It was quarter after 5:00, and I was just getting into my dress. My husband was carrying on about my taking way too long, as usual, when the phone rang.
“Honey, I’m getting in the shower,” he yelled. “Get that, willya? If it’s Dave, tell him we’re running late, but we’re on our way!” I hurriedly adjusted the lapel on my dress and reached behind me, trying in vain to zip up the dress as I ran for the phone. It was on its fourth ring, and I was afraid the machine would pick up. The voice at the other end took me by surprise when I said hello. It was just four words.
“Can I see you?”
“Shit!” I said, hearing the hollow echo of those four words. I collected myself, even though my heart rate was soaring. “The machine picked up,” I said. “Let me stop it.” I tossed the phone onto the bed and hurried into the other room. Reaching the living room, I pushed STOP on the answering machine, then REWIND. I stood there a few moments, breathing deeply, until I was satisfied the tape was rewound, and the little light had stopped blinking. Picking up the receiver, I told my father-in-law, “Let me hang up the other phone, now,” and ran back to the bedroom, my dress flapping open at my back. I hesitated at the bathroom door for a moment, satisfying myself that the shower was running, and returned to the living room. I was almost out of breath, but it was due to more than just the exercise.
“Sorry for the unusual greeting,” I said, cupping the mouthpiece of the phone. I could hear him chuckling on the other end, and I smiled. I could also feel my cheeks flush with desire at the sound of his easy laughter. He had this effect on me.
“What are you doing?” he asked. His voice was tight, and I knew what it meant. He wanted me. Taking a long, shaky breath, I told him I was getting dressed; Gary and I were going to a party. I knew, already, what his next question would be, and I waited, my insides the equivalent of Jello.
“What are you wearing?”
It was a question he asked me often, usually at the beginning of a long, sexually charged conversation; one that left me both satisfied and needing him, all at the same time. I felt my body react, and I tried not to give into its needs.
“Just a dress,” I said, knowing he would want more details. He did. “It’s black,” I said, intentionally prolonging the description; playing the slut. “Oh, you wouldn’t like it,” I added. “It’s got practically no cleavage, and it almost covers my knees. It’s wide open at the back, though,” I said, smiling to myself.
“Oh, yeah?” he said, in that same tight voice, and I knew what he’d be doing. He always did, when we had one of these conversations. He usually described to me in detail what was happening. I could visualize him at this moment, anxiously pulling down on his zipper, eager to release his throbbing hard-on. There was no sound for a few moments.
“Dan,” I said. “I really can’t play right now. Gary’ll be out of the shower any minute. I need to go.”
No answer for another long moment. Then, “What’s underneath?” I took a deep breath, and described to him the color and style of the bra I was wearing, then the panties and pantyhose. His voice came back immediately.
“No, he said. No pantyhose. No panties.” It was an order. I started to plead, knowing I would lose this debate, as I always did. He loves to tell me how to dress.
“No bra, either.”
“Dan,” I whined, but I could feel myself dampening my panties, already. He was adamant, and I began to undress as I listened to his voice on the phone, describing how much he’d missed me, and how much he needed me. I wanted to tell him the same. He wanted me to talk, so he could get off on the sound of my voice, but I couldn’t. If I got started with him now, I knew, I’d never get away. He has that kind of power over me. Despite my desires, I lied, and told him Gary was getting out of the shower now, and I simply had to go.
“Okay,” he said, sighing. “But, I want to see you tomorrow. Leave work early, if you have to.”
I promised him I would, and hung up, just as reluctantly as he had. I stepped out of my dress and pulled my pantyhose down my legs, bending at the waist. Next I slid my panties off. They were wet; I was already excited, thinking about how tonight would feel! The air-conditioning felt good against the dampness of my pussy, and I stood, nearly naked, in front of my dresser for a long moment, daydreaming. I looked at myself in the mirror.
“You’re such a slut,” I whispered, watching my own reflection. All that work to get ready, I thought, and now I was back down to my bra! Sighing, I slipped it off my shoulders and unhooked it. Tossing it on the bed, I appraised myself once again. I’m not unattractive. Most would say I was the opposite. I’m only 26 years old. My breasts are small but firm, and my tummy’s tight. No children, and no possibility of having them. I even have a pretty good marriage, but I’m resigned to being his. I felt my slit ooze again, at the thought. I LOVE being his!
