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I thought I looked terrific as I walked toward the main ballroom, the site of my University Graduation Ball. I was feeling great, really great. This celebration was the climax of my student years.
I had spent three years studying my little heart out, working hard, not going out, and concentrating on my business course. I had managed to get good grades all year, so I felt sure my exams had gone well. It was time to party!
I had planned my outfit for months. I didn’t have lots of money. I certainly couldn’t afford to buy a new dress. But I had begged my grand parents and, as a joint birthday and Christmas present, they had a gorgeous dress made for me. It was just perfect for this special day! Besides, my grandparents certainly didn’t object to buying me any item of clothing, if it would get me out of the baggy jumpers that they hated me wearing.
The dress must have cost them a fortune; I had gone in twice for fittings, and it hugged my body just perfectly. It was made of white satin material; it was strapless and deliciously tight around my chest. The perfect feel of a custom gown was a new one for me, as dresses never fitted me around my chest. If you hadn’t guessed, I have a large chest, a large chest and large hips.
My curvy figure, combined with my being 5 foot 8 inches, means that I stand out. And throughout my years at university, I hated that feeling. At the time I was not so used to showing off my figure, for most of my life I had concentrated on hiding it. I had resorted to flattening bras and baggy jumpers, hoping to blend in.
I guess my discomfort with my body dated back to those awful changing rooms as a girl, when my large breasts would attract unwanted attention and derisive comments. I came to realize later that a lot of the talk came from jealousy.
But tonight was part of my metamorphosis. I felt like a butterfly recently evolved from an ugly caterpillar. Tonight I was going to be proud of who I was and what I looked like!
But more about that dress. It fell from my hips, ending about an inch above the floor, providing, that is, that I was wearing 4-inch heels. My problem was that I didn’t own any.
Luckily my sister had a pair of white strappy shoes that fitted the bill perfectly. She had paid nearly three hundred pounds for them and had worn them at her wedding. It had taken a lot of convincing to get her to let me borrow them. They were almost the identical white as my dress, strappy, sexy and high. They were the kind of shoes you could just look at and think they were going to be murder to wear. But they weren’t. I suppose that is the advantage of paying three hundred pounds for shoes–not only do they look great, they don’t hurt.
I showered, then wrapped myself in a towel and did my makeup. I was taking my time and doing it properly. I even opened a bottle of wine so I could savour the leisurely process of getting myself ready.
I had carefully chosen my underwear, a brand new strapless bra and matching knickers, both made of ivory coloured satin. I looked great in them! They hugged my figure like a second skin. The bra did not flatten me at all, like all my others. Instead, it pushed me up and out, offering my luscious breasts almost as a gift to whoever wanted to partake.
I had never seen my breasts looking so huge, so full, round and perfect. The sight of my wondrous globes, combined with the sexy little thong riding high between my ass cheeks and my white hold up stockings, made me think that I looked sexier this evening than at any other time in my young life.
As I looked at myself there in the mirror, I imagined a strong pair of hands sliding over my back, slowly caressing my shoulders, before descending to lift my breasts from their confines. I closed my eyes and saw him caressing, compressing them against my chest.
I could feel my nipples hardening at just the thought of it. I cupped my breasts and slid my hands over the sensuous fabric of my bra. I caressed them gently, imagining it was him. The thought, the touch sent shivers down my spine. I was tingling all over.
Now completely caught up in my fantasy, I reached behind me and undid the clasp of my bra. I moved my hands over my now naked globes just as I imagined he would. I cupped them tenderly in my palms, savouring the weight of them, the fullness. Then as I held them as he would, I began to make little circles around my erect nipples with my index fingers.
I moaned softly as I felt my swelling nipples pull the skin tight, and I slowly raised one breast just far enough to allow me to tease the nipple with my tongue. I shivered again as I first felt the wet texture of my tongue on that most sensitive spot, and I could feel the nectar begin to moisten my thong as I left a shiny trail of saliva around my areola.
Using one hand to fuel my growing arousal by pinching and tugging on one hard nipple then the other, I slid the other down my stomach and inside my thong. My fingers moved as I imagined his would, diving straight into my moist mound. I was amazed bahis firmalar─▒ by how wet I was! As my finger brushed against my raging clit for the first time, I shuddered.
