The call spurred her excitedly into life for the afternoon. Still plenty of jobs to do. Her bedroom to tidy. Clean sheets to put on and a boudoir to create. Plus a lot of general housework.
She had resisted telling him of her arts project, the result of which she was currently wearing quite happily around the house to do said jobs, adding a naughty element to everything, especially when she caught an unexpected glimpse of herself in a mirror.
Integrity needed to be tested.
Resilience to movement.
Her stitching and sewing ability.
The call had given her a test point. A moment in time to work towards. An instance of fruition.
But that didn't mean she couldn't gain a little familiarity with her endeavours. Putting the washing on the line in the backyard for example meant a little private then public display. Fetching and carrying things to the garage at the foot of the front steps meant a lot of stretch in the legs.
It felt natural, but inside she was stifling the giggling glee of a teenager, for she had spent an hour that morning opening the stitching and cutting back some of the jeans material right at her pussy lips.
The new slit started at the base of the zip and travelled as far as she dared through towards her ass, and opened as far as she dared into the tops of her legs. With her legs closed, it looked like a regular pair of denims. Open, and she looked available for use.
She had then strengthened the material to stop it accidentally ripping and removed, for the moment, her lower jewellery that wanted to hang through.
It was a constant exciting thought. During the conversation with the neighbour over the low fence she felt extremely naughty and especially when face to face with the mailman whilst he ferreted in his bag for a parcel, whilst she stood there wondering how far apart she could take her legs without arousing suspicion.
Taking them off a while later, and still extremely wet between the legs, she had been impressed with her basic road test and was looking forward to the evening ahead. She folded them neatly and tried to ignore them for a while.
...
He arrived at 7 and on his motorcycle. A warmish evening with only a couple of white wispish clouds, it looked perfect for biking. She hadn't been quite prepared for that. As she watched him from her upper floor engage the stand at the kerb and dismount, her mind went into overdrive.
She already felt like a biker chick with the jeans, plain black stilettos and a fancy white lace blouse that she had found during the afternoon rummage and clear out. It had a very light pattern that, though it didn't make it completely see through, made it thin enough to give the illusion. The fact it hung from her breasts just about down to her midriff she thought was quite sexy too. A soft scoop above her chest completed the look.
Her hanging jewellery was carefully stowed in a front pocket. Ironically, she was beginning to feel naked without that familiar soft weight and gentle tug on her. Still, it was only for a while.
She had planned on wearing a thin beige tailored raincoat over the top which was long enough to conceal the present to her man. Now, because of his choice of mode of transport, she had to change her mind. Despite the warm evening, exposure on a bike meant risk of a slight chill. She needed something slightly thicker.
Looking at her recently thinned rail of coat options, she saw the perfect one and plucked it happily from the space.
Opening the door, he beamed at her and remarked favourably on the obvious few extra pounds of weight loss and how gorgeous she looked. She beamed and rotated on the spot to show him the efforts that she had been putting in. His eyes flicked to her ass, but apart from a gentle pat there he didn't make any remark, more intent on and pleased about the soft pert under-boob that was showcased before she zipped up the leather jacket.
He didn't notice the split in her jeans; had no expectation of her doing what she had done. Keeping kissing to the gentle end of the scale rather than passionate, she kept the surprise secure for the moment.
She wanted to tell him.
She wanted so much to show him.
She wanted to feel his hands there.
He made a brief remark about the ink stain, but a smile and a change of subject prevented him from looking too closely. They ought to get moving and enjoy the sojourn.
She had a game in mind with all the elements created and ready to be played. This was not the time to fall apart. It was far more erotic to hold back and hide it for the moment. Keeping her legs closed whenever he was looking straight at her, she felt herself moisten in anticipation of playing her hand, and was more concerned about leaking down her leg.
Front door locked and helmet on her head, she waited for him to first mount the large engined tourer. Standing at the house kerb now, she felt like a biker chick. The leather jacket, that she had previously worn at the restaurant, only reached her waist and it did mean that she had no way of hiding her wardrobe addition should she need to.
But hey, it made it more fun.
She cast residual doubts from her mind as he mounted the bike and eased it off the stand to bring it totally upright.
Checking that there was no one behind her to get an eyeful, she prepared herself.
