Independance Day


I needed a change in my life, but I wasn't sure what. Something to

really change my whole look as a woman.I'd fantasized about permanent jewelry

for years. The idea had grown on me from just one fantasy among many to the

point where I couldn't resist it. What the hell, I'd get it and live with

the consequences. That would be a big change in itself.


I drove up the driveway to our empty house, parked the car, and walked up

to the door. Tom was at work and the kids were away, so I had the place

to myself. As I came inside, I saw myself in the hallway mirror and

stopped to look. The gold ring around my neck was pretty, resting

lightly on my collarbone, just inside the neck opening of my T-shirt.


I looked pretty good in the mirror. Somehow, the ring around my neck

made me look at myself in a way I don't think I'd ever seen myself

before. I saw myself as almost a stranger; I saw a woman such as I'd

imagined but never dared imitate.


I liked what I saw. My T-shirt and shorts showed off my arms and legs

nicely, but something bothered me, my bra. I could see it outlined

through the fabric of the T-shirt, and even though that's how I've always

looked when I wear a T-shirt, I realized that I didn't like it. It would

be better to see bare nipples outlined through the thin fabric than to

see the marvel of engineering that is a bra.


I walked to the bedroom wondering about my bra. I was so used to the

feeling of a bra that I hadn't thought much about it. Why was I wearing

it? I was so used to it that I didn't notice the discomfort, but it

wasn't really comfortable. It was supposed to support my breasts, but my

breasts don't need supporting. They'd always been too small, even when I

breastfed the kids. I was wearing a bra because my mother had started me

wearing a bra back before my breasts started growing; I wore it because

social convention dictated that middle class housewives always wear a bra

and because I'd never wanted to be identified with the hippies and

feminists of decades ago who didn't wear bras.


In the bedroom, I took off my T-shirt and bra, then looked at myself in

the mirror and admired the gold ring around my neck once again. It

looked good against my bare flesh, far better than it had looked with my

T-shirt next to it, and it seemed natural for me to slip off the shorts

and panties I was wearing to see what I looked like posing nude.


I stood in front of the mirror, hands on bare hips, then cupped a breast

in my hand and grinned at myself. I don't think I've really taken a hard

look at my naked body since I was in junior high, and again, it was as if

I was looking at a stranger, a new woman. She looked OK. The woman I

saw had breasts that were small, but not too small, she was thin but not

skinny. I saw a woman who I suddenly realized had the potential to be

beautiful. I couldn't remember really feeling beautiful, not ever, and

it was almost a shock.


What kind of clothing should this woman wear? I wasn't sure, but the

thought struck me that she was the kind of woman who might sometimes wear

nothing at all. I was inside my own house, the kids were away for a long

weekend, I didn't expect visitors, and it did feel rather nice to feel

the warm summer air against my skin.


The phone rang as these thoughts ran through my mind, and I ran into the

living room to get it. It was a salesman trying to sell some new lawn-

care system, so I hung up quickly enough, and only then realized that the

curtains were wide open and that I was standing there by the picture

window wearing absolutely nothing.


Part of me wanted to do something about it, to close the curtains or run

for privacy, but another part asked why. What would this new woman do?

I realized that the answer was nothing. I turned to face the window and

looked outside. It was a clear day, and the view out across the valley

was spectacular. Nobody was on the lawn looking in, and the street was

empty. Even if there had been someone there, I don't think the new woman

would have cared, though. Somehow, she wasn't the type to let that kind

of thing bother her.


I sat on the couch and felt the smooth hard surface of the ring around my

neck as I looked out the window. I'd never sat on the couch in the nude

before, and the leather cushions felt cool and sensuous against my skin.

I fingered the circle of gold around my neck, and then leaned back on the

couch, overcome with what I'd done. What would Tom think?


I wanted Tom. I didn't want his approval, I wanted him, I wanted his

male body. I wanted him to touch me, to finger my new jewelry, to stroke

my body with his big hands, but he wasn't home. As I relaxed on the

couch and looked out the window and across the valley, I slid my fingers

from the gold ring around my neck down my chest.


My nipples had always been large and sensitive, decent compensation for

the small size of my breasts. As I fingered them, they hardened and sent

their signals of desire to my groin. It had been fifteen years since I'd

breastfed a child, but I'd never forget the near orgasmic pleasure of

breastfeeding. As I remembered, my other hand slid to my thigh, and then

I spread my legs, parting my lips to gently slide a fingertip into the

space between.


