THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.
ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE THE AGE OF18 YEARS.
I'm sitting at my desk desperately waiting for the final bell of the school I teach at to ring and end my work week. It is not because the week has been overly stressful or hard, but because there is a fire burning deep within my body looking to be fueled further. There is no hope to extinguish it, or burning out if gone unattended. It is a fire the builds hotter the more I try and ignore it, and only grows fiercer with each passing moment. Even my attempts to give in have only added more fuel to it; growing its lustful blaze further out of control.
It was never like this for me, and it was only until recently that I first felt the heat of the flames in my loins aching to grow hotter. Logically, I'm sure my recent divorce of a marriage that lasted the past five years is the root cause for this change; for it has been nearly six months since we went our separate ways; six months of loneliness and unresisting sexual urges. The sex during our marriage was enough to keep me satisfied, but it was all of the other life issues that led to the divorce. I have been with no one else during this time, and except for the past weeks have not even been with myself.
The fire came on gradually over the past few months as I began to return to form after being down for so long. I started to begin taking pride once again in my appearance, and making a conscious effort to look my best. This in turn began to make me feel more confident and sexy about myself; the spark for the fire. As I became more and more involved in looking my best, I began to add to the level of sexiness to my appearance. At first it was as simple as just wearing thong panties under my work clothes. Something I occasionally did in the past, but now when I did it was meticulously planned and meant to create a sexy vibe in my mind. This only allowed the fire to grow hotter.
Eventually, I began only wearing thongs or even tinier g-strings; the smaller the better in my mind, and even going as far as trashing all my other underwear that did not fit my new tiny requirements. I then began wearing only dresses and skirts with each passing day; the hemlines of which would shrink shorter until I was consistently wearing skirts and dresses just at or right above the allowed limit under the district's dress code. The inferno grew fiercer, even after I would pleasure myself to earth quaking orgasms at day's end. I was hooked on the feeling of wanting more, and wanted to see how far and how much I could push my own limits.
Two weeks ago I began foregoing underwear on certain days; simply knowing I was bare beneath my skirts and dresses was such a thrill. This new wardrobe choice not only stoked the flames further, but also led to me speeding into furthering my naughty behavior. Shaving my sex bare and eventually getting waxed was the obvious next step. The feeling of my smooth pubic mound might as well have been a full tank of gas thrown on my raging inferno. Also, as I had with my underwear, I began getting rid of any clothing I didn't feel was sexy. I was consciously making decisions that increased the level of naughtiness in my behavior and appearance even if I was the only one benefiting from it at the moment.
To keep in the best shape I could, I made sure to keep up a regular running routine of which I chose to only wear my shortest shorts of which were skin tight, with only sport bras on top. My perky b-cup sized breasts were just the right size to get away with the look without too much distraction for others. For a woman in her late thirties, I had a firm tight body most women would die for, with only my ass staying a little plumper. I loved that however, because of how it looked in my dresses and skirts.
Another choice to spice up my look was to get a short, sporty hair cut; a cute and flirty look that drew attention and compliments because of my natural red color. Not only did the new cut get some much desired attention, and made me feel even sexier, but it also made my runs better since I no longer had a ponytail to worry about.
So now back at my desk, sitting behind it watching my students work on a review packet, I wait desperately for the final minutes of the clock to click by. I'm wearing a tight, white, button up blouse with a light pink lace bra underneath. A hip hugging tight, black pencil skirt with a slit up the back with a hem resting at just about my mid thigh covers my lower half. My shoes are modest flats which are tapping impatiently on the floor beneath me. I'm anxious because tonight I have planned to go out to the bar scene and try my luck at finding a man for the night. Waiting at home for me is the dress I plan on wearing for this adventure. A white, mini tank dress, that is nearly see through and barely covers the entirety of my cheeks because of the short hemline.
I ordered it from an online store at the start of the week, and it arrived just yesterday evening. So immediately I knew I would be wearing it tonight, and to make even it more daring, I plan on wearing it without a stitch under it and with four inch, red heels. My pussy is getting so moist just thinking about all of the looks I will be receiving. I have to press my thighs together just to keep from slipping my hand between them.
