[This is a work of fiction. It is a sequel to Kathe's Customer. The story is an unadulterated and unabashed attempt to tickle male fantasies and perhaps some female fantasies as well. As such, the story may or may not totally conform to reality. All locations, events, and characters are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.]
*****
Jesus, six-forty-five and the cab just pulled up. Christ, I'm going to be late. But I guess that is just fashionable today, but I still don't like it. I was waiting in the lobby of my apartment building for the cab to get me to the Rogue Restaurant for my date with Joe and Jasmine.
If you remember, earlier today in the upscale lingerie store where I work, I had a more than passionate lick and suck with a special customer, Pam, in changing room three. If that weren't enough, just before closing, I had an even more passionate encounter with Joe, a fucking mind boggling session. If you know what I mean. [Kathe's Customer]
It was the first time I'd ever laid eyes on Joe, but he sure laid more than eyes on me! I must've made the right impression on him, 'cause as I rang up his purchases, he invited me on his Christmas Eve dinner date with his main squeeze, Jasmine, at the classy Rogue Restaurant at seven. "Jasmine is bi," he had said and more, "We often have a threesome, sometimes another woman and sometimes another man. She will be delighted."
"Sounds good. I've never been to the Rogue."
"You're in for a treat, then, Kathe."
I dashed out the lobby door and piled into the cab. "Rogue Restaurant and as quickly as you can, man."
"Yes, Ma'am, we aim to please."
And off we roared with a howling engine and screeching tires. Traffic was a lot heavier than I'd of thought for Christmas Eve, so the hurry didn't last long. As we were reduced to a tortoise like crawl, I let my mind wander back over the last several hours I spent getting ready.
As I stepped through the door of my apartment after arriving home from my shortened holiday schedule at the lingerie store, I tossed the sack of two cum soaked wicked-weasel panty thongs from my morning exertions in the direction of the bathroom hamper.
Once in my bedroom, I quickly stripped out of my work outfit and stood naked in front of my bedroom full length mirror. I slowly pirouetted a full circle as I observed my naked assets. Not bad girl, for an old lady of twenty-eight. Your thirty-eight Cs are still perky, they still will not hold a pencil under their bottoms. Good! Those big aureole are just what a lot of guys want.
Your cheekbones are a little too high though and your nose a bit long. Awfully good looking eyes however. Green. Go with the flaming red hair quite well, don't they.
Butt's not bad either, Kath, no fat yet. Nice, round, and tight. Flat tummy too. And at twenty-eight inches, not a bad waist either.
Shaved snatch with just a touch of hair right above the mons.
My fingers drifted onto the area.
Nice. And those pussy lips!
My fingers slowly moved over my labia in languid strokes.
"Uhhh, ohhh!"
Fat and saucy with a big clit hidden just within at the top of the slit. Yum!
Two fingers slid into my pussy channel, creating electric sparks in spades.
"Uhh, uhhh, God."
Long slender and well toned legs with thirty-six inch thighs and perfectly shaped feet and toes at the bottom. Yes, old girl, I think you'll still do!
Panting and sucking on my wet fingers, I walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. When the temp was just where I like it, I stepped in and luxuriated in the caress of the cascading water. With a truck load of dried come left from my session with Pam and Joe smeared all over me, I badly needed this soak. I stayed in so long, it's a wonder I didn't drain the hot water tank.
Before I shut off the water, I managed to use my fingers to bring myself to the brink of orgasm. Grabbing the big dildo from its resting place on a shower shelf, I rubbed its huge helmet back and forth on my slit, front to back and back to front. Sinking ever deeper with each stroke, I barely got it shoved all the way in before I climaxed in a spasm of liquid sex.
Rinsing off for a last time, I finally stepped out and luxuriated in the caresses of my velvety soft, oversize bath towel. I especially relished the touch on my boobs and pussy.
My long, flowing red hair took a while with the dryer. Now, my face. I sat before my vanity mirror and stared into it.
My right hand moved, seemingly all on its own, to my boobs and began to rub. The fingers tweaked on first one nipple and then the other. Damn, I just couldn't keep my hands off myself.
Shit! I'm getting myself hot again, but fuck, I'm so damned horny.
