The Man Who Fixed My Router

I was home alone.

My husband had left for work early, and the internet technician was supposed to arrive between twelve and two.

I stood in front of the wardrobe for a long time. Then I finally chose a short light chemise made of thin cotton -- the same sheer one with small holes. The length barely reached mid-thigh. I put nothing on underneath. Even at home, when no one is around, I almost never wear underwear anymore. And today... today I somehow wanted to leave everything as it was.

The doorbell rang exactly at 12:40.

I opened the door. On the threshold stood a man of about thirty-five -- athletic-looking, in a simple T-shirt and jeans, with a bag over his shoulder. He smiled politely.

"Good afternoon. About the router and internet setup."

"Yes, come in," I said and stepped aside.

He walked past me. I felt his gaze slide down for a second -- over my legs, over the edge of the chemise. I pretended not to notice.

We went into the room where the router was. I showed him the desk and the outlets. When I bent down to take the old power supply from the lower shelf, the chemise rode up strongly at the back. Cold air touched my buttocks. I lingered a moment longer than necessary, then slowly straightened up.

He was already on one knee by the cabinet, connecting the cables. But I saw that he had managed to look.

I sat on the edge of the sofa opposite him and crossed one leg over the other. The fabric immediately sank deep between my thighs. Through the thin cotton it was clearly visible that there was nothing under the chemise. My nipples, from the coolness and from tension, had already hardened and were distinctly showing.

The technician worked, but his gaze kept rising periodically. At first briefly, almost accidentally. Then longer and longer. He could see both my breasts and the way the fabric outlined me below.

Heat gathered between my legs.

I changed my pose a little -- put both feet on the floor and slightly parted my knees. The chemise stretched tight. Now, if he looked carefully, he could even notice the contours of my lips.

He swallowed and bent over the router again.

"I'll check the signal now," he said, his voice a little lower than before.

I stood up and came closer, as if I wanted to look at the indicators. I stood next to him, almost right against him. The chemise was at the level of his eyes while he was crouching. I deliberately turned a little to the side. The fabric shifted.

He raised his head. Our eyes met. I didn't look away. Neither did he.

For a few seconds we simply looked at each other. Then I said quietly:

"Does it bother you that I walk around the house like this?"

He slowly exhaled.

"No... it doesn't bother me at all."

I smiled slightly and went back to the sofa. But this time I sat differently -- more openly. One leg pulled up, the skirt of the chemise completely slipped off my thigh. I could see him looking. And I liked it.

The work took another twenty minutes or so. The whole time I sat in such a way that he had something to look at. Sometimes I got up to "check" whether the internet was working on my phone and walked past him closely. Once I deliberately bent over the cabinet next to him. The chemise rode up completely. I felt his gaze on my buttocks like a touch.

When he finished, he stood up and began collecting his tools. In his jeans a hard-on was already clearly visible. He tried to stay calm, but his breathing was heavy.

"All done," he said. "The internet is working, the router is set up."

"Thank you," I answered without getting up. "You've been a great help."

He nodded but didn't move toward the exit. He was looking at me. At my bare thighs, at my protruding nipples, at the way the fabric had sunk deep between my legs.

I slowly spread my knees a little wider.

"Do you need anything else?" I asked quietly.

He was silent for a few seconds. Then he said hoarsely:

"To be honest... yes."

I didn't answer with words. I simply leaned back against the sofa and spread my legs a little more. The chemise completely exposed me.

He put his bag on the floor.

And took a step toward me.

He put his bag on the floor and took a step toward me.

I didn't close my legs. On the contrary -- I spread my thighs a little wider so that the thin chemise finally slipped away. Now he could see everything. Absolutely everything. The light, already wet lips, the clitoris, even a slight gleam of moisture.

The technician stood and stared. Breathing heavily. In his jeans it was clearly straining.

"Can I... just look?" he asked hoarsely.

I nodded.

He slowly lowered himself into a crouch right in front of me. He placed his hands on his own knees, as if afraid to touch me. He looked greedily and intently. I felt his gaze like a touch. I liked it. I liked sitting completely open in front of a strange man and watching him lose his composure.

I slid a little lower on the sofa to make it more convenient for him. The chemise was now only on my chest. I slightly lifted its edge and held it so it wouldn't get in the way.

"Better like this?" I asked quietly.

He only nodded, not taking his eyes away.

I slowly ran my hand over my stomach, went lower, and with two fingers spread my lips. I showed him everything up close. The pink, wet entrance. He quietly swore through his teeth.

I kept myself open for a while longer, letting him look. Then I took my hand away, but didn't close my legs.

He never touched me. He only looked. For a long time. Greedily. Sometimes he raised his eyes to my face, as if checking whether he was still allowed. Each time I silently gave permission with my gaze.

At one point I turned a little to the side, bent one leg and pulled it toward my chest. Now he could see a different angle -- the buttock, the anus, everything in between. I heard him swallow hard.

About ten minutes passed. Maybe fifteen. He was still crouching in front of me, and I was still sitting spread open.

Finally I said quietly:

"You probably need to go."

He nodded slowly, but didn't get up right away. He looked for a few more seconds, memorizing. Then he rose heavily. In his jeans there was a strong erection that he didn't even particularly try to hide.

He picked up his bag, put on his shoes in the hallway. At the door he turned around.

"Thank you... for showing me," he said in a hoarse voice.

I stood in the chemise that again barely covered me, and smiled slightly.

"You're welcome. Have a good day at work."

He nodded and left. The door closed.

I remained alone in the middle of the room. My heart was still pounding. Between my legs it was wet and hot. I slowly ran my fingers over myself and realized that I could come very easily right now.

But I didn't.

I simply walked to the window, slightly lifted the chemise, and stood like that, looking out at the street, still feeling his gaze on me.

It was enough for me.

I had simply shown myself again.

And that was enough.