Michael and I had known each other since we were in elementary school. We had dated off and on since high school, and lived together for three years. We did everything together. Avid outdoors people, we camped, fished, snowboarded, and mountain biked. We went on long drives in the country, read the newspaper to each other, held hands on walks down the beach. We were the perfect couple - everywhere except the bedroom. Though he's always been the sexiest man I've ever met, sex between us wasn't as good as it should have been. Our sex life wasn't awful - it was just, well, bland. Sex between Michael and I was quiet, placid, and to the point. What foreplay we did have was mechanical and ineffective. When he was done, he would kiss me and roll over, leaving me unfulfilled.
I love Michael, but sex was very important to me. I talked it over with Andrea, a friend of mine who dated Michael. She was shocked at my description of our sex life. When he was with her, she said, he was a wild man. She described the encounters they had in her car, on her patio, in her kitchen. Hurt by what she told me, I mentioned her name to Michael, hoping for some clue to her allure. He shrugged her off. Normally very tolerant of my friends, he remarked, "She's a bimbo. I don't know why you hang out with her."
Later that night, unable to sleep after yet another bout of unsatisfying sex, I began to understand the problem. Michael is a year older than me, and since grade school had designated himself as my guardian, my "big brother". I was his "little angel", his "baby sister". Unlike Andrea, I've never been a sexpot. Though my body is toned and nice and my face is cute, but I've never been the type of girl that looks like "sex". I'd never discussed my fantasies with Michael, never really discussed sex at all. He probably didn't realize how much I loved sex, and how much I lusted after him. I decided it was time he found out.
The next day, I took an extra-long lunch and stopped by a lingerie shop on the coast that I'd passed many times, but was always too afraid to visit. Wild outfits of lace and leather and lycra adorned the storefront mannequins - outfits I yearned to wear. I lingered outside on the sidewalk for minutes before I found the courage to push myself through the front door.
"Hello! Are you looking for anything in particular? Something for a honeymoon, perhaps? An anniversary? Or maybe just a little party for two?" The clerk - a thin, heavily made up woman in her forties - moved snakelike, sexily, her features animated and alive. I felt strangely comfortable with her.
"Yeah, I want to find an outfit that makes me look slutty," I replied, then smiled self-depricatingly. Her shrill, girlish laughter bounced off the shop walls.
"Oh, I definitely think I can help you there. Well, I'm not sure slutty is what you're after. I know we can find something VERY sexy! What's your size, hon? You look like a 5, with... hmm... I'd say a 34, a B cup maybe?" I smiled at her astute guess, which inspired another peel of laughter. For the next half hour, she led me in and out of the dressing room and into a barrage of lace, leather, satin, and vinyl bras, panties, teddies, and corsets. Before then, my experience with lingerie was the occasional lace bra purchase (when I felt really racy) at the annual May Company underwear sale. I left the store with an insight into an exotic new world - and bags full of racy ensembles.
Back at the office, I called Michael. A reporter at the local daily paper, Michael was all business when he was at the office. I could hear the stress in his voice when he answered, "Daily Times. This is Michael."
"Hey, are the incredibly sexy reporter who works the finance beat?" I purred in the best sexy voice I could muster.
"Oh, hi, Carol. What's up?" he asked quickly. I could hear the click of his hands on his keyboard. I wondered how I could get his attention.
"Oh, nothing really. Just sitting in my office all alone, with my hand in my panties, thinking about you." A shocked silence filled his end of the phone call.
"What? Are you serious?" He sounded baffled, confused. I had his attention, all right.
"Oh, of course, honey... I had to sit through this long staff meeting, and the entire time Simmons was gabbing about the end-of-quarter earnings all I could think about was having your cock inside me. How good it would feel for you to squeeze my ass while you took me from behind. I couldn't wait to get back to my office to finish myself off. Ooohh..." I moaned as I fingered my clitoris. My intention was to get him aroused, and I had definitely succeeded in arousing myself. For a moment, the only sounds on the line were my sighs and moans. I began to wonder if I had done the wrong thing, that I went too far, too fast.
