I was having trouble finding a decent pair of knickers to put under my skirt last week, so I didn’t wear any.

I pushed my bare toes into the soft, nude nylon of my tights and wriggled the delicate material up my calf carefully. I’ve taken to cutting my now long nails sharply recently, but that’s a tale for another time. All the better to claw you with, my dear.

I shimmied the tights up first one thigh, then the other. The gauzy, clingy fabric hugged my pussy as I let top snap back against my waist. The slight, healing nicks on my flanks, trophies from sexually-charged scuffles, reminded me of their presence by complaining petulantly of the friction.

They loved it really. I knew I did.

My hands teased the fresh skirt over my hips; the glossy lining was cool against my slowly heating flesh. The skirt was just long enough for comfort and just short enough to thrill. The back slit seemed to wink dangerously at me in the mirror.

As I left the house that morning, I felt the morning air wisp around my legs and the chill of the new day was no match for the heat rising up in my sex. It felt exciting. My own little secret, but with the slight hint of a fear/thrill that maybe, just maybe, everyone knew my dirty little shame.

The tingles as I walked to my bus were like those of going to meet a new lover for a brief afternoon of hot passion and hysterical paroxysms.

I chose my seat carefully.

Just above the wheel arch, where the vibrations whilst idling are best.

The hum of the engine felt extra sharp to my senses.

I spent the day wonderfully tensed up. Every swish of my skirt against my tights reminded me that I was bare underneath. Every breeze as a door swung shut reached up inappropriately to caress my naked sex.

Inappropriately… Something delicious about that word. Something delicious about the hidden lust caused by the hidden sin.

I thought dark, warm, silky thoughts on the way home. The day had been too long, but hardly dull. I was going home to my Fractal, who’d spent the whole day wondering whether I’d gone through with my plan. No peeking, honey, I’m getting dressed. You’ll have to guess.

As he turned me over on the bed not long after I arrived home, he got his answer. He’d suspected nothing less. But then, what fun would life be if we all played by the rules?

Soon I was handcuffed to the bedframe, legs spread wide with a metal bar. My nipples used as pseudo-reins as he pumped into me.

A simple omission of a garment. Oh, the fun it can provide.

Of course, the next time I let myself go commando, Fractal will be working alongside me. I wonder what new twist to the tale that will lend…