Don’t Take it Off

The first time he saw me in a dress, I knew all of the things he had told me before, about how beautiful I was, about how sexy I was, about how much he wanted me all the time, were true. I saw it in his eyes. The way he stared at me, even licked his lips when he thought I wasn’t watching.

It felt like I could see his mind racing, imagining all the things he wanted to do to me. The things he had only imagined because, up until that moment, the possibility hadn’t even existed.

Unlucky for him —and me-- that first night didn’t end the way either one of us wanted.

And as much as I love wearing dresses, especially the kind that accentuate the natural curves of my body, the opportunities to put one on are very rare in my day-to-day. We talked about that dress more than anything else, which wasn’t all bad. But eventually you can talk anything to death, and when it comes to him doing the things he wanted to do to me because of that dress, well, I would have much rather had a reason to put the damn thing on so he could take it off me.

We had kicked around the idea of just having me wear it one night, put it on for no other reason than to work through the fantasy, but we both agreed that wouldn’t be the real thing. It would feel hollow, and neither one of us wanted that.

So, we waited. We didn’t know when the next time it would come, but we both hoped it would be soon. Turned out, the wait would be about three months.

And, if I’m being honest, it’s the only thing I can think about when he walks me up to the door of my apartment, his hand resting softly on my lower back. My skin is tingly and my stomach is a butterfly range. I feel like we’re back on our third date all over again, that electrical impulse tied so intrinsically with anticipation coursing through me all over again.

I know he feels it, too. He’s been looking at me the same way he had all those months ago. I genuinely don’t know what’s about to happen once I get on the other side of this door, but my entire body wants it.

Hell, it might need it. This might be what that feels like.

I open the door and step inside, using my free hand, the one that isn’t carrying my clutch and my shoes, to turn on the interior overhead light. My living room is suddenly awash in the white xenon from the energy-efficient bulb, but I don’t have a moment to think about that, or the mess on the couch I had left as I tried to get ready for our dinner.

His hands are on me and he’s right there, right behind me, his chest pressed up against my back, his hands squeezing me softly. His lips slide against the skin of my shoulder, across my exposed back, then along my other shoulder, before they make a U-turn and follow the sharp incline of my neck.

I let out a quivering breath and close my eyes. The door finally closes behind us and then I’m being turned. I put my hand up and press it against the barricade as he kisses along the ridge of my spine, mountain climbing downward. His hands make rappel the lengths of my legs, down to wear the dress slits on both sides, and then his palms run their way along my goose-dimpled legs.

As his mouth ascends the rise of my ass, my dress is bunched up at my hips, exposing my lacey underwear. The red ones that match my scarlet dress. He pulls the undergarment down with his teeth, which makes me giggle, but I stop the moment his face is back where I want it so badly, his mouth pressed against my moistening vagina.

I moan for him, my breath hot against the door, as I press my palms against the surface and spread my fingers wide. A shiver blankets my entire body. That electric sensation that had resonated across my entire body earlier has decreased in size, but increased in sensation. What was once a swath of countryside is now a brilliant, tiny sun in the depths of my body.

His tongue slips into me and I shift forward, only to move my hips backwards again, not wanting him to lose access to any of me. I moan his name quietly and look over my shoulder, watch him eat me out with the fervor I’ve grown so accustomed to.

“Fuck me,” I plead, my voice bouncing back at me, as I rub my pussy against his mouth, against his tongue. I know he’ll do what I tell him, especially when I moan it for him, but he takes an extra moment to attend to my soaking wet center with his tongue. He flicks it over my clit a few times, pushes against it, before he spends a few precious seconds in the space between my ass and pussy.

I moan louder and smile when I feel him stand up.

“Don’t take anything off,” I tell him. Because while he’s had fantasies about me in a dress, taking me just like this, I’ve had my own — about how he can’t take another second of life, of his existence, without being buried inside me.

”Yes, ma’am,” he tells me, his breath ragged, as he unzips his pants. I can feel him reaching into the space and then his cock pushes up against my ass. He slides his length between my cheeks, then his head pushes up against my hole, the one he won’t use tonight, but the one he’s never banned from.

His cock is throbbing when the head of his member pushes past my wet pussy lips. I gasp as I take him into me, and no matter how many times his penis enters me I’ll never get used to, or tired of, it. His size is perfect, pushing against my walls as he moves inch by inch into my tightness. He makes me expand in a way no other man has, and there’s nothing better than his cock in me.

He fucks me slowly at first, making sure I can feel him slide all the way into me, far enough that his balls press against my clit, and then almost —almost— all the way out. I beg him to fuck me harder, to fuck me faster, and he does as he’s told.

His hands grab at my breasts through the fabric of the dress, but he doesn’t take them out. He squeezes and uses them to pull me back towards him as he shoves his cock into me. Each thrust is harder and faster than the one before.

I moan and gasp and fight for breath as he knocks it out of me again and again.

And then, without warning, his cock is spasming inside of me, pressing and receding from my walls, and the head of his cock is pressed as far as its ever been in me, and I can feel his cum filling me up.

My pussy tightens around him and I scream, taking myself by surprise. I cum for him as he keeps coming for me, filling me up, and it turns me on all over again.

His cock is still throbbing inside me, which makes me quiver, I whisper, “I might just wear a dress every day.”

He laughs breathlessly and says, “Please do.”