Dressing and Undressing

I've always been partial to a good sundress, as I believe I've said in the past on here. I think they flatter me, and they're reasonable attire without being either too formal to wear most places or too slutty to wear most places. I mean, the sundress is a large enough category that that's not true for all things called sundresses, but you get my point.

Of late, however, I haven't been able to wear many of the sundresses I own because, not to put too fine a point on it, I don't feel comfortable in them. They don't flatter, or they're just not fitting right.

But I hesitate to get rid of them because part of me thinks, foolishly, that I'll still be able to wear them at some point. I need to find the source of this thought and kill it with fire because life is too short to hold on to foolish dreams, but it does bring me memories.

Part of why I like sundresses is because of a particular sundress, a yellow and white floral number that I call my Fuck Me Dress. It's not the only Fuck Me article of clothing I own, but this dress used to make me look hawt. And what was hotter, was that it was great to fuck in.

It's just long enough to be demure (on someone with a shorter frame it'd be positively saintly) while still being only a few inches away from seeing my panties. If I twirl in it, it rises provocatively, but still maintains an innocent air. It blouses a little in the chest which makes it look like I've got bigger boobs than I do, and it flatters my midsection.

But that's not why. It's just hard enough to get out of that it makes it more convenient to simply flip up the skirt, and the spaghetti straps are sized just right for pulling down the top. Many's the time I put it on for some other reason and Mike, or even Dad, ambushed me and pumped me full of seed before I could even use it to full effect on my intended target.

The skirt is just right for someone to rest a hand on my ass, and yeah, back in the day my ass looked hawt in that dress. It looked hot in plenty of things, to be perfectly honest. But a hand on my butt didn't disturb the way the fabric lay, and better still, because of its cunning construction, if the back of the skirt was flipped up the front still preserved it's modesty. 

I remember taking advantage of that one time at a picnic. I sat on my chosen target's lap on our blanket and slowly, achingly rubbed my ass on. His hardon until he finally couldn't take it and we managed to negotiate his cock out of his pants and my panties to one side and then he was inside me and it was a good thing we weren't close to the center of the crowd.

But even better, being fetched up against a tree, or a wall, dress pushed up, panties pulled down, and being properly fucked standing up, his hands down my top and holding my tits... Yeah, this was a great dress for that too.

And it rewarded the patient by coming off on many occasions as well. Or basically being cinched around my waist and forgotten in the heat of the moment. That dress has seen more fucking than most of my other clothes put together, I imagine.

And it no longer fits. It's a little threadbare anyway. I should probably get rid of it. Times change, and these days I wear pants to work and I don't have anywhere near as many guys clamoring to hike up my skirts a little. If I had a daughter, I would give it to her, as a good luck charm. As it is, it lives in my closet as a reminder.