Sometimes, it's not the clothing that arouses us, but the lack of it, especially no panties.
*
"So been screwing the birthday girl have you?" Marcia said to Gareth as they were eating breakfast.
It was at the last knockings of Sammi's twenty first birthday party. There were two servings of bacon and eggs, with all the trimmings; the early one was between six and seven for those still partying and the later one, from nine onwards, for those who had lost the will to go on and had crashed in the marquee or the pool changing rooms where Amanda and Kevin and thoughtfully provided loads of sunbeds, loungers, lilos and blankets. Most had been occupied for the past few hour, some even for sleeping on!.
"Fuck off Marcia, what do you mean?" the, City boy derivatives trader in his early thirties snarled.
"Come on don't be pissed at aunty," the forty five-year-old immensely wealthy wife of one of the leading consultant psychologists in the UK said, smiling and putting her hand on Gareth's arm, after making sure no one could see them.
"What got you worked up about our Sandra Dee? Her stockings? Did you get your sweaty paws up her silky draws?" Marcia asked almost singing the words from Grease.
"How the fuck did you know she wore stockings?"
"You should know by now darling, aunty Marcia knows everything, she wants to know."
"And why would you want to know about Sammi's stockings and whether I shagged her not?"
Marcia wasn't Gareth's aunt at all, but they had used that term ever since their first time, when Gareth had said "It is a bit like having sex with my aunt." He was her friend Amanda's husband's son from his first marriage. Close, but not web feet territory, and that had been sufficient for Marcia and him to have been having sex on and off for nearly ten years. She preferred young men to those her own age.
"No particular reason," she said slipping her finger into his dress shirt, which had three buttons undone and his black tie draped round his neck. She slowly rubbed him between his breasts.
"Other than checking up on my property."
"I'm not your property."
"Really?" Marcia said moving closer and staring right into Gareth's eyes.
She pointedly slid one hand into the back pocket of her very tight, black, shiny trousers. That caused the front of her button up dress shirt, which she had worn with black tie earlier, to gape open. Whereas, Gareth had left three buttons undone, Marcia's shirt had four unbuttoned. That meant the shirt was open to more than half way down between her breasts. She was not well-endowed in that area, having only small mounds capped by large, dark nipples, so she could get away with showing so much. That is until the shirt gaped, then whoever was looking would see all and that is precisely what Gareth saw.
As she saw him looking right where she wanted him to, she again glanced round to make sure there were no onlookers. Reassured, she moved even closer. She caught his wrist with one hand and placed it on her pert, shapely, nicely rounded bum. She slid the other down his front and rubbed his bulge, as she leaned forward and kissed him. As she had anticipated he, firstly stroked all over each orb and then squeezed her bum and kissed her back.
"Ok you bitch," he grunted, recognising that she was the only woman that could always get to him. All the others, his age, younger, older, models, hookers, fellow city traders and bankers, starlets and MILFs, he could take or leave. With Marcia, he always came back for more.
Chapter 2.
Marcia didn't wear underwear. She didn't need a bra, having such small tits, and felt that without panties she, not only got rid of any ridges under the ridiculously tight jeans, trousers and skirts she favoured, but she also gained such fantastic sensations. As she had said to Amanda, Sammi's mum, Gareth's step-mother and one of her best friends, although Marcia occasionally also dallied with her husband Kevin, but then as she thought to herself, 'who hasn't?' feeling rather sorry for her friend.
"It's like walking around with a vibrator up your cunt."
Marcia and Stephen had a pretence of a happy marriage. As it happens they got on quite well, for neither really believed in love, but there it ended. True, they attended many functions together, both the medical ones that resulted from his job and the charity, hunting, showbiz, sporting and celebrity ones that came about because of Marcia's family connections and massive wealth, now well into the billion plus sterling.
Marcia had never been faithful to Stephen, but until recently Stephen had not thought of straying. Well he did have hookers and escorts, but they didn't really count, did they? Marcia had a number of fuckbuddies, had a penchant for young guys, particularly golf and tennis coaches and ski instructors and recently, she had found herself being more and more attracted to women, particularly younger ones.
Although she had absolutely no evidence whatsoever, Marcia was always thinking that Stephen was having affairs. After all he was lovely. Tall and slim with long, blonde hair turning grey, he had a great body and dressed immaculately managing to be cool and stylish without seeming to be trying to look too young. Not an easy knack, but he pulled it off both with formal and casual clothes.
Most of her friends told her how lucky she was to have such a gem. Marcia, with her lack of empathy and understanding of other people, ascribed her own standards and morals to her husband and to others. Stephen, a psychologist understood such thinking, after all that was what he was trained to do. He accepted that his wife would assume he would behave as she did, but until he had recruited Kate, it hadn't really entered his mind, despite many opportunities.
He had come so close with Kate, his Medical Assistant for a couple of months. So close that they had ended up in a hotel room masturbating, but not fucking.
