Full Moon Mischief

The moon was full and I was on edge.

Not a bad kind of on edge. The good kind, where your body sings with electricity. Where the world seems too slow to hold you back. Where your mind races in search of something to excite it.

The day had been endless, but quitting time finally arrived. I clocked out, waved to the late shift waitresses, and blew my boss a kiss goodbye. He blinked, blushed, blinked again, almost smiled. I laughed, tossed my hair and let the door fall shut behind me.

Full moon always filled me with mischief.

It was only a short walk home, and the early evening was warm. The city's air seemed to stroke my bare legs, tugging and teasing at my skirt like a group of naughty boys. It suited my mood. There was probably a jaunty bounce in my step and I met the gaze of several men with a bold stare of my own. Normally I'd have resented their objectifying stares, but today I resented the bra that kept my boobs from bouncing.

Upstairs in my little flat I kicked off my shoes as soon as I closed the door. My fingers almost tore at the buttons of my uniform and I shrugged out of it just as I stepped into the bathroom. A shower, brush my teeth, feel clean after twelve hours of waiting tables.

My knickers fell to the floor, and I kicked them into the corner as I undid my bra. Even in my mid-thirties this could still be tricky, particularly after a long day. I remembered teasing my first boyfriend for fumbling, one-handed, breathless, almost cumming inside his shorts with anticipation.

That memory -- and the memory of similar times, with other fumbling hands, other burning kisses -- kept me under the shower longer than I'd intended. I kept the water just the right side of freezing until my skin glowed. The day's tension washed away and disappeared down the drain. By the time I turned off the tap I was filled with the full moon's energy.

I took my time drying off. A thick fluffy towel to rub my glowing skin. A thick rosemary oil to make it shine and press the last tiredness from my muscles. A silk gown to wrap around my body while I pampered my feet, the day's hardest workers.

It was dark outside when I finally made it into the living room. The silk was soft on my skin as I flicked on the light and stepped towards the kitchen area. Open plan, with a large island that held the sink and work space. The fridge yielded a cold bottle of wine. There was a salad, too, but I'd eaten at work. Besides, with the mood I was in, I wanted to feel a buzz.

The high windows covered almost the entire front wall. The lights and sounds from the street outside were muted by distance and the night's warmth. The windows opposite were dark, just as they had been since I moved in, almost two years ago.

With my bottle and a large glass -- designed for pinot noir, not the Spanish cornershop rosé that was all I could afford -- I nestled on the couch. It stood against the long wall, perpendicular to the windows and the kitchen. I'd fallen asleep there many a night, lulled by the sounds of the city.

Now I fluffed up the cushions, sat myself down and threw my feet up on the armrest facing the windows. Wine splashed in my glass, then I placed the bottle on the floor beside me. Water was beading on the glass, but I didn't really care. Not tonight.

The robe slipped down to leave my legs bare. I didn't bother to straighten it. There was nobody to see me, and besides...

Besides, it was a time to be naked, with my window open and the night's warmth enveloping me. I wanted it to glide over the oiled skin of my legs and tease me like a lover would. I wanted to come alive on the outside like I was on the inside.

I sipped my wine and ran my other hand lightly over the inside of my thigh. It felt as warm and smooth as the silk of my robe. I could enjoy the touch of a lover, but sometimes I could revel in feeling myself. Love your body, they tell you, and on nights like this I adored it.

It was such a delightful sensation, feeling my fingertips on my legs, feeling my legs through my fingertips. Lover and beloved at once. Worshipper and worshipped. Teaser and teased.

It didn't take long for the thrill to crawl up my thighs and nestle in between. I hadn't bothered with knickers after my shower. Why should I?

Out of habit I glanced out of the window to the blackness across the street. None of the other flats could see inside, and there was never anybody there to watch.

I'd often thought it was a shame. With a close neighbour you could create a bond. There wasn't much more than fifteen feet separating the windows, and we'd almost be sharing each other's lives.

Would I still wander around my flat in my underwear? Would I cross the hall naked from my bedroom to the toilet? Would I lie here on the sofa with my legs bare and my hand not quite touching my folds?

And who would my neighbour be? Would they be shocked? Shy? Casual? Would they share my lack of concern about clothes? Would I enjoy watching them? Would we engage in a long, slow flirt, teasing each other with glimpses of nudity until all the walls came crumbling down?

I had a vision of standing before my window, one hand against the glass, the other rubbing frantically between my legs. Across the way a shadowy figure -- I couldn't give them face or form -- did the same. Together we grunted and gasped our way to orgasm, then exchanged smiles and waves and went about our business.

