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“Of course I will come.” you tell me. “That’s where you will be, so that’s where I want to be.” You close the discussion with a soft, gentle kiss, before disappearing to the bedroom to choose your clothes for the outing, leaving me smiling as I try and picture just what you will be wearing.

I have been nagged into taking part in a charity bowling competition, an all-girls team from work. We do not expect to win, but apparently, “It will be fun.” After telling you about it, I suggested that you would not have to come if you didn’t want to, I didn’t like to think of you sitting around, not knowing anyone, watching strangers bowling. You had only arrived in England from America a few days ago, and I was having doubts about taking part, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible, but you would have none of it. So now you would be going with me.

Following you into the bedroom, I find you searching through your clothes, and smile as you finally pull out a dress. Red, with a fitted bodice, thereby removing the need for a bra; a soft skirt just to your knee, the sort that would billow out around you as you sat. Nothing outrageous to you, a woman who wears dresses and lingerie all the time, by choice, but in the setting in which we will find ourselves? I grinned at the thought of the looks that would be coming your way.

You turn to me, smiling happily at your choice of outfit. “What do you think darling, a conservative dress, moderate heels, and maybe a nice hat?. The picture of primness.” “Red? Conservative? Prim? I don’t think so.

“It sounds lovely, but please. No hat.” You pout slightly at me, but nod in agreement.

“OK. No hat. But underneath? the red cincher with stockings, high heels, also in red, and……….a surprise for you.” The dreamy smile that passes over your face tells me you are plotting, and your plotting usually ends with teasing me.

Leaving you to your wardrobe and preparations I undress quickly and go to take my shower leaving the cubicle before you arrive, or else I know, I just know, we will be late. You enter, as I am leaving, and knowing just what effect you have on me, you cannot resist the opportunity to tease, leaning against my wet skin, your hands sliding down my back to cup my ass cheeks, sliding one elegant finger into my crack, tickling my rosebud, pressing gently against it as your mouth softly kisses me, your tongue gliding over my lips, teeth lightly nipping my bottom lip, your other hand gliding lightly over an already hard nipple. As I inhale in a sharp hiss, you pull away, smiling innocently at me. “We don’t have time for this love, I have to shower now. Go get ready, I won’t be long,” and step suddenly away from me, chuckling in that deep throaty voice that drives me mad.

Every time. You get me every time. Minx.

Feeling very warm and aroused, I return to the bedroom and dress, casual pants and shirt, in complete contrast to your finery, slowing my preparations so that I can watch you don your in your delicious lingerie. Finally, we are both ready, leave the house and I drive us to the bowling alley. But still you haven’t finished teasing. As I park the car, you open the door, and just before getting out, you turn to me, your eyes sparkling in delight, “I have a surprise for you love”, and watching my face, you turn up the skirts of your dress so that I can see you are not wearing panties. I am treated to the sight of your pussy framed with the suspender straps, clinging on to black stockings, and even I can see from here, signs of your arousal glistening on your red curls.

I gasp at the sight before me, but before I can reach for you, you laugh delightedly at the look on my face, and jump out of the car, closing the door quickly and wait for me. As I sit there with my mouth open, my immediate thought is to just throw you back in the car, drive home, and just spend all evening making love to you, fucking you. But I have promised to take part in this damn competition.

With a sigh I get out of the car and carefully lock the door. Moving round to your side, I pull you into my arms, and kiss you – hard and deep. “You are going to pay for that tease young lady. Be warned.” I whisper against your mouth.

“Oh I hope so, love,” is your breathless response, as you stroke my cheek with your soft hand, and reach to lightly kiss the tip of my nose.

Shaking my head at your delicious sexiness I turn us both to the hall, pulling your hand through my arm, to walk for a brief time in the darkness as a couple. You teasingly ask me, “When we meet your friends, how will you introduce me? Your friend from the States perhaps? Certainly not the wild eyed nymph who shares your bed each night?” The sparkle in your eyes tells me once again, that this is going to be an interesting evening.

Once inside, we become the ‘friends’ we are supposed to be. I make the introductions, saying as little as possible about you, just using your phrase, “A friend from the States, over on holiday.” I avoid your eyes while I am saying this, knowing, just knowing that you are sparkling at me, smiling at my words.

The evening starts slowly, we all have a warm up bowl, and then the competition begins for real. The place is packed with people, every lane is taken with a team, and surrounded by supporters. There are no spare seats, and seeing this, you take your opportunity while I am up bowling my turn. When I return to the seats, you jump up to let me sit, pushing me down, and then, to my surprise, and I’m sure, everyone else’s, sit on my lap, winding one soft arm around my neck. I can feel my face growing pink, and am extremely grateful for the low lighting that surrounds the seats. Because of the noise level, you lean close to my ear to say something to me, taking the opportunity to gently blow in my ear, making me shiver, and then gently nip my ear lobe. Damn it, you are teasing me good tonight.

Each time I get up to bowl, your hands manage to linger on some part of me, and each time I return, you stand up close to me, and return to your place on my lap as I sit down, one of your hands accidentally grazing my breast, the next time, brushing my bum as I stand. And once, when I bowled well, you excitedly jumped up, threw your arms around me, and kissed me. On the mouth. There. In front of everyone. I have no idea what the others think about your behaviour towards me, I chose not to even think about it, to just ignore it. Just acted as if it was normal, one of those strange things Americans do.

As I’m driving, I am not drinking, but I am guzzling a lot of iced coke, I need something to cool me, your attentions are beginning to get to me, my temperature is rising, and I know I’m getting wet. Exactly as you had planned it.

