Chapter 4: Erotic Dress On A Long Weekend Together
Authors Note - Please read "The Beginning..." and "The Dream Continues" series. They may you understand this tale.
A few weeks later we knew that we could spend a long weekend together. We began to plan. I had to give the keynote address at an international conference, but elected find my own accommodation.
There were two reasons for this.
Firstly I do not like conferences, or "conference people".
Secondly I was in love, and wished to spend time with the wonderful person who has stumbled into my life, simply by visiting my chairman on the wrong day.
The conference was organised by an old professor friend. He assured me that I would only be needed for my own paper, then at a "brains trust" at the end. He knew that my paper would be controversial, and that it might cause many others to be reshuffled. In this case my absence might be wise.
We discreetly flew together. We booked into club class on the same flights there and back. We told the airline what seats we wanted, and she booked in very early. She looked sensational when we met in the departure lounge.
She wore a long, tight belted, raincoat, with her jet black hair cascading onto her shoulders. She rushed to me, her blue eyes full of happiness, and we kissed.
I wondered, briefly, if we might join the mile high club!
We did not. She had been shopping, and had found my French corsetieres. She was carrying almost everything she had bought, as hand baggage. The bags advertised were they were from, and what they might be.
This caused instant interest from our pretty young airhostess.
Once we were seated, and as breakfast was served, the girl asked if she might see what was in the bags. She was shown a few of her purchases. One for the first things to be brought out was an exact copy of the original white bra.
The airhostess was amazed, and did not believe that it would be possible to wear such a flimsy thing comfortably, particularly for a long time.
That threw down the gauntlet. My beautiful companion simply unbuttoned her blouse, and peeled back one side. A perfect nipple came into view, erect, and pointing straight out just above the top line of the bra cup. If it could be worn throughout a long day, and an international flight, then it proved a point.
There was an unexpected, and sudden reaction from the airhostess. A hand shot out. It gently touched, and stroked, the nipple.
It was very erotic, a completely involuntary reaction of beauty to beauty.
The poor girl went beetroot coloured. She was very embarrassed.
Well she was not that embarrassed. She told all her female colleagues!
The obvious happened, my beautiful companion was invited elsewhere; she disappeared with her shopping bags into the confines of the galley. A curtain was drawn tight shut.
I was left toying with a typical, not so good, airline breakfast.
It seemed that every article of underwear was examined, and all had a look at the bra that was being worn. I was simply the odd man out; especially jealous when shrieks of laughter came from the pantry.
Later I was given a blow-by-blow account of the gathering. Male cabin staff were sent elsewhere, and four girls crowded around my friend. They examined all the exquisite French clothing in detail, and then asked if the could see what our airhostess had seen. Many buttons were undone, and hands held back her blouse to expose both breasts.
More hands touched, fingers were slipped under bra straps, her breasts were stroked, and the cups were weighed. Finally those wonderful hard errect nipples were stroked.
That was enough, liquid formed on the teat ends.
A gaggle of girls discovered that the breasts of a stunningly pretty passenger could give milk.
There were immediate peals of the laughter, of delight, of glee, and of wonderment. This is what we heard in the cabin. She said that lips gently caressed the milk away before more hands helped to dress her again.
We left the aeroplane a king and queen, with all the airhostesses lined up as a guard of honour to wish us well. She was on fire with lust.
Our hotel was close to the airport, right on the water, but a few miles from the conference centre. I had especially asked for a waterside suite, with a huge bath, a balcony, and plenty of room for me to work. They threw in a landing stage as an extra, which had me thinking.
The position, and views from the room were breathtaking. The windows were full width and height. They slid back so that only a third of the wall was covered. We were six feet from, and three feet above the water. Far out, across the water there were islands, shimmering in the heat haze.
We wondered if they were they inhabited?
We were shown to our room, and asked that an early cold lunch to be left outside our door. We were not to be disturbed at any time. My paper was early the next morning, and we knew what too much lovemaking might do.
We also knew that we would then have two whole days entirely to ourselves, before I had to return for the "brains trust". We stripped naked.
She padded around the room putting everything away. Two light hotel wraps, or housecoats, were hung on the back of the main room door in case of emergency.
She was still in the clouds from her experiences on the 'plane. Her nipples were rock hard, she needed to cum, and she was dieing to show me her shopping. She did.
She started with an exquisite, silk and lace, white basque. We went no further.
She had the most perfect "hour glass" figure, and she explained that she had been told to deliberately choose this to be slightly tight.
Apparently she went into the French Lingerie shop wearing the bra, simply to purchase another. The shop assistant remembered that I had purchased one. She started to show more beautiful things. She was a great saleswoman; almost the first thing to appear was the basque.
The two girls wanted to play. The sales girl locked the shop door, turned "Open" to "Closed", and both disappeared into a large fitting room.
The girl explained that a basque should normally be slightly tight to enhance the wearer's feelings. She fitted one of exactly the right size. It was gently boned so that, when correctly fitted, it enhanced an already slim waist, before curving out over her hips and turning again almost to the tops of her hip joints.
My glorious friend wanted me to fit it to her. She turned, with her back towards me, and held up both arms. I passed the garment it under her armpits. I checked that each breast nestled perfectly into a cup.
My erection was huge, I had to bend deep at my waist, or my penis would have brushed continuously against this exotic garment.
I pulled it around her body, ensured that the inner flap was in completely the right position, and began to lace. Long lengths of the finest white silk ribbon fell to the floor.
The first two or three lacings were into actual eyelets, after that I simply passed the ribbon around exquisitely detailed tiny hooks. I gently pulled the basque tight as I laced upwards. She purred with contentment.
Finally I tied a bow, and it was done. I lightly touched her right shoulder, and she slowly, provocatively, turned around to face me. The cups simply stopped, like those on the first bra, just below her nipples. These tips of my desire were completely exposed.
It was an extraordinary piece of eroticism. It came complete with many extras. She modelled it with bra straps that gently touched the sides of her naked breasts, with straps that divided to hug each breast, like those on the original bra, and without straps.
She modelled it with stockings and suspenders of different lengths, and without anything.
It was best by itself.
