4. Lucinda: The Too-Tight All-In-One
Dear Reynardine,
Right through the crotch? Boy, does that bring back memories!
First let me set the stage a little.
Remember Matt, that high-school boyfriend I told you about? After Matt and I had been dating for a while, I finally had to seduce him (first time for both of us). We were at it ALL the time for months and months until the new had sorta worn off a little and the frequency dropped down to just excessive. So after a while we had done it most of the conventional ways and a few of the not-so-conventional ways. He had lifted a relatively scholarly how-to book from his older sister and we had worked our way through the different positions and their variations discussed in the book, and had identified our favorites for a given mood or situation, from an all-nighter in a bed all the way to really quick in a car or somewhere else that was not exactly private. (I am amazed when I remember how we, at 5' 10" and 6' 1", were able to do it in a car back then - I guess that they were a lot bigger then!)
Our experience ranged from both of us naked in my or his (or someone else's!) bed, to partially or almost fully clothed for a quickie in less pastoral settings. The latter sometimes included me getting taken from behind with miniskirt up and pantyhose and girdle down, or simply through the pantyhose, in that and other positions at such times that it the most convenient or expedient.
I must digress a little here: Back then, pantyhose technology was pretty primitive at times and I usually wore a panty girdle (short leg or brief) to hold them up as well as to provide some "figure correction." Holding them up against their will, as it were, often resulted in degradation and finally failure of the center seam in the crotch, as that area is under tremendous stress to begin with and under additional stress by being pulled up tight over long legs and against my crotch by the girdle. So, after a few wearings, the fabric on one or both sides of the center seam usually got a little mossy and finally developed holes - particularly in styles lacking a gusset (garment biz term for "cotton crotch," which is a bullshit marketing term).
Sometimes, in the course of our "quickies," Matt noticed the holes in my pantyhose and exploited one of those holes in the process of exploiting another hole in that area, so to speak. Ahem!
Sometimes, I purposely left off the panty girdle with the express purpose of titillating him with the initial sight and subsequent thoughts of my pussy visible through the flimsy pantyhose material. This was a sure-fire guarantee of a quick and passionate session if/when the circumstance presented itself. A hole in the pantyhose then provided immediate and complete access and we could do the wild thing with me being and feeling "completely dressed," which had a strange and powerful significance for me and sometimes held a strong attraction for me (maybe the subject of another discussion).
OK. So we had been doing it for a while in all the usual ways, including with most of our clothes on and sometimes through my pantyhose.
So, anyway, Matt had seen a family photo in which my older sister, Alicia, was wearing her fuzzy knitted dress (mohair, I believe) and had commented on it (her?) a few times. Twice he saw her in person wearing the dress and had been extremely impressed. Homecoming would be here in a month and I wanted to look good for the homecoming activities and wear something that he would like, so I asked Alicia if I could borrow the dress. As usual, it was OK with her - we swapped clothes (clothes that would fit, anyway) a lot and there never were any problems. No problem this time... except... it did not look so good on me.
Alicia was/is shorter and smaller, with a more conventionally proportioned body, and had a deluxe pair of perfect 36Cs that absolutely defied gravity. I, on the other hand was taller and otherwise larger, but with a much more modest bust (38 A's, as I liked to think about 'em back then). So, not only did the dress not fit so well (me looking like I was stuffed into it), but it really accentuated the differences in out figures and I thought that I came out on the very short end of the comparison. I had mentioned my intent to borrow it for the occasion to Matt, and I did not feel like I could back out without just cause.
One day we were alone at my house for the afternoon with the intent of checking out the possibilities of what I might wear to homecoming. I had told him that I had tried on the fuzzy dress and that I did not look so good in it, but he insisted that he see for himself (aren't all men alike on this point?). So I took off my skirt and top, leaving only bra, panty girdle and pantyhose. He grabbed me (typical) and we made out for a while, but I pulled away, wanting to get the dress issue figured out and settled before getting too distracted.
I pulled on the fuzzy dress and stood in front of the mirror. The panty girdle brief left a noticeable bulge below the leg cuffs ('way too short for this kind of dress) as well as the customary line at the waist - which I usually covered with a belt - and a really nasty bulge above the waist. Argh!!! I am sure that such bulge was always there, but most of my clothes were either not as tight there or were much heavier constructed (rigid?) and did not cling so tightly, showcasing the bulge.
What was worse, the dress was a single, unbroken line, in a soft dappling of light pastel colors. This seemed to accentuate my short-waistedness. I never had all that much of a waist, the hips being so close to the bottom ribs that there is just not much room for a long, sensuous curve inward, creating a skinny waist. And a little excess fat always seemed to hang on right there to further complicate matters. I have always been pretty much straight from the armpits to the top of the hips, which are pretty big - boy, are they ever, these days! Careful choice of clothes always mitigated this to one degree or another, sometimes even making me look almost normal. Bad choice of clothes... bad news, dork city (think of your dorky great uncle with the waist of his pants pulled up under his armpits).
