I ring the bell, the door opens. I'm here to watch Sunday football with my ex, Erica. She's in town for a long weekend and will be leaving tomorrow morning for NYC. Erica and I dated about 10 years ago. It didn't work out, but we're still close and I often fantasize about her. In the couple years after we dated, we had a friends with benefits thing going on. It's been 8 years since we had sex and I assumed that those days would be permanently gone.
Erica is in a sun dress, which while unusual, isn't a major thing. She looks amazing. Her shoulders and legs are bare. The dress itself is sheer with a flower pattern. It's low cut in the front and doesn't go down all that far at all. She's barefoot. I breath out instinctually, I feel my balls tighten and a rush of blood into my cock. Erica's body still turns me on even though we haven't had sex in almost 10 years. Something inside my body just is never going to turn off. When she's looking sexy, I can always feel my body on edge. Once again it's surging.
"Hey!" we both say, and hug. Her body squeezes against me and I feel her breasts. I touch her back. She's smiling. To me, she's radiant. I try not to get my hips too close, as I don't want her to feel the growing bulge.
"Wow, you look great!" I say. This gives me a chance to, in a socially-acceptable kind of way, look her over.
"Thanks," she says and smiles as she dips her hips. She does look especially hot, this is not normal wear for her. Typically she's pretty frumpy and doesn't do a lot to really show herself off. Yet here she is, cleavage bursting, half naked in front of me. "Damn, I want to fuck you," goes through my head. I try not to betray, on my face, the raw lust inside me.
"I guess I'm a little dressed up. I didn't bring too many clothes from New York, so I'm kind of short. Plus, I haven't wore my stuff from here in a while, so I figured why not."
"Why not indeed" floats through my mind. My semi-hard cock tingles as I continue undressing her with my eyes.
"Hey, before the game, can you help me with a few things upstairs? I want to get the beds made up before I go and it's way easier with two people" she says.
"Sure. No problem," I say. We leave the doorway and start to walk up the long, straight stairway to the upstairs. She heads up first. My eyes are immediately drawn to her legs. As she gets higher above me, I get a better and better view. I see her bare thighs as the fabric of her skirt flows with her movements. My brain is on fire, I never thought I'd have such a view. I let her get just a little higher. I get the briefest peek at her panties. "Yes!" I think, "It's my lucky day!"
We have three beds to make. I continue to ogle her body in secret. The first bed is a single, we make it quickly. The next two are queens. My eyes wonder over her breasts. As she tucks in the blankets, I can get oh so brief looks down her top. I'm even harder now, but am doing a good job hiding it. Inside though, my heart is racing. "I would fuck you so hard."
We go back downstairs. We crack a few beers and I the thought of her body fades a bit from my mind. We sit across from each other on her couch. We catch up on how we're doing, what some of spring-time plans are. We're both quick drinkers and within just a short bit of time, we've each had several. I drink a lot, but I'm feeling it. The game comes on and we get distracted with it.
As I get drunk, my eyes begin to wonder over her body again. She looks sweet but sexy. The fact that a beautiful woman is into sports is a turn on. I wonder if she's starting to get a little drunk too. I notice that she's slowing being less and less ladylike. First she stops crossing her legs, then she begins to spread them. I try to keep my eyes on the game, but it becomes harder and harder to do. Damn, it's killing me. I want to shamelessly watch her, I want to see her body, but I don't want to be a creep either. This is my friend after all, I'm supposed to be a gentleman.
It's halftime and we're both getting a little tipsy. She moves to get us another round and gives me my first wide-open view up her skirt. I nearly groan out loud. Her panties are white and yellow, I clearly see the mound between her legs. She goes into the kitchen out of sight. "Yes!" I pump my first in the air. Oh god the sight has me trembling hard, I'm so turned on. I massage the head of my cock through my pants.
She comes back. We talk more. Is she flirting with me? If it were anyone else I would have said yes, but with her I'm just not sure. Maybe it's the booze playing tricks on me. I don't want to mess anything up just because I'm horny. It just seems like she's showing off more and more. She's laughy and cheerful. "I'm not this entertaining," I think to myself. Her legs are spreading farther and farther, tempting me to look. She touches me once, then again. Her sheer top seems to be sinking lower and lower. More than once I watch her nipples get hard. It's getting unbearable. How can I stop from looking? I want her so bad, doesn't she know this is killing me?
The game's dwindling. We've clearly won and we're drunk. There isn't a whole lot of reason to watch the TV. So we're even more focused on each other. She's lounging deeply in her seat with her legs spread. I can get a clear view of her panties. I can't take my eyes off them. I know her pussy, I want desperately to see it again. In my mind we're already fucking. I'm a mess.
But now the unthinkable happens. Suddenly she crosses her legs, looks me straight in the eye and sits up in her seat. She doesn't say anything but gets up and goes into the kitchen. "Oh fuck! Fuck! I'm caught. She finally noticed. I'm in trouble." Jesus, I'm going out of my mind. How do I explain it to her? Is she going to be pissed? Oh god, I hope I didn't throw everything away just to see her panties.
To my surprise she comes back into the room, hands me another beer, and sits down again. I'm a raging ball of anxiety. At any moment I expect to be chewed out as a pervert. She takes a long pull, tosses her hair back, and looks straight at me.
"Were you looking up my skirt?" She finally says. There's no sense of anger. Her body language isn't telling me anything.
"Yes. I'm sorry! I..." I stammer off, but she stops me.
"That's okay," she smiles. "Do you want to see my pussy?"
