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It's obviously the spare room.  Plain cream painted walls, cheap fitted carpet and ‘screw it yourself’ furniture.  There aren't even any curtains, let alone nets, which suits me down to the ground.

I flick the switch and light floods into the room, banishing the evening outside.  I go straight into the wardrobe, peeling off my light jacket and hanging it inside.  It's eight-ish, I've worked late, fended off the office lecher over two swift G & T’s, battled with the tube and now I'm tired, tiddly and, if the truth be known, just a teeny bit randy - in fact exactly in what I call my "dirty mood".

First I go to the dressing table under the window.  There’s only trees outside and the dark face of the building opposite; there hasn't been light there since I moved into the flat.  The bulldozers are due to flatten it very soon now.

Tonight I imagine it's a couple watching me. Rather, two women; a blonde and a redhead.

The blonde is standing by her own window. Her head is slightly inclined towards the sky. Her nostrils flare slightly, her eyelids begin to flutter and her breasts rise and fall. I know what she's doing. She is looking at the sky and using the light; trying to induce a sneeze.

My hands reach up to the top button of my blouse and slowly begin to undo it.  It's important to look casual, as if I'm miles away: I've just forgotten I'm standing at a high, curtain-less window.  As my blouse falls open, I imagine the blonde catches sight of me.  I'm too far away for her to see my face; just that I'm young, female with a nice shape, and my bra is showing through my open blouse.

Yes, now she’s looking in my direction.

Still dreaming, I shrug the blouse off my shoulders, turn and drop the garment on to a chair, giving my audience a profile of my boobs, all 36D of them. I stay that way to unzip my skirt. The zip faces the window. Then I wriggle it down over my hips and bottom, step out of it and carefully fold it, giving my watcher a chance to appreciate my white, lace-edged bra, my silk briefs, my suspender belt and the silk stockings, and how little of me it all actually covers.

I can hear the blonde's breath catch all away from the building opposite as she raises her finger towards her nose. But then the impending sneeze is interrupted as she catches sight of me for the first time.

"Bloody hell, I don't believe it," she says. "Is it me or is there some girl stripping off over there?"

Now it's time to reach behind my back for my bra strap. I feel the blonde tense, and I stop. I make out as if I’ve forgotten something. Very slowly I move away from the window.

But then I'm back, still apparently searching for something out of sight. As I look, twisting to the left and right, bending, straightening, one hand toys with my bra clip. I make sure my back is to the window as it comes undone, and the cups slide off my breasts. For a minute I seem undecided, then I bend, pick up the bra and, as I drop it on the dressing table, turn face on to the glass.

"Christ," the watching blonde exclaims. For the first time her friend takes notice.

"Oh stop staring," she says, though she doesn't look up. "I thought you were trying to sneeze for me."

"I was," replies the blonde, "but then. Oh, I am! Here it comes!"

With this the blonde turns to face the window again with her index finger to her nose. Her mouth drops open slightly and her chest begins to heave.

Finally she sneezes, "Aaah ITcht … CHeeeww!!"

Meanwhile, I busy myself about the room, flitting backwards and forwards across the window, making my breasts bounce as I move, bending over once or twice in profile to show her how little they need a bra to hold them up.

I take my pants off out of sight. Nude now, but for my stockings and suspender belt, I go back to the flitting back and forth for a minute or so. The windowsill is low enough to show my pubes, but at this distance it'll take her a moment to twig that I'm knickerless. When she does, I feel the shock go right through her. That's when I pause by the sill, side on, as if remembering something. Perhaps I'm going to return the compliment and sneeze myself.

Then I find what I've been searching for; a small silver snuffbox. I open the box and take a pinch of fine brown powder. I bring it to my nose and sniff. I return to the window and look up at the early evening sky.

Now the blonde can see the moonlight glistening on my pussy’s thick black curls. Absentmindedly, I let my hand brush across my mound, let my fingers twist three or four of the longer strands together. Then I bring a finger to my nose as it begins to tickle and twitch.

