Most of these stories are standalone, so you don't have to read them all. This one, however, calls back to Pts 11, 18 and 23.
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Ever since I'd washed Dan's bike, I'd been thinking about going for a ride with him. Eventually I'd mentioned it enough times that he remembered, and came over to pick me up. It was a lovely day, and I'd been thinking about not wearing all the protective gear we usually wear.
When I heard him pull up, I went down and opened the door wearing sneakers and a summer dress. Dan asked me to pull the dress up, showing I was wearing a thong, but no bra. He suggested I wear motorcycle boots, then left his jacket and went down to the bike. We put our gloves and helmets on and got on.
Once we were moving, my dress was up quite a way at the back, and guys were all waving at us enthusiastically.
I kept trying to sit on my dress to keep it down, but whenever Dan braked, I'd be tilted forward, allowing the dress to float free.
After a sedate ride, we got to a roadside diner where motorcyclists often stopped to eat, chat and admire other people's bikes. We pulled up and stopped, and there was no genteel way to get off the bike, so I ended up flashing my thong to everyone.
Inside, Dan got us a drink. We sat on the stools behind the table at the front window, and I'm sure people could see right up my dress.
When it was time to go home, I'd decided to take her thong off. I pulled it down to my knees, then had a struggle getting it over my boots. People had noticed me getting it off, so there was a small crowd waiting to see my pussy as I got back on the bike.
We rode home with me flashing my butt to everybody, and often the wind was blowing the front up too, so truckers were often able to see my pussy as well.
When we got home, I was really turned on. I pulled Dan upstairs and unbuttoned his jeans, then had a devious thought. I called Rachel's pizza place and ordered us a pizza.
I pulled my dress off, but could only get Dan's jeans down to his knees with his boots on. I pushed him onto the sofa and straddled him, and it didn't take long until I came. I got off and knelt down in front of him. I told him he had to cum before Rachel got there, and went down on him.
He came in my mouth, and I held it until I heard the door bell. I ran down the stairs as fast as I could in my boots, and opened the door to Rachel. She put her foot in the door to hold it open, as I was almost naked, and I took the pizza from her and put it on the stairs, handed her the money, then squatted down in front of her. I undid her jeans, pulled them apart and pulled her panties away from her, then dribbled, almost spat, Dan's cum.
Rachel looked down, groaned and said "ew, gross," and I let go of her panties, rubbed them against her pubic hair then zipped her jeans back up and gave her a kiss before closing the door.
We went upstairs and ate pizza, then I suggested we go out and get a drink. I put on my thong and dress, and sneakers, and we headed out - it was just a short walk.
We'd not been there long when my phone rang - it was Rachel. I took the call, and told her where we were, and she showed up shortly after that.
She was pretending to be angry at having to work with cum in her panties.
"You could have just taken them off", I said.
"Then I'd have been delivering pizza to complete strangers without my panties," she replied.
"You could take them off now," I suggested.
Rachel got up to go and do just that.
"In the men's room," I said. "And send us a picture of you in there."
Rachel sighed, and went to the bathrooms. A minute or so later, she sent us both a picture of her standing in front of the urinals, then a few minutes later, she came back and sat down again, putting her soiled panties in her bag.
"I dare you to go and take a picture topless in there," she said to me. "And not in a stall, in the mirrors."
I don't think she knows what I'm capable of, what I've already done, yet. I went to the men's room. Luckily there was nobody in there, so I stood in front of the mirrors, took my dress off and took a picture. I sent it, then went back and sat down.
"Your turn," I said to Rachel.
Rachel got up and headed to the bathrooms. She sent us a picture of her standing topless in front of the urinals. I couldn't see her shirt in the picture. I reckoned she'd undressed in a stall, then quickly taken the picture, then quickly gone back in the stall. Where's the risk in that?
When she got back, I asked her where her clothes had been, and Rachel said they were hanging up in a stall.
"That's cheating," I said, "you have to undress in the main area, like I did."
I showed her my dress in the previous picture, and Rachel sighed and got up again. Shortly afterwards, we got another picture of her topless, and this time we could see her shirt on the counter.
