I did something silly one Friday night last summer, something I vowed not to do.
I caught earlier than normal train home and arrived back about 6, friends in the village had organised an impromptu barbeque due to the unseasonably warm weather.
My husband would already be there and I was later than I expected so I drove home a bit faster than normal.
It was really hot and sticky with the promise of a summer storm brewing.
I poured myself a stiff drink, quickly showered and pulled on a summer frock that zipped up the front and sandals I don't need a bra but I thought I had better be conventional and slipped on a pair of seamless white skimpy briefs, I didn't want a VPL. I added make up some jewellery and perfume and walked down the high street to their house.
Everything was in full swing, there were more people there than I thought there would be and they had all obviously been hitting the booze.
Amid a host of cat calls I joined them, drinking large glasses of a very potent punch and eating burnt unidentifiable food.
It didn't take very long and I was merry too.
Graham, a guy who lived next door and was recently separated cornered me and moaned on monotonously about his wife and asked if I knew anything about her, I have to say I did but I wasn't telling him, she had been seeing a boy half her age from the next village for a year to my certain knowledge.
More booze flowed and at about 9 we ran out of wine, Clive a 50 something year old photographer who lived with his wife (the hon something) next door but one to us on the green volunteered to go to the village pub for more supplies and asked me if I would give him a hand. I agreed of course.
Clive had once tried to talk me into letting him take some glamour photos of me, before I was married, it didn't come to anything but it was a very tempting.
We set off on foot, it was only a few hundred yards we had a drink to be sociable and bought the wine, on the way back the heavens opened, thunder, lightening and awfully heavy rain. We were in the middle of the green and made a dash for the closest shelter which happened to be Clive's house.
We fell through the door laughing, the water running off of us, I went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel and started to dry my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw that my frock was soaked and sticking to me in a very disconcerting way, a little see through too I pulled it away from my skin but it went straight back and stuck to me again, I thought sod it I will have to get changed, I would wait for it to ease up and run home and put on dry clothes.
I finished towelling my hair and went downstairs, Clive was standing holding 2 glasses of wine, he was wet too, his mane of grey hair plastered down in tendrils round his face.
He looked me up and down and whistled,. He took my hand and led me to his studio at the rear of the house.
I didn't know what to do so I sort of brushed past him and sat on the settee cuddling a convenient cushion.
He picked up a portfolio and sat next to me and offered it open for me to look at. I looked at the contents, mostly glamour poses of girls until it suddenly clicked they were people I knew. I turned the pages and came to the ones of men. I have to say it was a bit like getting a shock to see photos of people I knew stark naked, erotic too! He leaned over me and took the glasses and put them down and gently but firmly removed the cushion, he leaned back and stared at my small breasts and very pert little nipples sticking through the almost transparent cloth.
He reached over and started to twist and tweak one and then the other.
I was mesmerised, my pussy juiced up instantly, I heard myself telling him to stop while I was opening my legs and sliding forward. I started to pant as he pinched harder He eased me up and unzipped the frock, pulling it forward and down off of my shoulders, With a mighty effort of will I pulled away from him and told him no again, just at that second his hand fell on my nearly exposed pussy, that was it, all resistance vanished,
.... There is more of this story ...