From the rod and reel aisle to the silver Silverado
- 2 years ago
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The Silver Dress free porn video
There was no way I could afford anything at the store, not even for Lisa.
Money was tight, and our planned night at the club was our first treat in
a long time, so splurging even more was a bad idea. Still, I'd just
received a raise at work, and I wanted to celebrate with something a
little extra. A sexy outfit would make her feel great and give me
something fun to look at. Pity everything was so expensive. How could so
little fabric cost so much?
I'd was about ready to give up and try somewhere cheaper when a dress on
a mannequin caught my eye. It was shimmering silver, the fabric smooth as
a placid lake, with a low, wide neckline and a hem that barely reached
the thigh. Its simplicity stood out among the wild jungle of colors and
designs, demanding attention without calling out for it, emphasizing that
mannequin's contours in all the right ways. Lisa would be a goddess in
that thing. Just the thought was turning me on.
It came on me like a religious fervor. That dress was everything. I
sorted through the nearby display, the racks a bit further away, and even
the discount area. Nothing. For a moment I considered moving on, that it
was probably out of my price range anyway, but the very idea horrified
me. I wasn't leaving without that dress, no matter what it cost.
The mannequin was wearing the last one in stock, a helpful salesperson
told me. She cheerfully took the dummy down, removed the display garment
and put it on a hanger. She said that since that dress was the last one
it was half price, which put just above what I'd initially planned on
spending. I lied about needing a few seconds consider it. I already knew
I was buying the thing, but some small part of me was screaming to get
away, that something was wrong. I just needed a little more
justification, I decided.
I held the dress up for a closer look. It was a size too small for Lisa,
and while I'd hoped to get her something a bit revealing, this approached
porno territory. My girlfriend had the body of a glamor model but the
modesty of a nun, and was more than content with filling out boring,
shapeless dresses well enough to turn heads. She knew she never needed
anything objectively sexy, so why go through all that trouble and
discomfort? Of course, maybe she would like the way it felt once she wore
it. Yes, I decided, this dress would free her sensibilities, let her wear
what she no doubt always wanted, while saving her the embarrassment of
buying something slutty in person. It would be a perfect gift.
It was a lame excuse, and it didn't satisfy that shrieking little doubt,
but the urge to own the silver dress was too intense to ignore. I paid
and carried the bag to my car, where I pulled it back out and hung it in
my back seat to admire in the rearview window. At first I fantasized
about Lisa in tight silver, nipples and ass barely covered by the shiny
fabric, all legs and cleavage and seduction. As I drew close to home I
began imagining myself in her place, silky threads against bare skin,
snug but comfortable in fabric like mercury, not caring that if it was
small for my girlfriend it would be comically tiny for me, dutifully
ignoring the rapidly fading part of me that begged to throw it out the
window and pretend I'd never seen it.
By the time I pulled into our lot I had a raging hard on, and as I
carried my prize upstairs it took serious effort to not just sit down and
caress it. I'd never thought about women's clothes like that before, but
with that annoyingly insistent doubt gone I didn't care. The dress was
just so right, so impossibly gorgeous. I mourned the idea of giving it to
Lisa, making it hers forever, never feeling its luxury on myself, never
looking as good as I now knew I could.
Which is probably why I didn't put it in a box, or a gift bag, or
anything like that. Instead I hung Lisa's present in the shower, grabbed
some tissues and lotion, and headed to the computer to clear my head. It
tamed my erection, but not my thoughts. I spent the whole time imagining
the big-tit ted models I watched stuffed in the silver dress, lifting it
up just enough to be fucked. My climax was accompanied by a strange
mixture of desire and jealousy. I didn't just want to wear this gown, I
wanted to have tits for it to reveal, hips for it to hug, legs so long it
barely started to cover them. Rather than feeling spent, I was
electrified, and even more turned on than before.
I practically sprinted back to the bathroom for another look at my prize.
What had I been thinking? The dress was definitely too small for Lisa;
she might be able to pull it off as lingerie, a too-tight slip, but she'd
be arrested if she tried to go out in public wearing that. I, on the
other hand, could squeeze in just fine. I grabbed the garment and held it
up against myself, noting how it covered most of my chest and reached
down at least a little past my butt. Where had I gotten that silly notion
that I was bigger than Lisa? She was tall and busty, while I was average
height and skinny. But when I moved the dress to a doorknob, I looked
down at my naked self and grunted in disgust. Small or not, I was a guy.
Hairy, athletic, flat, not physically unpleasing, but built for
practicality rather than aesthetics. The dress was made for someone
elegant and curvy, not a lean slab of meat. I despaired at my appearance,
how I'd never look good enough to do that slinky number justice.
The self-pity didn't last long. The pull, the need to wear that liquid
silver, was too much. I got the shower running nice and hot, and I
stepped inside to take care of business. The too-warm water woke me up,
reminded me I'd only look as good as I made myself. After taking a few
second to get acclimated I lathered up my armpits and grabbed a razor,
then got to work. There was a lot of neglect to take care of, but the
result would be well worth the effort.
My legs got the bulk of the attention, long, careful strokes repeated to
make sure I cleared every hint of stubble. My heart started beating fast
as I worked, as a nest of discarded hair formed in the drain and my limbs
started looking slim and sleek. After I was done I let the water run over
more for several minutes more, basking in how nice it felt against my
skin, particularly the glory of the newly hairless parts, until pride
gave way to a flood of horror and realization that I'd just shaved my
legs and underarms. With my girlfriend's razor, even. I felt cold and
nauseous for a moment, but then I double-checked and confirmed I'd used
my pink razor and not her green one, and giggled a bit. I loved Lisa, but
the girl was overly protective of her accoutrements.
