Betty the All-American Cock Tease by RetroFan..,

INTRODUCTION – Pretty blonde All-American tomboy Betty already has a handsome boyfriend, but cannot resist teasing Eric, the nervous and awkward 18-year-old mama’s boy next door, who has long had an unrequited crush on his neighbour and classmate. What will Betty do to tease Eric this weekend? Travel back in time to post-war America, meet Betty and find out for yourself.

Please note that this story, an entry in the Nude Day Story Contest 2022 has some scenes involving voyeurism of Betty when she is using the toilet or having her period, so if these themes aren’t your thing, this story may not be for you. Otherwise, enjoy and rate and comment. All characters and situations are fictional, and similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional. Only characters aged 18 and older are involved in any sexual situations.

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MAINE USA 1948

From the time I emerged into the world in October 1929, I had always been an early riser. More parents have problems with getting their young children to go to bed and settle in the evening. I was never like this when I was a little girl, but I had the opposite problem. Regardless of the season, I would be awake well before dawn, pestering my twin brother Johnny to wake up too and play with me, or going downstairs to the living room to try and turn on Mom and Dad’s radio.

I think my Dad’s boss always wondered why he was so early for work most days. I once overheard my grandmother suggesting to my mother, “Alice, why don’t you put a little whiskey into Betty’s hot milk before bed? That way she will sleep through the night, and you and Harry can enjoy a good nights’ sleep.” I don’t think Mom ever tried that trick with me, maybe Grandma did it with Mom and her sister during their formative years, I couldn’t say.

Years later and I was no longer a little girl, I had turned 18 last fall, was a senior in high school and would graduate in a few months’ time as part of the Class of 1948, as would my twin brother and our friends. I still had the habit of rising early, but now would use the time to study. With such a busy schedule in my final year of high school, time to hit the books among fitting everything else in was limited.

This morning I wasn’t studying after I awoke at 4.30. Instead I got out of bed, smoothing down my nightdress, adjusting my panties around my bottom as they had ridden up during sleep and walking as quietly as I could on my bare feet, so as not to awaken the other members of my family, all of whom were in deep slumbers in their respective bedrooms.

My destination was the bathroom, and I carried the clothes I would be wearing this morning with me under one arm, for me to change into after I took a shower. But first I needed to sit on the toilet for a while, the call of nature upon wakening obvious.

I opened the bathroom door and turned on the light and exhaust fan, closing and locking the door behind myself, thinking that I was not the earliest riser in the area this morning. So who was up before me? Was it the milkman? Most mornings yes, but this was a Saturday. No, the person up before me was next door, and he had probably been awake for some time in the house next door, hiding behind the curtains in his own bedroom with his binoculars which he always claimed were for bird-watching, eagerly awaiting our bathroom light to illuminate in the darkness of the pre-dawn.

My first stop in the bathroom was the bench near the shower and bathtub, on which I placed my clothes. Then I made my way to the window, opening it and the cool New England early morning spring air fresh off the Atlantic Ocean flowing in.

Why would I open the bathroom window like that? Was it to assist the exhaust fan to extricate any steam when I showered? Was it to assist with removing any unpleasant smells that one associates with bathrooms but best left undiscussed? Sort of in both cases, but it was not the main reason. The reason was that the glass in the bathroom window was frosted to allow privacy. And if the window remained closed, he wouldn’t be able to see me.

My vagina tingled between my legs as I walked towards the toilet, knowing he was watching me. I reached behind myself, adjusting my nightdress, giving him a quick glimpse of the white full brief panties I was wearing underneath. Soon he would see a whole lot more of me. However, there would be a slight delay to this.

I stopped short as I reached the toilet, noticing several things. One, the seat was up. Two, there was no toilet paper on the roll holder, just an empty cardboard tube. This was not a surprise. As the only daughter in the family, I shared the bathroom with three brothers, who much as I loved them, hadn’t quite figured out that their sister had to do things somewhat differently in the bathroom.

There was my twin brother Johnny of course, and for our formative years our family was a four person nuclear family — father, mother, son and daughter. Then a few years later my parents must have forgotten how much disruption two babies in the house at once can cause — late night feeds, changing diapers, teething, crying, colic and the like — and so in 1935 Johnny and I welcomed our younger brother Andy, and less than a year later our youngest brother Richie came into the world.

The three boys — who had brown hair like Dad while I was blonde like Mom – seemed to take a ‘Betty will fix it’ attitude to the bathroom. The toilet seat left up? Betty will put it down next time she goes to the bathroom. No toilet paper? Betty will get some more when she needs to use the toilet, regardless of how much of a hurry Betty might be in or if she has girls’ problems. Splashing water out of the shower or bath onto the floor? Betty will mop it up. Spill toothpaste or soap around the sink? Betty will clean it up. A wet towel is left on the floor? Betty will pick it up and hang it on the rail to dry.

With Mom’s sister and her husband, they had their kids the other way around to us — three girls and one boy. And Dad’s brother and his wife also had four kids — two boys and two girls. I don’t think my out-numbered male maternal cousin would have dared upset his three sisters by committing the sins of leaving the toilet seat up or no toilet paper for the girls to use.

Sighing and rolling my eyes, I went into the small storage closet and retrieved a roll of toilet paper. As I removed the empty cardboard tube from the roll holder and replaced it with the new toilet roll, I knew he was watching me in eager anticipation, a growing bulge not caused by a hernia at the front of his pants and his trembling fingers on his binoculars trying to focus on me.

I put down the toilet seat, then turned around with my back to it, lifting up my nightdress to expose my white cotton full brief panties I was wearing underneath, knowing my secret voyeur was watching me. Hooking my thumbs into my panty waistband, I pulled them down to my ankles, my triangle of pubic hair growing all over my feminine mound proving I was a natural blonde. I sat down on the toilet, getting my bare bottom nice and comfortable on the somewhat cold toilet seat, sitting with my knees open knowing full well that he was focusing his binoculars upon my crotch.