binoculars!

My poor husband had died some seven years previously and somehow I had never troubled myself to find a replacement. Despite fat and fifty odd I'd had offers, but my late husband's business was a lot stronger than he had been and I had a good income and few responsibilities. Men are fun but partners mean hassle

I had had lots of wonderful holidays and even a romantic affair or two. Treyn holidays were a wonderful and easy way to see the world. Then there were cruises and tours. Anyway there was no doubt about it, Ted Clegg was watching me sunbath through his binoculars.

This could be fun. I wondered just how far I could push the poor man. I wondered what his wife would think if she found out? It was naughty of me but at the start I was only motivated by simple curiosity bolstered with a little vanity.

Friday was another fine day. In the afternoon I did the shopping, prepared a casserole, slipped it in the oven and then, unusually, took a bath. Actually I took a shower and spent a long time sitting naked near the frosted glass window that faced Ted's house, reading a book. I wanted Ted to notice my pinkness.

After a half hour I donned my voluminous white, lace trimmed panties and my 36F (UK) underwired lace trimmed bra and took a trip to the wardrobe in the back bedroom to find an old white blouse. I'd placed it there that very morning for the specific purpose of finding it later.

There he was binoculars in hand. I turned my back to him, unclipped my bra, discarded it and pulled on the blouse, buttoning it as I turned to face the window, so Ted just missed a flash of my large soft milky breasts. If he was still there he was hanging back in the shadows. Still now he knew that under my blouse I was bare breasted. Next I clipped my suspenders on and made a good show of rolling on some stockings. I completed the outfit with a green skirt and descended to sunbathe.

There were the binoculars glinting and glittering in the afternoon sun. If his wife caught him he'd be dead. Of course as I read my novel my skirt rode up my thighs again until he could see quite a bit more flesh than last time and a couple of buttons on my blouse popped open. I should have been outraged but actually I was flattered and amused, perhaps even a touch sorry for the poor soul. As I lay there, aware of his gaze, for the first time in a couple of years I felt a definite gooeyness in my loins. I was getting moist between my legs and it was delicious when I squeezed my fat thighs together. It was then that my curiosity descended to wickedness as I started to plot and plan.

I didn't really use the back bedroom. I had both a master bedroom and a larger guest room as well as an attic for storing things. Still it was a good sized room with a single bed in one corner and a wardrobe in the opposite corner near the window. I humped a small set of drawers down from the loft and placed them in the middle of the room at the foot of the bed then waited patiently for my package to arrive.

Meanwhile I took to wearing stockings and suspenders most of the time and even purchased some shorter skirts, bra's that were a little more cutaway than normal and some lower cut square necked blouses. Every sunny afternoon, after I had had my afternoon cup of tea, I went sunbathing and Ted was given his little show of plump white thigh and if he was lucky lots of cleavage.

At last my package arrived and I could up the ante. It was too heavy for me to manage on my own, so I had to open it and carry up the individual parts. Once assembled it was my brand new exercise bike strategically placed in the window and angled so that I faced slightly into the room; well I must not stare at Ted. Finally I placed and old television on a stand where I could watch as I pedalled. I had to bribe the postie to lift that for me; he's susceptible to a bit of parkin and has never been know to refuse a second slice whenever it was put on offer.

That afternoon was, fortunately, sunny so Ted was treated to the gala of my new performance. First I grabbed his attention by gardening in my new red culottes. They were long enough to hide the fattest part of my thighs but short enough to show off plenty of leg. Also I do do quite a lot of walking and, despite my size, my calves are still very firm with a well turned ankle. I set to work, kneeling down to weed the border that faced my house. Ted would have a sublime view of my well rounded bottom bobbling away as I dug, delved and uprooted.

Excellent: as I took the weeds up to the compost heap I caught the tell tale glint of sun on a lens in his attic. I made tea in the kitchen, keeping close to the widow so he could still see me. Then I popped up to the back bedroom where I discarded my blouse and culottes on the bed and took to the exercise bike in just my bra and a pair of voluminous red knickers.

I pedalled away for a few minutes. Then dismounted and sashayed over to the television making my hips and boobs wobble ostentatiously. If you like big women, and I guess Ted must have, my performance was voluptuousness itself. I returned to the bike and recommenced pedalling which caused my heaving bosoms to develop a life quite of their own.

What Ted could not see was the small mirror that I had carefully positioned in the shadows, on the drawers. I could see his reflection but it was too dark for him to see mine. Periodically I checked to make sure he was still there and I was not disappointed.

