A Secret Under My Dress

My fingers slipped over my clit in fast, uneven circles, my wrist already aching from the effort. But I couldn't stop, and I didn't want to stop. My other hand pinched my right nipple between my thumb and index finger, a firm squeeze that pulled a muffled moan out of me against the pillow. My hips lifted off the bed on their own, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of everything.

And then, I finally reached it.

The first wave split me in two, a spasm that curled my toes and made me close my eyes shut. A long, broken moan escaped my throat as my fingers kept moving out of inertia, stretching the orgasm until it became something almost unbearable. My pussy was throbbing, clenching around nothing, empty, leaving me breathless.

I panted against the pillowcase. My heart was pounding against my ribs as if it wanted to break free, until, little by little, the beats slowed down and my body melted into the mattress.

Then I heard him.

"There you go, good girl," said the man's voice. "Breathe with me now. Inhale through your nose, slowly."

His voice came through the AirPods clear, calm, with that tone he used when he wanted me to focus. My breathing was still shaky, but I obeyed as best I could. I inhaled slowly through my nose, as deeply as my lungs allowed.

"Hold it for a few seconds... and release through your mouth. Slowly."

The air left my body in a long sigh that deflated my chest, while my sex gave one last throb, a reminder that it was still there, sensitive and wet.

I followed his words, repeating the process several times. Each time, the air entered more easily, and the fog filling my head began to clear, bringing the world around me back into focus. The warm light of the bedside lamp, the jumbled sheets beneath my body, or the faint sound of the TV coming from the living room, where it had all started.

"I'm so proud of you," he praised me, as if he knew I needed those exact words. "I mean it, that was incredible."

A silly smile spread across my mouth without being able to help it, and his words filled my chest with something warm that had nothing to do with lust or sex.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice dry and thick.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"Good. Really good. A little... floaty, still," I said, trying to make sense of my own feelings.

I knew he wasn't saying it to rush me, but out of genuine concern. With effort, I rolled onto my back, bending my legs until my knees touched my chest and then letting them fall onto the bed. The cool air in the room brushed against my wet, sensitive crotch, making me shiver. I raised my right hand and looked at my fingers under the light, still shiny and sticky.

"You know what I'd like?" he said, and I heard a smile in his voice. "Since I can't do it myself... could you lick your fingers?"

My heart gave a little jump of excitement. "You like that?"

"I love it," he said, desire clear in his voice. "I want you to bring them to your mouth and describe me how you taste."

I didn't need him to repeat himself, nor did I need to explain that it was something I did on my own all the time. I brought my fingers to my lips, still not quite opening them, and rested them there for a moment. The smell reached me first, dense, salty, unmistakable. Then my tongue, a tentative touch at first, before I licked my index and middle fingers from bottom to top with desire.

"Fuck..." I let slip. "I love it."

"Tell me. What does it taste like?" he said, with a rough voice.

I put both fingers in my mouth and sucked on them slowly, letting my tongue circle around them. The taste filled my mouth, and I wasn't quite sure how to describe it.

"It tastes like me," I began, still savoring it. "It's... intense. A little salty, a little tangy... but I like it. And it turns me on so much to clean myself up like this after cumming."

I stayed silent for a second with my fingers still in my mouth, letting the taste fade. My breathing had returned to normal, and my pussy throbbed softly, like a pleasant echo.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Are you sure you're comfy? Do you need water, to go to the bathroom and clean up, anything?"

"I'm fine, really." I said as I lifted my arms above my head, feeling my muscles stretch. "And you? How are you?"

There was a brief pause, followed by a low, almost guilty laugh.

"Me? I'm completely horny, if I'm honest."

"Really?" I asked, half surprised, half flattered.

"Are you seriously asking me that? I've been listening to you moan for the last twenty minutes until you came and then licked the wetness off your fingers... how did you expect me to be?"

A giggle escaped me, easing what little tension remained in my body. "I don't know. I guess I hadn't thought about that."

"Well, I have. I'm here with a hard-on you can't even imagine, and as soon as we hang up, I'm going to cum thinking about you and how well you followed my instructions."

