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From: Elena <silverlink@altavista.net>
Subject: {Elena} The bodysuit (MF, rom)
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"The bodysuit" (MF, Rom)
copyright 1999 Elena
silverlink@altavista.net

This story is rude.  It has sex in it.  Please do not read it if you 
are not supposed to.

You may distribute this story as you wish, on the condition that you 
attribute it to me and include the contact e-mail address above.

The bodysuit
------------

Never again, I swear, am I going on a first date wearing a bodysuit.  
It's just too awkward.

Actually, it was my insecurity about a first date that inspired me to 
buy the thing.  When I looked at it in the shop, it seemed to be just 
perfect for wearing under my new dress.  It's made of one of those 
modern microfibre and Lycra fabrics, trimmed with a discreet touch of 
lace.  All that elastic promised to give me a lovely sleek line.  I 
don't often wear dresses.  I certainly don't often wear dresses like 
the long, slinky jersey number I'd bought for the evening in 
question.  Now, here was a bit of lingerie that might give me a bit 
of what you could call "hidden confidence", I had thought.

I know this might seem like a lot of effort to go to for one night 
out, but I was very nervous.  The man I'd been falling in love with 
for some weeks had finally got his act together and asked me on a 
date.  I'd been out with him before, usually to some pub in town for 
a few drinks and a chat, but "as friends".  You must know what I 
mean.  You might not do much differently on a date than you would 
going out as friends, but those little differences are crucial, aren't they?

One of the little differences was my bodysuit.  I didn't intend to 
sleep with him the first time he took me out.  Well, maybe I did.  I 
don't know.  The thing was, just in case he did see my underwear, I 
wanted to be wearing something lovely.  In particular, when I saw the 
offending item on the rack, I wanted to be wearing something that 
would make me look like I had a lovely smooth tummy.

He rang the doorbell at exactly half past seven.  I heard the chime, 
and had a last-minute panic in front of my mirror.  The hair was in 
place, the lipstick was not smudged and a quick turn verified that 
yes, the dress was hanging nicely.  My tiny evening bag was perched 
on a chair by the door, and I grabbed it as I headed out into the hallway.

He was waiting for me at the front of the building, and behind him 
was a taxi waiting to take us to the restaurant.  His face lit up as 
I stepped out, and I gave him a nervous smile and reached up to check 
that my earrings were in place.  It felt extremely strange, being 
together in this way, but very good.  As the evening went on, it got 
better and better.  We had a couple of bottles of wine over our meal, 
which was gorgeous, and no doubt that helped us relax.  As I started 
to feel more comfortable, I found that we had started to touch each 
other's hands across the table.  We were leaning forward, and when 
our knees touched, neither of us pulled away.

We had been planning to go on to some party that friends of his were 
throwing, but I surprised myself by asking if we could go back to his 
flat instead and talk.  He said his friends wouldn't be offended, and 
that he'd be delighted.

We went halves on the restaurant bill.

In another taxi, on the way over to his flat, we hardly spoke.  
Rather, something between us was speaking and it left us too nervous 
to use words.  My hand was upon his knee, and he had placed his hand 
upon mine.  I was curiously conscious of my breathing, which I was 
sure didn't sound normal, and I was worried that it must be terribly 
obvious how I was feeling.

He made us a pot of tea when we got in, and we kicked off our shoes 
and sat down on the sofa to drink it and chat, but it was obvious by 
now that we were going to kiss.  It didn't take long.  What surprised 
me was how easy it was.  After all the apprehension earlier in the 
evening, I felt completely at home with my tongue stuck in this man's 
mouth.  His hands on my body, mine stroking his face and hair; it was 
all so natural.  I pressed myself against him, crushing my nipples 
against his chest.  One of my legs crossed over one of his.

Through the soft material of my dress, his hand was cupping my 
breast, and I could feel the pad of his thumb slowly circling my 
nipple.  It was erect and eager, and then I realised that, yes, he 
probably was going to be seeing my underwear after all.  Without ever 
having made a decision, I found my fingers unbuttoning the pale blue 
cotton of his shirt and before I knew it I could feel the dark hair 
on his chest beneath my palm.  Somehow he'd worked my skirt up until 
it was riding high upon my thighs, and his hand was curled around the 
top of my leg, near the crotch of my tights.  Again without having 
made any kind of decision I found that I was making small rubbing 
motions against the edge of his hand.  I was already very wet.