After fifteen minutes I was quite puffed and more than a little sweaty. I clambered off the saddle and exited the room, tossing my bra and knickers over the handle bars of the bike as I left. So now Ted knew that I was stark naked but had not yet seen me bare. I went to the bathroom to shower making sure that Ted could keep glimpsing my blurred pinkness through the pattern of the window. All the attention Ted had paid me made the second part of my plan far simpler, his voyeurism was making me all squidgy; a closet exhibitionist I mused as I showered.

After towelling myself dry almost everywhere, I needed one little strip to be nice and moist, I re-exhibited my nude pink form in the frosting of the glass. Once I had given Ted time to realise that my ablutions were completed I draped a towel over my shoulders so that it just covered my stiff pink nipples. I returned to the bedroom and strutted to the back in the shadows. There I threw the towel over the bike. In his desperate bid to see me in the nude Ted had grown careless. He was too close to the window and with one hand stuck down the front of his trousers he was quite oblivious to my reactions. To keep him occupied I tossed first my blouse and then my culottes from the bed onto the bike.

Now Ted knew that I could not quit the room without showing myself to him stark naked. All my clothes together with my towel were hanging from the bike where he could see them quite clearly. God was this making me wet and him stiff. His hand pumped in his trousers as I hid deep in the shadows. I prayed he could not see me as I lifted my video camera from the floor and caught a good ten seconds of him, binoculars to his eyes, stroking his pecker.

Time for package number two. I moved forwards to where I knew that Ted would at long last be able to catch a glimpse of my rock hard nipples and tightly crinkled brown areolae. I slid open the top drawer of the chest and removed my new silver vibrator, chosen simply for its size. It was huge, there was no way I was going to stick it inside of me. My eyes watered at the mere thought but it still sounded like a lot of fun when it was set going. I held it where Ted would be able to see what I had collected and lay on the bed. Poor Ted end of his show, I later sneaked out of the room by crawling out on all fours.

Well it might have been the end of his performance but it was just the start of mine. I had never tried a vibrator before, yes really! I'd only bought it to tease Ted but I was so randy my quimm was melting. I set the giant phallus going and was genuinely startled by the loudness of its buzzing but it was a detached house, the windows were closed and the door was shut. I felt my slit. It was slick with my own stickiness and just my own gentle touch cause me to gasp slightly. My fingers glistened with my own excitation.

I never knew. I never ever knew that sex could do that to you. I placed the buzzing shaft against my slot and guided it to my clitoris, more by instinct than by design. The power of those orgasms. They tore me apart. I was on fire. I was exploding. And those orgasms note. Not that orgasm. Oh no, those orgasms. They tore through my frame, wave after wave after wave of them. One racing to catch up with the next. I lay on my back and writhed and wriggled and cried and sighed and moaned and groaned and puffed and panted with their intensity. I rolled over onto my tummy and a different but equally pleasurable set of sensations coursed through me, wracking my whole body time and time again with powerful jolts of boundless pleasure. Finally my clitoris became so sensitive that I had to stop. I wept with frustration. I wanted more but I just could not take it.

Half an hour and a little doze later I could take it. I did take it. Not quite as good as that first time but still deeply and seemingly endlessly satisfying. Moreover, this time before the tingling in my clit became unbearable I was utterly spend.

When I had unwrapped my new toy and fitted those two huge C sized batteries I had wondered why such monsters. Now I knew, they would last a long time and they were going to need to. I had discovered my new best friend forever. Sadly that was not to be true. Unbeknown to me I was soon to discover the mains powered wand vibrator and... Well that really is another story.

So each afternoon, after I had done the gardening and drunk my cup of tea it was exercise and shower time, giving Ted a daily show. Sometimes I'd let him glimpse my nipples, sometimes not. Sometimes I would film him secretly, other times, well I soon had lots of footage. He had taken to wearing shorts and I had one sequence where he quite clearly came. That was priceless, sometimes for amusement I watched it on the television after the evening news. That made me feel so naughty that the only way I could get some sleep afterwards was to play with my new faithful friend.

As Summer drifted on I began to wonder if I could seduce the poor muppet. I formulated my new plan, yes me fat, fifty, Christine Walters cuddled up in bed with lean, mean, hansom, dashing, Ted Clegg. That would wipe the smile from the face of that stuck up bitch of his.

The brownie's Summer Fete had not gone well. It was my job to man, well woman, the cake stall. That overbearing bitch, Sandra Clegg, had tried to muscle in on my position. Well I had baked most of the bloody stuff whilst Mrs. poncy-woncy had made a dozen cup cakes and even smudged her icing. Then she wanted to charge a fortune for the poor soggy things and I was almost certain they came from a packet anyway.