"Fuck," I murmured, running a hand over my face. "I'm almost getting horny again thinking about how hard that cock must be right now."

"Oh, yeah?" he smiled, his voice deeper and slower. "Well, right now I've got my cock nice and hard for you, baby. The tip looks purple because of how swollen it is, actually."

I bit my lip as my pussy gave a pulse, a little warning. But just then, my eyes landed on the clock on the nightstand, and the real world hit me like a blow.

"Shit... you we got carried away, and now I'm running late," I said with a fake accusatory tone. "I hope I don't smell, because I won't have time to shower a second time today," I continued, laughing as I brought my nose to my armpits and relaxed when I didn't detect any odor.

I had already told him I'd made plans with my group of lifelong friends, our Saturday ritual: dinner at one of the restaurants on the list we kept in our group chat to try out different places in the area, ending the night going out for a drink, making all our problems disappear at least for one night.

But it wasn't his fault. I was the one who called, the one who started making those sexual advances until he gave me what I was looking for. And boy, did he give it to me.

I propped myself up on my elbows, looking at the disaster I'd made of the room. Clothes scattered across the floor, blankets hanging from the bed and me, still naked and wet. "You're an asshole for making me lose track of time, you know that?"

"I hear that a lot," he said with false smugness.

"Well, with good reason," I played along, smiling. "Thank you for this afternoon. Really. It was... incredible."

I got out of bed with a groan, feeling the muscles in my legs protest the effort. A chill ran down my spine as my bare feet touched the floor, and I started tidying up, thinking about what to wear to dinner, when his voice stopped me.

"Hey... this doesn't have to be the end of the afternoon, you know?" he purred. "If you want, we could explore that thing you mentioned the other day."

I froze, crouched there with a T-shirt halfway picked up from the floor. "What thing?"

"Your exhibitionist side" he said gently. "You said it embarrassed you, but that it really turned you on at the same time."

I remembered it perfectly. I told him one night, texting until the early hours with my fingers trembling confessing something I'd never told anyone.

"Is your pussy still wet?" he asked.

"You have no idea," I sighed, looking down to see my crotch and the inside of my thighs glistening.

"Well, since you don't have time to take a shower... don't even bother cleaning yourself up," he suggested. "Get ready, make yourself look pretty, and call me when you're ready to leave the house. Sounds good?"

My heart was pounding again against my ribs like it was about to burst out. It was crazy, absolutely crazy. I had thirty minutes to take the bus that would leave me near the restaurant, just enough time to at least freshen up a little. But the idea of walking out into the street with my pussy soaked, knowing he'd be on the phone during the trip was too tempting.

"What do you say?" he repeated, hearing the smile in the voice of someone who knows he's going to get what he wants. "But if you don't want to, we'll drop the idea. No pressure."

The words came out before I could think them. "No, no... I want to do it."

"Good girl."

The call ended, and I was left alone in the middle of the bedroom with my heart racing. I bolted toward the closet and opened the lingerie drawer, the lingerie I almost never wore because there was no one to wear it for. But today, it wasn't for anyone but me.

I chose a black lace set, the one that makes me feel like I can take on the world. The bra held my tits firmly, and when I adjusted the cups my nipples got hard, pressing against the lace. The clean panties clung to my still damp pussy the moment I put them on, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning with arousal. Over them, a pair of pantyhose that came up to my belly button, making my legs look smoother and softer.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and what stared back was a woman with messy hair and rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes, and a smile that was half nerves, half lust. The classic image of a woman who'd just been thoroughly fucked.

I thought about my friends. They always dressed up more than I did, always in slightly shorter and riskier dresses, higher heels, flawless makeup. But tonight was different. I wanted to be the one who stood out above them. I wanted them to die of envy. And I wanted, I wasn't going to deny it, for men to notice me first.

I chose a black dress with thin straps that fell to just past my knees. The fabric hugged my body when I put it on, clearly outlining my cleavage, and showing off my ass in a way that left little to the imagination. God, you look hot, I thought, giving myself a slap on the ass.