I poker oyna heard the water turn off, and hurried to pull another dress from my closet. Slipping it on, I felt sexier immediately. It was, like the other, black, but this one was cut low in the front, leaving no doubt that I was bra-less. It ended at mid-thigh, and unless I sat very carefully, someone would notice I wore no panties. I didn’t intend to be that careful. I knew Dan wouldn’t want me to be.
He loves to hear about my teasing. If I take it even further, as I have on occasion, he likes hearing about it even more. I like to lay across his legs when we can get together, my fist slowly stroking him as I relay whatever little adventure I’ve had to him, timing it to his excitement level. I’ll tell him, in graphic detail, what I was feeling as it occurred; how hot I felt, and how slutty. I’ll stop when his hips began to pump and I can feel the throbbing of his shaft. Then I’ll allow him to cool down, before starting again. When I reach the climax of my story, I’ll urge him to cum, pumping his cock with one hand as he shoots his thick, shuddering load between my pursed lips. He calls it our “story-time.”
I was slipping the strap of my second high-heel into the little buckle when Gary came into the bedroom. I felt him looking at me, and I wondered if he had already seen up my dress. “What’s the deal?” he asked me. When I cocked one eyebrow at him questioningly, he said, “You had on a nice dress. What was the matter with that one?”
I laughed, straightening and smoothing my dress down over my thighs. “Oh, you know us women,” I said. “We’ve got to try on at least 4 or 5, before we’re sure we look okay.” I hoped my voice sounded convincing. All I could think about was my naked pussy, aching for his father’s touch. I stood, inviting his inspection. “Is this one alright?” I asked.
His answer was immediate, and firm.
“No. You look like a hooker in that dress. It’s too short, and I don’t like you being around my friends without a bra.” He looked at me defiantly, as if daring me to argue with him. I had to.
“Gary, what are you afraid of? That one of your ‘nerd’ friends might hit on me? So what if they do? Are you gonna pick a fight with them?” I shook my head, snorting derisively. “Or is it that you think I might embarrass you, by trying to look more attractive than the other wives, and failing! Is that it? Are you THAT self-conscious about me?”
“No!” he hurriedly exclaimed. “I don’t know. I just feel you might be a little…” He trailed off, and looked at me helplessly. I looked perplexed.
“Pretty?” I said, quietly.
He walked over to me, taking my arms in his hands. “Of course you’re pretty,” he soothed, pulling me to him. “That’s not what I meant.” I moved into him, feeling his cock just beneath the towel he had wrapped around himself. I was already so horny, I thought maybe I’d rip that towel off and go down on him right now, and to heck with the party! I knew Dan wouldn’t like hearing about that, though, and Gary was far too methodical to risk being any later to the party than I’d already made us.
“I’ve gotta get dressed,” he said.
Argument over. I went to put dishes away in the kitchen while he put on the dark suit he’d picked out, an hour ago.
* * *
The party was at a rented motel lounge. The only people allowed in were his company’s employees, and someone had put up a company banner across the entrance to the lounge. My husband wore his name badge. It was in full swing when we arrived. A calypso band was playing island music; an incongruity in this sea of suits and evening dresses. I felt bored and out of place, as soon as we walked in. People were clustered in groups, drinking Evian and the occasional martini, and no one was dancing.
Gary found his group, and I was introduced. They were all young, like us, but they seemed kind of stiff, and very business-like. I knew Dave and 3 of the other guys, and a couple of their wives. The men greeted me cordially, their eyes taking me all in as they did, but the women made a point of ignoring me once they had looked disapprovingly at my short, sexy dress. I stood, one hand on Gary’s arm, while he talked shop with his cronies.
Eventually, I drifted over to the bar. I didn’t have any money with me, so I sat on a barstool turned toward the party and tried to keep my thighs together. My dress seemed embarrassingly short, suddenly. I thought of Dan, wondering what he was doing, as I watched people networking each other. The bartender served me a complimentary mai-tai, probably trying to make friends with me, and I glanced at him over my shoulder as he walked to the other end of the bar. Cute, with a nice butt! He had on a Hawaiian shirt and white shorts, and he was about my age.
I felt a hand on my knee. Turning, I saw it was one of my husband’s team members. “Hi, Phil,” I said, hesitantly. He was one of the guys I had met before, at a beach party early this summer. He was smiling oddly at me.
