Are You Staring at My Ass? Ch. 01

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“Are you staring at my ass?”

I was sitting in my friend Charlotte’s tiny kitchen while she made us a meal. Charlotte has possibly the nicest behind I have ever seen. Someone who is as tall and skinny as Charlotte has no right to have such rounded and firm posterior. But she does, and I was staring at it. Clearly this had not been the first time that I had stared at her ass, I had been surreptitiously staring quite happily for the five years we had been friends without any problem; only this time I was well and truly busted.

To fill you in on some back-story, I had met Charlotte when we both pitched up at the same company in London, new to the city. We both worked in finance and shared similar views on our co-workers, senior management and the importance of post-work drinking. Unusually our friendship had continued even after we had both left the company. Friendship at work often tends to fade away when what you have in common is no longer there. Charlotte and I stayed in touch and our relationship continued.

I had always found Charlotte attractive, but she had been married ever since I had known her which meant there was never anything sexual in our relationship. If she had been single, I would have probably tried to pursue her and where that would have ended up who knows, but I doubt we would still be friends. That had not stopped me enjoying her body over the years. Charlotte was tall, almost 6 feet, skinny without much in the chest department. She had often wistfully mentioned how you always wish for what you don’t have, which I had taken to meaning, crudely, bigger tits. Whereas some skinny girls are straight up and straight down, Charlotte had a world-class feature. Her ass was perfectly proportioned, plump and round. On a bigger girl it might have run to chubbiness but on her model frame it was perfect.

Back to the present. I suppose it had to happen, the law of averages suggests that if you stare at something often enough and for long enough, the person who owns the thing you are staring at is probably going to notice. I was normally so careful, Charlotte was in the middle of a lengthy work anecdote. While the story was amusing enough, it was no match for the sight of Charlotte’s ass stretching against her tight jeans as she alternatively reached up to shelves then bent down to cupboards while preparing the meal. At one point as she bent to retrieve a colander from a low cupboard I was presented with a detailed outline of her pussy. A better man than me might have been able to ogle and simultaneously maintain a conversation but I failed. I zoned out of the conversation and focused on Charlotte.

“Greg,” She asked as she turned to face me, “Are you even listening to me? And are you staring at my ass?”

The first question was posed in a slightly exasperated tone of voice, the second with amused surprise in her voice. Charlotte was hot, of that there was no doubt, but also warm and kind, loved cooking and had a wicked sense of humour. And as I mentioned she was also married. I was happy to be her friend but there had never been any form of flirting between us; Charlotte was not really the flirty type. She was not so naïve as to be unaware of her overall attractiveness but while she dressed fashionably in a way that complimented her slender figure, (with the amazing ass let’s not forget) she did not dress in an overtly sexy way.

So, she wasn’t making a meal with the intention of giving me a show. I think this was why she was so surprised when she turned around and caught me thinking about how I was almost close enough to reach out and squeeze one of her rounded cheeks. I had always thought she overestimated how nice I was and felt she didn’t have to worry about that sort of thing around me. Well, she clearly overestimated me and probably 99% of other men as well. Other men weren’t sitting busted in her kitchen though, just me.

Ah well, I had a good run. That’s the friendship over, I just hope she doesn’t tell all our mutual friends, so I look like a disgusting pervert who’s not to be trusted.

While it felt these thoughts had been whizzing through my head at 90 miles an hour, in the real world an awkward silence had developed. Charlotte was looking at me awaiting a response, her cheeks had become flushed, with surprise or righteous indignation.

What could I say, what can you say in such a situation? I suppose I could have lied and claimed not to know what she meant. I could have tried a reverse-indignation and claimed to be mortally offended that she could even dare to think I would be such a bastard and do such a thing. Instead I went bright red and looked at the floor.

“What can I say?” I said eventually. “You caught me. You’ve got a world-class ass and you are moving around in a tight space in my favourite jeans that you wear, and it was right in front of me.”

Charlotte looked me in the face as she processed this information.

“You have favourite jeans that I wear?” she asked me with a raised eyebrow.

I acıbadem escort had somehow managed to compound the initial error of being caught and made the situation worse by looking like a dirty stalker.

“That is new information.”