I moved to the bathroom, and the white light coming from the mirror gave me back a more realistic image of myself. My hair was a mess, so I grabbed the brush and started untangling it patiently, thinking about him as I did. About his voice. What I'd done for him. What I was going to do for him.

I decided to let my hair fall over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, with my neck and collarbone on display. I ran a couple of baby wipes over my armpits and put on a little makeup. A bit of foundation to even out my skin tone, a touch of blush, eyeliner and mascara to made my eyes look bigger, and a dark red lipstick. Sexy but not over the top, sexy without looking trashy.

I finished the outfit with small hoops in my ears, a thin chain bracelet that jingled when I moved my wrist, and rings, one on each hand. All silver, contrasting with the color of my outfit.

And the heels. Those black stilettos I hadn't worn in ages because they destroyed my feet. But today I didn't care. Today I wanted to feel taller, I wanted my legs to look longer and slender, I wanted my ass to sway hypnotically as I walked.

Before leaving, I grabbed my leather jacket from the coat rack, the purse with everything I needed, and gave myself one last look in the hall mirror.

The woman staring back at me wasn't me. Or maybe she was, but a version of me I almost never let out. I looked good. I felt confident. And I was also turned on and soaking wet.

I put in my AirPods and called, ringing twice before he picked up.

"Hello," he answered with a sweet tone. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at myself in the mirror," I replied playfully. "And I see a sexy, naughty, and very wet woman, ready to head out."

There was a brief silence, and I heard him chuckle softly. "Good girl. Let me know when you get on the bus."

I grabbed my keys, locked the door, and headed out to the front entrance of the building. The lobby smelled clean, that generic smell of bleach and floor cleaner. I walked down the stairs carefully, my heels echoing on the marble steps, and when I pushed open the street door, the night greeted me with a cool breeze that caressed my legs under the dress.

The street was quiet. There were few people around, a car passing here and there, a couple walking hand in hand on the sidewalk across the street. I walked toward the bus stop, five minutes from home, in silence, with my purse slung over my shoulder and my leather jacket unbuttoned, letting the dress sway with every step.

At the stop, an older woman in her seventies, wearing a long coat, carrying a cane and a shopping bag was already waiting. She smiled at me when I arrived and I smiled back, standing beside her. If only she knew what I was hiding under my dress, who was listening through my earbuds, I worried it would shock her to death.

The bus lights appeared in the distance, two yellow beams slowly approaching. The woman straightened up, leaning on her cane, and I adjusted my purse as I searched for my transit card.

The bus braked with a soft squeal and opened its doors. The older woman got on first, slowly, and the driver waited patiently for her to find a seat. I got on behind her, swiped my card through the reader, and took a quick look inside.

There weren't many people on board for a Saturday. The elderly woman sat in the first seat right behind the driver, probably to chat with him until her stop. Further back, a couple in their twenties, him with his head resting on her shoulder.

I sat right behind the rear door, in the window seat. Across the aisle sat the bus's last passenger, a man in his fifties wearing a gray suit, holding a briefcase between his legs and reading something intently on his phone. He looked up as I passed, glanced at me for a second before returning to his screen.

The bus pulled away as soon as I sat down, with that jolt that always caught me off guard, making me fall on the seat abruptly as the street lights began to flash by the window while I turned my attention back to the call.

"Are you sitting down?" he asked, probably having heard the sound of the engine.

"Yes," I replied quietly, turning slightly toward the window to noy draw attention. "But I can't talk. There's people on the bus."

"That's fine, I'll do the talking." I heard him move, the creak of something, maybe the bed. "Are you still wet?"

I looked down as my thighs pressed together on their own under the dress. "Yes."

"A lot?" he pressed, and I answered with a simple grunt of affirmation.

"Dripping with your own cum, and not a single person on that bus has the slightest idea." His voice was a warm murmur in my ears, dirty but intimate, as if he were sitting beside me and not miles away. "You want to know how horny I am? How hard my cock is thinking about you?"