I had a plan. One Sunday I took Mrs. High and Mighty a dozen cup cakes that I had made from scratch, all iced perfectly. I explained that it was a peace offering but also that I did have an ulterior motive. I needed to trim the high hedge that ran along part of our boundary, the hedge that enclosed my orchard. And, if they didn't object, tidy up some of the branches that spread from my apple trees, straddled the hedge, and then overhung their property. I forgot to mention to Mrs. Snotty that I was also going to attempt to seduce her husband.

She understood the significance of the cup cakes aright. Still that did not stop her form accepting them and sequestering them away. Then she only served rich tea biscuits with the coffee, not even a small slice of cake or an iced bun! I was glad I had baked a couple of extra cup cakes for myself. I explained that I would call a couple of afternoons that week, if that was alright with them? She and Ted agreed and they even gave me a key for the side gate so I was free to come and go without bothering them. Ted was most gallant; he would have served up the cup cakes if she had not stopped him.

I teased Ted mercilessly during that afternoon's brief visit. "Did he work in the attic I enquired?"

"Yes he did," a frown of puzzlement ruffled his brow.

"Was he a bird watcher?" I asked.

He glanced nervously at his wife before answering, "no. Why ever would you have thought that?"

"Oh I saw you in the garden the other day with your binoculars and wondered if you were a twitcher?" all conveyed in my sweetest, most sugary coated voice.

Ted choked on his tea. His wife thumped him on the back as he coughed and spluttered biscuit all over the place.

"Yes I've noticed the binoculars lying about the house," his wife contributed musingly.

"No," he recovered, "I though the new Super-jumbo Airbus was passing over and I wanted a good look at one. The brand new British Airways ones are resplendent with their navy bottoms and almost sensual broad curves," He had fixed his eye on me

"And was it?" I enquired politely.

His expression became smug. "No it was just an old RAF Hercules out on exercises."

OK we had established that we knew about one another now. "Don't the children disturb you with their everlasting game of football?"

"The children?"

"Can't you see them from the attic?"

"No. So that's what the racket is?" Well then, he could not see the kids; he always had been watching me. Just too late Ted also realised what he had just allowed to slip.

"Had he noticed the pussy that prowled my garden?"

"No but he would look forward to that pleasure. Was it a tortoise shell?"

"No plain old dark brown, but definitely a pedigree."

It was Ted who joked that he'd be pleased when I had finished the hedge. He told me, "I love to see a nice tidy bush."

We discussed a local wedding; it was the current gossip of the neighbourhood. The bride was decided upon but who would be the groom and who the best man was a matter of a great deal of ribald conjecture. Ted reported that they, whoever they were, were to have a huge white marquee on the lawn of the of the tennis club. He fixed me with a sudden stare and said, "I once went into a navy blue marquee mounted on the grass. It was surprisingly effective, refreshingly shady." Even better, in his opinion, than plain white. In her haste to ridicule such a preposterous notion his wife totally missed how he maintained unwavering eye contact with me throughout this little speech.

I made Ted wait till Wednesday before I commenced trimming the hedge. I wore an old grey skirt that was a little too short and a lot too tight for me now, a new pair voluminous navy blue knickers and a blouse secretly rigged to lose a button at a strategic moment. Monday it rained all day so no show that day. Still it gave me an excuse to visit the local John Lewis and, amongst other things, purchase ten pairs of white cotton knickers, or shorts as they liked to call them and a tub of navy blue dye.

By the time I retired to bed that night hanging up to dry were ten pairs of navy blue knickers each of which now sported a little lace trim around the legs and a neat blue bow at the front of the waist band.

Tuesday I made up for Monday's washout. I bought a new exercise step, well new to me. I spotted it a Charity Shop, it was perfect with adjustable feet things you could fit on. I made it good and high and placed it behind the bike. I also set up the video camera on an old tripod of Arther's and played with the remote control. Ted was in for his best show ever and I wanted to record the consequences.

Once I had done my twenty minutes of furious pedalling I cast off my bra and knickers and, as usual, disappeared in a manner that just prevented Ted from seeing anything more than he had already. Then I returned, naked and performed twenty step ups. For the very first time I gave Ted a clear view of my hairy bush.

He was standing further back today trying to keep out of sight. The attic, however, caught the afternoon sun and my view was far better than he could guess. Anyway he dropped his binoculars, he dropped his shorts and he jerked his tool furiously. I had him, he had not restrained himself even though he now knew that I knew. After he had spurted I did a little pirouette on my stage. When my back was to him a I bent forwards a little to give him a clear view of my well rounded rump. Then I faced the front once more and waggled the fingers of my left hand at him demurely, grinning all the while. My right hand was busy with a remote control which I hoped he had not noticed. What I was glad about was that he did not see me fall flat on my face a minute later when my poor aching calves finally cramped.

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