Ronnie’s Dress

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Years ago I joined a local writer’s support group and was encouraged to try my hand at erotica. This story was one of my first attempts. I remember their reviews being quite positive but I thought I’d submit it to Literotica to see how it holds up to today’s critics.


It was almost 10 a.m. by the time I was awake enough to get moving. I could see it was going to be another beautiful Sunday morning and I stretched lazily, my eyes puffy and squinting against the sunlight flooding into the bedroom. I reached across the rumpled sheets, searching unsuccessfully for Brian’s warm body. Not finding him there, I staggered down the hall to the bathroom, wondering how long he’d been up. Adjusting the water as hot as I could stand it, I stepped into the shower and let the steam bring me slowly awake. As I turned the water off, he yelled into the bathroom.

“Hey Sleepyhead. If you get your sweet little butt moving, I’ll do the honor of fixing your breakfast.”

What a treat! Brian knows how I love being spoiled in the mornings. After getting him off to work with a hot breakfast every day, being pampered on the weekend is one of my favorite little indulgences.

I quickly sprinkled on baby powder, grabbed his old sweats that were lying on the counter and stepped into them. They were big and baggy on me but comfortable and I loved their softness and the way they felt against my naked skin. Whenever I put them on, I secretly enjoy a little rush by not wearing anything underneath.

I could hear Brian banging around the kitchen, singing in that affecting, off-key way of his. He was opening and slamming cupboards with his usual bull-in-the-china-closet finesse. I smiled happily as I listened. As I was drying my hair and pulling it into a ponytail, I heard him mutter.


“What’s the matter, Hon?” I came into the kitchen and gave him a peck on his scratchy cheek.

“There’s no Mrs. Garvey’s mix. I was going to make my special scones.” He looked like a little boy who had lost his favorite toy.

I pulled down a box of Bisquick and handed it to him. “Use this, it’s almost as good.”

His frown quickly reminded me of the pride he took in his special recipes and that, ‘No Virginia, ‘Bisquick is NOT almost as good.

Not wanting to break his would-be-chef mood, I quickly suggested that we jump in the car and run up to the store. I learned long ago that once he makes up his mind what he wants to cook, there’s little use arguing with him.

As we wound up the hill to the store we passed a couple of Garage Sale signs, their bright colors and arrows inviting us to check them out. Being a confirmed yard sale junkie, it almost killed me to drive by them but I didn’t say anything. Just before we got to the top of the hill however, we saw a hand-painted Moving Sale sign that I just couldn’t resist.

“Come on, Brian, just for a sec,” I pleaded.

Signing audibly, he pulled onto Büyükesat Escort the parking strip and I rewarded him with my biggest smile and another kiss.

The house was one of those faded old mansions from the turn of the century. It had the sad, rundown look that usually results from a landlord squeezing maximum profits out of it by over-renting to college kids. It reminded me of the lovely old house I shared 10 years earlier. Sure enough, as we walked up the steps two young, collegiate-looking women greeted us. The porch was covered with the usual junk; heavy on used CDs, speakers, incense burners, and last years’ trendy clothes.

“Hey Girlfriend, you look like you could use a new wardrobe,” one of the gals laughed as she pointed to my baggy sweats. Her eyes sparkled mischievously and her voice was warm with self-confidence. She winked suggestively and smiled. “Boy, do I have some clothes for you!”

She was dressed in tight white shorts and a tank top that accentuated her dark tan and I was immediately struck by her attractiveness. I had forgotten how ragged I looked and started bantering back and forth about the sweats being my ‘good’ outfit. She stuck her hand out and pumped mine warmly, holding it a bit longer than I expected.

“Name’s Ronnie,” she offered. “Feel free to dig through. I know the perfect outfit for you is in there somewhere.”

Since she appeared to be about my size I started looking through the clothes, very much aware that she was really cute.

I casually sorted through the piles, more to just keep our conversation going than out of any real interest in the clothes themselves. I found a slinky little mauve cocktail dress that looked like it might fit and held it up to myself.

“Ohhh-la-la!” She wolf-whistled softly as she looked me over, winking playfully again. She raised her eyebrow in an exaggerated leer. “See? That’s IT! I told you the perfect dress was in there.”

“Oh, this probably way too sexy for an old gal like me,” I laughed. I felt myself start to blush but I was secretly pleased at her enthusiasm when she shook her head.

“No way—it’ll be perfect for your figure!” Ronnie glanced over at Brian and asked, “Wadda’ya think? Would that look great on her, or what?”

“I’ve gotta agree, Babe, Brian smiled. “It does look pretty hot.”

I smiled back at him. “I don’t know . . .” I hesitated. “I doubt it would fit anyway.”

Ronnie was almost too quick to respond. “Hey, it’s made for you. At least try it on.”

I looked around. Her enthusiasm was infectious and flattering but there wasn’t any place to change so I just smiled and shook my head, feeling somewhat disappointed.

As if reading my mind, she quickly added. “You can go inside, there’s a big mirror in there.”