A bad situation was getting worse, caught ogling a married friend who then responded as though it hadn’t even occurred to her that I even had a dick.

“Look, I should go.” I said, and I stood up.

I was sweating and my face remained a fierce red. Leaving was awkward as I had been supposed to stay in Charlotte’s spare room that night and I was still bloody hungry. Charlotte’s food was as tasty as her ass. Some people are just good at everything.

Charlotte watched me get out the chair and make for the door. The tiny kitchen meant that in dismounting the chair I had to brush past her as there was barely room for two. My arm touched her, and it felt like her flesh was burning hot.

“Wait,” she said eventually when my discomfort had reached its maximum level. I kept going, desperate to get out of the tiny, hot room.

“Come on Greg. Wait. Stop being so silly,” she said laughing at me.

I suppose laughter was better than anger, but it didn’t make me feel much better.

“Seriously, sit back down, you’re being an idiot.” Charlotte placed her hands on my shoulders and manoeuvred me back onto the chair.

At that moment the pasta that had been boiling merrily away through all the awkwardness started to boil over.

“I need to get that before it’s overcooked,” said Charlotte draining the contents into the colander.

Charlotte took immense pride in her cooking; pasta going soft would have irritated her, so I shut up and let her get on with it. Of course, in the process of finishing the meal she once again had to turn around, so I was presented once her again with her posterior encased in her tight jeans. It felt stupid to stare at the ground to I tried to stare at her back. She then reached up to get the pepper grinder and in the process her top rode up, exposing about 5cm of skin above the waistband of her jeans. My God, the temptation to lean forward and lick the soft exposed skin. I could feel a stirring in my jeans. Probably not really the time you asshole I thought.

Charlotte had cooked a pasta dish with home-made pesto and always it was delicious. As always, I complemented her on the food, and she looked proud at the compliment. I tried not to bolt it down and eat normally while waiting for the inevitable discussion about the elephant in the room. I just about managed but drank three glasses of wine, to Charlotte’s one. We took the plates through to the kitchen and returned to the lounge while Charlotte rolled a joint. Despite working in finance and not drinking much, Charlotte did enjoy smoking weed, which would probably have surprised her colleagues. People underestimated her deviant side, including me as I was to discover.

I silently watched Charlotte busy herself with the joint-rolling. Finally, after an over-elaborate process, which created a visually perfect joint exhibiting the high level of craftmanship Charlotte put into everything she sparked up and took a long drag.

“So,” she said exhaling a cloud of smoke in my direction.

“You like staring at my ass then? Interesting.” She paused to take another deep pull.

“I never had you pegged as a naughty pervert. This has been going on for how long?”

Her manner was amused not aggressive. Charlotte continued puffing away on the joint while brushing her shoulder length blonde hair behind her ears with her free hand.

“Well to be clear.” I began, not sure where I was going but pleased to still be in the room. “You’ve always had a nice ass, so I’ve been staring at it as long as I’ve known you. But it’s not like I only like your ass, I think you’re funny and I love your food and your pretty and, look,” this wasn’t going where I was hoping. “I like hanging out with you and I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect.”

At the word “disrespect,” Charlotte, snorted with laughter.

“Disrespect!” she repeated shaking with laughter. “Come on, don’t be a pompous twat! I know you too well for that.” After some delay she eventually calmed down wiping tears from her eyes. “Pass me the ashtray. I meant no disrespect! Oh, my days!”

“Have you finished having fun at my expense?” I said getting annoyed. Clearly, I was in the wrong but there were limits to my patience. “Can you stop fucking around with me? Please?”

“OK,” said Charlotte finally still chuckling away to herself, the dope probably not helping. “You’ve been looking at my ass and I caught you staring. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I’m sorry,” I began, but Charlotte cut me off. “You don’t know everything about me you know,” she said, “You don’t know everything about what I might like.” She took a long drag on the joint and turned to face me. “You want to stare at my ass you can if you like, It’s fine.”

I wasn’t atalar escort expecting that. “Isn’t that going to be a bit awkward?” I said rather lamely. You’ve almost gotten away with this I thought, don’t ruin it now.

“Why?” asked Charlotte, “Was it awkward when I didn’t know? If you like staring at my ass and I have no objections, then I don’t see a problem.”

