A Tease

We were at Bernie's place for a celebration. A wedding or a birthday or a birth or something like that, I wasn't quite sure which and didn't really care. I do know that it wasn't a celebration or mourning of someone's death as Bernie doesn't throw parties for those. Everything else is an excuse for a party but not death. I guess he feels that having a body lying around puts a dampener on the celebrations.

The main reason I was there was the free food and drinks. More the food than the drinks, as I was driving and had to watch my intake. Being impecunious at the time free food was not to be rejected. Besides, I liked Bernie and Olivia, his wife, was a class act. Well, she was definitely something.

One thing for certain about Olivia was that she was a tease and quite a vicious tease at times. She'd pick a victim and do her best to have him follow her around at whatever party she was at, drooling and hoping, even though everyone knew he had no show.

At this particular party it very quickly dawned on me that I was the nominated victim. I was having none of it and either avoided her or just casually flirted back.

Things got a little more serious about half-way through the evening. The party was going strong in the backyard when I had this sudden urge to use the facilities. I went inside and did the necessary and departed the bathroom. I was on my way back to the part when I heard a noise above me and turned to look. Quite a natural thing to do.

Olivia was standing at the top of the stairs about to descend. Being at the bottom of the stairs and looking up at her I could see up her skirt. Not that I was deliberately looking but what do you expect. Look up any flight of stairs and if there is a female higher up the flight than you then you're looking up her dress. What you see depends on the length of the skirt or dress that the woman is wearing.

Olivia was wearing a short skirt. Possibly a little too short but I'm not a fashion guru. It wasn't the skirt she'd been wearing earlier so I had to surmise that she'd gone upstairs to get changed. Maybe she'd had a drink spilled on her or something like that.

Now you're probably thinking stairs, short skirt, and looking up, equals seeing her panties. A genteel way of teasing and flashing. You'd be wrong. For me to see her panties she have had to be wearing panties and it appeared that she'd forgotten this fact. The skirt was short enough, and the light was strong enough, that I could see everything, including the fact that she was clean-shaven. I could even see her tan lines, the gleaming white of the untanned section well and truly on display.

I'm quite certain that I showed no reaction. It's hard to show any sort of reaction when you're suddenly paralysed and that paralysis gave me time to get control of myself. To a certain extent, anyway. I will admit to watching closely as Olivia came down those steps, flashing me all the way.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs she stepped up to me, patted me lightly on the cheek, and strutted on out to join the party. It seemed to me that there was a triumphant got-him air about her. I obediently followed her out and re-joined the party as well.

I did not follow Olivia around, drooling, but I was certainly aware of where she was. I was also damned certain that she knew where I was at all times. She seemed just a little irritated by my lack of obvious drooling and took steps to try to remedy the situation.

Several times over the course of the evening Olivia, without actually acknowledging me, managed to manoeuvre so that she was between me and the body of the party. On the occasions that this happened, if there was no-one but me behind her, she'd find an excuse to lean forward or bend over, resulting in the back of her skirt lifting and me being flashed again. All done while acting demure and innocent.

The party started winding down and the crowd slowly dissipated. Being the polite type I hung around until nearly the end, helping to do a bit of the tidying up. By a bit of an odd coincidence I was actually the last to depart, Olivia politely showing me to the door while Bernie set to work cleaning up his barbecue grill. I've noticed that before about Bernie. He's a bit anal that way, can't relax until ell those little bits and pieces have been attended to. He'd probably be out there for another half an hour and then go to bed content that everything was done and there would be no work waiting when he rose the next morning.

As Olivia was showing me out, an innocent smile on her face, I pulled a little stunt that surprised me. I wouldn't have thought I had the nerve.

One hand went sidewards and flicked off the outside light, my other hand taking hold of Olivia's arm and making her step outside as well. The door closed behind us but that was OK. Even if it locked, which it probably hadn't, she could stroll around the house to the back door. I turned her around and backed her up against the wall.

"You, Olivia, are a teasing bitch. That's when you're not being a fucking bitch. You've been teasing me all night long. Guess what?"

Even as I was speaking I was reaching down and hoisting her dress clear up to her waist, one hand dropping down to run over her mons and slide between her legs. I could feel the heat and dampness as soon as I trespassed down there.

"The time has come for you to switch from the teasing part to the fucking part." My hand was cupped over her pussy and I was already doing a squeeze, relax, routine.

She laughed. Imagine that. She laughed.

"You're not serious?" she told me.

I caught her hand and brought it down to where my erection was now exposed to the cool night air, hoping to find somewhere snug and warm to rest.

"My god, you are," she gasped. "Are you crazy? Anyone can see us here."

"Not unless they've got night-vision glasses and even then we'd only be a couple of green blurs."

"Bernie. . ." she gasped but I interrupted.

"Doesn't know you attended that party commando style, I'll bet," I said, "and he'll be another half hour cleaning up. Stop looking for excuses and put what you're holding where it should go."

Ha! She might have been looking for a reason to say no but she had still held firmly onto her prize.

"God, I can't believe you're doing this," she gasped as she hooked one leg up and around my waist. "What sort of animal are you," she added as she steered me into position.

"An appreciative one," I assured her, driving firmly forward.

She gasped and surged forward to meet me, helping me to drive fully home with that first thrust, her leg flexing as she used it to help pull me in. Hot and wet and tight, her passage closed around me, clinging tightly to my cock as I charged forward.

Now you'd have thought that, given the circumstances, I'd be in a hurry to finish this. You'd be wrong. I was taking my time. No rushed, feverish, thrusting for me. I drove in firmly and steadily, enjoying the feel of my flesh rubbing against hers, relishing the titillation of her passage clinging to me as I pulled back. I don't know about slow and steady winning the race but slow and steady was having a lot of fun along the way.

Oddly enough Olivia didn't seem to be thinking the same way. Oh, she did at the start, pressing forward to meet me at the pace I set, but as the moments passed she seemed to be wanting more, urging me to go faster.

"Relax," I told her. "Just take it as it comes. There's no need to rush."

She was going, "But, but," but I grandly ignored her. I was quite sure that Bernie was otherwise occupied and wouldn't interrupt for a while. I was willing to take that chance so why shouldn't she?

While I kept up my sure and steady pace I was also doing other things. Things like getting my hands under her top and pushing her bra out of my way. That done my hands closed over her breasts, giving me additional toys to play with.

Olivia was slowly going frantic, wanting me to finish but also wanting me to go on the way I was going. I could tell by the way she was moving against me that she was captured by her feelings even while her brain was trying to throw up reminders of where she was.

"Do you scream when you climax?" I asked with interest, at the same time starting to move faster.

A look of horror crossed her face. I was led to surmise that yes, she did scream when she climaxed, but wouldn't dare do so this particular time. I smiled happily and picked up the pace a little more.

Her mouth was tightly closed and she was making an, "Mmph, mmph," sound. She was ready and so was I so I picked up the pace one last time, really driving in hard. She clamped a hand over her mouth but I could still hear a much louder 'mmph' as she climaxed, squeezing me and taking everything I had to give her.

I withdrew and she leaned against the wall for a few moments, breathing hard. Then she hastily tidied up her clothes, opened the door, and slipped inside. I was vaguely insulted. No thank you. No good night. Rather a lapse of manners on her part. Still, I'm charitable and I could let that sort of behaviour pass.

It must, I thought as I headed homeward, be nice to have a loving wife like that.