I should have been getting ready for the graduation ball. But instead, there I was, standing in front of my mirror bringing my self off, imagining a set of hands caressing, and taking me. My bra was at my feet, and my fingers were very much buried deep inside my thong. In moments I felt the waves of pleasure coming, about to rush over my body.
Suddenly, I heard the door open behind me. I spun around and was confronted by my housemate! Her look was one of sheer horror. And my look must of matched hers. I felt myself blushing uncontrollably as I quickly pulled my hand from my thong and tried cover my tits from her view. After a painfully long moment, she turned round to leave without saying a word and closed the door behind her.
I flopped down on the bed, horrified. I had just been caught masturbating in front of a mirror! My stomach churned in embarrassment! But I didn’t have time to dwell on it; I had a ball to go to. I quickly rearranged my wet thong, slipped my bra back on and picked up my dress.
But when I slipped the dress over my sexy lingerie, my day started to go wrong. As I looked at myself for the first time, I realised I had a problem. Since I had been for the dress fittings I had been through exam revision and coursework deadlines. When I work hard I eat, but worst of all I eat crap. Crisps, chocolate, coke, I eat it all and I eat lots of it.
Looking at myself in the dress I was devastated that I could clearly see where my underwear was. There were ugly lines spoiling the look of the dress, leaving me with a huge decision. I carefully took off the dress and stripped myself of my underwear, leaving me only in my stockings.
When I slid the dress back on, it looked much better! It was still tighter than it should have been, but there were no underwear lines anywhere. And the tightness was supporting my chest without the bra. Actually, being almost naked under the gown felt quite liberating, quite adventurous and exciting. My stomach jumped at the feeling. I had never gone out without underwear before, and just the thought of it made me feel so naughty, like a bad girl.
As I walked towards the ballroom, completely naked under my long dress apart from a simple pair of hold up stockings, I was determined to let my hair down and have the night of my life. I had consumed several drinks with my friends, trying to loosen myself up a little. Then I saw him!
I was so glad that I saw him before he saw me. It gave me time to let my eyes take him all in without having to worry about being caught staring. He looked amazing in his dinner jacket. His suit had a really good cut, fitting his wide shoulders perfectly before tapering down to his slender waist.
I stood there just looking at him speechlessly, just as I had done at the back of so many of our lectures together. He was wonderful; ever since I had first met him, I had had the most incredible crush on him. I had spent many pleasant hours daydreaming about him, about how his arms would feel, about how his chest would feel with my head resting gently against it.
I knew they were only daydreams, though; he had no idea who I was. He was always busy making the skinny blonde girls laugh. Or scoring tries on the rugby pitch. He looked even better on the rugby pitch, his confident strides capturing the ball and at the same time the hearts of all the females in the crowd, as he scored another seemingly impossible victory.
We had spoken once, in our very first week. I had seen him going into a bar whilst I was on my way home from the library. Despite being inappropriately dressed for a bar, in a conservative black roll neck jumper, a knee length skirt and a pair of suede knee boots, I followed him inside. With butterflies in my stomach, I joined the queue at the heaving bar next to him.
As the crowd jostled around me, I allowed myself to be “accidentally” pushed into him. As I felt our bodies touch, I looked into his eyes and smiled my prettiest smile. I put everything into that smile!
I tried my very best, through that smile, to let him know how much I wanted him, how much I wanted to be his, and that he could do as he wanted with me. And as I waited, my heart in my throat, he simply returned my smile, as a courtesy, apologised and turned his attention back to the bar.
Invisible, that’s what I was to him! My heart was broken. I turned and went home, alone.
I tried to get past him. I caught up with ex boyfriends at home; I saw a few guys here and there. But he always managed to creep into my fantasies. In my weakest moments he was there, waiting, smiling, and loving. But as I entered my final year, my work got more hectic, the stress piled on, and I stopped seeing him around as much. The lectures he shared with me began to get less and less frequent. Slowly I had got past him, I had got over him. Or at least I thought ka├žak iddaa I had.