Charlotte then stood up to take the empty plates through to the kitchen. She made a deliberate move in front of me and slowly bent down to pick up the plates.

“Is this what you like?” She asked, as the fabric of her jeans stretched across the two rounded cheeks of her ass. At the junction of her legs I could see the outline of her lips. My mouth was dry. “A girl bending over in front of you here, least you could do is give some feedback,” Charlotte said taking the plates through.

“Yes,” I replied. I need to pick up my conversation game here, I thought. “That’s exactly what I like.”

“What else do you like? Don’t go all shy on my now you’ve been rumbled”

In for a penny I thought.

“Well, I like it when you reach up to put the glasses away. Your top lifts up and you get a few centimetres of skin which frames your ass beautifully.” The cat was out the bag.

“Like this?” Charlotte said as she stretched upwards just a pace or two away from me.

“Like that.” I replied.

“And you like it when the jeans go tight and stretched against my skin do you?” Charlotte said pulling her jeans taut, revealing the outline of what looked like bikini panties.

“When you do that, I start to wander what sort of knickers you are wearing.” I said.

“Does it turn you on?”

“Well yes,” I said, “It obviously does.”

“Obviously in that it makes your dick hard?” asked Charlotte. “Is your dick hard now?”

“Well I’m not walking around with a permanent hard on if that’s what you mean, I have some self-control.”

“Ok, obviously in that you’ll think about it having a wank when you go to bed tonight then?”

“Possibly,” I said, “Look I find looking at you arousing, if that what you’re looking for. I find you an arousing person.” I was red again.

“Well who would have thought.” said Charlotte “I make Greg’s dick go hard. And to think I might never have known if I hadn’t caught you. That would have been a shame. Now I can go to bed knowing what you’ll be thinking about.”

The conversation turned to other matters and it didn’t feel anything like as weird as I thought it would be. Considering it was a weeknight we ended up getting pretty stoned, maybe to relieve the tension. Charlotte continued to move unselfconsciously around the room and I unselfconsciously continued to stare at her ass.

Eventually it was time to turn in, Charlotte went off to her room and I took the spare room. At this point it’s probably worth mentioning that her husband Paul, a man who I had always liked was working away. It didn’t occur to me to suggest that I joined Charlotte, I was a bit far gone by that stage anyway, but it seemed natural that I would go to the spare room and she would go to her room.

I was asleep within seconds, the wine and weed was a soporific combination. The alarm sounded at 7:30 and I awoke feeling relatively OK considering the previous night’s intake. Then a wave of embarrassment washed over me as I remembered the previous night. I remained in the spare room under the duvet as I considered my next move. Would it be possible to leave the house without bumping into Charlotte?

As I was mulling my options, I heard the shower running then being turned off. The door opened, and Charlotte poked her head round the door.

“Shower’s free.” she said. I could see the top of her shoulder was bare and I presumed she had a towel wrapped around her, although from where I was lying it was possible she was naked.

“How’s the head?” Charlotte enquired, making no move to leave the doorway.

“Fine,” I said. “My head is fine.”

“Come with me and I’ll get you a towel,” Charlotte said, although still not moving. “Come on, get out the bed. Unless you are naked. You’re not naked, are you? Then I’d get to see your dick all hard having been thinking about my ass all night.” Charlotte seemed to find this comment hilariously funny. I had not dreamt the previous night.

Seeing as nothing was going to happen until I moved, I got out of the bed.

“Disappointing, a t-shirt and boxer shirts,” observed Charlotte with a smirk. Having risen from the bed I could see Charlotte was indeed wrapped in a towel, which ended just below the curve of ass. She opened a cupboard in the hallway and reached up to extract a towel from the top shelf. Her towel rose slightly, not enough to reveal any cheek, but with absolutely no margin for error; the effect was so exact that I wondered if she had been practicing.

“You know how the shower works,” she said rhetorically and turned walking away towards the bedroom, her ass sashaying in aydınlı escort the towel as she went. “Don’t worry.” She called back over her shoulder, “You’ll get another ass-look before we leave the house.” Last night’s exchange had felt like something of a dream in the cold light of day. With bright sunlight pouring in through the windows the morning felt very different and the impact of seeing Charlotte’s bare, long and shapely legs and her body wrapped in a towel sent a rush of blood into my groin. I scurried into the bathroom and quickly jumped in the shower.