My world closed in until I was all nipple and clit, and then I came. I

felt the blush spreading over my body, I felt my new jewelry cool on my

skin, and I continued to stroke myself, sliding a couple of fingers into

the moist crevace between my legs. My body was eager for more, my

nipples ached to be touched, my vagina wanted to be filled, my clit

wanted to be squeezed under the base of my thumb, and I came again.


I lay there, looking blindly out the window for some time, relaxing in

the calm limbo that follows orgasm, and then I smiled. What had come

over me? What was I doing? I don't think I'd ever had two orgasms so

closely spaced, not in my life. I'd never masturbated much since my

teenage years, and even then, I'd always felt a bit guilty about it. Why

didn't it bother me now? Why wasn't I rushing to wash my hands?


My stomach grumbled, and when I glanced at the clock, I was surprised to

see that it was after one. I'd eaten an early breakfast with my family,

and I was hungry. I got up and went to the kitchen, still thinking about

what I'd done. Who was this new woman I'd found in myself? She was part

of me, that was clear, but I was acting in a way I'd never acted before.

What had come over me? Why should a gold neck ring make such a



As I sipped at a glass of milk, washing down a cream-cheese and jelly

sandwich, I continued to think about what had happened. Back when I was

in college, a good twenty years ago, I'd been pretty conservative, but

looking back, I most of it seemed like a reaction to what I saw going on

around me. The problem was that I'd let the reaction continue for far

too long. Now, it was time for me to stop reacting and start living.


While I picked up after myself in the kitchen, I wondered what to do for

the rest of the afternoon. It was awfully nice to have kids who were old

enough to take off on their own with friends; this time, they'd gone as a

group to visit a Renaissance festival. With the drought, the lawn didn't

need cutting and the weeds in the garden were dormant. There was laundry

to do, however, so I went down to the basement to start a load.


The cool basement air felt refreshing on my bare skin, and I realized

that I'd completely forgotten that I still had nothing on. Along with

the sight of some of my own clothing among the dirty laundry, that turned

my thoughts to how this new woman I'd discovered should dress. Some of

my clothes were purely practical, decent clothes to wear for work or

play, but so much of it seemed downright frumpy.


After I started the load, I wandered back up to our bedroom wondering

what had possessed me to buy some of that stuff. It wasn't pretty, it

wasn't practical, but it was the kind of clothing a middle-aged mother of

two was supposed to wear. I was half tempted to spend the afternoon

trashing my way through my wardrobe, but common sense got hold of me and

I realized that I needed to know what I really wanted to wear before I

started tossing things out.


I certainly didn't want to dress like a grown up version of my daughter

Kim; she's no Madonna wannabe, but kids her age can't escape the

influence. For that matter, I didn't want to dress like I had when I was

her age. I'd been as influenced by the silly fashion trends of that age

as anyone else, dressing because that was how you were supposed to dress

instead of dressing the way I really wanted to look.


I looked at myself in my bedroom mirror again, fingering the beautiful

gold ring around my neck, posing and trying to critically evaluate my

body and the clothing it called for. What use is clothing? It protects

from the weather, it provides a clean surface to sit on, and it can be

modest. I didn't feel particularly modest.

The laundry machine buzzed, signalling that I'd spent half-an-hour in

front of the mirror, so I went down to the basement, moved the load to

the dryer, and then went back to my thoughts about clothing. What I

wanted was something that frankly exposed what I had, and if not that,

something that didn't so much hide as draw attention to my body.


I had a few sheer blouses, the kind that's meant to be worn under a coat

or over a camisole; when I tried one on over nothing, I liked what I saw.

It was the wrong time of year for turtleneck sweaters, but I tried one on

and found that, once I pulled the neck of the sweater inside the hoop

around my neck and turned it down, it looked wonderful. The hoop looked

good resting on the red knit cloth, and without a bra on under it, the

sweater clung to me and clearly showed the shapes of my breasts and



By the time I heard the car pull into the driveway, I'd taken a bath, put

away the clean laundry, and gotten dressed. As Tom came walked up the

driveway, I walked to the door to meet him wearing a long denim skirt and

a big silk scarf.


It had taken a bit of inventing to figure out how to wear the scarf. I

tried a few ideas before I hit on the idea of pulling the scarf around

behind my back and then bringing the ends up under my armpits and loosely

clipping them to my new necklace. I used a pair of small gold hoop

earrings as clips. The scarf hung open between my breasts, and I tucked

the bottom edge into the waistband of my button-front denim skirt before

buttoning just enough buttons for minimal modesty.


I kissed Tom on the cheek as he came in, then stepped back and posed.

"Wow," he said, after a long pause. His eyes were on the shadows of my

breasts, barely visible through the almost sheer scarf, and I liked the



"Like the new necklace?" I asked.

