Patrick had the hardest time of them all pondering what to wear. Unlike women, who had a never-ending panoply of options to choose from that went from sultry to downright slutty, men’s options were much less diverse. So, after much thought, and trying to mix sexy with some humour, he bought an overblown wig and dressed like an eighties member of Mötley Crüe.
The party was at Christine’s house, and Tori arrived first.
“Wow, we should hit a club after our readings,” Tori said.
Christine nodded, “We’d definitely get some attention,” she said, admiring Tori’s flapper outfit, and thinking she too should have bought some thigh highs. They were so much sexier than pantyhose.
“You look amazing, “Tori said.
“You do too,” Christine said. “And I love the thigh highs.”
“I used to wear them all the time for quick access,” Tori said, recalling her wild past.
“Makes sense,” Christine nodded, thinking if invited, she could just crawl between Tori’s legs and go directly to the source.
The doorbell rang, and Christine went to answer it. “Nice,” she said, as she admired Patrick’s outfit, the majority of his hairless and ripped chest in view… she might be into girls recently but she wasn’t a complete lesbian, as confirmed by the tingle she felt in her pussy.
“You too,” Patrick said as he checked out the sexy maid outfit… with nylons. Shit, she’d be making him hard all night.
“Come on in.”
Patrick followed her inside, admiring the seam down the back of her pantyhose… it really was going to be difficult tonight not to remain hard the entire time.
Tori saw Patrick and said, “Wow Patrick, you can rock me like a hurricane.”
“Wrong band,” he said.
“Then you can pour some sugar on me,” Tori said, admiring Patrick’s amazing pecs… at least the generous portion that was visible.
“Nope,” he said. “That’s Def Leppard.”
“Oh, oh, oh,” Tori said, finally realizing which band he was dressed as, “You can kickstart my heart.”
“Because you got the looks that kill,” Patrick returned, as he admired her outfit and the sexy thigh high stockings… this would definitely be a night of temptation.
“Well,” she smiled, as she sauntered over to him, “Are you going to be my Doctor Feelgood?”
Get a room,” Christine said, shaking her head and then adding, “no wait, this is my place; don’t do that.”
“Oh, we could always include you in a threesome,” Tori smiled.
“You really need to get laid,” Christine sighed, as she poured wine for the three of them.
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Tori agreed, as the doorbell rang again.
“Don’t start doing anything you shouldn’t be doing until Tracy and I get back,” Christine teased over her shoulder, as she went to get the door.
“No promises,” Tori teased back, all sing song.
Patrick quietly sipped his wine, careful to speak as little as possible during these flirty interludes, which had always been there, but never like during the past few meetings… each of them naughtier than the one preceding it.
Christine opened the door and smiled, “Nice.”
“Wow,” Tracy the zombie bride said, checking out Christine’s maid outfit.
“I’m here to serve, ma’am,” Christine said playfully, curtsying.
“Don’t tell Tori that,” Tracy warned, following her into the living room.
“Don’t tell me what?” Tori asked.
“Nothing,” both Christine and Tracy said in unison.
“Fine,” Tori shrugged. “And you pulled it off, Trace. I can leave that string bikini in my car.”
“Good; I was worried about that,” Tracy smiled, feeling sexy.
“Now that we’re all here, let’s get right to it,” Tori said.
“Are we really going to do this?” Tracy asked.
“Definitely” Tori nodded. “I’ll even go first.”
“I’ll definitely need some of that wine,” Tracy said.
“To loosen up those horrid inhibitions,” Tori smiled.
“I may need my own bottle if I’m going to possibly share the fantasy I wrote down,” Tracy said.
“Whatever it takes,” Tori said, as Christine filled everyone’s glasses.
Patrick was trying not to constantly look at the excessive legs on display in nylons and feet in nylons, as all three women lounged around in their shoeless, stocking-clad feet.
“So,” Tori began, as she sat on a couch, picked up a few sheets of paper, and stretched out her long legs onto the coffee table to give Patrick a good view of them. “Here’s my fantasy.”
“We’re all ears,” Christine said, sitting down beside her, and also displaying her shapely nylon-clad legs on the coffee table.
Patrick sat in a chair, needing to adjust himself as he did.
“I saw that,” Tori said immediately.
Patrick shrugged, figuring they’d obviously all agreed to wear nylons just to tease him, “Saw what, that you gals are making me hard? What do you expect? Three hot women in nylons is like the start of every teenager’s ideal porn movie.”
“It needn’t be imaginary, big boy,” Tori teased, wiggling her toes.
“Just read us your fantasy,” Christine said, as she admired Tori’s legs and Patrick’s chest from her current position, as well as Tracy’s huge tits… with obvious nipples… sitting across from her.
“Wellllll,” Tori began. “In this fantasy, Kevin… the hot student I told you about who calls me a MILF and wants to act on it… walks into my class after school and closes the door.”
“He locks it, I assume,” Christine said.
“Of course he does, but shush; this is my story.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Christine apologized. “Go on and begin reading.”
“Mrs. Parker,” Kevin startles me as unannounced, he enters my classroom, closes… and locks… the door, and begins walking up the aisle towards me.
“Yes, Kevin?” I respond, looking up from my desk, unable not to notice his suave, smug smile as he approaches my desk.
‘You wanted to see me,” he says.
“No, I didn’t ask for you to come see me,” I deny, confused.
“Oh, yes you did,” he disagrees, reaching my desk, his voice dripping with confidence.
“No, I really didn’t,” I say, not catching onto what he was implying.
“You ask me constantly with your lustful eyes.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, catching on but still playing dumb, even as I feel my cheeks flush, giving me away.
“Don’t play the fool, Mrs. Parker; it’s not becoming coming from someone with your intellectual stature,” he says.
“Then yes, I do take your meaning; and thus I need you to leave this room immediately,” I say, sensing this would otherwise get out of my control quickly. Having no dick inside me for over half a year has me already getting wet, just from having a reportedly well-hung 18-year-old standing before me with a tent in his pants.