I draw in two deep breaths and then: "Aaaahhh..TISHH  ...OOHHH!!!  … AAAHH! ... AAAHH! ... AAAAAHHH! ..."

The second sneeze is stillborn, but my nose is still itching.

The blonde takes a deep breath and the blood throbs in her clitoris. It's as if I’m receiving her lusty thoughts telepathically and my body is responding, almost without my realising. But my eyes grow dreamy. From simply toying with my pubic hair, my fingertips quietly press closer to the warm fleshy mound beneath the soft, lippy crevice that divides it. Gently a finger moves up and down, up and down, not letting myself think about it but inching it closer and closer to my clit.

I still have some snuff up my nose. My nose starts to tickle and twitch again. It's time for the second sneeze to have another attempt at coming to life.

The watcher is now so sexed up she has to wriggle in her pants. Even her redheaded girlfriend notices how quiet she's become. The blonde starts as the redhead suddenly appears at her back, peering through the glass.

"Good god!" she hisses. "I thought you were having me on! She's stark naked! She looks like she's going to sneeze as well!"

The redhead is right.  I am going to sneeze again. I open my nose and wave my finger in encouragement.

"AAHH... TCHOO!!!!..."

Then her girlfriend catches sight of her nipples protruding through her blouse.

"You're turned on!" she cries. "You're quite the voyeur aren't you?"

"It's not me," the blonde protests. "Look what she's bloody well doing. I'm not made of stone, for God's sake. And now watching her sneeze has made me want to sneeze again."

"That's more like it," says the redhead as she massages her tits from behind. "Look at the light, come on, sneeze again for me, baby!"

At this, the blonde's nostrils flair, her mouth falls open and her chest begins to heave.

"Aaah AAAHH A.Itch TITCH OOOOHH!! Oh, bless me!"

My eyes are closed and now my cunt is slippery and swollen under my finger. The tip sinks in easily.

"Oh God," the redhead whispers. She is getting turned on herself now. "Oh, that's amazing. She mustn't realise. No one would ever do that in front of the window."

"Perhaps that's the whole point," the blonde murmurs.

The blonde grunts as the redhead elbows her. But she is now as transfixed by the view as her lover is.

"Oooh," whispers the redhead, shuddering suddenly, "she's making me feel all funny. How could she? With the lights on as well. She's a pretty girl, too, you wouldn't think she has to do it to herself. I suppose you fancy her, don't you?" she grunts. "That's a stupid question judging by how horny she's made you."

My finger touches exactly the right spot on my clit. As I stroke it, a gorgeous, strong, syrupy stream of pleasure pulses through my body. I take a deep breath and feel my nipples prickle and ache from stiffness.

Then it's almost become too much. I have to lean forward against the dressing table, gulping in air, dizzy with the warm sexual glow that's setting my flesh on fire.

"I think she's come," the blonde says.

The redhead leans closer to the window.

"How can you tell from this distance?"

"I can tell you I will if she doesn't pack it in soon," the blonde grunts.

"Well tell her, not me!" the redhead shouts dismissively. "She's the one who's got you all wet."

"Oh." The blonde gives her a plaintive look.  "I thought you might give me a gobble to get rid of this frustration."

"Cheeky sod!"  She's grinning though; she nods towards the window.  "It looks like she's giving her clit another bash." Her own clit is getting thicker by the minute.

I can feel a tiny trickle of juices running down the crack of my bottom. My whole fanny feels awash; the tiniest movement sets my womb twitching. My knees are wobbling, but I can't stop now; not when I'm so close. I straighten up, lift my leg and, with an effort, climb onto the dressing table, rolling on to my back. It's hard, but it's wide enough and it seems to take my weight.

 I know the whole of my body is visible from outside now, but I don't care, all I want is that fire in my crotch, the sweet, glorious spasm of my climax. I'm oblivious to everything going on around me after this particular moment.  Nothing and nobody else matters.

I reach up my body, cupping a bare breast, trapping and gently squeezing the high point of my nipple. Then my other hand stretches down between my legs, smoothing a finger over the soft slippery nub of my clit, poking flatly out of its hood into the puffy folds of  pink . That's what my phantom audience will see as I turn my head slightly towards the glass to give them the best possible view between my spread legs, as I begin slowly and sensually to finger-fuck myself to climax.

