turning back towards town.
I spent the next three days in a near-lather of excitement, waiting for Friday evening. On the day I met Clint Cannon, I was able to spend an evening all to myself with a bubble bath and a glass of wine, and take the edge off of some of the tension that had built up over the hours leading up to me slipping out of my work shirt and stepping out of my jeans. Unfortunately, the next few days were very busy ones, and when I got home I simply kicked my shoes off, pulled my clothing off, and fell into bed.
Friday morning dawned bright and clear, though. I woke up an hour early to give myself a chance to prepare for the day.
I started with a shower, taking my time and washing every inch of my body with coconut-scented soap and a soft loofah. I paid particular attention to my breasts, soaping and rinsing them repeatedly, in the hopes that they would be as soft and silky as possible, in case they were seen by someone other than me... and, I'll admit it, the desire had built back up within me to a steady ache, and the soft touch of the loofah on my breasts and nipples felt incredible. I shivered as I imagined Clint’s tongue tracing the path that my fingers were taking.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to linger in the shower all day and think about what could happen later. I needed to get out and get dressed and ready to see Clint again.
I turned off the shower and stepped out, taking my old towel and rubbing myself dry before walking down the hallway into my bedroom.
As I opened my underwear drawer, I hesitated. Normally I wore sensible white cotton panties and a beige bra without a hint of lace or decoration, but if things went well I didn’t want Clint to think I was boring or dowdy.
Underneath the rest of my underwear, I dug through and pulled out a little navy blue lace thong that an ex-boyfriend had bought me. I had refused to wear it then, in my college days, but something about the strange man I’d met a few days before made me feel bold and exciting. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any bras that were anything but dull - when did that happen?
After my efficiency with my panties and bra, it took me twenty minutes just to decide what to wear. I couldn’t put on anything that would call attention to me when I went into the office, but I didn’t want to wear anything unflattering, either.
I ended up in a pair of jeans that were just a hair tighter than most of my work pairs, and a white t-shirt that was a little too small. To make it work-appropriate, I wore a summer-weight dark blue sweater. There! My bra and panties might not match, but at least I had some sort of consistency in my outfit. Besides, everyone says dark blues look amazing against my skin.
Once I was dressed, I gathered my keys and wallet. Just before I walked out the door, I hesitated. Turning back to my bedroom, I grabbed a little cotton sundress out of the closet and stuffed it into an old brown leather purse, along with some fresh underwear and a toothbrush - the barest essentials for staying a night at someone else’s house.
When I went to work that morning, I sat at my desk in front of my computer and finished up the reports from the past few days that hadn’t been essential enough to do immediately. Just before 11 o’clock, I went to see my supervisor in her office. We had the same boss, but she was senior enough to me that she could sign off on my plans.
“Sarah?” I asked, knocking on the frame of the open door.
“Come on in,” she said, and smiled at me.
I walked into the office and took the seat she gestured at.
“I am going to head back out to the Cannon’ farm,” I said. “After that, I think I’ll probably head straight home. I’ve put out all of the fires that needed to be taken care of before Monday.”
“All right, that sounds just fine. If you’re done a little early, don’t worry about coming
I spent the next three days in a near-lather of excitement, waiting for Friday evening. On the day I met Clint Cannon, I was able to spend an evening all to myself with a bubble bath and a glass of wine, and take the edge off of some of the tension that had built up over the hours leading up to me slipping out of my work shirt and stepping out of my jeans. Unfortunately, the next few days were very busy ones, and when I got home I simply kicked my shoes off, pulled my clothing off, and fell into bed.
Friday morning dawned bright and clear, though. I woke up an hour early to give myself a chance to prepare for the day.
I started with a shower, taking my time and washing every inch of my body with coconut-scented soap and a soft loofah. I paid particular attention to my breasts, soaping and rinsing them repeatedly, in the hopes that they would be as soft and silky as possible, in case they were seen by someone other than me... and, I'll admit it, the desire had built back up within me to a steady ache, and the soft touch of the loofah on my breasts and nipples felt incredible. I shivered as I imagined Clint’s tongue tracing the path that my fingers were taking.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to linger in the shower all day and think about what could happen later. I needed to get out and get dressed and ready to see Clint again.
I turned off the shower and stepped out, taking my old towel and rubbing myself dry before walking down the hallway into my bedroom.
As I opened my underwear drawer, I hesitated. Normally I wore sensible white cotton panties and a beige bra without a hint of lace or decoration, but if things went well I didn’t want Clint to think I was boring or dowdy.
Underneath the rest of my underwear, I dug through and pulled out a little navy blue lace thong that an ex-boyfriend had bought me. I had refused to wear it then, in my college days, but something about the strange man I’d met a few days before made me feel bold and exciting. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any bras that were anything but dull - when did that happen?
After my efficiency with my panties and bra, it took me twenty minutes just to decide what to wear. I couldn’t put on anything that would call attention to me when I went into the office, but I didn’t want to wear anything unflattering, either.
I ended up in a pair of jeans that were just a hair tighter than most of my work pairs, and a white t-shirt that was a little too small. To make it work-appropriate, I wore a summer-weight dark blue sweater. There! My bra and panties might not match, but at least I had some sort of consistency in my outfit. Besides, everyone says dark blues look amazing against my skin.
Once I was dressed, I gathered my keys and wallet. Just before I walked out the door, I hesitated. Turning back to my bedroom, I grabbed a little cotton sundress out of the closet and stuffed it into an old brown leather purse, along with some fresh underwear and a toothbrush - the barest essentials for staying a night at someone else’s house.
When I went to work that morning, I sat at my desk in front of my computer and finished up the reports from the past few days that hadn’t been essential enough to do immediately. Just before 11 o’clock, I went to see my supervisor in her office. We had the same boss, but she was senior enough to me that she could sign off on my plans.
“Sarah?” I asked, knocking on the frame of the open door.
“Come on in,” she said, and smiled at me.
I walked into the office and took the seat she gestured at.
“I am going to head back out to the Cannon’ farm,” I said. “After that, I think I’ll probably head straight home. I’ve put out all of the fires that needed to be taken care of before Monday.”
“All right, that sounds just fine. If you’re done a little early, don’t worry about coming
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