And then I made a strike. A full blown strike. I was ecstatic, and when I turned to you, and you leapt at me again, kissing me, and your tongue briefly snaked into my smiling mouth, a shock of desire rushed through me. Under cover of the congratulatory hugging, I whispered for you to go to the ladies room and wait for me – NOW!! I wanted more than just a hint of tongue, I wanted all of it. I sent you off first, and after a couple of minutes, followed you, laughing with the others about “..too much coke”, and “….. weak bladders.”

When I arrived, you were standing in front of the mirror, studiously adjusting your hair and makeup. Thankfully, there was no-one else in the toilets, as I dragged you into a cubicle, pushed you against the wall, and while we fiercely and frantically kissed in the short time we had granted ourselves, I lifted your leg up around my hip, opening your pussy wide to me. I teased your mouth with mine, and did the same to your pussy with my fingers, loving the sound of your moan into my mouth, and the way you began to push against my hand, wanting me to enter you. And very briefly, I do, easing 3 fingers into your wetness. God, you are so wet, I want to have you here and now. But instead, I pull back, remove my fingers, hearing you moan in frustration, watching me as I lick my fingers clean of your essence. Softly I press my mouth to yours, opening my lips to allow you to search my mouth with your tongue, tasting yourself. Gently I disentangle our arms, and smoothing down your dress, with more arousing caresses, and gentle quick kisses, I leave the cubicle to return before you.

When you return to the seat, I am sitting, and move slightly to make a gap for you to sit close beside me. My fingers are itching to touch your pussy and I will not deny myself. I have one arm stretched out behind you, and as you sit I quickly drop my hand on the seat so that the floaty skirts of your dress cover it, and smile in the darkness as you try to smother your squeal of surprise, and try not to squirm, as my finger made its way into your heated, moist silkiness. I turn to you, whispering in your ear, “That will teach you not to wear panties, my sweet tease.” Smiling at your whimper as my finger moves lightly inside you.

Soon it is my turn to bowl again, and as I withdraw my finger from you, you lift yourself slightly to aid me, but other wise do not move. Just smile at me, a smile that tells me you are enjoying your evening very much. I know this behaviour is exciting you as much as it’s exciting me. I know it by the moisture on my finger, and the delicious aroma I inhale as I surreptitiously bring my finger to my nose, under the pretext of brushing away a hair, or rubbing an itch (how apt). I look at you as I do this; you know just what I’m doing, and to my surprise, you lower your head in sudden shyness. Such a confusing woman.

Quickly I take my turn, my eagerness to return to you almost overpowering, and when I return to my seat, you stand briefly to hug me, tell me “well done”, and re-seat yourself, wanting my hand to return to its previous position. You sit down, and once again my finger returns to you pussy, and I swear I heard a quiet moan and sigh come from you. In all the noise I’m not sure. I lean to you and against your ear, ask if you are OK all the time moving my finger around inside your warm silkiness which is getting wetter by the second. Your smile and smouldering eyes answer my question long before you reply, “I’m fine, thank you.”

With a smile, I return my attention, apparently, to the game and my companions, but all the time my finger is stroking and pushing into you. Then, a wicked though occurs to me, and with a little manoeuvring, I manage to move my thumb to your ass, just playing with the entrance, teasing the nerve endings, occasionally pushing lightly against your quivering rosebud which I know is desperate for me to enter. I feel, rather than hear your soft intake of breath the first time my thumb touched your ass, and as I move those inquiring digits oh so slightly, while whispering to you under the pretence of commenting on the game, I would be revelling in the trembles I can feel rippling through you, as you try not to outwardly show just what my hand is doing to you and your senses.

Each time I rise to bowl, the same thing happens, except that by the last bowl, I have managed to actually get my thumb into your ass, and you spend those delicious minutes doubly impaled on my hand. I swear I can hear your heart pounding, I know I can feel your arousal, as it slowly leaks out on to the seat and my hand.

I stand to take my last turn, noticing with a smile how you don’t leave the seat, you daren’t, and when I return, your eyes are flashing at me to ‘fuck me, please fuck me, I can’t last any longer’. I simply smile and resume my place, my hand where it should be, until the rest of the team have finished their turns. When everyone has finished, we make our goodbyes and hurriedly leave. My excuse is a late table booking for dinner. As we leave, I have this vision of one of the other team members taking the place where we had been sitting, where you had been sitting and wondering what the moisture was on the seat, trying to remember if anyone had spilled a drink…….

Finally, we are outside in the cool evening air and you shiver slightly as that air blows lightly over your sopping pussy. The next few minutes in the car, in the blessed darkness of the car park, area scene of frenetic activity as our mouths try to devour each other, our hands move over each other, caressing, stroking, squeezing. I pull down the top of your dress to reveal your wonderful breasts and with a moan of delight, repeatedly take each succulent globe into my mouth, sucking, licking, gently nipping each nipple with my teeth, until you almost scream at me, “For god’s sake love, please, FUCK ME!!”

My hand searches under your dress, thrusting my fingers back into the warmth they had recently left. I couldn’t stop now, I don’t have to stop now, as I tear my mouth from your breasts and push back your seat as far as it will go. I move into the well in front of your seat, and dropping to my knees, lift your legs over my shoulders, and with my tongue and fingers quickly bring you to the orgasm you are desperately seeking. It takes but a short while before you are writhing in your seat, your hands holding my head to you, as my mouth sucks on your clit, my fingers pump, and you come for me, beautifully, urgently, frantically, loudly. What a wonderful way to end an evening and start a night.

As your breathing slows, you reach for me, and pull me up to you. Briefly I lay on you, kissing your breasts on the way to your mouth murmuring as I go, “Didn’t I tell you I would make you pay for teasing me, my love?”

Smiling against my lips, your arms holding me close against you, you reply, “You did, you did. It was delicious. Now take me home woman, and make love to me.”

I was more than happy to comply, knowing that for the next few hours I was going to be in heaven.

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