![]() To use your own words, it makes you 'as horny as a cat in heat'. The effects of the wine are making themselves known. When we dance - only the slow romantic ones - in the low lighting your arms are round my shoulders, and your hands trail slowly over my top, around my neck, down my back, and, under the pretence of brushing off a speck, lightly over my breasts, making me shiver. The silk of my outfit seems to draw your hands to me, like a magnet, you have been touching me. I am also without panties, and the wetness caused by your touch was lying in my folds and curls, seeping into my harness, making my lips rub wetly and slickly against each other. I was looking forward to the effects of the wine in combination with the pleasure belt, with which I teased you during dinner the teasing resulting in your hand spending a lot of time caressing my thigh under the table, occasionally dipping dangerously closely to my centre. We get round it.ĭuring the evening I insist that you have several glasses of wine, knowing how just one glass makes you incredibly horny. I sometimes wish I was taller for you, but if it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me. We arrive just in time for the meal, our entrance causing a slight stir and why not. And the pants contain an extra surprise, which you will discover later. The looseness is necessary to allow the wearing of my favourite black leather harness. With the top, I am wearing pants of the same soft material, loose and comfortable, becoming narrower at the ankle. The material hangs in soft folds, and clings occasionally, but otherwise only provides the hint of the shape underneath it. ![]() The collar then drops into a slit which provides occasional glimpses of a deep cleavage and generous breasts. Long sleeves which extend to a point over the back of my hand, just at the knuckle line, the neck has a mandarin type collar, with a gap in the front, revealing a similar silver chain around my throat, but without the stone. Long slightly fitted top, dropping past my knees, with side slits to my hips. My outfit is also in dark green silk, based on an Indian design. Just enough to add a distinct frisson to the occasion, and a particular meaning to the glances which pass between us. I want you to enjoy the evening, not be overcome by too much sensation. During the evening - our preparations and since arriving - I have occasionally turned the belt on low, not too much. There is, however, a pleasure belt, which it gave me great pleasure to put on you. Underneath? I know - because I saw you put them on - that there is only a black satin suspender belt and black silk stockings. The soft silk skirt flows gently over your hips, to the floor, drifting cloud-like around you, moving in a gentle swishing sound as you walk. The bodice curves out slightly over your hips, with the front dipping downwards in a point which finishes just above your pussy, taking the viewer's eye there involuntarily, and a shorter, similar curving point at the back, stopping just above your ass - a ploy that draws the eye continually. The stitching for the boning has been designed to be visible, creating elegant pathways along which my fingers travel all evening, transmitting my touch directly to you. The bodice barely covers your nipples, but lifts and holds your succulent breasts in a way which has me drooling every time I look at you, itching to just stroke that quivering flesh. ![]() There is no need for anything else when you are in it. The bodice has no decoration, it is completely plain, apart from the boned stitching. Your red hair, shining and luxurious, left loose, falls softly around your face, down on to your shoulders, the perfect frame for the sparkling, mischievous green eyes, which always seem to hold a promise of adventure and excitement, tinged with gentleness and softness. Tight corseted satin bodice, laced at the back, but in such a way that glimpses of your white soft skin are visible through the lacing, leading the eye upwards to the expanse of creamy white shoulder, bare except for the silver chain around your neck, on which is hanging a single green stone in a delicate silver mounting which I had given you that morning. You are wearing a gown, not dissimilar to a wedding dress. I like to think of it as our official debut. ![]() Just who's wedding, is irrelevant, but having received the invitation, our first joint invitation to anything, addressed to 'Kate and Sara' as a couple, I have persuaded you that we will go. We are at a wedding party, a grand affair which has required us to 'dress up'. If reading about love and tenderness is offensive to you, I suggest you move to another site more to your liking. A story of exploration, of self-imposed limits and boundaries, and how those limits and boundaries can be passed and extended within a loving, caring relationship.
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