I swallowed. The man across the aisle was still on his phone, oblivious to everything. The couple in their twenties was laughing about something he was showing her on the phone. The old woman was already chatting with the driver. Nobody could imagine the secret I was hiding between my legs, and the feeling of doing something taboo coursed through my whole body.

"You want to?" he insisted.

"Yes," I answered flatly.

"Well, I'm lying here in bed with my dick in my hand, hard as a rock," he began to describe. "You can't imagine how much precum has already come out, just from what you're doing for me. I'm moving my hand slowly, very slowly, imagining you sitting on that bus with your cum filled panties, squeezing your legs together so nobody notices what you've got down there."

The heat rushed up my neck, and I knew I was blushing. I could feel it on my skin, the way my face was burning, and the way the back of my neck was tingling. I pulled my phone out of my bag, trying to hide the trembling in my fingers, and texted him.

I'm blushing so much from embarrassment I look like a tomato.

"Embarrassment... or something else?" I heard him laugh in my ear. "Relax, they don't know if you're listening to music, a podcast, or a man jerking off thinking about you, or that under your panties you still have the remains of what we did earlier."

I sighed shakily, trying to pull myself together, turning a little more toward the window. My reflection in the glass gave me back an image I barely recognized. Bright eyes, flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted.

"I'm moving faster now," he continued, with his voice growing deeper and more broken. "Thinking about your mouth. About how you licked your fingers. About your taste. I'm imagining you here, kneeling in front of me, looking at me with hungry eyes filled with desire, waiting for me to let you suck my cock."

I texted him again, my fingers fumbling the keys.

I'm getting wet again... really really wet.

"Can you imagine if someone noticed? If someone in front of you turned around and saw how red your face is?" he continued, trying to make me feel even more exposed. "Or if someone nearby could smell what's under that dress. Or worse, smell it. The smell of sex, of wet pussy, floating in the air without you even realizing. Can you imagine?"

My breath caught in my throat. The idea shot through me like an electric current, half embarrassment, half excitement. I glanced sideways at the man across the aisle, still on his phone, but I must have stared a second too long... because then he turned around.

Our eyes met for one second, two, three. A moment that stretched just a little longer than normal. There was something in his look, a curiosity that made me panic. I turned abruptly toward the window, heart beating fast as I crossed my legs, squeezing my thighs, feeling a throb in my pussy that almost made me moan.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, noticing my silence.

The guy next to me was staring. Fuck, I think he knows something smells fishy.

"I couldn't have said it better myself" he laughed out loud. "Maybe he just looked at you because he thinks you're beautiful, not because he knows you're a slut like only I know," he said, moaning again. "Just focus on staying there like a good girl soaking those panties knowing that I'm going to cum thinking about you."

The bus braked as it pulled up to a stop. The doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, and the young couple and the older woman got off, while a group of college students got on, laughing and shoving each other. They were loaded with bags that clinked with what could only be bottles of alcohol, with music blasting from the speaker of one of their phones, luckily taking the seats at the front.

One of them, a guy with slicked-back blond hair dressed like he was going to do groceries rather than partying, turned around as he took a seat, and his eyes landed on me. Just one extra second, a second where his gaze dropped to my cleavage, then came back up.

I brought a hand to my jacket, instinctively closing the lapels a bit. I wasn't used to being the object of men's stares, though I liked the feeling. The guy must have said something to his friend, who tried to be discreet as he turned around. I took the opportunity to, subtly, expose my cleavage again while watching him out of the corner of my eye. I felt on cloud nine, knowing I was teasing a stranger, even more so when I saw him turn back to talk to the blond guy, laughing and elbowing him. I didn't know what they were saying, but seeing the effect I had on those two turned me on a lot.

"Next stop, City Hall Plaza," the bus speakers announced, pulling me from my thoughts. Only two more stops. I looked at the panel on the bus: 8:40. I was going to be a little late, but I didn't care at all.

"I'm about to cum" he moaned on my ears. "My cock is about to explode, and there's a drop of precum running down the tip. I'm sure you'd love to lick it."

