I had decided to go to our office party. The girls had persuaded me to let my hair down, have a night out, and enjoy myself with a few drinks and a good dance. It shouldn't have taken much to persuade me, as life at home had become so hum drum. My husband rarely glanced passionately in my direction, never mind kiss, cuddle or hug me like he used to do. I still love him very much and know he does love me, but at the ripe old age of forty three, and having spent the last twenty years raising a son and daughter, much of the passion had gone out of my life. All around me, so many relationships just seem to drift along in mid-life without direction or purpose. I was beginning to feel a part of the directionless existence.
I did not crave the high life, nor exotic living, but I would have preferred to be given a little more regular attention from my dear husband when he was at home.
Anyway, I had taken a ticket for the dance and besides, my hubby did not mind in the least. He knew I would be home shortly after last orders, the usual serville, obedient, wife.
On the lead up to the party the girls from the office had talked of how they had bought saucy undies, stockings and suspender belts and were going to wear their high shoes and tease the men, they knew it got them going at the party, and the girls enjoyed the attention. Carla one of my close friends had attempted to cadjole me into participating but my married sensible head, kept telling Carla and the other girls 'no-way'.
Carlas persistence and her comments and compliments toward my legs had started me thinking. She told me how all the boys in the office thought I had gorgeous trim legs and a beautiful 'derriere' for my age. And she told me of some comments she had overheard from the men who would love to 'do' me.
To Carla, I was embarrassed but internally I was feeling flattered and a little excited to find out I was a sexy object of desire for the males in the office. It didn't take me too long to start wondering what it would be like to be 'done' by some of the office males.
I was coming round to the idea of wearing a pair of fully fashioned nylons and expensive lingerie in the off-chance that maybe one of my hunky co-workers would catch a glimpse when I was dancing and become aroused by my sexy legs. But arousal was as far as I wanted it to go.
Leading up to the party I would daydream and build little fantasies in my mind as I watched the male staff go about their daily business. I wondered what the men were thinking and which men wanted to 'do' me. Although I never fantasized full sex with them, I did imagine each guy that approached my desk would produce his erect member from the front of his trousers as I carried on with my duties, either typing notes to my computer or conversing with a client by telephone. I would hitch my skirt up to give an eye-full of my legs and as I did so the colleague would commence a wanking session until he came on my desk. All this whilst the other girls in the office watched.
Eventually I was picturing every situation with a male work-mate involving a masturbation act. In meetings, the men would gather around seeking a view of my legs then form a circle around me and wank, or I would be called to the executive toilets to show my legs as the men wanked into the wash hand basins, the office juniors would wank for me at the coffee machine and laser printer, the canteen staff would wank onto my plate, everyone in the office would wank for me.
I imagined this would culminate in my dancing in my heels, stockings and lingerie at the party as all the boys and men formed a huge circle wanking until their cocks were spraying and splashing cum onto the dancefloor. My god I was becoming depraved by my lack of sex. Should I betray my husband just for the chance of watching another man please himself over me?
Stockings to the party it was going to be!
On the evening of the party as I prepared, it was difficult to dress in provocative attire whilst my husband was dodging around. I had a fear of him not wishing me to attend the party, or worse, turning up half way through the evening to insist I go home or some other such foolish act. I showered, excited at the thought of being free for an evening to explore my sexual attraction to others. Even as a maturing mother of two, I was sure that after what Carla had told me, I would garner the attention of the men with my attractive turn of leg and fit body.
I was still unsure of my motive tho' and how the evening would progress, or what type of encounter I would experience. A couple of glasses of wine as I titivated myself to help relax my excitement.
My friend Carla had called to tell me she would would pick me up in an hour or so. I paraded about my room preparing my make up and dress, I made it evident to my husband that I was wearing black tights with a pair of large white granny pants, before slipping my red glamour dress over my shoulders. I asked him to assist zip me in, which he obliging and uninterestedly did. Then he left our bedroom unimpressed and went to the lounge to watch television.
I slipped into our bathroom with my handbag and its enticing lingerie content, and locking the door - slipped out off my staid underwear, produced my hot selection and manuvered into my suspender belt and finest black nylons. I fastened the clasps, slipped on my skimpy panties which barely covered my moistening love petals and hair covered mound, then smoothed my dress over the ensemble.
I felt cheeky, thrilled and a little horned up. I had decided that upon my return from the party - I was gonna have my hubby give me the seeing too that the men from the office wished to give me. But before that, I was going to dance, drink and join in the girls teasing games.
