This story is the result of an online discussion. I met the woman whom I have called Yamina on the Literotica chat, and we enjoyed an evening of exchanging experiences. I was so fascinated by this one that I had to write it down. I spoke to Yamina again and she said I should send the story in. It is a real experience.
Yamina stepped into the hallway of her house. Pausing only to throw off her raincoat, she went upstairs to the bedroom she shared with her husband, Mark. She stood for a moment in front of the big mirror, and looked at herself. She saw a not-very tall brown girl, with, she thought, quite a pretty face, wearing jeans and a pullover. Closing her eyes, she undressed totally, then composed herself and looked again. She forced herself first to look at her breasts, small, neat and with big brown nipples. She allowed her gaze to drift downwards. Below her navel, in place of this morning’s thick dark thatch, was a thin line of pubic hair, tracing a path to where her sex lips now showed. Yes, she thought, the effect was as good as she had hoped. Mark was really going to like this! She glanced at her watch. Three-quarters of an hour to get to the restaurant.
She pulled her black minidress out of the wardrobe and laid it on the bed. A pair of black hold ups followed it. She pulled on the stockings, enjoying the sight of her newly visible sexlips framed by the black lacy tops. She paused for a second, slapped her thighs, then sighed philosophically. As a second-generation Pakistani, there were some parts of the genetic makeup she had not escaped. At least they were solid muscle, not just fat! She pulled the dress over her head, appreciated the sensation of it clinging to her body. As she straightened it out, she realised that she had made another decision. She was not going to put on knickers, not even a thong. Mark was really, really going to like this! She went into the bathroom, quickly brushed out her long, black lustrous hair, and refreshed her makeup.
Yamina ran down the stairs, and collected her raincoat. As she picked up her house key from the table by the door, she was unable to resist the temptation to take another look. She stood in front of the full-length mirror and raised the hem of her dress to show the newly depilated belly she had wanted. The beautician had called it a landing strip. Yamina giggled. The plane that landed there would have to have in-line skates! There was barely three or four hairs’ width, compared with her natural bush.
Mark was coming from one of his sites up near Oban, and would drive them both home afterwards. Yamina was pleased to take the tram into the centre; it would give her time to feel the cool evening air under her dress. She walked briskly to the stop, enjoying the sensation of being nearly exposed to all the unknowing passers-by. It made her feel sexy. She checked again the depth of Lycra that lay between her bare sex and the world. Just about a hands’ width…
On the tram she stood at first. It allowed her to pretend she was bracing herself against the swaying of the vehicle, whereas in fact, she was revelling in standing, legs apart, her sex slightly damp and feeling the breeze. Then she sat, at first closing her raincoat over her thighs and allowing the dress to ride up a little in secret. Then she opened the coat, straightened the dress and crossed her legs, so she could quietly squeeze her thighs, and her sex lips, together. She regretted that there were no other passengers to tease a little….
Mark and Yamina met at the restaurant called the Officers’ Mess. It had many advantages for them. It was just by a tram stop, it served good food and had tables separated into little booths. Mark kissed his wife. He was straight out of his car, still in his work suit and tie.
“Hello, gorgeous.” He grinned at her. “Your eyes are glowing. That usually means good things. Is there something I need to know?”
Yamina looked at her husband. Tall and blond, his suit fitted him well, and she felt a warm pride in her heart, as well as a tingle under her dress, to think that this was her man.
“If there is something, you will have to feed me properly to find out” she said “and I am not promising anything”
They went in to the restaurant, heading automatically for a booth on the higher level. They were so accustomed to the eating there; that they knew the table they wanted. The lighting here was more discreet, and there were rarely other clients. This evening they were on their own. The tables here were covered with a tartan cloth, which hung almost to the floor. Mark held out a chair for Yamina, while she removed her coat, and smiled in appreciation of the short black dress she wore.
“Leave the chair there a moment, Mark, please” she said, “and go and sit down”
Obediently he left the chair and took his place facing her across the table. Yamina looked around, and slid her dress up around her hips, showing him her naked and almost hairless sex. There was a sharp intake of breath from Mark.
“That is just sooooo beautiful” he said. “I knew you were up to something, but this is just fantastically sexy”
Yamina smiled demurely, sat down and straightened the dress.
“I’m glad you like it. I have been dying to show someone all the way here!”
“Do you want to see how hard you’ve made me, just by doing that?” Asked Mark
