Madison's Rugby Team

It had been a long hot day, but it cooled off after dark, so I opened my bedroom window to the breeze. In the morning, I awoke to the sound of trudging footsteps and deep voiced grumbled, "no coffee yet... too early... it's a hot one... still hung over...". Half asleep, I deduced it must be the rugby team that sometimes practiced in the city park behind my house. There is no dedicated place for cars, so visitors leave them along the street in front of my house. They follow an unofficial but well worn footpath between houses to get to the practice field. I took a quick inventory of the situation and decided not to give up on sleep. I wore only my typical summer t-shirt and panties, but I was under a sheet. Sure, the burly men could see me through the open window. Some slowed their steps in passing. I ignored them and tried to wander back to my dream.

I was in a communal shower surrounded by naked men. I was soaping them up one by one - making them bend forward so I might check behind their ears for dirt - then I awoke again to distant whistle blowing and garbled shouts. The practice must still be going. I was aroused from my dream and hot under the sheet, so I kicked the sheet onto the floor. Eyes closed, I imagined naked ruby men roughhousing in a shower while I observed as if invisible amongst them. I absentmindedly caressed my tummy along the elastic of my panties and then my inner thighs. Without consciously deciding, I had initiated my standard prelude to masturbation.

I thought, "Why not have a play? It's been a while since I've been this horny. I'll hear when the practice ends. Nobody will sneak up on me."

Feather light caresses along my thighs enticed my legs apart. Fingertips drew circles on my panties above my pleasure center. My other hand slid under the shirt to cup a breast. It felt good. I knew I could probably cum if I continued. I thought, "I will stop moving my finger if I hear them approaching. I'll pretend to sleep. Even if the whole team saunters past my window right now, all they'll see is a sleeping woman just like this morning. Having a hand under my shirt doesn't mean anything. My fingers might innocently rest above my vulva in my sleep."

I was self aware enough to realize the early stages of panting could be attributed to the possibility of being observed by the rugby team. I pinched a nipple. I seldom do that. It didn't feel good as much as it felt naughty. The circles over my clitoris gained urgency. "It's hot," I thought, so I pushed my shirt up to expose one breast. "I'll hear anyone approaching. It will be a simple thing to pull the shirt back down for modesty. Even if I don't, I'll pretend to be asleep. My shirt could have ridden up in my sleep. So what if those men see one breast?" So what - indeed. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

I continued to build my pleasure while part of my mind monitored the distant proceedings on the playing field. I hadn't heard a whistle in a while, but voices still carried from far away. My brain was in a groove thinking about those men pausing by my window and glancing down at my exposed breast. They'd be an arms length away. If not for the screen, one might reach inside to cup my breast. "I will stop moving my finger, of course. I will appear to be a modest woman sleeping late on a Saturday morning. It's just a breast," I thought.

I noticed that both my breasts were exposed. My hand was under my panties, and I was very wet. "One breast exposed could happen innocently. A shirt can ride up while sleeping. Both breasts exposed is suspicious, and a hand under my panties is lewd," I admonished myself, "I can withdraw the hand and pull down my shirt if I hear approaching steps. This really isn't any different than before. Maybe I'll even leave one breast exposed." I shivered.

I could hear my own lubrication slurping as my finger dipped between my lips. I avoided direct contact with the live wire. I wanted to savor this level of carnal excitement. It had been a long time since I was this worked up. "Don't touch the clit! I'll come too soon," my inner voice chastised.

I was sweating not entirely from the heat of morning. The tiny hairs on my arms and sides waved erect and oversensitive to the slightest breeze through the window. I pulled the shirt completely off. "Women sleep topless when it's hot," I told myself. "When I hear them coming, I'll roll onto my stomach. All they'll see is my back. Or maybe I won't. It's kind of exciting to let them see."

I could barely concentrate on anything other than a mantra, "I won't touch my clitoris yet." I wanted the sensation to build even more.

I hadn't heard any voices for a while. Practice was probably over, but there were no footsteps along the path. I still had time. "What if they see my orgasm face?" Where did that thought come from? "That's exciting! Isn't it? How many players are there? Would it double, triple... hell, it could be twenty times the number of people who have seen me orgasm before."

My urge to climax started to subside. Part of me was frightened to imagine witnesses to my most private moment. I reassured myself, "Nothing has changed. When I hear them, I'll roll over. Even if I cum as they pass the window, they'll never know. I'm just a sleeping woman - A topless sleeping woman. But they'll only see my back and my panties."

By then, I was subvocalizing grunts as well as hyperventilating. Irrationally frustrated by the panties restricting my hand, I pushed the panties half down my thighs. "Ok, this will be hard to explain as just an innocent sleeping woman. Even if I roll onto my stomach, they'll know what I have've been doing. Panties out of place - out of breath - they'll know I'm masturbating. So what! Everyone does it! Let them know. Besides, I'll hear them approaching. I'll pull up the panties in time. Nothing has changed."

On impulse, I kicked the panties onto the floor. "What have I done? It's OK. Some women sleep nude in the heat. They'll just see an innocent sleeping woman. I'll roll onto my stomach. They'll see my naked bottom, but so what. I'm proud of my firm bottom. Let them look."

My slippery finger teased above my clitoris. I started to feel like I was in free-fall. I recognized the threshold of intense pleasure. I flipped onto my stomach and ground against my hand. I wanted release like I have never wanted anything so much before. I flopped back onto my back. I pulled my knees toward my chest and gave myself the jolt. The jolt is my favorite masturbation maneuver. I rub my clitoral hood between my index and middle fingers to stimulate both sides at once. Then I lightly tap the swollen pleasure button. When I'm this close to the edge, it pushes me over every time.

I saw stars. My vision narrowed. I couldn't catch my breath. A thrill travelled up my spine. Every muscle in my body contracted. It seemed like it would never end. I collapsed into my bed as if I had been levitating the moment prior. I closed my eyes. I listened to my heart pound. I shivered from a breeze across my splayed naked sweating spent shell of a body.

I didn't hear footsteps or talking. "They're probably still practicing," I assured myself.

I awoke sometime after noon to discover myself splayed like a damsel ravaged by a demon. My thighs were slick and slightly chapped. "Oh no! I must have slept through them passing by my window. They must have seen a sex disheveled beast sleeping with her legs spread and her pussy dripping. What have I done?" I let the thought sink in.

"So what. I'll never see them again. I did nothing wrong. A woman can sleep nude in her own bed if she wants. If they peeped in my window, it's on them. How many of them?" I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I waddled to the shower and rinsed the sheen of energetic sex from my flesh. As I hunched, eyes closed, cool water cascading over my face, a moment of clarity hit like a bolt of lightning. "Maybe they didn't pass my window _after_ I fell asleep. I wouldn't have noticed a cavalry charge outside my window towards the end of that performance."