So, with proper selection of clothing and accessories, I usually could appear to have enough of a waist to satisfy the eye in a casual inspection, and actually look pretty good. Usually, I tried to showcase my long athletic and shapely legs so that problems with the waist and tits were less noticeable [shamelessly immodest self-promotion here] and it always seemed to work. But this dress was a little too long for that little bit of showy misdirection.
I looked in the mirror and all I could see was hips. And bulges. And no tits. I was definitely not my sister in the dress. Matt was making a little face, so I knew that he saw that there were problems with me in the dress. Good, maybe he won't be too disappointed if I don't wear it. I dragged out the other things that I thought might do and tried them on. A few were not appropriate for the brief panty girdle, but that could be taken care of by wearing one with a longer leg or going without. We discussed it at length. but he kept coming back to the fuzzy dress.
"What if you wore a different girdle? One with longer legs and a higher waist?" he asked. I had some with longer legs alright, but none with a high waist, and neither did Alicia. But maybe Mom did. So we gathered up the fuzzy dress and a few others and went down to my parents' room to check out Mom's girdle drawers. I did not find any high-waist girdles, but I did find a few of her long-line bras and several all-in-ones - some open-bottomed and some with long legs, and most with hook-and-eye or zipper closures. I had forgotten about these because Mom had not worn them very often in recent years.
The long-line bras were completely out of the question because Mom was now a 36D - no way would they work on me (sniff, sniff). I then looked at each all-in-one and concluded that for one reason or another (zippers, too much coarse lace, prominent seams, etc. that would be lumpy or otherwise show through the dress) none would be suitable to wear under the dress. Besides, they were all sized for a 36D.
Then I remembered the old lingerie stash. Mom kept her old stuff that was not completely destroyed in a huge antique chest of drawers in her walk-in closet. She or Alicia or I would occasionally look through the stuff to find a particular item that we remembered to be just right for a particular situation but had discarded because it had pretty much worn out. No permissions necessary here - everything in the chest was fair game. I rooted around in the first girdle drawer looking for a high waist panty girdle or even an all-in-one that might do. No good. I looked in the second girdle drawer and found several possible all-in-one candidates.
One, in particular, caught my attention. It was this very heavy, black, long leg item that was very smooth. All its many inner panels were stitched with truly flat seams and there was no lace decoration or zippers or hooks anywhere. Black was not the best color for the dress, but I thought, "What the hell, this should prove or disprove the concept," and carried it back out into the bedroom to try on. Matt had been reclining on the bed watching me root around in the chest. I sat down and told him that this was the only item that might even work, but that I was not real confident about it. He said that the only way to find out would be for me to try it on.
So I stood up and peeled down the panty girdle brief and stepped out of it. Matt pulled me down on the bed and we made out for a while. I was enjoying the makeout session much more than the prospect of fighting with that damn dress some more and let it go on for a while. Pretty soon my bra was off and I was beginning to really get into it. Matt's hand was suddenly at my crotch and he began to rub me there through my pantyhose (something I really enjoy). Then his fingers found some of the holes in my pantyhose crotch. He pulled at them and made them bigger. I could feel a run in the pantyhose making its way up my ass and a finger plumbing my nether regions.
Well, that was it! To hell with the dress and get on with the more important activity that I was definitely feeling the need for. Then he pulled away and motioned at the dress. I'd been had! All buttered up and nowhere to go. Well, I guessed I'd better get it over with so I could get back to business. He could be such a tease, sometimes!
As I was preparing to pull it on, I took a closer look at the all-in-one and saw that it really was in pretty bad shape. It was old and worn out, with a couple of the garter tabs torn off and one dangling by a thread. Both halves of the split crotch had parted company from their seams in the back so that they no longer overlapped in the back and the elastic in the shoulder straps was sprung. Well, it was worth a try, if for no other reason than to get the dress thing over with.
I struggled into it and it was really, really tight. It was a 36C and those things are sized appropriately for that chest size and the rest of the body that goes with it. And I was a 38A. Finally, I had it on. I was out of breath and breaking a sweat. If I had not had the pantyhose on (which made it slide a lot easier), I probably would not have been able to pull it up with out tearing it. I spent a minute or two adjusting it and getting everything positioned correctly and got grabbed again. (I have always been very particular about such things, always taking the time to get everything arranged and positioned just right - including the crotch up, tight against my pussy - everything just feels better that way.) And boy, was it tight. I told him to let me get this dress thing over with and then we would have some fun, but I let him run his hands over me for a minute, enjoying the feeling of his hands on the tight, tight nylon/Lycra.
