She shivers. She's spent years deciding what to wear for no one. Now she doesn't have to. Her fingers find the top button at the back of the blue dress and work it free, then the next — and stall where she can't reach. I turn her around, gently, my hands on her shoulders, and take over, working the buttons loose one by one down her spine. The dress loosens, slips from her shoulders, and falls to the floor around her feet.
She stands in a plain white brassiere, modest and practical, and high-waisted white panties. Nothing fancy. Nothing bought for a man's eyes. Just her, everyday her, letting me undress her. Her hair is coming loose from the braid. She starts to turn back to face me, and I stop her with a hand on her hip, pulling her backward until her back meets my chest and she can feel my cock pressing against her ass. She gasps, her head tipping back against my shoulder.