My left hand dropped to my crotch. The middle finger, after buzzing over my clit, found my crevice, sending electric zings to my brain. The other fingers slid onto the velvet surface of my pussy lips. The whole hand moved slowly down, down, down, my legs parting in advance of the descending hand.
"Oh my God. Oh my God."
The hand began its trip back up. Before I knew it, that hand was a near blur as it moved up and down, until--"Oh my God," and I began shivering in yet another climax of liquid pussy.
"Shit, now I have to take time to wash up again," I muttered to myself.
I went back to the bathroom and did just that. I slapped one hand and then the other. You naughty girl you, now get back in there and put your face on. It's getting later'n hell.
My face finally on but still naked, I turned to the drawer chest to decide what to wear. I looked at several thongs but ended up shoving the drawer closed without one.
No panties, they'll just get in the way anyhow if things go where I think they will. No bra either, for the same reason. Unbound and unfettered. Way to go girl! So, What then? Got to wear something, he he he.
I looked into the closet, ruminating over my choices. Jeans, tee, and sweater? Not in that high class restaurant. Skirt and blouse? Maybe. Hmmm, slinky, tube type dress? Nah. Something slutty? Mmmm, maybe.
Then I found what I was looking for. I carried the outfit over to the full length mirror and began to get into it. The bottom portion was a pair of culottrs--with a difference. There was no crotch!
The legs and body of the thing were loose and ruffled in an overlapping fashion. If I was careful and kept my legs together, it looked okay. But, standing, walking, or sitting, if I moved my legs too much, the open crotch showed, quite clearly. I got that much of it on,one leg at a time, with the attached top dangling in front of me.
The top consisted of two strips of narrow material, very narrow, attached at the bottom on either side of my tummy. These left a bare midriff and more on the way up to my neck. The strip of cloth continued up, narrowing even more as it went. The cloth barely covered the nipple and a tiny bit of the front center of my tit.
The other side was the same. The two strips went up and, by the time they went around my neck like a sling, it was just string. They were all one piece. The two strips were also attached by a tiny, almost invisible string from nipple to nipple. This string could be detached, if desired. Before the night ended, I would likely desire. The outfit had no back at all.
So, the top half of my body, except for the narrow strips, was essentially naked. That should be an eye opener. More than ninety-five per cent of each tit was on display if I just stood still. If I moved much at all, the whole damned tit was exposed.
Color? Sinful, bright red, of course. Red Velvet.
My shoes, six inch spikes, were red, paten leather.
Jewelry? Real pearls. A pair of tear drop earrings, single strand necklace, and a single strand bracelet.
I think my outfit will get attention.
It was late December, but still quite mild, no snow yet at all. I would, however, need a wrap. The evening was cool, and if nothing else, I needed it to cover up until I chose otherwise. I gave myself one last check, put on my knee length, silver fox fur coat, an expensive real one, and headed for the lobby. I ignore political correctness, in dress or anything else. But you probably already figured that.
I had changed my mind and decided to go by cab rather than drive my own car as I had indicated to Joe earlier this morning. If things went right, I would not be driving home and I did not want my vintage 1941 caddy rag top sitting on the street. I just hoped he drove something larger that a two-seater!
All this flashed through my mind fairly quickly. A very loud truck air horn blast snapped me back to the present. I was momentarily shocked to find the driver staring at me in his rear view mirror. My coat was fully open, my legs splayed open. Both tits were totally exposed. My left hand was in my bare pussy, friggin' myself with determination. My other hand was giving my totally bare tits a workout equal to that going on down below.
Jesus, what a show I'm giving this guy. Oh Well, what the hell.
I gave the driver wicked leer and said, "In this traffic, you'd better keep your eyes on the road, fella."
"Uh huh," was his embarrassed and mumbled reply.
I knew he wouldn't, at least not more than he absolutely had to, but that didn't stop what I was doing. Just as the cab pulled up to the front of the restaurant, I climaxed, BIG. Obvious shudders, loud groans, and squirted pussy juice onto the partition in front of me.
The doorman of the ritzy eatery opened the cab door and, got an eyeful and a half. I was dabbing up my cunt with tissue, my top still wide open and exposed. He and the cabbie both watched until I finished and covered up again. Of course, the doorman got a second long eyeful of my nether regions as I levered myself out of the cab.
