Typically I would wear a skirt without panties. As I was getting dressed and feeling too sexy already, I figured wearing some might tame my instincts around the handsome men at the gathering. I slipped into a favorite lace bra and held the matching panties in my hand as I walked half-naked around my room. With a blouse selected, I put the panties down to button my top half way up to my modest B cup breasts. After a pause to fidget with my hair, I resumed the decision making process.
Maybe today I'd go with stockings. Crotchless would still work pretty well for keeping things smooth, yet I'd saturate them in no time at all. Sometimes those things make me feel sexier and hornier. I cold not wear sandals with them either.
They were out.
I picked up the panties once more. They were necessary today.
My skirt was of a snug yet comfortable type. Able to lift the hem over my thighs and hips, I hiked it up, slid my satin and lace pussy protector up each leg, slowly. I put them on ritualistically in the same fashion as I hoped any man tonight would removed them. One long shaven leg at a time, with a pause here and there for some gentle caressing. By the time I stood away from the edge of my bed, I had to dab the moisture before continuing to pull them tight across my trimmed pussy.
The hardest decision was over.
Hair coiffed, minimal makeup on and a dab of perfume where it counted all in sequence as not to forget any one detail.
Out the door I went, knowing well that what I wanted was surely going to be in abundance at the venue tonight. All night.
The journey was less than eventful at the onset. Miles down the road, a song came on the radio to bringing a memory flooding back. I looked in the mirror and saw a glimpse of my younger self. It was a vision of bridled excitement, a hesitation and a pause held back what should have been a bursting moment of a regular first date with a new man.
But once the expression was identified, I felt a similar wetness some over me. Tapping on my thigh in tune to the music, my thumb mistakenly tapped my skirt just enough to vibrate along my mound. I could not resist playing a bit more. Hooking my finger beneath the hem, I lifted the bottom of my skirt to fit my hand between my thighs and massage a bit. No pussy play on the way. Some level of a thrill needed to be stifled.
Thankfully, I resisted my own temptations.
Arriving safely and still turned on by the anticipated masculine forces to be present that night, I slipped my painted toes back into my high heeled sandals and strutted across the lawn. Every step edged my skirt back and forth across my sensitive legs. The back of my thighs got to feeling a tingle, making me shift my approach to walking. Instead of a long strut to accentuate my shoes, gait became a close-legged twisting one providing more swaying of my hips and less stimulation of my lips.
By the time I got to the door, three men were waiting to open the door for me. One stepped back to allow the others the pleasure of greeting me first. One opened the door, the other extended a hand to assist me across the threshold.