Soon I was dressed, heels on, coat on, handbag and ready to go. Carla arrived prompt in the taxi, I kissed my hubby a light peck on the cheek and off to the party event Carla and I went.
We were soon at the party and met with our circle of friends from the office. Sharing drinks and giggles it wasn't long before we were on the dance-floor. The men did approach, man after man came and danced with our little group of ladies, most chasing Carla, but why not - she was a hottie. Then there was young Jasmine, at nineteen year old and wearing the shortest dress you have ever seen, showing her legs to great advantage. The boys and men were all over her like a nasty rash.
I noticed she was a bit fed up with this so her and I had popped out to the ladies-room for a little escape and heart to heart. At nineteen, she was the usual teenager that thought getting 'mister right' and marrying was the thing to be aiming for. She told me her boyfriend was not wanting commitment but wanted as much 'nookie' as he could have, although she did joke that she loved to be on her back with her legs up in the air sometimes. I found myself thinking that I loved this too, only it didn't happen to me that often these days. I reckon if more young men were to approach the mature ladies, even we married ones, for a date, they could be enjoying increased success in the sex department.
Jasmine's boyfriend was picking her up in his car after the party and she offered myself and Carla a run home with them to save us ordering a taxi. I accepted and was quite looking forward to meeting the young, horny boyfriend I had never met, just to see what kind of stud she was dating.
We returned to the party and the hours zoomed by. Carla had disapearred at least twice from our company and on returning from one of her interludes, I noticed little white splash marks on her dress. It didn't take too much imagination to guess what she had been up to - living my recent fantasy imaginings I guessed. She informed Jasmine and I she would not require the ride home as she had acquired the 'services' of a young lad from the office who was going to see her home. We laughed, a knowing laugh and I'm sure her floozy ways were going to keep the lucky twenty year old busy 'riding' around all night.
We carried on drinking and dancing and by the end of the evening, I had been propositioned on a couple of occasions, had my bottom groped and survived some slobbery kiss attempts by some of the older, less attractive, drunk men that I wouldn't want my husband finding out about knowing he would end up flying off into a rage.
For me, there is too much of a risk involved in participating in promiscuous sex and hoping to retain a stable relationship, so I opted for going home as planned and keeping my wild fantasies as just that. Fantasies!
A little later, leaving the party, the rush of cold night air mixed with the drink had made me feel somewhat heady and giddy. I was still aware of my actions but most definitely drunk. I climbed into Jasmines boyfriends car for the sixteen mile journey home. Her boyfriend Andy was quite attractive - a little skinny and, my-word, he looked so young - much like my own twenty year old son Donny. We giggled and joked and shared a little drunken party gossip. Andy was less than impressed, I think the drunkenness of we party goers was annoying him.
Jasmine intimated that she needed to pee and we should stop to find a loo, I was thinking likewise. Unfortunately we were now outside the city and driving along through woodland country roads. I suggested we just pull over and pee in amongst the trees. Andy quickly and obligingly he stopped - I'm sure to avoid us wetting his car interior.
He waited in the car as his pretty girlfriend and I disappeared behind some trees holding hands to support ourselves on our heels in the soft ground. I don't know if Andy was watching, but I was beginning to feel a little horny at this kinky experience as Jasmine and I hitched our dresses up together and squatted facing each other a small distance appart. I could see her eyeing my nylons and pussy as I pulled my panties to the side - I watched as she slipped her pink panties over her knees and around her ankles.
She was holding her mobile phone in her hand and I could see her giggle as she pointed it toward me in the moonlight. At that moment a stream of warm clear piss squirted from my lips creating a little puff of warm steam as it puddled in the earth between my shoes. I commented to her that she better not be taking a picture of me peeing, even though I had seen no flash from the camera on her phone.
Still, she held it toward me as I continued to tinkle, suddenly a hot gush of wee shot from the petals of her flower, causing more steam to rise in the cold night air. I watched and giggled with her as her piss sprayed in forced little gushes creating a 'ffsht, ffsht, ffsht' sound. I leaned back against my tree and tried to send a long jet of my lady lemonade toward her phone, just missing her by inches.
We both laughed and finished up - I produced a tissue from my bag and wiped my private places offering a tissue to Jasmine but she already had pulled her dribbled-in panties back up around her lovely young petals.