Standing there looking at him, all the feelings rushed back. My heart fluttered, and the naughty thoughts crept back into my mind. What would it be like? I tortured myself with thoughts of how his chest might feel, crushed to the side of my face. How would his arms feel on my shoulders as they slid my dress from me?
But it was just a daydream, a waste of time. Why was I wasting my night looking and lusting after a man with whom I stood no chance?
Yanking myself back to reality, I was about to avert my eyes from him, when the strangest thing happened. For no reason his head turned and he looked straight at me. For one moment, the briefest instant, our eyes met, and a broad smile spread across his face.
I felt my cheeks flush instantly. I instinctively looked away, breaking the contact. But before I did I saw something that made my heart leap. Lust! He wanted me, it was there clear as day in his eyes. I couldn’t believe it. He had looked straight at me, not through me, but straight into my eyes. And he liked what he saw!
I sipped my drink nervously, unsure of what to do next. My heart was beating fast, my knees felt weak. I turned my attention to my friends, best to play it cool. Best to pretend it hadn’t happened. He must have been looking at somebody else, I convinced myself, somebody behind me.
“Oh, I think you have an admirer,” my friend chirped up out of the blue. “Don’t turn around,” she said directly at me, “but I think that guy over there fancies you.” A huge jealous grin spread across her face.
“Don’t be silly,” I responded, feeling my face flushing.
“Seriously, he can’t stop looking at you, he’s eyeing you right up! I told you that dress looked good on you,” she smiled.
“It’s the guy by the pillar, in the well fitted dinner jacket?” I asked carefully, not believing my luck.
“So you spotted him too, do you know him?” She said smiling at him over my shoulder.
“Yes, he is on my course, we had a couple of lectures together, I’ve noticed him, he is really fit, but he’s never noticed me before!” I said unable to keep the broad smile from my face.
“Well he’s noticed you now babe, you’re in there!”
“Really?” I asked my voice a little too high with excitement. “You really think so?”
“Well look for yourself if you don’t believe me,” she said with a smile.
Gently bringing my arm under my bust, I gave the material of my dress a slight downwards tug, widening the expanse of creamy breasts and cleavage that was on show. Then I seductively turned my head over my shoulder, and with a quick brush of the hair to the side of my face, I seductively met his eyes. And I repeated my smile of three years previously.
All my years of lust went into the smile, all my desire, my burning need to feel his arms around me. It was my best ‘come and fuck me’ look, and this time it got a reaction. It was his turn to look away nervously, but within seconds his eyes were back on mine. Then they quickly flicked down to my figure, as he did his best to take me all in without staring.
Moving subtly, I pushed my chest out a bit more, making my already sizable tits bigger still. Then I turned back to my friend.
“You see what I mean?” She giggled, “He wants you!”
I returned her excited smile, after making sure he could not see it of course. “I know, and he is gorgeous!”
“You go girl!” my friend said, “He’s still looking. Right, I am going to go to the toilets, you go to the bar or something and see if he comes over.”
“No, no, don’t go,” I said nervously, for even after all of my daydreams, all of my fantasies I still had no idea what to say or do.
But I was too late, my friend headed off towards the toilets, leaving me, in my ivory dress, alone at the side of the room. Without turning round, I crossed to the bar. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked, and I could feel the excitement churning up in my stomach. I had to be steady, and most importantly, I had to be sexy.
I just about managed it. A couple of my steps had been a little clumsy, it was hard not to be a little wobbly in these 4-inch heels, but I thought I had managed to pull off the sexy hip sway I was hoping for. I joined the hustle of the crowd at the bar, and moved forward, past those that had been served.
I could only have been standing at the bar for about a minute when I felt a large hand rest on my hip. It landed there gently, it rested lightly almost hovering. I knew it was him; I could tell in my heart. My heart began beating even faster. He had come over to me!
I counted to ten in my head, then turned round slowly. It was hard to play it so cool, but I knew how important this was. I knew how little it would take to blow the moment. To my joy, when I turned it was him. My feelings were confirmed. I smiled and our eyes made contact.
“You’re on my course aren’t you?” he said, his charm oozing from every word.
I nodded. “Yes that right, I think we had a couple ka├žak bahis of lectures together in the first year.” I was desperately trying to sound vague. The last thing I wanted was for him to know that I remembered exactly how many lectures we had shared.
