PANTIES? I DON'T WEAR ANY!
I can't really say why I don't wear panties, except that it makes me feel sexy, and I like feeling that way. When I am around a hot guy and naked just underneath my short dress, I feel like he may know, or at least hope that I am baring it for him, and I want him to wonder and imagine it uncovered and ready.
It all started when I was driving one hot day and pulled my skirt up to give my lower parts relief from the heat. That wasn't enough, so--while driving--I removed my panties. It was hard, but I found that it was worth it and I started to like the feeling of my pussy being bare right against the seat and exposed to the air. The warm leather felt good against my naked pussy.
When I got to work, I left it that way since it would have been really difficult to get back into my panties while sitting in the parking lot outside my work, and changing in a restroom would be tricky. However, being in those meetings in an extremely short skirt with no panties on kept me hot and horny all day long.
The next day I left them off before I left for work and all day I once again loved the feeling of being just a little naked right there at work. When my boss called me into his office to dictate a letter, I sat there wondering if he could see up my skirt, or at least if he was trying to. If he was, I actually hoped he could get a little peek at my pussy. Not a long look, but just enough to make him wonder if he really saw what he thought he saw.
Later, when some of us were standing around the water cooler, I wondered if anybody else was standing there in their short skirt just barely covering a naked pussy, and the possibility of that keep me aroused all day. The fun part was that I was constantly thinking about sex, about guys getting a quick peek whenever I sat and crossed my legs.
Sitting at lunch with Hal and Jonathon in the hotel restaurant, I opened my legs wide under the table and I could feel the air around my pussy and it felt wonderful, sexy, and daring.
Sometimes I'd wear pants at work, but after starting to go without underwear I began only wearing skirts or dresses. Short dresses were even better than skirts because they were more billowy and loser as a rule. I could be almost totally naked in a crowd of people. At least I felt that way.
I would be outside on the sidewalk in a crowd of people in a billowy dress and I would feel naked and daring and excited just waiting for the light to change. The wind would blow up my dress and I would feel it rushing around my pussy, feel the air flowing between my legs and I would get a little high, thinking about being bare just under my dress.
I started thinking of it as a favorite pastime, like a hobby I'd do to make my day more interesting, to keep my mind off the mundane parts of my life, of working at a dull job. Not that my job was full, but there were always times when things weren't all that exciting. I started to think of ways of spicing it up, of adding new wrinkles and variations. My skirts and dresses got shorter, pushing the limits, and I began to bend over more during the day, to invite "accidents" and be more daring.
Once when I was in a meeting I let my knees separate and allow just a little more of me to be accessible to wandering eyes. I was in the front row with no desk in front of me and the chairman was standing at the podium. When his eyes moved passed me I saw his head jerk back, not sure he'd really seen what he thought he saw.
He couldn't concentrate after that and kept looking back in my direction. By the time the meeting was over, he could not stop looking at my knees, which had been apart about a foot the whole time. I am sure he got a clear view. He is from another district and I can just imagine the story he tells of the meeting he presided over here in LA.
I decided I would take my hobby to a shoe store in Beverly Hills. It was one of the swankier department stores and I asked to see a certain shoe in a six. The salesman brought four pairs and I sat in a chair and he sat on a low stool in front of me with shoe stand in front of him. When he went to try on the first pair he looked up, right between my knees, right into a direct line of sight with my bare, wet and pink pussy. He actually stammered and lost his train of thought.
"What did you say?" I said. He tried to look everywhere but up my dress and think of an answer, but like a magnetic attraction his eyes were drawn back up my skirt. Finally, he had to excuse himself, I think to "adjust" things in the back room. Another salesman came to "help" me, because I think word spread through the store about the woman in the pink shoes.
Another time I attended a class in first aid and sat right up front in the first row. When the class started I opened my legs and the speaker got tongue tied and couldn't remember what he had just said. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, Sharon Stone style, and had the presenter's attention the whole time. The further he got in his presentation, the wider my knees got apart. Eventually, they were so far apart that I am sure he had a clear view right to the promise land.
By the time he was finished I was making eye contact, when he wasn't looking directly at my crotch, and whenever our eyes met he couldn't make a complete sentence. It got so I started feeling sorry for him and closed my legs, but I could see the disappointment so clearly in his face that I opened them again and smiled.
There is an amusement park on the Santa Monica Pier that has an air blaster on the floor at the entrance that shoots up air when women come in and it blows their dresses up. I have wanted to test it for years, so I went with some friends of mine with the clear intention of having my dress blown up, revealing my no panty attire.