I bit my lip hard imagining the taste of it, filling my mouth with the sweet taste of my own lipstick. I turned toward the window, watching the street fly by and letting out a small sound, an "mmm" that was barely a whisper.

"That's not enough," he said firmly. "I want to hear it with your words."

I exhaled, feeling the arousal run through my body. I was on a public bus crowded with people, and here I was, my crotch soaking wet, wanting to touch myself, to have sex, wanting them to notice me.

"Yes," I purred, barely a whisper. "I'd love to."

I heard him sigh, a real, deep sigh that came through the AirPods. I sat up straight in my seat, my back pressed against the backrest. I prayed that my dress hadn't gotten stained, that the wetness I felt between my legs hadn't seeped past the panties or the pantyhose, and that nobody would notice anything.

The bus braked at the last stop before mine. The doors opened and two women in their sixties got on slowly, holding onto the handrail. They quickly walked past the young guys, and even though there were plenty of seats, they decided to sit right behind me, gossiping about their lives.

I texted him.

I get off at the next stop. Thank god, because two nosy women decided to sit right behind me.

"Probably because they feel safe next to a decent woman like you," he said, almost breathless. "Or at least that's what they think. Because they have no idea how perverted you really are. All wet on a bus, listening to a man about to explode."

And then I heard it. A long, broken moan that went straight to the center of my chest. Grunts of relief and pleasure, of release after so long being horny without cumming like I already had earlier. I imagined him lying in bed with his back arched, his eyes closed, cock in hand as his cum shot into the air, filling his room with that distinctive smell.

I closed my eyes, my head spinning. My pussy was throbbing hard, and I had to press my hands against my thighs over the dress to keep from rubbing against the seat, from doing something that would give me away.

"Fuck," he panted, a little more relaxed. "I needed to cum so bad. You can't imagine how much semen I shot out and how horny I was."

I opened my eyes just as I felt the bus brake again. My stop.

I stood up fast, too fast, and my head spun, forcing me to grab the seat in front of me. The man across the aisle looked at me again with a concerned expression, but I didn't care anymore. I grabbed my purse and got off the bus with shaky legs, letting the cool night breeze calm me down for a moment.

I walked toward the restaurant, which was just two minutes from the stop, with determined stride as my heels clicked on the pavement. Neither of us said anything for a bit, just listening to each other's breathing on the phone. I took a deep breath, letting my head clear a bit. The wetness between my legs was still there, a sticky reminder of everything that had happened that afternoon. Worried, I discreetly brought a hand to my ass, sighing in relief when I didn't feel any dampness on the fabric of my dress that the bus passengers could have seen as I got off, or anyone on the street for that matter.

"You asshole" I finally said, my voice rough with desire. "Now I have to go with my fucking friends pretending like I am not completely turned on, with flooded panties and ready to party."

"You're welcome," he teased me again, satisfied.

"I'm not thanking you," I replied, louder than I meant to. "I hate you, just so you know."

"You don't hate me," he explained with a fake condescending tone like someone would use with a little girl. "And I don't think this will be the only bus ride we have fun on together."

I reached the restaurant, seeing through the glass my friends already seating at the table, with wine glasses in front of them and the menus in their hands. Gemma, my best friend, saw me and waved, smiling.

"You are right" I said before hanging up, not knowing if it was the wine I hadn't even drunk yet or the excitement running through my veins, but the words just came out. "I can't wait to do something like this again."

I said a quick goodbye and put my phone in my purse before going in. As I opened the restaurant door, the heat, the smell of food, the noise of people, and my friends' voices wrapped around me as I reached the table where they were sitting.

"Finally, we're all here!" Barbara said, as I watched with satisfaction how both her and the snob that was Eve looking me up and down with disbelief and a hint of envy in their eyes as I took of my jacket, revealing my dress.

"You're pretty flushed," Barbara added, trying to mask her jealousy with a laugh and an innocent joke. "Did you run all the way here or what??"

I smiled to myself, with a shiver of pleasure as I felt the wetness of my panties pressing against my skin again as I sat down in the chair and poured myself a glass of wine to continue with a night that had only just begun.

"Yes... something like that."