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.
