Typically I would wear a skirt without panties. As I was getting dressed and feeling too sexy already, I figured wearing some might tame my instincts around the handsome men at the gathering. I slipped into a favorite lace bra and held the matching panties in my hand as I walked half-naked around my room. With a blouse selected, I put the panties down to button my top half way up to my modest B cup breasts. After a pause to fidget with my hair, I resumed the decision making process.
Maybe today I'd go with stockings. Crotchless would still work pretty well for keeping things smooth, yet I'd saturate them in no time at all. Sometimes those things make me feel sexier and hornier. I cold not wear sandals with them either.
They were out.
I picked up the panties once more. They were necessary today.
My skirt was of a snug yet comfortable type. Able to lift the hem over my thighs and hips, I hiked it up, slid my satin and lace pussy protector up each leg, slowly. I put them on ritualistically in the same fashion as I hoped any man tonight would removed them. One long shaven leg at a time, with a pause here and there for some gentle caressing. By the time I stood away from the edge of my bed, I had to dab the moisture before continuing to pull them tight across my trimmed pussy.
The hardest decision was over.
Hair coiffed, minimal makeup on and a dab of perfume where it counted all in sequence as not to forget any one detail.
Out the door I went, knowing well that what I wanted was surely going to be in abundance at the venue tonight. All night.
The journey was less than eventful at the onset. Miles down the road, a song came on the radio to bringing a memory flooding back. I looked in the mirror and saw a glimpse of my younger self. It was a vision of bridled excitement, a hesitation and a pause held back what should have been a bursting moment of a regular first date with a new man.
But once the expression was identified, I felt a similar wetness some over me. Tapping on my thigh in tune to the music, my thumb mistakenly tapped my skirt just enough to vibrate along my mound. I could not resist playing a bit more. Hooking my finger beneath the hem, I lifted the bottom of my skirt to fit my hand between my thighs and massage a bit. No pussy play on the way. Some level of a thrill needed to be stifled.
Thankfully, I resisted my own temptations.
Arriving safely and still turned on by the anticipated masculine forces to be present that night, I slipped my painted toes back into my high heeled sandals and strutted across the lawn. Every step edged my skirt back and forth across my sensitive legs. The back of my thighs got to feeling a tingle, making me shift my approach to walking. Instead of a long strut to accentuate my shoes, gait became a close-legged twisting one providing more swaying of my hips and less stimulation of my lips.
By the time I got to the door, three men were waiting to open the door for me. One stepped back to allow the others the pleasure of greeting me first. One opened the door, the other extended a hand to assist me across the threshold.
As it turned out, the one in the foyer was the most patient. Stepping back to allow me a chance to enter the building before being approached, I had no choice but to proceed and find myself face to face with you. Extended arms brought us into a wonderful embrace and reuniting hello. The other men watched over their shoulders as the door blew shut.
We interlocked our fingers for effect as we turned and walked deeper into the house. My strut resumed as it was when I first got out of the car. Stimulation was an alright detail from here on forward into the night. Fingers still locked, you chose to walk a bit ahead of me, guiding to some unknown destination. I went along without input until we passed a bright room. I pulsed your fingers to get your attention. You stopped and stepped back towards me to see what my motion was about.
Standing hip to hip, we filled the doorway. With a quick shift of my hip, I bumped you into the room, spun on one heel towards you and dragged you into the room. In a beautiful spinning dance step, you were face to face with me, bodies pressed together. I raised one foot and kicked the door closed. What should have been a loud slam was actually a quiet click. I stepped closer to you to try to reach around and lock it, but you were quicker to step into me. You walked me backwards with my hands held behind your back. I stepped back as you stepped forward, chest to chest.
We reached the window seat. It was adorned with a flowery yellow cushion and flowing white sheers that blew in with each gust.
You released my fingers from the lock of your strong hands. Before I could react to that new little freedom, you wrapped your arms around my waist and grabbed my ass. With a grasp and a smile, my body was pressed hard against your bulging front and toned chest. One deep inhale preceded the exhale that started my heart beating again. The next step forward landed me on my ass. As much as you tried to lower me gently to a comfortable sitting position, you got carried away and it became a shove.
Sitting before you, your hard cock trying to push through your zipper was at perfect eye level for me. You stood tall and proud in front of me, then curiously stepped back a couple feet. I waited to see how your actions would play out. Hands on my crossed legs, I swung my upper foot back and forth nervously. That step back gave you space to lower your body and make your way to your knees. There was a submissiveness happening here, though the submissive one was yet to be identified.
I knew that I was willing to be your slave. Expressions in your eyes told me you were going to take full charge, but within a few blinks, you were seeming to jockey to be my bitch.