When I continued to hesitate, she almost purred. “Come on, I know you’ll look FABulous in it.”

She Elvankent Escort winked again and smiled. I smiled back, pleasantly aware of an intense fluttering in the pit of my stomach. She absently ran her fingers though her shiny hair and I was struck by how sensuous her movement was. God was she ever cute!

I didn’t totally understand the electricity I felt, but I knew it felt good. I also knew I was going to really start blushing if she kept looking at me like that much longer.

I glanced over at Brian. He was engrossed with a shoebox full of CDs, so I decided to just go for it.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, lead the way.”

She smiled and walked into the house. I followed close behind, my eyes taking in her snug shorts and the attractive way they showed off her trim butt. She stopped and pointed to an open door at the end of the hall.

“That’s my bedroom—make yourself at home.” Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper and I was surprised at how soft and feminine it sounded. She gave me another warm, penetrating smile and turned back toward the porch.

I went in and looked around. It was a cluttered mess typical of dorm rooms and again reminded me of my past. If you substituted her K.D. Lang poster for my old one of Joan Baez, I could have been right back in college myself. I could almost hear “Please come to Boston . . .” ringing in my ears as I pulled off my sweats, dropping them on the bed and slipping the dress over my naked body. It was a little snug and took some difficulty to get zipped up my back. I moved in front of the mirror and stood preening and posing, checking out how it looked.

Suddenly Ronnie’s reflection appeared behind mine. I jumped; startled that she had been able to slip into the room without my noticing. Her lips were parted slightly and I could hear her breath softly whistling through them. I instantly felt myself blush again, wondering how long she had been watching.

She moved closer. Her delicate perfume struck my nose and flooded my senses. I followed her eyes in the mirror as they roved over my body and I realized that they kept returning to my breasts. I looked down at my reflection and could easily see why. The dress was designed to be worn with a bra or camisole, or at least something more than I was wearing. My nipples had become long and hard and were straining clearly through the thin, clingy material.

When I looked up again, our eyes locked. I felt instinctively that she was as aroused as I was becoming. As if from a distance I heard myself stammer something about the dress not being quite what I wanted.

“That’s okay,” she whispered.

I began to feel slightly nervous, not totally understanding what was happening between us. I expected her to leave, but was glad when she continued to stand there looking at me. Without breaking eye contact or saying a word, she reached for Beşevler Escort my zipper. I felt cool air strike my skin and concentrated on it as it traveled ever so slowly all the way down to the crack of my ass.

I was unable to move away or stop what she was doing. I watched her deep eyes in the mirror as they remained locked on mine. It was like everything was happening to someone else and I was observing from a distance. I felt the contrast between her hot breath on my neck and her cool fingers on my back. When her hands started their trip up to my shoulders, I knew without a doubt that she intended to slip the dress off. I knew I should stop her but I just stood and watched in fascination as the fabric began to slip lower; first baring my shoulders, then my chest, catching momentarily on my hardened nipples before dropping to the floor. Her breath sucked in sharply when my full nakedness came into view and I realized that my breathing had stopped completely.

She put her hands on my hips and gently pulled us together, her eyes still locked on mine. I melted into her, feeling her warm breath in my ear and watching as her smooth hands began to move, one toward my breasts, the other lower. If her body hadn’t been pressed fully against me, my knees would have buckled. I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. I thought I was going to faint before her fingers could arrive at their destination.

“Hey! What’s taking so long in there?” Brian’s voice sounded like it was amplified through a bullhorn as he yelled in from the porch.

Ronnie and I both jumped sky-high, like little kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The mood was shattered and I quickly pulled out of her arms. I grabbed my sweats and began to slip into them.

“I’ll be right out,” I yelled.

Ronnie looked as flustered as I, perhaps even more so. We were both flushed with the excitement of what we had just done and what had almost happened. She grabbed the discarded dress from the floor and rushed outside. Without catching her eye, I walked past her and hurried off the porch.

Brian followed me to the car. As he started the engine he looked at me and asked, “What’s up? Didn’t you like it?”

I nervously laughed him off. “Oh, that dress was just WAY too sexy for me. I’m afraid I’m getting too old for that kind of stuff.”

“Hell, I wish you’d have let me see it. I like having a say in your clothes too, y’know.” He looked petulant, perhaps even jealous.

I looked at him quickly, wondering if he suspected the tension between Ronnie and me.

“Geeze, you were in there so long I figured it must’ve looked great. Did your little friend like it?”

If only he knew!

“Yeh, she liked it,” I answered. “But I thought it was a little too tight. We were trying to see if it could be let out at the seams.”

I know he would have loved the way it looked as much as Ronnie had, but he didn’t pursue the subject any farther. I guess he was hungrier for his scones than curious, and we let the subject drop.

I looked over my shoulder as we started to drive away. Ronnie was standing on the porch watching us, holding the dress to her face as if trying to inhale my perfume. She smiled sadly and blew me a kiss that totally sucked my breath away.

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