“Hi, canlı poker oyna Tori,” he said. “I saw you sitting over here all alone, and I couldn’t help but notice you looked in need of some companionship.” His voice sounded nervous, but I noticed that he left his hand on my knee. It was warm, and his touch excited me. I slid my hand over his.
“Yeah, you’re right. I am in need,” I said, wondering if he would pick up on my real meaning. “My husband’s left me all alone, as usual.” His body was blocking the view from the rest of the lounge, so I let my legs fall a little farther apart, just to give him a little more idea of my need. He squeezed my knee lightly, and I saw his eyes drop to my bare thighs. He looked like he was trying to raise the hem of my dress by the force of his will, alone! I looked into his eyes when his gaze met mine again, and winked. “You don’t have to work at it,” I said, in a soft voice. “It’s right there, for you.”
Phil looked a little confused, then smiled as my hand slid his up my thigh. His hand kept moving, with mine on top of it, down around the meat of my thigh, until his thumb contacted the fuzz of my pussy. He stroked it once as he studied my face. I sighed softly.
“I saw up your dress,” he said. “I thought that’s what I was looking at.”
“Well, you’re observant,” I smiled. “And you’re off to a great start. Now, what are you going to do about it?” I wet my lips as his thumb stroked me a few more times. He asked me if we could go somewhere. I told him, “Anywhere but here.” Thinking a moment, I told him to meet me by the elevators in the lobby. I had no idea where we would go from there, but I wanted to get him alone. I was so horny I couldn’t stand it.
“One more thing,” I said. “See if you can find a condom.”
His answer was immediate. “No problem,” he said. “I saw a machine in the men’s room. I’ll be waiting.”
He walked off, making a beeline for the restrooms. I took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of lust growing in the pit of my stomach. Just then I heard a husky voice behind me. It was the bartender. “Lucky man,” he said. When I turned, he motioned toward the mai-tai and asked, “Do you need this?”
“I don’t drink,” I told him, and slid off the barstool.
I found Gary, and asked him for a couple of dollars. He was heavily into conversation with a group of his peers about a wing design, and barely acknowledged me. I said his name again, and he turned to me. “What?” he asked, sounding annoyed.
“Gary, I need a couple of dollars. I want to play some video games in the game room,” I said. He asked why I didn’t have any money, and I held up the tiny, virtually useless purse that matched my dress. “No room,” I explained. He reached into his pocket, and with a quick “Okay” and a handful of dollar bills, he dismissed me. Good, I thought. I was off to play, alright!
Phil was standing by the elevators, as I had instructed, looking around. I noticed him for only the second time since I’d met him. He’s a nice looking guy; quite a bit shorter than I am, but decently built. I’m 5′-8″, and a lot taller in heels. His smile, when he saw me, was his best feature. I walked briskly over to him and took his arm, pulling him with me. “Find the men’s room?” I asked, as we walked.
He held up a pair of brightly colored packages; black, with neon pink and yellow party balloons on the fronts. They said “Fiesta” on them, and the words, “Ribbed for Her Pleasure.” I liked the idea of that. I took the packages from him, inspecting them quickly, then put one into my purse.
Phil told me jokingly that that brand had been known to ‘do the trick,’ but I didn’t acknowledge his little play on words. I didn’t need conversation; I needed to be fucked, and I wasn’t willing to get sidetracked with witty conversation. I handed him the other condom back, saying, “We’re not going for the weekend.”
I found a hallway to the right, and we took it. It led to a kitchen entrance, and beyond that, to the outside. The air was crisp and cool as we stepped out through the door; it was a beautiful fall night. There was a block wall to our left, beyond the delivery dock, which hid a dumpster. When we stepped around it, we were in deep shadows, and I turned to Phil. He didn’t hesitate, taking me in his arms and kissing me as he backed me up against a pipe railing. I dropped my purse onto the concrete.
He was a nice kisser; not slow and romantic, but gentle enough, and not in such a hurry that he forgot that a woman likes to be able to breathe before he sticks his tongue in her mouth! His hands rested at the small of my back, holding me to him, and as I began to move against him they dropped to the top of my ass. It was enough stimulation for me, and I kissed him harder. When we broke our kiss, we were both breathing hard.
“God, Tori,” he gasped. “You’re so fucking sexy!” He held me at arm’s length and stared at me. I closed my eyes when his hands slid up my body, cupping my breasts briefly before following the lapels of the dress up to my shoulders. When he bunched the material in his hands and pulled upward and out, he pulled the dress right off my shoulders. I arched my back as the cool air hit my suddenly bared breasts.
