It's a warm Friday morning, a dozen or so hours before our planned date night. We've both been so busy that the week has sped by, a whirlwind of social commitments and late evenings at our respective offices. The time we have managed to spend together has consisted entirely of falling asleep on the couch while trying to make it through an hour-long TV show. The mornings have been rushed, both of us having to get up and moving, with no time for lounging or the special type of pre-dawn intimacy we've developed over the course of our relationship.
I love those mornings; waking up to the feeling of you climbing back into bed, freshly showered and dressed. Dozing off while inhaling the smell of your soap, resting a hand on your neck and scratching my fingers gently through your hair, while you stroke my hands, my arms, my stomach and I feel you breathing gently on my neck. The most perfect mornings are those where we have time for you to wake me slowly, easing into the day with shared laughter over our private jokes.
The gentle laughter and familiar touches are comforting, and at times, arousing. The sensations remind me of other mornings, where your hand rubbing my stomach has dipped low and your fingers have traced over my panties, causing my breath to falter and my hips to reflexively lift. I think of the mornings where strenuous workouts have left my muscles stiff and aching, and you've taken the time to massage me. Of course, I know you don't mind using your hands to help me recover from my workouts. I suspect that it's become a tacit flirtation for me to roll to my stomach and for you to knead the backs of my thighs up to the crease of my ass peeking out from the hem of my boyshort underwear. It's such a delightful tease for me, feeling the relief in my sore muscles and wondering when you'll move upward and grip my ass in your hands.
It's inevitable that you'll spend as much time as you can touching my ass, since it's your favorite part of me. Over the years, you've explored it so thoroughly, I expect you know it better than I do. The moment I feel your fingers move above my thighs, I am reminded of all the ways you've enjoyed my ass, and warmth rushes through my body. I want to shift my position, parting my thighs and giving you access to my pussy, but our position prevents it. With me lying on my stomach and you straddling me with your hips over the backs of my knees, my legs are pinned. I moan and whimper, enjoying the massage and feeling excitement mount inside me.
Not knowing what you'll do next thrills me. I can't comfortably turn to see you, so I can't anticipate your touches. Will you gently run your index finger from my lower back down the cleft of my ass to my swollen pussy? Will you spank me, causing me to yelp with excitement? Will you suddenly yank down my panties and begin kissing and nibbling your way over my bare cheeks? Or will this be a day where practical matters, like traffic and work commitments mean that the massage is the culmination of our morning time together?
I want to know, want to beg you to touch me more, but in these moments, I find submitting to your desires more exciting. I writhe under you, trying to feel if your cock has become hard, but the position is wrong. I wonder if you're remembering other times that have begun like this, or if you're fantasizing about something new. Perhaps you're thinking of something else entirely, something mundane, though given the enthusiasm in your fingertips, I doubt it.
This morning didn't begin with any such stimulation, though I had woken from a dream while you were showering with my nipples stiff and my panties damp. I slid my hand into them, pausing briefly to stroke my painfully swollen clit before parting my lips and slipping a finger inside. I was surprised to feel how hot and wet my pussy was, and I was so tempted to strip bare and let you find me atop the covers, frantically fingering myself. I've often fantasized about you catching me like that, and tried to imagine how you would react.
This was not the day for that type of behavior, and I redirected my energy elsewhere. We both needed to be up, dressed and out of the house for work commitments, so when you came to wake me, I was already alert and had been mentally listing items from my to do list while checking my emails. A few minutes for hugging, kissing, and confirming plans for tonight, and you were out the door.
The rest of the morning flew by, a haze of meetings, emails, projects, and distractions. I left the office as planned and went home to shower and get ready for tonight. I don't ordinarily make this much effort, but after a long week and not much time alone, I wanted to look my best. I had plans to wear your favorite black dress, the one that fit like a second skin, lifting and displaying my ass and revealing all but a few inches of my thighs. I pride myself on the muscles in my legs, and get a real rush from showing them off to you.
I showered and took extra care to ensure that my skin was smooth and soft. I hoped to elicit at least a murmur of appreciation when you ran your fingertips over my thigh later. I dried my hair and let it fall in gentle waves over my shoulder. I was wrapping up my makeup when I heard the front door creak. I was not dressed and was at my vanity in a black lace thong and bra when you entered the bedroom. I felt a frisson of excitement and nervousness as your eyes roamed from my face down my body. still wanted to impress you and felt more than a little self-congratulatory at the desire in your eyes and the smirking laugh that always indicates your approval.
