I've often imagined you making extensive plans for an evening with me. Special plans. Daring plans that stretch your boundaries. Plans that are all about seducing me.
You're wearing a new outfit, something you feel almost naked in. Your blouse is tight and low-cut, showing off your curves, and even a hint of the delicate white lace of your bra. Your skirt is scandalously short, ending only halfway between your hips and knees. Your stockings end just below your hem-line, showing just enough skin to keep me thinking about the rest. You're even wearing heels to complete the look. Everything is white, and I tell you that you look like an angel, though I'm thinking you look more like an evil temptress.
As you drive to our destination, you tell me that picking out the outfit, thinking about wearing it for me, and getting ready for our date made you horny. You tell me that you decided you couldn't wait, and started touching yourself. I touch your knee as you tell me and start to move my hand up your thigh, but you move my hand away, telling me I'm not to touch you -- not yet. You continue your story as we go, every now and then looking pointedly at my crotch, making sure you have my full attention. I can't help wondering whether or not you're wearing any panties, and make more than one attempt to find out, each quickly intercepted by you.
I'm surprised when you pull into the parking lot of an apartment building. You've told me we were having dinner with friends, but with the way you're dressed, I've assumed it was a ruse, and I've been unable to imagine you even getting out of the car. When I open your door, you make a show of getting out, giving me a very unladylike view up your skirt, confirming that you are indeed wearing panties, lacy white ones to match that bra. You let me look for a few moments, then climb out, pressing your body to mine as you stand, close enough that I can feel your pelvis pressed against my erection.
You lead me by the hand through the parking lot to one of the buildings, then up the stairs to the top floor. Just a step behind you, I pay a good deal more attention to your legs and your clothes than where I'm walking, and almost trip more than once.
A tall brunette (all the women in my fantasies look suspiciously like you) answers the door and invites us in. I've never met her, but you mentioned her name was Karen (and reminded me earlier that evening, since I'd forgotten). She looks you over and comments on how sexy you're looking as you walk by, and barely glances in my direction. She leads us to the dining room, making small talk and mentioning that dinner is almost done.
I'm slightly confused to notice only three place-settings, and you ask our host about it. Karen lets distress take over her smile for a minute. "He . . . won't be joining us. He left Monday. He moved in with that whore in 3C." You hug Karen to console her, even though you know perfectly well she's lived alone for years. Her imaginary boyfriend is all part of your plan.
Your hug lingers a moment, then she breaks away and heads toward the kitchen. It's your turn to watch her leave. She's not dressed as provocatively as you, with her charcoal skirt quite a bit longer and only the top button of her white button-up blouse unfastened. For my part, I've barely noticed, much more intrigued by the way you're watching her. You blush as you notice my smirk, and lead me by the hand to the table. As we take our seats, I whisper teasingly in your ear. "You were totally checking her out." You look down, still blushing, then press your lips to my ear, whispering back, so quiet I can barely hear you, "I was just thinking maybe somebody should console her". With the words out of your mouth, you turn and stare fixedly straight down at your place, unable to look me in the eye.
Karen brings out three plates of food and joins us. For a few minutes there's little talk, as we're all savoring the meal, then you and Karen start talking and then joking about the food. Your hand moves to my leg under the table, and then works it's way up my thigh and rests on my crotch. You massage me through my pants while you eat, and for a minute or two I entirely lose track of the conversation.
My attention is brought back sharply when I hear you make a comment regarding "licking it off". You notice me stiffen in response and give me an extra strong squeeze, and continue with your talk, increasingly laced with sexual innuendo and tension. I notice that she's leaning much closer to you than she was a couple minutes ago.
Just as I think you're going to bring me to orgasm right there at the table, she stands up. "I'd better take care of these dishes real quick." You're extremely quick to stand up too, "I'll help". You seem exceptionally eager. "Wait here for us?" you ask, almost as an afterthought.
From the dining area, I can't quite hear exactly what the two of you are whispering and giggling about as you work, but I can see your bodies occasionally "accidentally" brush against each other. At one point she drops a dish she's washing into the rinse-water and accidentally splashes you, and you start splashing each other in play.
When the two of you are done you come back into the dining area. Your splashing has definitely left it's mark. One of her breasts can be seen through her blouse, and a large spot on you gives me a view of the shape of your panties.
Karen leads you by the hand to the living room, and I follow like a shadow. There's a loveseat and a chair, and Karen takes a seat on the loveseat, forcing us to choose seats separated from her. Not being an idiot, I choose the chair, leaving you to sit close to our host.