"Oh Christ! Oh Jesus!" the blonde hisses. "I don't believe what's happening!"

The redhead, kneeling in front of her, doesn't realise she's describing the view. She smiles and then, savouring the fat warmth of her clit, she wets her lips, then gently lowers them over it.

Suddenly the redhead gasps, "Oh dear!"

"What's the matter now?" asks the blonde.

"What perfume are you wearing?" replies the redhead.

The blonde is on the point of boiling over and finds it difficult to talk.

"I can't … can't remember. Why?"

"Because it's making me want to sneeze right now!"

"Oh, please don't kid me on," begs the blonde. "Not now!"

"I'm not kidding. I'm serious. I'm really gonna … gonna …" Then the redhead rapid-fires three high-pitched sneezes, "Atisshoo, tish-chew, Atisshoo!!!"

"Shit,” whispers the blonde and shudders fiercely. The redhead lifts her head again, grinning up at her.

"Nice?" She raises her eyebrows in mock despair, making her chuckle. Then she closes her mouth over again. The blonde groans as her tongue flickers around her wet, pink lips, driving her almost insane with pleasure.

But all the time her eyes are not on the redhead. They're on me, as my naked hips jerk and heave under rising surges of pleasure, both my palms pressing hard into my crotch, rubbing fiercely against my pubic bone, while my head tosses, my spine arches, my mouth gapes open with the agony of bliss – and it happens. A shock like lightning, a spasm of pure sensual pleasure so intense it's almost a pain - it snatches my breath away, it almost stops my heart - and it comes again, and again. And, as the spasms surge through me, my watcher gives in to her feelings.

I hear her groan. Her hips buckle and I feel her warm, slippery juices gushing over my aching fanny, soaking my insides like they've never been soaked before. And yes, I'm loving every horny, disgusting minute of it.

I'm sure a psychologist could give you dozens of excellent reasons for my "dirty, sneezy moods". All I know is that they started quite soon after I began flat sitting for a friend in a posh part of Kensington that I could never have afforded for myself. I'm sure living alone for the first time in my life was important - knowing I could walk around naked all day and no one would object (or the opposite, unfortunately!). And I suppose I was frustrated. I'd lived with my girlfriend for nearly three years before we'd broken up, and even at the end the sex had been fantastic. I'd simply got used to it.

Now it was humiliating that I loathed Nicola, that I didn’t want to get involved with anyone for a while. I just had this horrible, purely physical need to be fucked. Perhaps there was some idea of getting my own back mixed up in it, too. I couldn't have sex with Nicola, because she'd walked off with some silly brainless tart, so instead I'd let the whole world know what it was missing.

I'd drive them wild with desire - I'd actually let them (whoever 'they' were) see what it would be like to drive me wild, see me excite myself enough to have an orgasm in front of them. But they'd be too far away to do a damn thing about it, except clutch and finger their aching, wet pussies and wank because they'd never use them to fuck me again.

The fact that I knew I wasn't overlooked tipped the balance. I'd always had an exhibitionist side, but I'd been too shy to let it show very often – even with Nicola. Now I didn't care any more, I could make up for lost time.

Which is how I came to be putting on a private, sneezy sex show once, twice, sometimes three times in one week. And the more I despised myself for it, the more I needed to do it.

I don't know what would have happened if Davinia hadn't come along. In a way, she kind of saved me. I'd got to the point where I thought I could do happily without girls for a while. I'd almost got to enjoy turning down offers of dates. But Davinia never did ask me for one.

We first met when her trolley collided with mine at a local supermarket. She was tall, fair and good-looking, three or four years older than me, and I half expected her to try something on. But she didn't.

A week later she found me pruning my tea roses and spent half an hour or so helping me. She wouldn't even accept a thank you cup of coffee.