Stepping her first foot up onto the passenger stand, she swung her other leg up and over to sit squarely on the pillion and settle her stilleto clad foot onto the other. There was a soft mound of pummel between rider and pillion and her lower lips opened softly to almost kiss it as she settled behind it, and settled behind him.
Well this was a new feeling.
Her naked pussy was almost being ground into the leather stitching on the seat and whilst looking down into the narrow void between their bodies, she was suddenly hit by the stark realisation of what she was wearing.
There was no closing her thighs now.
No modesty if she suddenly needed it.
She was open.
As he started the engine, her entire attention was taken by the feel of the leather between her legs. Though not cold, the material on her legs contrasted immensely with the cooled feel between her very open pussy. Her thighs couldn't be closed due to her position on the seat behind him. And despite needing to be close enough to hold his waist for safety, the void was maintained between their bodies and the soft mound of the seat snuggled softly with her soft mound.
Her pussy fluttered in expectation of a stroke. Removing a hand from his waist, she obliged, working them between and into her crack, her knuckles accidentally in his lower back a couple of times.
He was asking if she was all right.
She could barely hear him above the engine but nodded her head in reply more intent on scratching the erotic itch she was feeling.
Engine gunning.
He pulled away from the kerb.
They were off.
She couldn't deny that there was a certain degree of anxiety over the course of the trip. In traffic, there was a concern that the person in any car behind could or would notice the fact that material wasn't covering her entire derriere. Leaning forward holding her man's torso did create an angle that she had hoped would be shown to him first and not random other people. Feeling around, it did feel very open to the elements, despite her being sat on the main split.
Maybe it would be a negligible view? A couple of pink pieces of an undefinable origin? Pocket decoration perhaps?
On the open road, it actually felt thrilling. The air flow around her nether regions were soothing and exciting in equal measure. At lights, she found sitting upright helped improve her confidence that no one was going to toot their horns or leer at her, though with a helmet on, no one would know who she was anyway.
She reached behind herself a couple of times to run her finger down over her ass and feel the start of the cut in the material and wondered how much anyone behind could see? The concern that was making her heart beat even faster was, that at this angle, was her puckered asshole winking at the following motorists?
Helen was riding the line between it being a very exciting thought and being slightly anxious that she had started the game. There was not much she could do right now. The noise of the engine and the fact that they had two heavy helmet lids between them meant conversation was not an option and there was no way she could encourage a shorter journey. Not a regular pillion passenger, she felt safe with both hands looping around his waist and her chest pushed into his back.
The fact that the people, if they were looking, may see the split was just a current fact of life.
It excited her more than made her anxious.
It definitely excited her.
That particular line in the sand was perhaps moving as the journey went on.
She could feel her excitement collecting on the leather seat. Hemmed in between the pommel and her legs, and with no immediate place to go, it felt like a very specific part of her was sat in a bath.
The movement of the bike and forced lean into the bends. The permeating throb of the engine which made the whole frame rumble. It was like a very large engined sex toy that was directing it's power to the one place it mattered. A direct line to her clit.
Through the tumult in her head, the sane thought was to not cum. The seat was one long design, with her position being higher than where he sat. There was potentially one place her natural and copious squirt would end up and she couldn't see him being particularly happy spending the evening with sodden trousers if it seeped down to him.
She bit her lip and desperately tried to look at the passing scenery and think about other things.
A beautiful hedgerow in full bloom.
A glimpse of the sea through a field.
The fact that her pussy was so open.
Taking one arm off his waist, she tucked her fingers into the front of her slit and felt the squirt. Not such a large quantity from what she could ascertain, thank goodness, her orgasm had been quite low on the power scale, created by the vibration rather than a lot of direct internal stimulation. A lot of it now on her fingers.
Not wishing to wipe them on him or herself, she paused for a moment before doing the only option she felt she had left. Feeding them in through her visor, she licked them clean.
...
Dismounting gratefully at their parking space at the harbour they had decided to visit, she removed and passed him her helmet to clip to the bike and unzipped her jacket. The residual damp on the seat had dried quickly by the looks of it. No harm, no foul. The material on her inner thighs similarly had too. A residual slight stain but not as bad as the ink blot. Her breasts bounced free of the jacket constraint and she watched his eyes light up appreciatively once more.
His hand at her neck.
A passionate kiss.
