Stirring Up Mischief
Today, I had to run some errands. I hate how that makes me feel all grown-up and responsible! So, I decided to wear my naughtiest clothes and see what kind of mischief I could make.
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The blouse I wore makes ME hot when I look at myself in it! It’s a thin white knit—which means you can damn near see-through it; slim-fitting—which means it hugs my every curve; wraps in the front—which means the vee-front goes way, way down; and is stretchy—which means I can pop my tits in and out of the front faster than you can say, “Oh, my god!”
The skirt I wore is light blue. It is made of a lightweight material and cut in an A-line, so that it flips up easily in the breeze. It is short, of course—short enough, in fact, that when I sit it doesn’t entirely cover my bottom. Sometimes, I leave wet marks!
Since I was especially eager to stir up mischief, I didn’t wear panties or a bra—and since it’s summer I was bare-legged, too. I wore my favorite pair of white, heeled sandals—comfortable enough to walk in all day, but high enough to make my legs look their shapeliest. The only other thing I wore was a tan—and you know that it’s a full-body tan!
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The first place I went into was the warehouse store. I wandered the aisles, swishing my hips and clicking my heels, in order to attract as much attention as possible. But since I really was there to pick up some necessaries, I settled down and began perusing the dishwasher detergent. I walked by one brand and the smell of it immediately made me think of S. Ahhh, those were the days….
My mind wandered back to the early days of our relationship, when we could just glance at each other one second and be full-out fucking the next. I know I was smiling to myself and my hand may have been inside my shirt—just a bit—when I noticed someone standing behind me. I shifted my position slightly, naturally, to put myself an inch or two closer to him. He took that as the invitation it was meant be and leaned over slightly to say, “You have a lovely ass.” He had a lovely deep voice. I responded with a thank you and then whispered to him, “Would you like a better look?” I heard him make a sound, which I took to be a yes, and said in a louder voice, “I wonder what’s the price of these on the bottom row?” Then I bent over at the hips, stiff-kneed, to find out. I could feel the cool air of the central AC caress my ass as my skirt skimmed up over my ass. I knew that he could see almost all of my ass and even some of my (very wet and throbbing) pussy.
“Oh, eight ninety-nine,” I said. And straightened up and moved on to the next aisle.
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The second place I went was to the grocery store. I decided, on the way in, that I was going to pick a quarry this time—as soon as I saw D. was working that day. D. is a college student, tall and slender, with long blonde bangs that he hides behind. I flirt with him outrageously every time I see him because it’s so cute when he blushes.
I rushed through my list and approached the checkout stand where he was bagging. The checker tried to make idle conversation, but my eyes were on D. I was mentally undressing him and licking him and my thoughts had just turned to wondering if it would be necessary to tie him to the bed in order to get him to allow a girl to lick him all over, when he mumbled, “Help you out with your groceries?” I replied in the affirmative.
I walked out in front of him, swishing my hips. It was breezy, too, so he was getting a pretty good show.
At the car, I opened the car door and then stood inside it, so that every time he leaned in to put down a sack of groceries, he had to brush past my breasts. After the first time, my nipples got hard and he stopped to look down my shirt every time he leaned in or out.
Finally, he had put the last sack in. He seemed to be searching for something to say or do, when I reminded him of the dog food on the bottom rack of the cart. I helpfully reminded him that it was heavy and he should therefore lift with his legs. He squatted down at my feet, and since he was now hidden by the cars, he took his time looking up and down the length of my legs. Again, being the helpful soul that I am, I began to lift my skirt up a bit. Apparently that was too much encouragement, though, as he reached out to touch me.
I immediately pushed his hand away and said, “Tsk, tsk. Naughty boy. The name of this game is ‘Look. Don’t touch.’” He mumbled, an apology I assume, and quickly shoved the dog food in the car, then practically ran back inside.
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Taking the groceries in, I replayed the morning in my mind. When I found myself looking at the cucumbers in a certain way, I decided I had better settle myself down with a quick orgasm. I hurried to the bedroom and got out my favorite toy. I lay down and popped my tits out of my blouse and shoved my skirt out of the way. I began playing with my tits and turned the vibrator on and was really getting into it when I heard M.’s voice down the hallway. “Hey! Are you here? I decided to come home for lunch.” I yelled out to him, “Why don’t you cum for lunch?”
When he walked into the bedroom he was already shedding clothes. He looked at me with a gleam in his eye and asked, “Do you want me to help or to watch?”
“Watch and listen.” I said. I filled him in on the morning’s activities. I masturbated with the vibrator. He masturbated manually. As I finished my story, I came, loudly. M. loves to watch me have an orgasm and he had his right after mine. We fell together in the middle of the bed and panted and petted each other for several minutes.
As we were rising and cleaning up, M. asked me to get a porno flick if I was going to be out that way in the afternoon. Curious, I asked why. He said, “We might learn something!” I repeated, “WE might learn something?” We both laughed a bit at that, but I got one.
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