Now, though, it was time to take control of the situation.  I pulled 
back and, despite a little belated embarassment, managed to ask him 
if he had anything we could use.  He knew exactly what I meant, and 
nodded.  It can't have been difficult to guess, after all.

I can recall wondering if he was as surprised as I.

He stood up and walked through the back, to his bedroom.  Whilst he 
was gone I stood too, and pulled my dress over my head.  I dropped it 
to the floor, followed by my tights, and lay down upon the sofa.  
When he returned there was a slightly incredulous look upon his face 
as he gazed over my body, sleekly encased in nothing but a 
lace-trimmed one-piece bit of underwear, and the bulge in the front 
of his trousers seemed to leap out at me.

He dropped three or four little silver packets on the coffee table 
next to our empty tea mugs.  His shirt followed my dress to the floor.

Next, it isn't so clear what happened.  I rather lost track.  He was 
lying on top of me on the sofa.  The bulge in his trousers was 
rubbing against the soaking wet crotch of my bodysuit.  He had pulled 
the cups of the bodysuit down, so my breasts were bulging out the 
top, and he took one in his hand and raised the nipple to his lips.  
I felt a burning overtake me, and all of a sudden I had no idea where 
or who I was, so lost was I in the feelings of the orgasm that swept 
through me.  I know I made a lot of noise then, probably a low, slow 
moan.  When I came to my senses, I would take no more messing about.  
I wanted him badly.  When I told him so, he moaned too.

I unzipped his trousers, and he stood up and pulled then off together 
with his underpants.  He grabbed one of the foil packets, and 
standing up he took a moment to roll a condom onto his cock.  I 
writhed slightly looking at him, keeping the lovely sensations 
between my legs alive.  Then, he knelt between my spread legs and 
reached down to unfasten my bodysuit.  He was initially unsuccessful, 
and after some fumbling I did it myself rather than let it put him 
off his stride.  As the little press-studs came undone, the elastic 
fabric sprung up, exposing my pubic hair and my soaking wet private 
parts.  I was so moist, it was incredibly easy for him to slide inside me.

With a little wiggle, I adjusted my position so that he could sink 
all the way inside.  He was kissing me fiercely, and was obviously 
very aroused.  I knew that it would only be moments before he came.  
I was as excited as he was.  After all that build up, it really was 
no problem at all to bring myself to orgasm as he fucked me, and I 
felt the first spasm of my second orgasm just a moment or two before 
I realised that he was coming too.

We kept rocking back and forth, eking out every last bit of pleasure. 
 Even after the feelings subsided it was very nice.  My whole body 
was warm and relaxed and felt heavy.  After a short while, he pulled 
back and slipped out of me.  The condom was dropped upon the coffee 
table with the unused ones, and he lay back on top of me.  His penis 
was smaller now, and I could feel it upon my leg as he rested.  It 
was wet and warm with our juices.

Oh, it's a glorious time, those moments after sex when you feel so 
close and so lost in warmth.  I didn't want it to end, but it did and 
I was suddenly aware of feelings of awkwardness.  Not long ago we had 
been just friends.  Now, we had shared the most wonderful sex I could 
remember having, and I wanted so badly for it to work out.  We were 
silent; I wanted to say something but I didn't dare.  It was a moment 
of warmth, yes, but also of terrible fear.

It was just then that I realised I still had my bodysuit on.  The 
cups were slid down my breasts in quite an appealing way, but the 
bottom where I had unfastened it had rolled up around my waist, and 
the elastic fabric was cutting in to me.  My stomach bulged slightly 
out of the bottom, and all in all I felt that I must look quite ridiculous.

At that moment, when I was feeling ugly and unsure, he said just the 
right thing.  He said that I was beautiful, and he gave me a little 
delicate kiss on the lips.  His eyes told me that he meant it.  It 
was a cliche but it made all the difference.

I smiled, and things became easy again.

I have not worn the bodysuit since then.  If I'm lucky, I'll never 
have to go on another first date, either.  Nowadays, I do feel very 
lucky.  He makes sure I do.

The End
-------
"The bodysuit" copyright Elena 1999 - silverlink@altavista.net

After being informed by a kind (and gratefully received) review that 
a story of mine was a bit lacking in action, I thought I'd do 
something a little more meaty.  Or is that cheesy...




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