I take a sip of my gin and scan the room. My head abruptly stops halfway round at the sight of a very handsome male – great hair, strong features – and wearing… a dress! What the fuck is going on here, I ask myself? Who wears a dress to a sports tournament? And not just any old dress. The tightest, most revealing dress you could find. It leaves nothing to the imagination. I like what I see. I have to speak to him.
I casually walk over and tap him on the shoulder. As he turns, I am met with eyes that make my clit immediately respond. He makes me instantly hungry. My mouth twitches and I bite my bottom lip with an unexpected shyness.
The gin has made my speech a little slower and slightly slurred. I think he is as drunk, if not more so, than me. He smiles and waits for me to talk. I am instantly aware of the chemistry and must play things carefully. I can’t be too full on. Pity. I want to rub my hand over his groin. Run my tongue over his tight mouth. Taste him. Tell him how fuckable he looks. In a dress.
“I couldn’t help noticing you’re wearing a dress. Are you an Eddie Izzard wannabe or are we dressed for the occasion?”
He laughs. It’s his 50th birthday. My god he’s handsome. Even in a dress. My eyes run the length of his body, pausing momentarily on his crotch, before continuing to his feet – feet that are adorned with silver platforms. Of course they are. Standard attire for a day out with the boys.
Some general chit chat and serious flirting occupy the next 10 or so minutes before we are interrupted by his friends who remind him that their train leaves shortly and he needs to “get a bloody move on.” We have already established several times that I am married. This doesn’t seem to matter. He asks for my number anyway. And I give it to him without hesitation.
How sad that they will steal away this handsome dress-wearing man who intrigues me so. I have so much I want to ask him. So much I want to explore. His mouth being the main thing. The thin cotton material of his dress clings to his fit toned body and his strong shoulders and biceps look like they will handle me just fine. My mind is wandering. My down below is on fire. He has awoken something in me.
My head is all over the place and yet I am composed. I hope. Does he have any underwear on? Little lace panties? The thought of his hard cock poking out from under a pair of skimpy ladies’ knickers makes me twitch. My nipples are hard and prickling, longing to be touched. Sucked. I want to ride him hard.
Does he like kinky fuckery just like me? Does he want to stuff his cock down my throat and wrap his hands round my neck? I want to ask him. But it’s not the right time. Not today. He is leaving. Leaving me here, wet and hungry. He kisses me on the cheek and flashes me a killer smile. His eyes are dangerous. They are hiding something. I long to find out what…
To be continued?
