Flippin' heck! That dress was short. It was plain black, high necked and sleeveless, tapered slightly in at the waist and, like I said, short, very short, if she shrugged her shoulders it would probably lift enough to expose most of her bum. The only other item of clothing she seemed to be wearing was a pair of above the knee black boots with Cavalier style tops and stiletto heels. Her long black hair and eyelashes finished off the very 60s look to a perfectly sexy perfection. Shame she was so young, only around 20 at a guess.
Tor's wedding reception is a very small affair at a local town hall, a large old building that has had a number of reincarnations in its life; from manor house, to private residence, to private school, to military billet, back to private residence and now the town hall. In an attempt to generate an income and cash in on its many rooms and extensive gardens they now conducted weddings and wedding receptions. The wedding venue includes a large hall and a number of smaller rooms on the first floor, we are spread through three or four of the smaller, more intimate, rooms but seemed to have access to the whole floor of this rather rambling place.
There were about 50 people spread between this, the largest of our rooms; where the disco was, the bar and the buffet. These old rooms were all panelled in dark wood and, with the exception of the bar and buffet room, dimly lit with very subdued lighting.
After an hour of chatting to various people, including Tor, and nursing a single drink I wander through to the bar. Little bit of a queue so I join the end and let my eyes wander the room.
Only took me a minute to spot the little black dress standing with her back to me, she's talking to Tor's daughter. It dawned on me that she must be Tor's daughter's college friend Chloe, that made me revise my age estimate down to 18 or 19. Still, the outfit worked and she certainly had the figure and legs for it.
Ten minutes later and I'm sitting outside with my drink, watching the darkening night sky.
'I think you're the only one wearing a suit.'
Turn around to find Chloe standing a few feet to my left. 'Not quite true, but I don't see anything wrong in that.'
'Didn't say there was anything wrong in it, in fact I meant the opposite. I know I'm only nineteen but I like a man in a suit, and it is a wedding, I wish men would make more of an effort.'
She's right in that; most of the women have dressed up, most of the men seemed to have made an effort to dress down.
She shuffled from one foot to the other so I shifted to my right and pointed to the now empty space, 'Would you like to sit down?'
'Thanks.' She sits as far away from me as she can get, which actually isn't that far but it does give her some space, and crosses her legs.
'Chloe isn't it?'
'Yes it is, how did you know?'
'I work with Tor occasionally and she's often talking about her daughter, she's mentioned you as her best friend, I thought it must be you as you seemed close to her, I'm David.'
'Hi David, what are you doing out here?'
I laughed, 'Hi Chloe, just fresh air and looking at the sky.'
She looked up at the now black sky 'Mmmmm.'
For a few minutes we sit there in quiet contemplation, then I become aware of a slight pressure against my leg, a glance down and I realise that her hand is on the bench between us and that her little finger is just touching me.
I consider my options for a moment or two then, turning towards her I laid my left arm along the back of the bench but didn't touch her. She's still sitting looking at the sky. Then, with my other hand, start to very lightly stroke the back of her hand, she doesn't flinch but, in the dim light I could see that her eyes have closed.
Fingertips describing random patterns up and down the warm soft skin of her arm; I can feel the downy hairs lift at the contact, at some point she begins to shiver. Across onto her neck: building the sensations, behind her ear, trace round her earlobe, across her forehead, lightly brush her eyebrows, down her nose, thumb and forefinger follow the curves of her lips; they part and my forefinger slips in to rub across her teeth; she shudders as though a wave of cold air has washed over her. Finger slips out of her mouth, for a second dragging her bottom lip with it, down onto her chin, follow her jawline back to her neck, down and back to her shoulder then those random patterns down her arm.
Once more stroking the backs of her fingers my knuckles brush against the side her thigh, shift what little pressure there is from my fingertips to my knuckles, now stroking up and down her thigh; a change in texture to the skin of her arm, feels elastic, tight. Her dress is so short that when she'd sat down the hem had ended up under her bum, my fingers stroke from the top of her boot to her lower hip, each stroke brought my fingers higher and higher until they're running along the front of her thigh. As they edge down to the even softer, trembling skin of her inner thigh, her leg drops, uncrosses. Her skin now has a totally different feel, so soft I can barely feel it, even feels warmer. I touch her boot one last time then, tantalisingly slowly, move up.
As my fingers edge closer she, almost unconsciously, opens her legs.
At the very faintest of contacts I stop, just a hairs breadth between the side of my leading finger and the hem of her knickers, the scoop of her inner thigh leaves a gap between the material and her leg, an oh so tempting gap, a gap I could slip my finger through; she holds her breath, waiting to see where I go next.
I'm so close that I can feel her moist heat. A heat emanating from that most secret of places.
Finger lifts, ignores temptation, touches the thin barrier over the source of that heat, smallest of rubs up and down; she makes a slight noise at the back of her throat, almost a whimper. Increase the pressure slightly and rub up and down in a gentle rhythm. Push into her pussy just a little, rub up and down the length of her puffy outer lips.
Her breathing quickens and I feel her bum twitching as she lifts against my fingers, the fluttering under her skin intensifies.
I press even harder into her, push against the top of her pussy with my thumb. Two fingers rhythmically pressing her knickers into her pussy whilst the edge of my thumb rubs against her clit. Start quite slowly but, trying to judge her responses, I steadily speed up until my hand is a blur.
Her knickers get wetter and wetter, can feel her moist pussy through the material, the heat pushing out, the hard bump of her clit against my thumb.
As I increase the speed I can feel the sensations building within her, her breathing becomes ragged, gasping. She grabs my forearm and, with a long low moan at the back of her throat, she shivers into an orgasm; her head drops back onto my other arm and her bum clenches tight, she pushes up hard while, at the same time, forcing my fingers against her.
She stays locked like that for a couple of minutes, my fingers jammed into her by her own hand. Then she sighs, relaxes, releases her grip and slumps.
Slowly she sits upright.
In a shaky sleepy voice 'Ooooh, didn't expect that.'
Chuckled, 'Oh, didn't realise that you were expecting anything.'
'Mmmmm, bit naughty but when I sat down I was hoped for something, but used to fumbling fingers. Wasn't expecting that.'.
'Hmmm, when I came here I wasn't expecting to be fumbling with anyone.'.
'Oh believe me, that wasn't fumbling, that was...mmmmm.'.