“Mind if I step in front? I wouldn’t normally push in, but it’s just that I can get us served quicker. I know the manager here.” He smiled warmly, moving slightly closer towards me.
Knowing that to step in front in this crowd he would need to squeeze closely past me, I smiled with anticipation.
“Feel free,” I said, turning myself at an angle with my back to him. As he slid past me, I deliberately pushed my ass out a bit, so his crotch would be forced to brush against me. My plan worked and the thin satin material of my dress allowed me to feel him. I looked over my shoulder and smiled at him, and I was positive I could feel his hand lightly just skirting the surface of my ass. There was no contact, but I knew it was there, trailing behind his body over my bottom.
As soon as he was past me, he raised a hand at the bartender. The guy nodded instantly, letting him know that he would be the next customer. Then he turned back to me, his eyes flicking down to my breasts quickly. I could forgive him that, in fact I was pleased that he noticed them. I was even more pleased when his eyes met mine again. He was even better looking this close up. Every line, every hair, was perfect to me.
“What do you want to drink?” he said, placing his hand on my arm. His touch sent a little tingle through me. I was in no doubt now, he was definitely flirting.
“O let me see. A glass of white wine please.” I said whilst trying to move a little closer to him.
He turned back to the bar and placed the order, and I manoeuvred myself so that when he turned back from the counter with his drinks, his arm could not fail but to brush against my breasts. My efforts weren’t wasted as he turned round with the drinks, his arm pushed firmly against my left breast. It wobbled at the impact and he stopped instantly. His eyes dropped to my breasts and then returned to my eyes. I could see in his eyes that he could tell it was no accident.
We were only inches apart. He turned his body so we were now both square on. Our chests pressed together as the crowd jostled us, and his hands were either side of my waist, trying to balance a drink in each one.
Suddenly, I thought, “To hell with coolness.” I decided to take a chance, a once in a lifetime move. It hadn’t worked three years ago, I thought, but this could be the last time I would ever see him. It was a gamble I knew it, but a great gamble.
I lifted myself on my toes and pressed my lips to his. It was a slow lingering kiss. A kiss that obviously didn’t catch him by surprise, as his arms closed in on my waist and his lips responded to mine. After a beautiful few moments I pulled away and looked at him.
“What did I do to deserve that?” he asked with the biggest grin across his face.
“You smiled at me,” I said with a little cheeky grin, amazed that I had come up with such a great line on the spot.
“Then I will have to smile at you some more.” He smiled, as he offered me a glass of white wine.
“Sounds very good to me.” I said, taking a big gulp.
“Not here though,” he said, indicating the crowd surrounding us. “Shall we find somewhere quieter?”
I nodded; this was like a dream come true. I was doing so well. My heart was racing, and my eyes were beaming. I had just kissed the man of my living fantasies and he wanted me to do it again. I had never dreamed my ball would go this well.
“Where do you have in mind?” I asked him as he led me out of the room.
“How quiet do you fancy?” he said back.
I was about to answer that I would prefer as private as possible, when he spotted a free table in the corner and he led me over to it. I followed him a little disappointedly.
We sat around the small table, holding eye contact with each other. As we talked, it was amazing how much we had in common. I told him how I had watched him playing rugby, and how good I thought he was. He told me how beautiful that he thought I was and how good I was looking in the white dress that evening.
We complimented each other for a while, taking turns to be bashful and flattering. Then he dropped the bombshell. His girlfriend! I began to feel a bit weird, a bit panicked. Had I just made a fool of myself? I didn’t know where to look.
I was about to get up and walk away when I felt his hand on my thigh. It wasn’t a pinch, it wasn’t a grope. It just rested there, matched to the gradient of my thigh. He was telling silently that he didn’t want me to go anywhere, not to move, not to worry, and that I ought to hear him through.
He went on to explain how he and his girlfriend weren’t getting on, how she didn’t understand him. How she was boring him. It turns out she was one of the captains of the netball team. They were a big group of predatory girls, they drank, spoke and acted like a hen party most of the time. Drunk and loud, they were the kind of girls that used to laugh at me in changing rooms, the kind of girls that push girls like me out of the way to get to what they want.
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