"Yup," he said, and I could see his eyes rise to the gold ring around my

neck. "Gold?"


"The real thing," I said, and then kissed him, pulling him to me and

giving him a bearhug as I forced my tongue between his lips. He seemed

surprised, but he responded.


Tom pulled back, still hugging me. "You're acting pretty horny," he

whispered, and then knelt to kiss between my breasts. I didn't need any

foreplay, it was as if my entire day had been been foreplay. I wanted

him now, and as his lips touched the soft skin between my breasts, I knew

that I wanted to feel his lips lower on my body.


I pushed him down and away from me, and he sat down on the living room

rug, looking up at me with a puzzled look on his face. I knelt behind

him and began to massage his shoulders, and then let him lie back against

me, cradling his head on my thighs as I leaned forward over him, sliding

my fingers up and down his shirt-covered chest.

I bent down to kiss him, chin to nose as he lay in my lap, and his hands

reached up to finger my breasts through the thin scarf I wore over them.

My loins ached for his kisses, and without thinking, I spread my legs

behind his back, letting his head fall to the floor between my thighs.


If I'd planned it, I couldn't have done better. My unbuttoned skirt

spread to each side as I knelt straddling his head, and then I leaned

forward, spreading my legs farther, parting my lips as I lifted myself

over his face. Wordlessly, his hands took my hips as his lips met mine.

I felt his tongue gently touch my clit, but it wasn't enough.


I bore down on him, grinding his chin into my clit as he drove his tongue

into me. Time seemed to stretch as I knelt over him on the living room

floor, my clit and nipples were everything, my tension mounted, and then

I felt the release, the contraction deep in my groin, and I relaxed, no

longer intensely excited, but still enjoying Tom's dreamy attention.

After a while, I pulled myself off of him and smiled down at him as he

lay with his head still between my thighs. He looked stunned, and I

couldn't help but chuckle as I looked at the expression on his face. I'd

certainly given him nothing in the way of warning about what would hit

him when he came home.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" I asked, smiling down at him.


"I don't know," he said. "It's just, nothing you've done since I got

home matches anything I expect from you. I mean, that get-up you're

wearing, you're not wearing any underpants, making love on the living

room floor, my God!" He looked towards the picture window. "The drapes

aren't even closed."


"So what was there to see?" I said. "I mean, we didn't undress, and the

fact that we make love isn't any secret."

He sat up and turned to me with a troubled, almost angry look. "What do

you mean?"


I couldn't help but laugh. "I mean, we're married. That means people

expect us to make love. I mean, we've got two kids and they sure aren't

the products of immaculate conception."

"I guess nobody could see in the window anyway," he said, glancing out.


"Come on," I said, "as long as the kids are away, let's go out and

celebrate." I kissed him, and suddenly it hit me, I'd never before

kissed him so soon after oral sex. I could taste myself on his lips, and

I could smell myself on his skin.


Tom went to the bathroom to wash up while I sat on the couch wondering

about what had happened. The thought of kissing right after oral sex

would have disgusted me only days before, and wondered why it hadn't

bothered me. On the other hand, I wondered why it should have bothered

me in the past. Did I taste bad? Did I smell bad? The brief taste of

myself on Tom's lips didn't seem bad, but the experience had been so

brief that I wasn't sure.


As the sound of the toilet flushing came from the bathroom, I realized

how little I knew about myself. Tom and I rarely had oral sex, and when

we did, it was always his lips on my vagina. He certainly knew what I

tasted like, but I didn't know how I tasted. I knew it would be easy

enough to find out what I tasted like, but in all my life, it had never

occurred to me to find out.


As I sat on the couch, I slid a finger between my thighs and into myself.

I was still very wet, and it felt good as I explored myself with my

finger. It felt good enough that, after I licked and smelled my finger,

doing my best to critically judge how I tasted and smelled, I slid my

finger back in, curling my fingertip around my pubic bone and pressing on

my clit.


The taste wasn't terribly different from sweaty skin, less salty, a bit

more acid. The musky smell was a bit strong, but it suddenly hit me that

the musk reminded me a bit of some perfumes I'd run across. Are those

scents attractive because they smell like a woman's crotch?

I chuckled at the thought, but my attention was focused on the feel of my

fingers as I stared blindly into the yard. Touching myself was such a

simple pleasure. Why had I avoided it for so many years? When I came,

it wasn't a big orgasm, but it surprised me, being so soon after Tom had

satisfied me. Just then, the water stopped running in the bathroom and I

heard the door open.