The most uncanny aspect of his brief relationship with Kate, was how Marcia seemed to know his feelings about his assistant; almost before he did. She used those in bed. Several times, after an emotionally steamy day with Kate, Stephen would get into bed with Marcia. She would somehow sense his aroused thinking about Kate and her full breasts and slightly oversized bum and would start talking about her and them. That would arouse Stephen even more and several times as he fucked his wife, not only did he make out it was Kate, but Marcia made out she was her as well.
"Feel my big tits Stephen," she would moan as he slid into her and "Oh yes Stephen you're making Kate cum" as he gave her an orgasm.
Yes, not only did Marcia not wear underwear, she also had an unusually voracious sexual appetite, a wide range of sexual interests, well fetishes really, no discernable morals at all and a totally selfish approach, "If I want it, I'll have it and fuck the consequences." Marcia lived for the buzz.
Chapter 3.
"Follow me, big boy," Marcia said removing her hand from Gareth's bulge, which rather disappointingly hadn't started to grow.
"Where we going?"
"To fuck, where do you think? That is, of course, if you're still able to after sticking it to Ms Goody Twoshoes, the blessed Sammi." Marcia replied leading him out of the marquee and round the side of the garage.
"You'd be surprised at her," Gareth replied.
"Darling, I was totally gobsmacked when I saw her stockings, is there more to know?"
"Maybe," Gareth said, unusually for him feeling protective and warm towards Sammi. Usually when he'd fucked a bird he didn't want to know and didn't care what happened to her. Sammi seemed different somehow, but then half-sisters probably do.
"So where we going."
"Well, the lovely Amanda provided some of her closest friends, including moi of course, with a refuge. A little dressing room and loo for our exclusive use."
"Mmmm, handy."
Walking up the narrow and rather steep back staircase, Gareth's face was only inches from Marcia's undulating arse. He never ceased to be amazed at its awesome shape and her wiggle, which was the most erotic he had ever seen. He ran his fingers over the two orbs.
"Still no underwear, M?"
"Of course not, you know I don't wear such stuff, prefer the freedom me."
The mere though of her nakedness under the tight trousers and her bare tits in the shirt started to get him hard. When Marcia had come on to him, Gareth had wondered whether he'd be able to perform again, for he and Sammi had gone back for the second half a couple of hours after their first sex at around two. Those fucking stockings had a lot to answer for, he told her as he shagged on all fours.
Luckily, he'd prepared well for the party and had taken it fairly easy during the early stages.
Unlike most Thursday nights, when the city boys partied in London and any other night when they could justify two hundred pound bottles of Chateau Petrus, a few Doms, a visit or two from their friendly dealer, often a few hugely expensive hookers and a hugely expensive dinner as entertaining clients, Gareth had been careful. He hadn't popped a cocktail of pills, snorted numerous lines of coke and shoved any alcohol put in front of him down his throat. So he had got through Friday ok and he had had carefully planned Saturday.
At seven he'd take two Viagra on the basis that their effect would last longer than the 'not to be exceeded' dosage of 'no more than one in any twenty four hours'; all his mates and fellow budding masters of the universe and he knew such warnings were for the birds not for real men like them. He took them as a 'just in case' not, of course, because he needed them, but then all the other stuff he took could slow a bloke down a bit, the city boys always told each other. And in any, case wasn't that why pills were invented to make up for where real life disappointed or let you down?
Apart from the Champagne before dinner and whilst fucking Sammi, twice, and the white and red wine at dinner, which didn't really count, being wine, he'd been careful and not mixed his drinks. He was pretty sure he'd stayed on vodka all night, but maybe there was a dram or two of single malt and did he have a Henessy XO or two after dinner? Still, as a near million a year trader he had been trained very well in being able to take his drink, he hardly ever fell ever and couldn't remember the last time he passed out.
What with the credit crisis, the manic trading and the total lack of any knowledge about what was happening by anyone, least of all Gareth, who ran a ten man desk, he'd had a tough week and could well have done without this party. Hence, his careful preparation; you didn't earn a mil a year without being able to plan, he always told his team. So, just after arriving he had taken a couple of qualludes and during the evening he had a few lines. But then, everyone one was, weren't they, well at least the twenty or so city boys at the party were.
He was quite proud of himself, therefore, after Marcia had locked the door behind them, to feel his cock growing as if to order. True, he was laying on a small bed; true, she had taken her shirt off and let him suck her fucking amazing nipples; true she had stood before him in the tight, shiny, black trousers and gradually eased them off revealing her nakedness under them; true she had flashed her totally bald cunt at him and true she had them completely undressed him.
'Ok' he had to admit 'it was taking longer than normal.' 'Ok' he acknowledged, 'Marcia was working harder than normal, and 'for sure' he muttered, when with her mouth stuffed full of his cock, she'd asked, "Any good babe?"
