I arrive early, dressed in a miniskirt and a demure cardigan. My mother always told me that good girls can show off cleavage or legs, but only sluts show off both at once. In spite of my hopes of crossing that line with you tonight, I still cover up. I suspect that not wearing any knickers pushes me further over the slut line than wearing a skimpy top would, but that's okay. Hopefully, only you and I will ever know.

Standing on your porch, waiting for you to open the door, I come up with a dozen fantasies.

You open the door naked and have me inside and against the wall before I can blink.

I hear you call me in and open the door, only to find you standing inside, wearing nothing but an apron and a smile.

You open the door holding a can of whipped cream and a silky scarf.

None of those things happen. You open the door, dressed in the same jeans and button down shirt as always. You step back to let me in, and I precede you into the den. Perhaps you notice the sway that the high heels give my hips? A quick glance back assures me that you haven't noticed.

I'm left alone on the couch for a moment while you go get the popcorn and the DVD. I debate removing the sweater while you're gone, but you come back quickly. Instead, I just kick off my heels and tuck my legs under me, unwilling to risk flashing you.

The lights come off, and suddenly, you're next to me, closer than I expected on this couch. Sometime around the part where Bones tries to use a nerve pinch, I pluck up the nerve to shed my outer layer. Underneath, I'm wearing a tight tank top and no bra. The better to seduce you with, my dear.

Now, I can see you're beginning to get distracted. The occasional glances over become more frequent, and they tend to linger on my nipples. I take advantage of the shouting onscreen to wiggle closer to you and lean into your side. You glance down at me, surprised, but don't object. We both know you can see all the way down to my belly button from this position.

Tucked into your side like this, I reach up and absentmindedly begin toying with my nipples. As they begin to tighten, I peek through my lashes to catch you watching me. Hiding a gleeful smirk, I reach over to lift the popcorn bowl out of your lap and set it on the table.

Quickly, before I chicken out, I climb into your lap myself. I'm a little off balance, and you automatically wrap your arms around me to steady me. I blush, but say nothing, and you don't object to my new seat.

I sit sideways in your lap, and we both know that that thing poking into my ass isn't going to go away so long as I sit there. Still, I don't touch your cock. To make this work, I need to tease you to the point where you aren't thinking about consequences.

I loop one arm around your neck and fiddle with the top button on your shirt. You seem very determined to not look at me, but I can see you looking, can see the bob of your Adam's apple as you swallow nervously. I find this surprisingly arousing, and I can feel myself growing wet. Well, wetter. Even just the idea of this seduction was enough to give me some of the most intense orgasms I've ever had. Having come that hard because of you, I feel bound to try to carry out at least one of my fantasies.

I kiss your temple, and you look at me, surprised. I take advantage and kiss you beside your lips. You jump, but turn your head just enough to meet my mouth. I laugh and pull back, turning back to watch the movie.

I'm sure you're distracted, with my breasts only inches below my face, and that ever-so-insistent erection poking into my backside, but I ignore you. It's your turn to choose, and I believe-I hope, that you will choose to follow up my invitation.

Sure enough, before they even manage to find Spock, I feel a tentative caress on my thigh. When I don't object, you slide your fingers higher, to my hip. You freeze. I know exactly what you've noticed, and squirm uncomfortably. This is the moment I've been dreading, the moment you realise that I planned this.

You laugh breathlessly and press a kiss to the side of my neck. I shiver; I'm very ticklish. You let your fingers drift across my skin until your fingers touch my clit. Finding it hard and me wet, I feel you pause before slipping a finger into my body.

While I've been been fuller, at this point, having anything inside is only making me feel needier and more aroused than before, so when you slip out to keep exploring, I turn around and straddle your lap. This position, with me on my knees, puts my breasts at your eye level, a fact that seems to impress you more when I pull off my shirt. It's tight. I'm busty. They bounce.

Your mouth is on my nipples as soon as my top hits the floor. You have your hands on my back, positioning me, and as I sink down to sit on your lap, I feel impossibly feminine and turned on.

The warm wetness of your mouth on my body is as arousing as your fingers inside of it, and I find myself grinding down on your erection as you nibble at me. I'm rapidly losing control of both my own reactions and of you, I discover, without a shred of dismay.

I pull away from you and stand up. As I unfasten my skirt and let it drop to the floor, I examine you. You're adorable, all flushed and ruffled, and your shirt is hanging open. Did I do that? I must have. Your hands were busy elsewhere. I grin a little as I observe the damp patch over the zipper of your jeans. I definitely did that, which is embarrassing, but you don't seem to mind it, or the inspection, either.

I squeeze my thighs together. Standing here, looking at you, I can feel the wetness between my thighs that much more acutely. You're growing impatient, I can tell. You stand. I reach down and unfasten the last button in your shirt. While it is arousing to be naked and in the arms of a clothed man, it's counterproductive.

You allow me to remove your shirt, but I don't bother with your pants yet. I push you back onto the couch and drop down onto my knees between your legs. Carefully, I unbutton your jeans and slide the zipper down. You're watching me avidly, unsure of what I'm doing, but not inclined to stop me. I slip a hand inside your underwear and and bring out your cock. It's bigger than I expected, but perhaps that's my relative inexperience. It's not as if it won't fit, right?

I touch it delicately, lightly, as if it would shatter in my fingers. You watch me, more aroused by the sight of me exploring you than by the actual touch. When I lean down and lick you from base to tip, you groan as if I'd hurt you, and I look up in concern, just in time for you to jerk me off the floor and into your arms.

You kiss me once, hard, and lay me back on the couch. You sit back just long enough to strip off the rest of your clothes. In seconds, you're on top of me again, and that insistent erection is pressed against my hip. You reach down to check my arousal, and grin to find me so wet, I'm slippery clear down to my thighs.

I push your fingers away and try to wrap my legs around your waist. You groan, and suddenly I find myself filled with your cock. A moan escapes me involuntarily. It feels good, better than I expected, to be with a man your size. My eyes slide shut for a dazed moment.

It's at that second that I feel your thumb touching my clit. I open my mouth to say something, but having been aroused all day, this twofold stimulation is too much, and I come hard and fast, my words forgotten.

When my muscles begin to contract around your cock, you falter in your thrusting, but keep going, slower than before, until you finally go still and collapse on top of me.

As we lay there quietly on your couch, still locked together, I smile smugly to myself. Mission accomplished.