(This started out as one of the snippets from the "Memories of an ex-lover series", but it kinda grew longer and longer (as I did writing it!), until it became a standalone story)

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For some reason I've always been turned by the thought of sex while more or less fully dressed.   Just the feel of almost animalistic lust of two people wanting each other so badly that their desire overrides the pleasures and tactile delight of nakedness.

And the texture of certain fabrics fascinates me : the rough textures of wool, the toughness of denim, strength and smell of leather and of course, the softness of cotton, the sensual touch of satin and silk.

I remember that warm summer evening when I was standing in the kitchen taking an after hours call from an interstate customer on the wall phone when the door bell rang.    I guessed it was you as you had mentioned something about Friday night shopping when we spoke during the week.

The call was fairly important, and you had your own key, so I didn't bother to answer the door and keep on resolving the problem with the customer.

I heard the door open and you walk down the passage to the kitchen.  The pale blue loose cotton dress you were wearing was slightly see-through and I guessed you turned a few heads that day with the vague outlines of your undergarments pressing at the thin fabric.

I suspected that you know heads had turned as well and the the slight flush on your face should have warned me that you were a little on the horny side.

I've seen it often enough before to know there's some mutual mischief about to happen . . .

You take the half empty glass of white wine from my free hand and gulp it down hungrily, and then move to the bench and rinse the glass.   And I can feel you behind me and a hug as I continue my discussion.

Your hand moves quickly to my crotch and starts caressing me.  Fingernails are tracing down the length of my penis, and although I'm trying to concentrate on what the customer is saying, I feel myself involuntarily starting to harden, to give a more defined target for your manipulations through my jeans.   Three times I have to move as I grow within the tight confines.

Fingers are at the zip of my jeans and I feel it slowly drawn as Mr. X continues his query which I'm start to lose interest in pretty quickly.   The fingers are now searching inside and feeling for my semi-erection trying to draw it into the open.

As I pull your hand away and returm my zip to upright, I'm searching for a way to cut this conversation short as desire for intercourse of a non-verbal nature has overtaken the need to satisfy a mere customer.  

But on he drones as your hand almost clinically strokes me to full arousal.  

I almost breathe a sigh of relief when the stroking stops. 

Little do I know it is only because you have dropped to your knees and moved around to start with your mouth instead, chewing and gnawing at my confined cock.   I am mumbling meaningless words into the mouthpiece as I feel you biting on my head through the denim.

I see you starting to unbutton the front of your dress and I know you are going to try to make me cum all over your breasts, but while the telephone conversation has become one sided, I cannot interrupt with an orgasmic moan.

Instead I slip my free hand under your chin to push you away and to guide you to your feet. 

I cover the handpiece and with a dry whisper tell you to go into the lounge, do not undress. 

And our usual aside at moments like this, I say that if I am not there in two minutes, then to start without me!

Two minutes pass into five before Mr X is satisfied and I have returned back to some sort of normality.

I walk into the lounge and find for the first time you have take our joke literally as I see you stretched back on the sofa, dress pulled up over your thighs, knees wide apart as the fingers of your right hand move rhythmically under a pair of pale blue satin panties.

Your head is thrown back, eyes closed and with mouth slightly open as I move to you and sit on the floor between your legs.   My head rests on your upper thigh just inches from your crotch and watch every movement of your fingers moulded against the satin as they stroke up and down and then stop stop to encircle your special bud of pleasure.

From here I can smell your excitement, and I dearly want to slip fingers inside the legband of your knickers and feel your fingertips moving wet with your juices.   

But these fingers are for your pure personal pleasure and I cannot intrude.  The movements slow and concentrate on that special spot and your legs squeeze me hard as the first wave of ecstasy crashes through your body ...

I allow you to recover for a few moments, my head inches from the mound of pleasure, and I see you withdraw your hand, fingers glistening with your lubrication.   The fingers push to my mouth and like a hungry young puppy I lick them clean.

My hands move to the dress bunched over your thighs and I gently pull it down over my head.

I feel like a child who has pulled the blanket up his head after bad dream and I wonder how it feels for you having a lover between your legs but almost invisible from your sight.

Gently I slip two fingers inside the leg of the pale blue panties and the heat there as I twirl your soft pubic hair between them astounds me.  As I move lower down I thrill to the jelly-like feel of your swollen, wet lips on the back of my fingers contrasted with the smooth sensation of the satin fabric under my fingertips.

My fingers push your labia apart and are now caressing the engorged and aroused tip of your clitoris, so erect from the tiny pink slivers of flesh that normally enfold it.     Your hands move on top of my fingers and through the thin fabric I feel you guide me and push me harder against you.

I know the merest penetration will bring further relief swimming through you.    

But I cannot reach into that wet and warm cavern to give you the release you desire and need from my sitting position.   

When I notice the scissors on the coffee table, the solution is clear.   I pull the crotch of your panties away from you, and with my free hand reach for the scissors, break through the satin with the point and snip a clean cut about three quarters of an inch long through the material now damp with your excitement. 

The forefinger of my left hand slips through the cut and is greedily swallowed inside you. 

In to the hilt and I press that special spot you love so much high up and behind your pubic bone. 

And our legs alternately crush my hand and thrust apart as another orgasm flows over you . . .

My head rests against your sex and I let you rest and gradually descend from heights you have scaled.    After some minutes, I gently nuzzle my face into your crotch and I quickly harden as my mouth tastes your wetness and my lips lightly nibble at yours through the damp fabric.

I must have you.   I kneel and unzip myself, and with some difficulty, I manage to pull my engorged prick loose from my tight jeans.

I pull you from the lounge to the floor and push your dress up back over your hips to mount you there.   

Your legs lift and encircle me as I guide the head of my cock until I find the slit I have made.   I push myself hard against it, and for one crazy moment wonder whether taking your virginity would have felt like this as the fabric tears away from my driving shaft.

I position my arms to take my weight off you and our position is perfectly complete.   

Our skins do not touch except for the organs of pleasure involved in this sexual act : my cock, your cunt. 

As I start to move rhythmically inside you, I have the delicious sensation of your muscles swallowing me as the fabric of your panties grasp tightly at the base of my cock.

My climax builds and I know that there is only one way that is right for it on this night.

As I feel the first spurt of semen move, I pull out of you, and we feel the warm flood of my cum splash between your wonderful sex and the ruined panties.

We rest for a few moments, my deflated manhood still inside you and your undergarment, my weight pressing you to the floor as we regain breath and senses.

I slip my hands to your hips and as I slowly rise, I slip out of you and pull at panties from under you.   Your legs lift and allow me to slip them off, dangling from my subsided cock now loosely hanging out of jeans.    The satin now soaked with my semen and your juices, and I see a little stain appear on the left knee of my jeans as a droplet falls.

We have loved as fully clothed as it possible to love.

And as I undress you in the bedroom, I promise that tomorrow we will go shopping to replace your tattered and stained knickers : and that one pair we will buy will definitely be crotchless.

And today as I remember, I look at the framed letter on the wall.   From Mr. X, a well satisfied customer, thanking me for my kindness and sympathy in listening to his problem that night.
