Chloe had arrived in the middle of the afternoon and I
met her in the pub near the tube station. It was quiet but far from empty.
When I ordered the drinks, the barman asked to see my friend’s ID. For all her
apparent youthful innocence she looked like she could hardly wait for the sexual
adventure I’d promised her to begin. The expectation shone from her face. As we
shared a quick drink I was confident that my companions wouldn’t disappoint her
and she declared in no uncertain terms that she would agree to do anything I
asked her to do.
To test her resolve I told her to take off her knickers, not
in the Ladies toilet but where she sat. Chloe put her drink down of the table,
checked that nobody was watching her and pulled up her mini-skirt. I saw that she
was wearing woolly hold-up stockings and tiger print cotton briefs. She hooked
her thumbs through the waistband, lifted her hips of the seat and took down her
panties. She held the fabric, balled up in the palm of her hand and looked to
put it in her bag. I stopped her. I told her to place her knickers on the table
and spread them out so that any onlooker would recognise what they were. Then I
told her to open her legs.
She held up the hem of her mini-skirt and I saw that she
had shaved her pussy. I reached forward and gently ran a hand up her thigh. My
fingers glided over her woolly stockings and met her warm skin. The tips met
the space between her legs and parted her labia.
Her cunt was soaking when I
entered her.
“I
will do whatever you tell me to do,” she said.
I knew she would.
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