You wrapped your arms around me and cupped my ass before squeezing tightly. I could feel your cock stiffening through your pants, and ran my hand over it before reminding you we had plans. I grabbed my dress from a hanger, stepped into it, and shimmied until it was perfectly adjusted. I could have sworn I heard you groan appreciatively as I moved about the room. I grabbed patent leather black pumps, and bent to slip them on. I made no efforts to hide my intentions, bending at the waist, causing the hem of my dress to slide up my thighs, exposing the bottom of my ass. That time, I definitely heard a groan escape your lips before I felt the thrilling sting of you spanking me. You deftly grabbed my hips from behind and I felt the unmistakable sensation of you grinding your erection against my ass. I bit my lip and moaned softly. Even through our clothes, I could tell you must have been painfully hard. I could imagine how purple the head of your cock would be, as I fantasized about dropping to my knees and taking it in my mouth.
I didn't want to rush tonight though. Reluctantly, I squirmed away and playfully swatted your arm. I strode to the mirror and checked my reflection. My cheeks and chest were flushed from arousal, but that only added to the look. I felt more seductive than I ever had in my life. I was about to step into the hallway and grab my purse when you stopped me and informed me the outline of my thong was clearly visible. I thought I had managed to pick one that was both practical and sexy, but I realized I could see the fabric through the skintight dress. I slipped my panties off and grabbed a new pair. Not as hot, but hopefully less obvious to passersby. I pulled this one up and readjusted my dress before checking myself out in the mirror. It was less obvious, but I could still tell. You assured me it was much better, and reminded me we had somewhere to be and a specific time to be there. One last look, we grabbed our belongings, and out the door we went.
In the car, I shifted nervously. Why had I dressed like this? What if we ran into someone we knew? I tugged at my dress, crossed and uncrossed my legs, and asked you repeatedly if you were sure no one would notice my underwear through my dress. You reassured me seemingly countless times and squeezed my knee as an intimate gesture of comfort. When we arrived at the theater and parked, it was still light out. I felt self-conscious now, walking along the sidewalk. I was sure people were staring. You held my hand and told me I looked fine.
Once inside the theater and seated, I asked again if you thought people would be staring at my panty lines. You repeated that it looked fine and the trailed off. You seemed to be thinking intently. I rose to go to the rest room and check myself in the mirror again when you leaned close and whispered in my ear. You very calmly told me to go to the rest room, but not to check my underwear. You told me to remove them and bring them to you.
I gaped at you momentarily before outwardly collecting myself. Inside, my thoughts raced. Yes, I often fantasized about not wearing underwear in public. I had done it occasionally in my early 20's, loving the gentle feeling of the breeze causing shivers up my thighs in a skirt or enjoying the roughness of the seam of my jeans spreading my pussy. I would rush home to stroke my clit until I came, panting and shaking. But I am older now, and more reserved. Could I really do something like that now?
You took my hand and squeezed it gently before dropping to stroke my thigh. You raised your eyebrows at me as if to ask if I were up to the challenge. I steeled myself and recalled that I had promised myself this would be a night to remember. You had turned the tables on me now, but I decided to approach it as exciting rather than intimidating. I stood and walked out of the theater, giving my hips a little extra sway.
In the restroom, I slid my thong down and concealed it in my purse. I tugged the hem of my dress as low as I could and took my first step towards the hallway. The sensation of air on my bare pussy was overwhelming and my knees nearly buckled. I wasn't sure I was going to make it back to the theater without coming, let alone through a movie. I walked slowly, with no attention to my gait. I wasn't aiming for seductiveness, I was just trying to retain some semblance of dignity. Every step brought a wave of excitement, wetness spreading across my barely concealed skin.
One foot in front of the other until I was back in my seat. I crossed my legs, and slipped my panties out of my purse. I discreetly reached into your pocket, leaving them there. I could tell I was flushed again, and when I looked, your pupils were dilated with excitement. I was surprised, since they typically only dilated that large right before you came. I took it as a sign that this night was going exactly as I had hoped. I tried to slow my heart rate, but didn't succeed. My nipples were hard, and my mind seemed determined to wander to what I wanted you to do to me. You sat stoically, holding my hand. Your ability to remain composed in all situations has always impressed me, and this was no different.