My wine glass was half empty by now, and the faintest fuzziness in my head matched the warmth gathering in my body. I knew that if I ran my fingers between my folds, from my entrance to my button, they'd come away sticky.

I didn't, though. Not yet. I reached down for the bottle and sat up to refill my glass. As I made myself comfortable again, something caught my eye across the street. Something, but nothing. Something that you only see when you're not looking, like a faint star at night, or a bird hidden in the foliage of a tree.

It was just my imagination, I told myself. My fantasy willing phantasms into life. There was nobody and nothing across the street. Nobody who could have moved and been noticed. Nobody watching me.

And yet I didn't believe it. I'd seen the movement. It wasn't just my full moon mind.

And if there was someone there, and they didn't know I knew... Oh yes, this could be something to enjoy. Something to draw out for the greatest possible excitement.

I took another sip from my glass and swung my legs down onto the floor. The robe had ridden up all the way to my arse, and it was loose at the front to expose the insides of my breasts.

Placing the glass on the floor next to the bottle, I stood and stretched. Not facing the window. I didn't want to give my secret watcher too much just yet.

I turned and took the few steps around the kitchen island to reach my fridge. With the door open, I leaned forward and let my robe fall all the way open. There wasn't a chance that my watcher wouldn't notice. Even if they couldn't see anything, they could anticipate what was to come.

There was a tub of Greek yoghurt that was only a few days past the best-before date. I took it and grabbed a spoon from the drying rack before turning back to the window. With my robe not quite open I wandered through the living room, spooning yoghurt from the plastic tub into my mouth.

It wasn't the best combination with the rosé, but that didn't matter. I did my best to lick the spoon clean slowly, like my tongue was caressing a lover's skin. It felt cheesy, like something from a romcom, but it was fun.

Then, with some careful coordination, I managed to let a dollop of yoghurt slip from the spoon. It landed on the skin between my breasts, a drop the size of my thumb. Quickly placing the tub and spoon on the island by the sink, I scooped the thick white stuff from my skin and brought my fingers to my lips.

I made more of a show of it than I thought possible. My tongue licked out to snap up the yoghurt, then I pressed my fingers against my lips and licked them clean. Slow, deliberate, sensual.

If it had been me hiding in the darkness across the street, I'd have whimpered.

But I wasn't done. I brushed my thumb over the material of my robe, an annoyed look on my face. As if some of the yoghurt had landed on the silk. Another rub, another frown, then I turned and undid the belt holding my gown closed.

By the time I was by the sink I'd shrugged out of it entirely. My naked back and arse were in full view of the window. On another day I might be worried about being on display for a complete stranger. I might worry that my thighs were too thick, or about the dimple in my right arse cheek, or about not being some rake-thin mannequin.

But tonight was the full moon and I knew I looked good. My legs were muscled from years as a waitress, but there was enough softness about them to be enticing. My arse might not look like it was photoshopped, but it was plump and firm in equal measure. And who wanted to be skinny anyway?

I made a show of dabbing at the robe, then draped it over the top of the island. Then back to the sink. Not because I really needed to wash and dry my hands, but because my unknown watcher was probably gnawing at their lip, hoping to see more. More of the same, and more.

Now, what would my watcher expect me to do? It didn't take me long to decide. I kept a tablet down the side of the couch. It was my key to an infinite treasure, to endless fantasies and dreams and enjoyment.

I took the few steps to the couch. Naked, with everything on display. Full frontal. My thighs, my breasts, the soft curve of my belly, the neatly trimmed hairs below that vanished between my legs.

This time when I lay down, it was with my back to the window. I made sure my wine glass was within easy reach, then dug out the tablet and switched it on.

Once I was on the site I wanted, I angled the screen so that it would be visible from across the street. I'd chosen a video of a woman masturbating. Standing upright, holding a toy between her legs.

That wasn't how it started, of course. I didn't want to give too much away to my hidden watcher. But it was clear where it was heading. I put my feet up on the far armrest, propped the tablet on the sofa's back, and rested my free hand on my mound.

It was one of my favourite clips. Only eight minutes, but I always managed to put myself in the actress's position. I'd tried it often enough, without an audience.

I let my fingers play with my folds, teasing them with small motions. Every so often a shiver ran through me. My watcher couldn't miss what was happening.

The soft scent of my arousal filled the room. Warm and sweet, combining with the rosemary and then overpowering it. My scent, all me.