I went over to the mirror and saw that it had rearranged my shape pretty well, even though it seemed that I could hardly breathe and I was wondering where my recent lunch was being redistributed to. I then put on the dress and went back to the mirror to check the results. Amazing! It had completely reshaped my midsection so that there was finally my sought-after, narrow(er) waist. For the first time, there was a (gentle) sweep inward from my chest to a narrow(er) waist and then out again to my hips! It was great! Matt was watching and I could see his face in the mirror. Big smile there. Big smile here. I felt so feminine just then. This really intensified my desire for Matt to sweep me off of my feet and make mad, passionate love to me, right there on Mom and Dad's bed (the kink aspect of that no doubt contributed to my building desire).
But then I looked up a little higher and say a big problem. Well, actually two of them: there were terrible wrinkles where I did not even come close to filling out the bra cups (the bane of my womanly existence!).
Then I got the idea that maybe I ought to stuff the bra and see how that looked (hey, I wouldn't be the first girl to do that). So I took off the dress and went back into the closet and started rooting around in the bottom drawer where the semi-dead pantyhose were kept. Matt was watching me as I bent over looking through the contents of the drawer. And, well... evidently he was overwhelmed by what he saw and it pushed him over the edge.
So there I was, bent over at the waist, feet wide apart (it ain't easy bending over in an all-in-one that tight) grabbing up old pantyhose out of the bottom drawer and all of a sudden I feel his hands on my hips and something else you-know-where! Well, this was OK with me, I kinda liked being taken from behind and I certainly was all wet and turned on, 'way past the point where I would have wanted him to stop. So I just stood there and tried to anticipate what would happen next. But he lingered there a bit, just brushing against me, teasing me a little (the way he did sometimes - part of our lovemaking ritual) and making me ache for him to hurry up and get on with it.
The next thing I knew, he heaved back on my hips and one powerful simultaneous thrust, he entered me to the hilt. Holy shit! He felt huge, I was so tight! What a feeling! I almost passed out from the intensity of it. He was about average sized, but this time he felt like the small end of a bat (to put it crudely). It seemed as if I could feel him all the up to my sternum. I did not feel stretched... just incredibly tight inside!
Neither one of us moved for the longest time, it just felt too good. When he finally did, I immediately had the most intense orgasm I had yet experienced. This triggered him, and then we both collapsed into a heap on the floor gasping for breath. After a few minutes, we (got a towel and) went over to the bed and started again, but this time with me on top. Wow! I just sat there for a while, soaking up the most delicious feeling of being so filled up and tight but not painfully stretched. It was like it had never been before. Then I started moving ever so slowly, savoring the sensations as I went. The delicious, powerful feeling of penetration with me feeling so tight almost sent me into another orgasm each time I came down. After only a few strokes, I reached a thunderous orgasm and fairly collapsed on top of him with him still inside me. He pushed me over onto my back and started going pretty fast. After about a minute I came again and then once more - that last one causing him to come, too.
I was completely worn out and could barely move. After a while, I had recovered a little and had to start getting things tidied up before anyone came home. I could hardly get the all-in-one off of me, I was so weak. Matt helped, and soon it was off. We gathered up everything and I straightened up and made sure that no one would be the wiser. I took the dress and the all-in-one back to my room and got cleaned up.
I had not seen what I looked like with the bra cups filled out, but there was no way I could have appeared at homecoming with a chest that size - everyone would have known in a minute what I had done. I told Matt that we would try it all on again and this time stuff the bra and see how it looked another time. I also told him that I did not think that I would be able to wear that all-in-one, or any other one that was that tight, under that or any other dress. I would not have been able to last through a football game, dinner, and dance with something that tight on. He agreed that it be too uncomfortable for me to wear something that tight that long. So we settled on another dress that fit better and I promised that I would wear that all-in-one again sometime when we made love.
Another pair of pantyhose, the same brief girdle, the clothes I had been wearing earlier, and I looked just as if nothing unusual had happened - except for the grin that just would not leave my face. We went down and did some homework until Alicia got home from cheerleader practice. Pretty soon Mom got home and it was time to start dinner. Dad would be home in a little while. So, off Matt went, a really happy guy.
Well, I must have seemed a little too happy, too, because during dinner, while Alicia was reaching across me for a serving plate of chicken, she whispered something to my face. "Were you fucking Matt before I got home?"
Well I guess I must have sucked half a glass of iced tea into my lungs and began coughing and sputtering with Alicia gleefully pounding on my back as hard as she could. My life was passing before my eyes - either from my near death experience of drowning in iced tea or the complete death experience I was going to have if Mom found out what I had been doing.