A fortnight after that I was late to work one day and met her on the platform at Holland Park station. As soon as I saw her, I knew she'd been in my thoughts more than I'd let myself realise. Before we parted, I found myself offering her the coffee she'd refused earlier that week. She turned up at my flat at 8.30 that evening and we were in bed half an hour later.

I'd been telling myself for days that it would definitely not be happening, but the minute I saw her at the front door I knew that the only way of stopping it would be to throw her straight out. And I certainly couldn't envisage myself doing that.

The thing that tipped the balance was when I heard Davinia knocking at the door. I blew snuff into the air over where I was going to invite her to sit. The snuff took its effect just as I handed her the coffee. She hitched herself towards the edge of the settee, I think with the view to putting the cup on the coffee table, when the sneeze took hold.

Her skirt rose up her legs as she moved towards the edge of the couch, giving me a glimpse of her black lace suspenders. She couldn't do anything to pull her skirt down because she had her coffee in her left hand and was now scratching her nose with the index finger of her right.

It was one of the most beautiful, erotic, pre-sneeze exhibitions I had ever seen. Her nose twitched under her finger and she tightened her top lip. She turned her beautiful face slightly to her right as she fought the sneeze in an attempt not to spill her coffee. Eventually, she managed to get the cup onto the coffee table, but now that it was safe to do so, she couldn't sneeze.

"I can't sneeze," she laughed. "Oh, yes I can! Here it comes! ITCH …CHEEWW!!! Oh, dear me. Oh oh again. I've got the … the … snee-  ATCH... TISHHOOOOO!!!"

I had to sit next to her. I couldn't resist being so close. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when the snuff started to affect me as well. I tried pinching my nose with my thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, no," she said, "not you as well? There must be something in the air in here."

"It's not that," I gasped, trying desperately to fend off my own sneeze so I could fake my excuse.

"Sometimes when people sneeze AAHH… AAHH… It makes me …"

I couldn't talk anymore. I had to give in.

"It's no good; I'm going to have to sneeze. AAHH.NTCHH...HOO! It makes me AAHH... sneeze as.as. w...w...w. well...NNCTHH. CHOOO!"

Needless to say the coffee was left to go cold.

She was a forceful and tender lover, but I didn't appreciate just how expert she was after that first fuck. All I remember was the incredible feeling of satisfaction and relief when she first came and I felt a woman's fingers working their magic inside me again; filling my velvet underground the way nothing else could. It didn't bother me whether I came or not. I just needed to see that excitement in a woman's face when she first saw my naked body. I wanted to feel her weight on me as she rode up and down with her leg in between my thighs. And I wanted to hear her groan as she came.

But, when that had happened, Davinia wanted more.

"Your turn now," she told me. Suddenly she was kneeling over me, telling me to lie still and relax. Her tongue went to work, first on one nipple, and then moving on to the other.

"Oh my God," she gasped, "I think I'm gonna sneeze again!"

I brought my hand to the back of her head and pulled her face into my chest. She gave three muffled sneezes into my bosom.

"Hrrmpphhh. hrmphh. hhhrrrumphhhh!"

The sensation was unbelievable. By the time she reached my pussy, my hips were already jerking. I was moaning and clutching at her, begging her to put her fingers back into me.

But she simply put my hands aside and then went down on my clit. I felt as if my head had been split by a bolt of lightning. She went straight to the spot - my spot - the point in my clitoris that touched every sexual nerve. My climax was sweeping over me before I even knew it had started. But she didn't stop. Even as the spasms stopped, long before I got my breath back, she began again. And, to my amazement and alarm, it began to.

happen again, for the first time ever. I didn't know what was happening to me; I even thought I might be going mad. But as my climax started again, I didn't care; I just wanted her inside me again.

But of course, it was only after all that, curled up with her in a glorious afterglow, that the real bombshell burst.

"You know something," I said, "you must be an erotic genius, knowing exactly the right spot to touch me."

"Don't be silly," she said." You showed me yourself."

As I frowned at her, she blushed. "At the window," she explained.

It turned out she was the last occupant of the building opposite me. She'd only stayed because she was involved in a compensation case with the developer. For the past weeks she had been the real audience of my “dirty, sneezy moods”.