Once again, ___ invited her friend over. They planned to go shopping for a few hours, and then return and hang out at the community swimming pool. Yes, that would be the very same friend whose trust I had previously violated about a year ago.
It took a few moments of weak hesitation after they left before I carefully pawed through her bag to see what she might have brought. At the very top, rolled up and protruding sideways , something made of denim -- a pair of jeans, I thought, disappointed -- concealed everything else. When I pulled it out to inspect the deeper contents of the bag, careful to keep it as much in its current form as possible so I could replace it without raising suspicions, I noticed that the denim was much too short to be a pair of pants. Probably shorts, I guessed.
But no. It was a miniskirt.
I couldn't believe my luck. How many times had I dreamed of wearing a denim miniskirt over a bikini, like all the pretty girls do near the beach? I had even contemplated buying myself one, because it seems to me to be an invaluable part of any woman's wardrobe -- except for my wife's. And to think that I hadn't even looked inside the bag yet!
As expected, the bag also contained a swimsuit. As I cautiously lifted it out of the bag, again studying how it was folded and positioned under the miniskirt, I felt the softness of the charcoal gray microfiber fabric, and noticed the sexy ties on the sides of the panties left a hole through which to peek a tantalizing bit of skin. It was so soft that I immediately thought it must be some fancy Victoria's Secret bikini, but a quick glance at the label surprised me: it was Mossimo. The bra was a cute halter, which wasn't very revealing, but not at all disappointing. I have a weakness for substantial bras, especially halters, whose size constantly reminds me of what I'm wearing.
I trembled from the thrill of it. I had to put it all on, and there would be no way to avoid wearing ___'s trusty old wedge sandals to complete the ensemble. I had a lovely little beach outfit to put on, and I had no idea when my play time would be over. For all I knew, they'd be back in 30 minutes. I had no time to waste.
I quickly brought all of these feminine items into the bedroom. I stripped out of all my clothes, slipped into the remarkably soft panties, and was immediately smitten. The fit was delightfully snug, perfect for feeling the gentle touch of the feminine fabric in its erotic shape. Then I tied myself into the bra, and luxuriated in the silkiness over my chest. What a shame that I can't do this more often! At last, I stepped into the miniskirt and pulled it up. It was very tight around my waist, and I was a bit worried about my member leaving a little goo on it, so I was careful about how I put it on.
Before I could even get to the sandals, I was possessed with ecstasy for a moment, overwhelmed by the softness and tightness of the bikini, and the fact that I was finally, for the first time ever, wearing a denim miniskirt. I composed myself, knowing that the moment would be wasted without the wedge sandals, which are a key part of the outfit. Why bother wearing a miniskirt if I'm not going to show off my legs?
Of course, much of the enjoyment I get from women's shoes is that they're the last bit to put on. I love fighting with the straps of these little sandal wedges, which are much too small for me, while I'm already tarted up in a bikini and miniskirt. I already felt fantastically erotic, but this last touch simply put me over the top. I only got to take a few steps in my dream outfit before I collapsed into feminine ecstasy.
Alas! If only I had had more time! I could have savored this precious moment for much longer, and enjoyed it to its fullest. Instead, I worried about ___ bursting through the door at any moment, so I satisfied myself quickly, and made a bit of a mess (quickly cleaned up) as I frantically undressed and placed everything back in its rightful spot. I no longer had any idea how any of these heavenly items had been placed in the bag, and I tried a few different ways of packing it, but in the end I realized that there was no way to be sure. I would have to suffer the anxiety of someone noticing for the rest of the day.
The ladies finally returned a few hours later, and I kicked myself for not having taken more time. They immediately prepared for the pool, and ___'s friend described what a bargain her bikini had been at Target, and how she would never feel comfortable wearing such a short skirt anywhere but at a beach or swimming pool. I felt relief and envy as she disappeared into the guest bathroom to change into what I had already worn.