"You want to go out?" Tom said as I stood up. "Where? And do you

really want to be seen dressed like that?"



I turned to him. "Do you want to see me dressed like this?"


He looked at me, then the expression on his face softened. "Well, yes,

I'm surprised, but I guess I like it. You really don't mind if other

people see you dressed like that?"


"Nope, come on. Got money? How about that place in the old factory

building by the river, I forget it's name."


Dinner turned out to be pleasant, but Tom acted shy and didn't have much

to say. Considering the way I was acting, I don't blame him, but it was

something of a letdown. I asked about his day at work, and he told me,

but that was about all we had to say while we ate. The way he looked and

acted as he sat across the table from me reminded me a bit of the way

he'd been on our first two dates, a cute but awkward guy.


Things came to a head in the car on the way home. "All of a sudden, I

feel like I don't know my own wife," Tom said as he drove.

I didn't really know what to say.


"I mean, I come home to find a woman who's dressed like nothing I've ever

seen before, beautiful but so sexy I'm almost scared of you, and then you

just about rape me ƒ"


I hadn't seen what I'd done in that light, and the word "rape" bothered

me. "I hope you didn't mind," I said, lamely.


He glanced briefly at me and smiled. "No, and I hope I did a good job,

but it left me a bit frustrated. I hope you're in the mood for more."


I reached over the gap between the seats and rested a hand on his thigh.

"Don't worry, I am."


The occasional bounce on the ride home drew my attention back to my neck

ring, and I reached up to finger it as thoughts of Tom's body ran

through my head. My fingers slid down over the thin scarf that covered

my breasts, and I was horny again.

My long skirt was still unbuttoned almost to the crotch, and it was a

simple matter for me to drop my hand to my lap and slide a finger into

the warm moisture between my legs. As I began probing myself, I idly

wondered what I was doing masturbating with Tom sitting right there

beside me. Would he notice? Would it bother him? Would it turn him on?

Somehow, instead of inhibiting me, these questions only added to my



I was about to climax when Tom stopped the car. We were home, and as I

got out and closed the car door, I ached for it. My whole body wanted a

climax. As Tom unlocked the front door, my desires shifted to him. I

wanted him in me!


"Tom," I said, unclipping the scarf from the ring around my neck, "I

want you in bed, now!"


"OK," he said, and then bent down to kiss me on the nipple, sending a

thrill through me. "I don't know what's come over you, but I like it."


I took off my skirt on the way to the bedroom, and kicked off my sandals

as Tom began undressing. As he pulled down his pants, exposing his

erect penis, I touched it. He sat down to take off his shirt, but I was

too impatient to wait, so I climbed into his lap and sat on him.

There was a brief surprised look on his face as I took him into me, but

then he smiled at me and leaned back on his hands. It felt good to feel

him deep inside my body as I sat there, pressing my clit against his

pubic bone. I leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips, and in

my already excited state, the stimulation and added pressure pushed me

over the edge to an orgasm, a small one, but very good.

I shuddered, and then broke the kiss and began to unbutton his shirt as

he sat there smiling at me. "I don't believe how horny you are," he


"It's a bit of a surprise to me too," I said, puling his shirt off his

chest and sliding my fingertips over him.

"What brought it on?" he asked.

"Getting this," I said, fingering my new neck ring.

"Really?" he asked. "How's it come off? I want to look at it."


"It doesn't come off," I said, leaning forward to kiss him. With the

pressure of his pubic bone on my clit, that simple motion was enough to

send me to another orgasm.

"What do you mean?" he asked, breaking the kiss.

I caught my breath before I answered. "What I said, it doesn't come off.

It's permanent, welded on, a solid ring of gold." I was still high with

the feeling of his erect penis deep inside my body, and as I spoke, I

began to rock my hips, driving myself to another orgasm.


His face looked intense but boyish, and I knew I had him on the edge of

an orgasm. He briefly fingered the ring, then dropped his hands to my

breasts before pulling me hard against him. Waves of contractions pulsed

through my groin as I came again and again; I floated in limbo, feeling

him come inside me as his arms pulled my body against his and his tongue

drove between my lips. It was the climax I needed, the climax I'd wanted

for years, and if we hadn't been locked in a kiss, I know I'd have moaned

with ecstacy.

We held our embrace for a long time as I sat in his lap on the bed. It

took time for the tension of orgasm to flow out of me. I felt his penis

slowly shrink within me, and then Tom broke off our long post orgasmic

kiss and leaned back, looking critically at me.

"So explain this necklace of yours," he said.

?1997, 1998 Standard Internet Corp.

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