“They kept popping over my sweats, Chris saw them.” I started to explain. “So you went to get changed into something less obvious?” Lisa interrupted me without a trace of belief. “Not quite…” I mumbled. Lisa slapped me. It was hard and right across the face but I was so aroused by it, I just couldn’t believe what was happening. She shifted forward and ground her crotch into my face, her panties were soaked but she wasn’t moving them for me. I tried my best to please her through them but I was becoming really aware she wasn’t allowing me to breathe. “Are you going to explain yourself?” It was a question, but she sounded so commanding. I nodded and she shifted back off my face and onto my chest. “Chris saw my thong when we were working and when I was getting a drink from the tap, he came up behind me…” I was spilling everything, it was relieving to admit it all but also disconcerting. Lisa had her hand in her panties and was smiling as I told her. “He got me really worked up…”. At random, she selected an item, and held it up for inspection. It was a short, white silk slip, something Alistair had bought for her. ‘Not this,’ she thought -‘It fits me well, but a bit virginal for this weekend.’ She tossed it back into the drawer. Picking another item, she again lifted it, holding it against herself. It was a polo necked mini-dress, made from sheer nylon. One of Alistair’s favourites, almost completely transparent, she’d never been keen on it. She did have to admit that it somehow made her breasts look impressively large, however. A definite ‘yes’, so into the bag it went. She’d forgotten how much of this stuff she’d been bought her over the years. She’d had her own favourites, of course. Usually those were simpler, more feminine, less obvious. As she worked through the tangle however, the ‘yes’ pile represented more of a mixture than she’d have imagined. There was the stretch mesh slip, the quarter cup bra and pants set, the embroidered green silk bustier. She.
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