I resisted the urge to relive the tension in the shower although thinking of Charlotte standing naked, in the same space just moments before maintained my arousal throughout. I clambered awkwardly out the shower and facing the sink began drying myself off. As I was bending forwards drying my legs, I felt a breeze of slightly colder air on my skin. Charlotte’s bathroom had no lock. As a married couple with only two of them living in the house I guess they probably never bothered. The colder air meant that Charlotte had entered the room.

“Hurry up!” she said, “We need to leave soon.” Before I could gather any form of modesty, I felt a sharp crack as Charlotte directed a well-aimed and extremely hard spank across my right buttock. “Ha, now I’m staring at your ass,” she said laughing away. “And it seems half of your ass has gone bright red!” I gathered the towel around me.

“Charlotte, what the fuck?” I said pretending to be annoyed although not really sounding it. The small towel was not doing anything to hide the fact that my state of low-grade semi-arousal had instantly become a state of high-grade steel erection the second that Charlotte’s hand had spanked me.

“I’m sorry!” Charlotte said, continuing to find herself incredibly amusing. “That came out a bit harder than I was planning. Still,” she said glancing down the protrusion beneath my towel. “Maybe it wasn’t hard enough. I think I’d better even it up though.”

“That bloody hurt!” I said, trying to maintain my righteous indignation.

“What a load of bollocks.” said Charlotte “You’ve been thinking about my ass all night, touching your dick. I need some payback.”

I turned to face Charlotte, although it was quite difficult turning around maintaining some dignity with a small towel and a raging hard-on. Charlotte was dressed in a grey pencil skirt, tights and a white blouse. She looked amazing.

“You like my outfit?”

“You like nice.” I said.

“Nice?” replied Charlotte. “Not hot?”

“Hot but office appropriate.”

“How does my ass look in this skirt?” Charlotte said as she turned around to present her bottom at me. “You are the expert after all.”

“Your ass looks good.” I said, “Your ass always looks good.”

“What are you thinking about when you look at me?” Asked Charlotte. “Be honest.”

“Well,” I said taking a deep breath. “I’m thinking a few things. Firstly, are you wearing tights or stockings? Secondly what sort of knickers you are wearing? And finally, what it would be like to look up your skirt. Happy?”

“Your making me blush.” laughed Charlotte. “That is very naughty indeed! To think I’ve been missing out on all these thoughts for all this time! I like your honesty. Greg wants to look up my skirt and see my pants!”

“I won’t be the only man thinking that today.” I said. “I said you were hot, don’t milk it.”

“Back to the business at hand.” said Charlotte, her voice taking on a more business-like approach. “Turn around, put your hands on the sink and drop the towel.”

I felt compelled to comply but for reasons of modesty I kept the towel over my dick. I felt foolish leaning over the sink with my ass exposed, but I also knew I would do whatever Charlotte commanded.

“Ready for this?” Charlotte asked.

Before I could reply I felt a further stinging blow to my left ass cheek. To give her credit, Charlotte could certainly put some force behind her blows.

“Couple more,” she said. “As I enjoyed those so much.” and she then delivered two further stinging blows.

“Your ass is OK too.” She said, “Obviously not as good as mine, but OK.” I rearranged the towel, but there was no hiding the shape of my erection.

“We leave in 10 minutes.” said Charlotte, all business-like as she left the bathroom. “Better get that sorry red ass ready.”

A short while later we both left the flat and we descended the stairs from Charlotte’s flat to the street exit.

“Wait a sec,” Charlotte said, “I’ve just forgotten something,” and she began climbing the stairs up to her flat.

“I hope you’re watching this?” she called over her shoulder as she slowly ascended.

I was, Charlotte’s ass swayed from side to side as she ascended the stairs the movement pressing the tight pencil skirt against her cheeks. At she got near the top of the stairs she paused.

“If someone was looking up the stairs at me now,” she called down. “They could probably see most of the way up my skirt. What do you think?”

I stood below and looked directly up. I could see most of the way up Charlotte’s skirt but not quite far enough to see the good stuff. Again, I wondered if this was a move she’d practiced before.

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