When I could finally breathe again without lapsing into more fits of coughing, I suddenly felt all the blood drain out of me. What did Alicia know??? What did she think she knew? Was she just fishing? What tipped her off? I had taken such extreme pains to remove all evidence of our afternoon activities. I whispered to her, "No! Are you crazy?" "So you were fucking Matt before I got home!"
How could she know this? Now what was I gonna do? I wasn't so happy anymore. Then Mom says, "Ladies, ladies! There will be no whispering at the dinner table! If you have something to say, you can say it out loud for all of us to hear." Dad was still looking at the TV in the other room the news and did not seem to be aware that anything unusual was going on.
"Lucinda's been... uh... well... she's been (Oh shit, my life is gonna end right now!) thinking about wearing my mohair knit dress to homecoming," says Alicia brightly. Gasp! What a relief! What the hell was Alicia doing? I simultaneously wanted to hug her for not saying anything and rip her head off for making me think that she was going to.
"Now, Lucinda, you know you're too big to fit into that dress and that you don't have the bust for it. Why don't you wear one of your nice dresses that fit you better?"
Thanks a lot, Mom. "I decided not to wear it after all. I'll figure out something else," said I.
"Well, that's better." Humbug!
Anyway, I worried about it the rest of the evening - all through my homework and later trying to watch TV. What did Alicia know and how did she know it? Back up in my room, I could hear her talking to one of her boyfriends (that's right, plural) on the phone. I debated going in to ask about it but thought that I might give myself away if I did. But then I simply could not stand it any longer. So when she got off of the phone, I went in.
"What was the deal with that crack about me and Matt?" I asked.
"Well, you had been fucking him this afternoon, hadn't you?" Was this some kind of trap??
"I don't know what you're talking about," I valiantly maintained.
"OK. What ever you say. It's just that I know that 'Freshly Fucked Look' when I see it, and I sure as hell saw it when I got home."
Busted!
"Freshly fucked look." What the hell was that?
I just sat there. I didn't know what to say. I was pretty sure that Alicia had been having sex with some of her boyfriends for a couple of years, but it was something that we never discussed - were never really all that close. Besides, she was four years older than me and a sophomore in college and was a little more "entitled" to be doing that that than I was, me, a mere junior in high school. I was in a daze. I didn't say anything but I just stood up and walked toward the door.
"Relax!" she says. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone. That's your business. Just as long as you're taking precautions, and I know you probably are (I was - birth control pills), and don't get too careless, no one else will find out. But you gotta watch yourself. I thought I was noticing that FFL on your face for a while a couple of months ago, but then it stopped. Until today! You must have had one hell of a good time this afternoon! And it showed. If you're not careful, Mom's gonna notice it, too, and figure it out. She was once a teenager, you know. Then you will be in trouble."
The mental image of my mother having sex was such a nasty shock that it snapped me back into reality. What to do now? What to say?
"Go on. Go to bed. It'll be OK. Just be careful, that's all," says she. I started out the door but turned around to see her leering at me like a tree full of young apes and making the "index finger of one hand in and out through the index finger and thumb in a circle of the other" hand sign. This struck me for some reason as insanely funny and I let out a snort. Alicia let out a snort. Instantly we burst out laughing. She jumped up and gave me a big hug.
"I had you really worried down at dinner, didn't I?" she managed to get out between cackles.
"Yeah, I just about shit," I admitted, not at all pleased that I had been silently trying to make deals with God at the time.
"Well, it's not often I can get the better of you, so I couldn't pass up the opportunity!" I was always known as the smart one and Alicia, looking like a young, brunette Ann-Margaret, was always known as the pretty one.
"OK, you got me, all right. How did you know?"
"It's that Freshly Fucked Look, I tell you. I can spot it a mile away. So, what was so special about this afternoon's little tryst, anyway?"
"I really couldn't say," says I, realizing that maybe I can get her back just a little bit. "You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you."
"Nope. You'd never believe me."
"Oh come on! Tell me!"
"I think I'll go to bed, now."
"Bitch!" says she.
"Slut!" says I.
"Look who's talking!" More laughter.
Finally, "Come on, what was so amazing' about this afternoon? I gotta know!"
I was feverishly trying to come up with the classic line from The Graduate, but the old brain was still recovering from the recent overload. "One word."
"Well, what it is??"
It was now or never, do or die, but is still could not come up with the line... starts with a P... ends in an S... Damn! So I took a deep breath and slipped into autopilot mode and hoped for the best.
"Prosthetics!" is what finally came out and I knew immediately that I had blown the line. But I also realized that this is probably even better. So I walk out of the room. I look back and she is just standing there, brow knit. I can see all the gears turning as she silently mouths the word, but no results are forthcoming.
Gotcha!
Lucinda
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