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.
Finally, after sitting in agony for so long, the bell finally rings and I dismiss my final class of the day. As they file out, I begin to gather my belongings in preparation for my exit as well. Soon I'm in the hallway making my way through the sea of students towards the teacher's lounge and out of its exit to the staff parking lot. I'm certain I must be the first teacher to the lot, for most stay around and finish up grading and checking their emails. Usually I would as well, but I'm too excited for the night to wait around any longer. Reaching my car, I toss my purse and school bag into the passenger seat before plopping down on the driver's seat and starting my car. The 10 minute drive home is a blur; my mind is focused on the endless possibilities of my night that is to come.
Once home, I quickly strip out of my simple but seductive school clothes; basically leaving them discarded in a pile at the door. The rest of the afternoon and early evening fly by, and before I realize it I am decked out in my new sexy dress and waiting eagerly for the cab to arrive that will be taking me out that night. I know I want to have a few drinks to better set myself in the most relaxed state, and feel it better to spring for a cab rather than worrying about my car. Within minutes the cab arrives and I strut out to meet it wearing my heels which are clicking across the cement, and my form fitting dress that is just daring to ride up and expose my uncovered, hairless sex. The cab driver gives me a questioning look, trying hard not to make it obvious that he is looking me up and down. I slide into the backseat and give him directions to the bar and no more is exchanged between us except for a few sneaking glances from the driver via the rear view mirror.
Reaching the bar, I pay the cabbie before turning and making my way into the bar. The bar is just your typical neighborhood watering hole, and that is just what I am looking for. Inside, I grab a seat at the bar and quickly signal to the bartender to order a cocktail; vodka cranberry along with a tequila shooter as I know I'll need the extra liquid courage to get what I want out the night. Walking in I know I got my fair share of glances from the other patrons, but so far no bites. It was still early, and as I drink my cocktail I gaze around to examine the potential of the men. Though I feel satisfied with what I see, and confident I will get what I want from someone here, I decide to take my time before making a move.
I quickly shoot back my shot, and finish up my first vodka cranberry. Sitting sideways on my bar stool to show off my smooth firm legs and advertise myself a bit, I order my second drink. As I am working my way through my second drink, a few guys come over to chat me up, but unfortunately none of them are piquing my interest enough to go through with my plan; they just don't seem to be giving me the right vibe that they could be up for what I have in mind. Just as I finish my second cocktail another man sits down behind me while letting the barkeep know that the next one is on him. I turn to have a look at and thank the confident man, and as I do I feel my head swirl a bit from the effects of the two drinks and tequila shot. However, once I lay eyes on him I instantly know he is to be the man I want to put my plan into motion with.
He introduces himself as Jerome and extends his hand out for a shake. I reciprocate the gesture, shaking his hand and introduce myself to him; all the while I allow my eyes to obviously take all of him in. Jerome is a younger, extremely handsome, black man; tall and fit, with a shaved bald head. My drink is placed in front of me, and I take a sip from it to steady myself before initiating my erotically devious plan. Just as he begins to speak again, I stop him and drop my bomb.
"Look, I know we just met, but I find you absolutely sexy and I am extremely horny. With that said, I am simply going finish my drink, and walk outside to the back alley of this bar where I will wait for someone to join me and take me in any way they see fit. I hope that you are that someone, because if you are I will do anything you want for the rest of the night and possibly into the morning; no questions asked and no hesitation."
