Pink Dress

It started because I was looking for a skirt. I found several others hanging in my closet and decided to try them on.  I’ve lost weight recently and need to figure out what fits and what doesn’t, and besides–anything to distract me from laundry, right?
I take my skirts in to the bedroom, where A is cleaning.  Shut the door.  Start putting on one skirt after the other, modeling in front of the mirror, sticking my tongue out at him when I catch him watching. Hmm…more distraction?
I get into my “play clothes” trunk.  I have to decide what to wear for our un-Valentine’s Day party, and have a couple things I was thinking about…I get out a pink dress, sheer bustier and a little sheer black nightie with pink ribbon.
“What do you think?” (sheer black nightie)
A smile, a stroke of my ass.  “Nice.”  I lean against him, rub my ass against his groin, hoping to feel…oh yes, there it is.  Someone’s waking up.  Turn around, wrap my arms around his neck, one leg around his.  Lick, bite, taste of salty skin.  His hands on my ass, pulling me against him. “Mmm, real nice,” he says again.  I laugh and pull away.  Teasing.  He shakes his head and goes back to organizing his books.
Pink dress now.  “What about this?”  He looks up from the stack of books.  I twirl around.  I always feel like a barbie doll in this one.  I can see his interest is piqued by my fashion show.  He slides an arm around my waist.  The dress is made of nylon and spandex, it’s slippery and slick and his hands glide over my belly and hips.  He pulls me up on tiptoes.  “I think W and I need to find shoes to put you on pointe,” he says, pulling me up.  “I want to fuck you on your toes.”  I wiggle around, laughing, teasing.  This is way more fun than laundry.
The last has hook-and-eye closures.  It’s a corset-like top that comes under my breasts, holding them up as though offering them to the observer.  He obliges me and hooks it closed.  He pulls on each of my nipples.  “This could work well,” he says.
We are in front of the mirror, now.  It sits on the floor so it cuts off his head, but I see a woman in sheer black, a man’s arm around her waist, his other hand on her breasts, pulling her nipples, then sliding down between her legs.  She opens them willingly, even wantonly, the slut.  He grabs her lips, pulls on them, squeezes them together until the woman is moaning, the scent of her excitement filling the room.
He steps back a moment and I return to “ok that was fun, now to finish up what I was doing…” until I feel his hand on the back of my neck.  He steers me to the bed and pushes me down without a word.  I am laying on the pink dress, the cool, stretchy material beneath my face.  I hear the sound of the door lock.
He holds me down with one hand and reaches for a condom with the other.  Usually condoms are not a sexy thing to me, they are just part of sex, part of life.  Today, with my face on the bed, my ass in the air, his hand on my back…the sound of that package ripping open makes me wet.
And sometime later I am arching back against him, straining toward the peak as he pushes into me, his cock bruising my cervix.  I feel the slide of the pink dress against my clit and my hand, I feel how thick and hard he is inside me, I feel his excitement, hear his short, panting breaths.  And as I start to come he puts his hand over my mouth so the kids, in the next room watching TV, don’t hear me cry out.


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