Friday Without Lace

The rain hammered against the windows of our modest suburban home, a relentless rhythm accompanying the nervous flutter in my stomach. Mark, my husband, had this peculiar notion – “No Panties Friday.” It sounded utterly absurd, even a little scandalous, yet there was something undeniably alluring about the concept. The idea was simple: forgo the restrictive confines of underwear on one day of the week. I’d gone to work without them once, on a whim, mostly to test the waters. But Mark, bless his adventurous spirit, had escalated things. He suggested taking my vibrator to work with me and using my lunch break for a clandestine, solo session in a secluded car. It was a blatant invitation to step outside my comfort zone, a challenge to confront my own inhibitions. Frankly, it was both terrifying and utterly electrifying.

The first Friday arrived, draped in the grey monotony of a typical autumn day. As I dressed for work, the thought of my bare legs against my slacks felt strangely liberating. It was a tiny act of rebellion, a secret pleasure that simmered beneath the surface. The slight discomfort, the feeling of vulnerability, was quickly overshadowed by the anticipation of the afternoon’s plan. I kept glancing at my purse, where my beloved vibrator lay nestled, a silent accomplice in my burgeoning escapade.

The workday was a blur, punctuated by the occasional, involuntary shiver as I caught a glimpse of my legs beneath my skirt. Each reminder served as a potent fuel for my desire, keeping the image of Mark’s eager anticipation fresh in my mind. The clock ticked relentlessly towards lunchtime, each second dragging on with agonizing slowness. Finally, the blessed moment arrived. I scarfed down a quick sandwich, paid my dues, and practically sprinted to my car.

I chose a secluded spot in a nearby park, pulling up as far away from the main pathways as possible. The damp earth smelled of decaying leaves and rain, a primal scent that heightened my senses. Taking a deep breath, I locked the doors, rolled down the windows just enough to let in the cool air, and felt a surge of adrenaline course through my veins. The rain continued to fall, washing away any lingering anxieties, leaving only a raw, untamed desire.

With deliberate slowness, I unzipped my pants, pulling them down to my ankles. The cool air rushed over my skin, sending shivers down my spine. It felt strange, almost subversive, to be completely exposed in public, yet there was a thrilling sense of power in claiming my own body, in rejecting the societal expectations that dictated what I should wear. I ran my hands down my thighs, feeling the smooth curve of my hips, the delicate sensitivity of my labia. The world outside felt distant and irrelevant, as my focus narrowed to the sensations within my own body.

I retrieved my vibrator from my purse, its smooth, cool metal a comforting weight in my hand. Positioning it carefully, I pressed it against my pussy lips, letting the vibrations begin. The initial sensation was gentle, a slow build of pleasure, but as I adjusted my position, the intensity increased exponentially. I spread my legs slightly, allowing for better access, and continued to rub my pussy with the device, reveling in the escalating waves of sensation. My breathing deepened, my heart pounded against my ribs, and a low moan escaped my lips.

As the vibrations intensified, my muscles began to tense involuntarily. My hips started to sway rhythmically, responding to the rhythmic pulse of the vibrator. The scent of rain mixed with the salty sweat on my skin, creating a heady, intoxicating aroma. My mind raced, conjuring images of Mark’s ecstatic reaction, fueling my own arousal even further. It was an exquisite dance between pleasure and anticipation, a thrilling descent into a world of pure, unadulterated sensation.

I took a picture with my phone, capturing the moment of peak arousal, the curve of my hips, the gleam of the vibrator in my hand. Sending the image to Mark, I watched with anticipation as he responded with a single, suggestive text: “Hard as a rock!” The visual confirmation sent a fresh wave of heat through my body, pushing me closer to the edge.

I continued my solo session, letting go of all inhibitions, surrendering to the pleasure. The rhythmic rubbing of my pussy with the vibrator became a mantra, a hypnotic rhythm that drowned out the sounds of the rain and the distant voices of passersby. My body was completely consumed by the experience, every nerve ending alive and tingling with excitement. The world around me faded away, leaving only the intense focus on my own pleasure.

Suddenly, a powerful urge overtook me, a desperate need to release the mounting tension. I arched my back, pushing down harder on my pussy, and let out a primal scream as the pleasure reached its crescendo. My body convulsed with the force of the orgasm, my muscles clenching and releasing in a series of involuntary spasms. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated bliss. I moaned, lost in the ecstasy, unable to tear myself away from the intense pleasure.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, I collapsed onto the seat of the car, my body spent but utterly content. The rain continued to fall, washing away the sweat and the traces of arousal. I took a deep breath, savoring the afterglow, feeling a sense of liberation and empowerment. It was a moment of pure, uninhibited pleasure, a secret indulgence that had shattered my self-imposed limitations.

When I finally returned to work, I felt refreshed and revitalized, carrying the lingering heat of my clandestine encounter with me. The rest of the day passed in a blur, but the memory of my solo session lingered, a potent reminder of my newfound freedom. I knew that “No Panties Friday” would become a regular part of my life, a weekly ritual of self-discovery and pleasure. And as I drifted off to sleep that night, I smiled to myself, knowing that I had not only conquered my fears but had also unlocked a whole new level of intimacy with myself. The rain continued to fall outside, a gentle, rhythmic lullaby accompanying my dreams of pleasure and liberation. It was a good Friday, indeed.

Did you like this story? Friday Without Lace look, but like these, here Sex stories.