I Went to a party a while back in a private house in one of the suburbs. City called Cutler Ridge, in south Miami, not too far from the top of The Keys. Lot of expensive homes there.
I'm dressed nicely. Conservatively, as always. Cute little mini skirt, short enough to be a little sexy, especially when I'm sitting and the skirt is riding up my thighs but not so short as to look slutty. I picked out a fashionable, yet low cut top to compliment the skirt. My hair is pulled back in my usual ponytail. As always: cute, innocent, hottie me.
There was good food, good booze and nice, well-dressed people.
And while most of them were my parent's age, that's what I was looking for. There were a couple of college boys and they wouldn't leave me alone but I finally made it clear that I wasn't interested. Go jerk yourselves off, for fuck sake. I was in the mood to cruise, to hunt but not for boys. I like 'em older. I wanted their parents. Besides, boys don't have any money.
I spot them. Middle class couple. Nice looking. Tanned, healthy and well to do. Husband and wife in their, umm ... mid to late 40's. No positive body language. Probably hadn't had sex in a month ... if that. I strike up a conversation. I lean over to tie my laces, making sure he can see my breasts hanging down in my bra. I look up and his tongue is hanging out. It's so easy with men it doesn't seem fair. But it's her I need. She's the key.
I love what you're wearing. Your hair looks great. Do you do it yourself? You're a very attractive woman. How do you stay so slim?
(light touch on her arm.) Bet a lot of guys hit on you. Does your husband get jealous? Wink and a smile.
He's a successful lawyer; plays golf. She's spoiled; plays tennis. We hit it off right away. Their daughter is away at school. Jeeze ... could this have been more perfect?
I remind them of their daughter. You remind me of my parents. What do you do? I'm 17 and I go to school. (I was 19 but saying I'm 17 enhances my value.) Do you have a boyfriend? Sigh. He just broke our engagement and moved out and I'm so sad and lonely and my parents won't talk to me because I've been living with him. Oh you poor thing. Concerned hugs. Sounds like you could use a friend.
Yesh, I could.
If you'd like, dear, we can go back to our house. It's not far and we can talk. Sure, that'd be nice. Thank you. You're very understanding.
I catch them looking at one another. They think they just picked me up. I own them.
We go back to their house. Nice place. 3-car garage. Big entrance way. Pool in the back. There's a bar in the den. Do you drink sweetie? Gee, not often. It makes me tipsy. They pour me a double scotch/rocks and give me the tour.
We go upstairs and they show me their daughter's room. There are the usual pictures and stuffed animals. She's hot. I notice a pair of red panties on the bed. I can smell a man's cum on them.
Apparently, they forgot about whatever was going on in here before they left for the party. I look at them but they look away embarrassed and usher me out.
We go back downstairs and they refill my drink. The sexual tension is intoxicating.
The key of course is her, not him. Men are so easy it's pathetic. He's been trying to look down my blouse again but I thought his eyes would pop out when I sat down and my skirt flew up, giving him a nice view of my panties. Women are trickier. I have to make sure they both have enough to drink. It has to seem like it's coming from them, not from me, and that it's spontaneous. That'll make the guilt payoff afterwards that much greater.