My hands went to his zipper as he bent to kiss and suck my nipples, and despite the distraction of his mouth on my sensitive nubs, I soon had his slacks opened. He wore boxers, and I pulled them down, along with his pants. His cock sprang out. It was all throbbing muscle as my hand closed around it. A few quick strokes, and I wanted my mouth around it.
“Phil. Give me your jacket,” I ordered. He struggled out of it, and I dropped it between us, then slid to my knees. His hands went to my shoulders as I pursed my lips around the head of his dick, and I heard him groan. I began to suck him lightly, sliding my lips back and forth over his shaft, delighting in the pungent taste of his skin. My tongue wrapped around the head as I pulled back, then flattened under him as I took him inside. He began to pull me forward by my shoulders. His hips were soon moving, and he was getting more aggressive, grunting as he fucked my face. I sensed he was already getting close.
Putting my hands on his thighs, I pulled away, to his considerable frustration, but now I wanted him inside me. I looked up at him and whispered, “I want you to fuck me, Phil.” I retrieved my purse, and tore the wrapper off the condom.
It seemed to take forever to get the condom rolled over the head of his pulsing cock, but the delay was probably a good thing, as it allowed him a moment to get some of his control back. Still, he practically yanked me upward once he was sheathed. We kissed once, then I turned toward the wall, putting my hands on the iron railing and bending forward. I smiled when I felt his hands grasp the hem of my dress and pull it upward. The night air was delicious on my sopping pussy! As I spread my legs apart, I felt the head of his cock at my gash, and with a sudden push, he was deeply embedded in me. I moaned aloud, despite myself. His hands closed over mine, pinning me to the railing as he began to move.
He was as good at fucking as he was at kissing, taking long, deep strokes; letting me feel every inch of him. I shuddered with every slow thrust, gripping him with my cunt muscles as he touched my cervix at the deepest, then releasing him as he pulled back. He took his time, to begin with, and I didn’t really mind, as much as I wanted it hot and hard. His cock felt wonderful, deep inside me. The pace he had set was now slowly increasing, and the pleasure was becoming almost unbearable. I thought I was going to scream when he suddenly doubled his pace, and his balls began to slap against my clit. I arched my back more.
Phil’s hands went to my hips, then, and he began to pound into me in earnest. His pubic bone slammed into my ass, causing me to grunt aloud with every thrust, and I held the railing so tightly I thought my hands would give out. “Oh, god!” I moaned. His answering groan of pleasure seemed very loud in the abandoned alleyway. I felt myself gush fluid as I came, my pussy spasming deliriously.
I leaned over the railing, letting my head loll forward, so that my hair hung over my face as he fucked me, on and on. He was like a wild-man, now, groaning loudly with each savage thrust. His fingers dug into the skin of my hips. Hanging suspended over the iron pipes and moaning out my pleasure, I let him take me. My hands were useless to support my weight, and my ribcage rested on the unforgiving railing, but I was in sexual heaven! My orgasms came quickly, and flowed together, one into another.
Soon; all too soon, I felt him stiffen, and he filled the end of the condom with a copious load of semen. I could feel the muscular contractions of his cock as he thrust slowly into me through his climax, until, eventually, he stopped moving behind me. With a mighty sigh, he slumped over me, his hands coming up to encircle my breasts. “Oh, god,” he muttered, and I could only moan my agreement.
Suddenly, we heard noises! Someone was coming out the same door we did, the squeak of wheels accompanying them. Phil quickly pulled from me, and I felt suddenly empty. My pussy dripped some of its juices onto his jacket as I yanked my dress back up over my shoulders, struggling to cover myself. I turned to see Phil quickly zipping up, the bulbous shape of the condom in his hand. He made to throw it towards the dumpster nearby, and I shook my head and held my hand out.
Smiling quizzically, he laid it in my hand. Then, he pulled me into his arms, just as the intruder rounded the wall we stood behind. I heard a man grunt in surprise, then mutter, “Oh. Sorry, folks.” We stayed locked together, avoiding eye contact with him until he dropped his load of trash into the dumpster and left. When we heard the door close again, we burst into laughter.
“Shit! That was close!” I said, giggling. It was then that I realized I was holding the half-filled condom at his back as we kissed. The guy had to have seen it! I quickly looped the top into a knot and dropped it between my breasts, as Phil watched in amusement.