The dress was the first thing I looked at when I stepped out of the
shower, but I retained self-controlled. I had a lot more work before I
earned that. If nothing else I'd hate to get the fabric wet, and drying
hair that hangs well past your shoulders takes some effort. First the
towel, then blow dryer, then brushing, and that's without deciding how to
style it. Something messy sounded appealing, but getting every strand in
place while looking like you just got out of bed is harder than it
sounds. I put it off for later.
In our bedroom, I dug through the dresser for a while, settling on silk
panties. At first it felt seemed odd, but after a moment of thinking the
idea trying to pull boxers p over my hips seemed even sillier. It took a
few moments to properly tuck my junk in the narrow crotch, but that gave
me time to appreciate how the underwear felt against my bottom. A thong
would be sexier, true, but this was like a hand holding a solid,
comforting handful of my tight little ass. Besides, with how short that
dress was, I needed something covering myself on the off chance I forgot
to cross my legs when sitting.
I grabbed a pair of toe socks (white and boring, but they matched the
heels I had in mind) and considered going for a bra, but decided against
it. Even if I didn't have a mannishly flat (if girlishly slight and
smooth) chest, there was no way I could wear anything else under
tonight's outfit. Besides, the idea of showing off so much skin was
really, really hot, which got me a little hard. It wasn't as
uncomfortable as I was expecting, given the tight confines.
The thought stuck with me as I headed back to the bathroom to make myself
up. I dug through various drawers, pulling out all the things I'd need,
plus a little more for the sake of choice. A layer of base got rid of any
flaws, then deep red lipstick made my lips full and pouty, rogue brought
out high, sharp cheekbones, a bit of powder made my nose small and
delicate, and eyeliner emphasized my almond eyes while mascara enhanced
my full eyelashes. As I started fussing with my hair I knew I looked as
good as I felt, and the better part of an hour flew by as I mussed that
waterfall into a faux-disheveled mane that screamed "bad girl." Half-
true, at least.
Then it was time for the piece de resistance. I slowly and ceremoniously
took the dress off the hanger, pulled it on, and awkwardly managed to zip
it up, careful to not catch my hair. It was slow and a bit tedious, and
just as I wished Lisa were here to give me a hand, I heard the apartment
door creak open.
I squeaked, high and feminine, as the reality of what I was doing hit
home. I'd shaved my legs, put on makeup and was wearing women's clothes!
My girlfriend's clothes! What was I thinking? What was she going to
think? I moved quickly as I could, started slamming compacts and vials
back into their drawers without thinking, and was mulling the quickest
way to wash off the makeup when I heard Lisa say, "Holy shit."
I looked up in terror. She was staring straight at me, her mouth open and
slack. Her lips moved slowly, wrapping around every word. "Where did you
get that dress?"
I froze for a moment. "A gift for you," I said, lamely. The truth was the
best I could do. I was a freak in a slutty outfit, and all I could hope
for was her understanding.
I stood there, face discovering new shades of red, as her expression
became cryptic smile as she slowly made her way over. She was radiant,
even wearing business clothes with her hair up in a bun, and the
seductive sway of her walk made me forget what I looked like. I greedily
accepted the embrace as she drew close and wrapped her arms around me,
looked up and felt the pillowy softness of her lips against the waxiness
of mine, tongues darting between the lock our mouths formed, my boobs
given a reminder of how just modest they were pressed up against Lisa's
mountains, but also a hint that I may be chestier than I gave myself
credit for.
When we broke off, she leaned over to my ear and whispered, "I love it.
Not everyone has a girlfriend who can look this sexy for them." At the
word girlfriend, something bloomed inside me. The anxiety I was feeling
vanished, immediately forgotten and replaced with excitement. Lisa liked
the silver dress more than I'd dared hope. A hand slid around my thigh,
up under my dress, and began massaging my vulva. I was sopping wet, so
turned on it was weird I hadn't notice earlier.
"Happy to see me, eh?" Lisa said as her fingers started teasing their way
inside. I sighed involuntarily, wishing she'd tear my outfit off, suck on
my tits and give me a good licking. But I'd bought this number for her as
much as me, and if she thought I looked good in it, I would keep it on.
I'd be a good girl, even if I didn't want to be.
I didn't have to for long. After a bit more foreplay she reached around
and unzipped the back of the dress, bent down and slowly guided the shiny
fabric up ass, hand digging deeper between my thighs, fingers starting to
rub my clit directly.
"The club," I said, barely managing a stammer, my voice cracking as it
turned into a moan. I'd bought the dress for clubbing tonight, to look
good for her, and didn't want to ruin it before we left.
"Oh, don't you worry about that. You know how the boys hate the idea that
we're not interested," she said. By now my stomach was exposed, the dress
sliding off with almost impossible ease, and Lisa began kissing my belly
as two fingers worked my slick, yearning hole. "The dress already did its
job. It made me want to spend the night inside, keep all the fun to
ourselves."
She was right about guys. They're all hairy and muscular and flat, built
practically rather than aesthetically. They can't let their have boobs
bounce out of clothes finally pulled all the way off, lean back on the
soft bathroom rug as their panties and socks follow, spread their legs
wide after to let their lover get even deeper from her new angle, or lose
themselves as they finally feel a wet tongue swirl around their straining
nipples, promising to make its way south shortly. I'm sure a guy can feel
sexy, but with Lisa inside me I feel transcendent.
I looked at the heap of silver dress beside me and felt satisfied knowing
that as hot as it looked on me, it looked even hotter on the floor.
Anastasia
- 26.12.2022
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