The sounds of my fingers joined in. Louder than the volume of the clip on my tablet. Not loud enough to be heard across the street, not over the noise of the city, not with the opposite window closed. But I enjoyed hearing it.

It told me I was ready for the next step. I groped behind the cushions again, and this time I withdrew Disco.

Disco was my favourite toy. A thick vibrator shaped like an abstract cock, with a clit teaser curving up at the front. It could vibrate at four different speeds. The reason why I called it Disco was that the greenish silicone it was made from sparkled with a colourful glitter.

Swinging my legs down onto the floor, not quite wobbling from the wine, I stepped over to the island, Disco in my hand. I could imagine my unseen watcher filling with disappointment, supposing that I was going somewhere more private. But the full moon's mischief still filled me.

With my back to the window, I leaned one hand on the counter top. Formica, because I'd never be able to afford somewhere with a granite top. But Formica was more comfortable now anyway.

Disco's head glided over my folds, pressing up against my clit. Once, twice, then I let it slide lower and angled it towards my entrance. Not pressing it inside just yet. Just anticipating. Just drawing out the moment.

When I could feel myself almost squirming I brought Disco up. Just inside me. Just the tip. I felt myself stretching to accommodate it, that delicious sensation of being entered. I held it there, letting myself savour every moment for as long as I could.

Then slowly, oh so slowly, I pushed the toy up further. Just an inch, perhaps less. It felt like a foot. My breath escaped from between my lips in a low moan. It sounded like a wild animal.

Time to draw Disco out. All the way, until the tip was in my folds again. Rub it along them again, then up inside me in one smooth motion. It filled me once more, made me complete, like there was a hole inside me. I pressed it up a little further this time before pulling it out and repeating the action.

A little faster, a little further. Each time I felt myself stretching to welcome the silicone cock, until almost its entire length was inside me. The clit teaser protruding from the front rested between my folds. I could feel it brushing against my clit.

I held it there for a long moment, again anticipating what was to come. Then my thumb found the button that started the vibration.

This time my cry might have been audible to my watcher. It tore from my lips like a demon escaping from its prison. The vibrations were like electric shocks grasping at me, spreading up my spine to the base of my skull, down my legs into my toes.

My body sank against the toy. I pressed my forearm onto the Formica before me. My hair was hanging on either side of my face. I was biting on my lip, trying to stop the moans from escaping, as if keeping them inside would help the pleasure to build higher.

I raised myself onto my toes, feeling the muscles along the back of my thighs stretch. The toy retreated, then pressed further inside me again. The teaser stayed where it was, thanks to hours of practice.

In and out, slowly at first then faster, faster, deeper, harder. My forehead was resting on my hand, my hair stuck to my face. I'd stopped moaning. All I could do was gasp and suck in air with my eyes squeezed shut. I could feel the pressure build inside me, wanting to grow, wanting to consume me.

I fed it with Disco. Flicked the speed button, and again. Each pump fanned the flames higher. Shivers ran down my thighs as the tension sought to escape. I held onto it, desperate for it not to get away, not yet, not until I was ready.

And then I was ready. I could feel the moment when my climax became undeniable. I forced the silicone cock inside me again, drew it out, then pressed it back in hard, and the pleasure took over. It swept through me, like the pleasure I'd felt before but infinitely more, a spark turned into a lightning bolt, and it burned through me again, and again, but slightly less this time, and then even gentler, until I drew Disco from inside me with a hand that shook so badly that fresh jolts of pleasure shot through me.

For a long time I stayed where I was. Face on the work bench, arse up in the air, toy glistening in one hand. I fumbled with my thumb until I found the button that switched it off, and the only sound was my rasping breath.

I wondered whether my watcher had timed their climax to match mine. I thought about looking over my shoulder to see whether I could catch another glimpse of them, then decided against it. Play it straight. If this was going to become a regular thing, it would be better this way.

Heaving myself upright, I shook my hair back. Pushed away the strands that my sweat had stuck to my face. The tiredness in my body was a good one now. My muscles felt more relaxed even than after my shower. My mind was calmer too. The full moon was satisfied with my mischief.

My legs were still shaking as I held Disco under the tap and rinsed it off. Then I wrapped it in the robe that was still lying there and turned round, facing the window. No shame, no embarrassment about what I'd done. This was my body -- flushed skin, swollen breasts and nipples, the stickiness in the hairs on my mound. This was me.

A glance around the room reminded me of my half-full wine glass. I reached it in a few steps, robe still in my hand, then bent down and tossed the rosé back as I rose.

Still naked, I walked past the island, placed the glass on top, then turned off the light and stepped into the hall.