Every Girl Needs a Little Black Dress

“What are you wearing to the opera, baby?”

She asked the question as she got out of the tub, water dripping down her body as she reached for her towel. He helped her wrap it around herself, but not before he kissed each breast, licking the droplets from her nipples, and smacked her naked butt playfully. She seductively giggled as he answered.

“I think I’ll go classic—navy blazer and gray flannels. White shirt. I think I’ll buy a new tie, though. What are you going to wear?”

“Well, if you’re going semi-formal, I guess I should, too. I think I’ll go shopping this afternoon and get a little black dress. Every girl needs one of those, you know.”

“How little?”

She grinned. “I have no idea. All I can guarantee is that it will be very…black. I’ll get some new heels to go with it. And I’ll wear my pearls.”

“Okay, doll. Can’t wait to see you. I’m sure you’ll be ravishing.”

She spent the afternoon at some of the better shops and finally settled on an off-the-shoulder sheath from Jones New York. The salesgirl bent over backward to please her and told her at least half a dozen times how beautiful she was, what a wonderful figure she had, and how she looked fabulous in everything. She enjoyed hearing all this; knowing it was true and that her husband would be pleased with her choice made the experience truly enjoyable. The shoes were strappy sandals—he thought she had sexy feet and loved it when she bared them—and complimented the dress perfectly.

Once home, she reheated a bowl of chowder and decided to spend the rest of the afternoon pampering herself and preparing for the night with her man. And what a man, he was—smart, sensitive, funny, daring, passionate and handsome. She let her mind wander through the memories of their conversations, meals, trips, and lovemaking over the twelve years of their marriage. She wanted him badly at that moment and longed for his touch and the feel of his lips on her body. She would call him and tell him so. She also decided to take another bath and slipped out of her clothes while she pressed his speed dial number on her cell phone.

“Hey, big fella. Working hard?… Not me—I’m not working at all. In fact, I’m standing here nude and thinking about what I’d like you to be doing to me right this very minute… Well, kissing me, for one thing. Hard and long. Oh, not just on my mouth, no. On my shoulders and my breasts and the tops of my feet and the insides of my thighs. Yes, I am touching my body, as a matter of fact. I’m circling my nipple with my index finger—oooh, it’s getting hard. Now I’m sliding my palm over my butt and stroking my upper thigh where it meets my cheek—one of your favorite places… I’ll bet you are. I hope nobody can see the bulge… Oh, my—what did I find? A lonely little kitty needing some love and affection. Here, kitty-kitty. Maybe I’ll pet her a little. Um, yes, I think she likes that. Oh! She really likes that. Okay, Baby. Have a good afternoon. I can’t wait to see you in your new tie.”

She smiled to herself and walked naked into the kitchen, where she made herself a pot of tea. She put some jazz on the stereo and turned it up high enough so she could hear it in the tub. Before she ran the water, she got her hand mirror and her electric shaver and, after applying a liberal dusting of cornstarch, shaved her vulva and the deep cleft between her buttocks until her skin was smooth and silky to her touch. It was hard for her to keep her hands away right after she shaved—she had never felt anything as incredibly soft as the skin surrounding her labia, and stroking it lightly with a fingertip, though only for a few seconds, nearly sent her through the roof with desire. She left only a narrow band of hair on her mound, which she groomed carefully with his beard trimmer—a pretty little arrow pointing to the treasure beneath it.

Turning on the faucet, she lay back and let the water envelop her in its comforting heat, enjoying the way her skin tingled with the shock and inhaling deeply the aroma of vanilla bath beads she had dumped into the steaming cascade coming from the brass fixture. As the sax moaned seductively in the other room, she imagined how he would react when he saw her tonight. Her fingers wandered again across her belly to her vulva. She fondled it gently as, in her imagination, she tore off his blazer and flannels and began to do things that would make her mother blush and run from the room.

After half an hour of soaking, she scrubbed herself hard with a loofah to exfoliate and make her skin glow, then washed her hair and rinsed leisurely under the shower. Again, she slid her hands all over her body, enjoying the feel of herself and anticipating the thrill of his hands making her wild with passion. Her thoughts made her tremble, and she felt that heat in her belly that always preceded her arousal.

She wrapped herself in her thick terry robe and went out to the kitchen for another cup of tea. She enjoyed being naked at home, but the house felt chilly after the long soak in the tub. She would let her hair dry by itself while she did her nails and makeup.

He came home as she was finishing up, and when he tried to pull off her robe, she pushed him away playfully. “Not so fast, mister. This is for later. You need to get your shower and show me that new tie. How was your day? Good? Not half as good as you’re night’s gonna be.”

When she finally made her appearance, his jaw dropped. She enjoyed her beauty and the effect it had on him, but this reaction delighted her. She strolled into the bedroom with her runway walk, one foot exactly in front of the other, which gave her hips a seductive swing and her breasts a fetching bounce and made her long legs seem even longer. The dress fit her well, accenting the curves of her gorgeous body and baring enough skin to be seductive without being trashy. Her bare shoulders, which he adored, glistened with the translucent powder she had applied, and her pearls lay along her thrusting bosom and then swung down to rest between her breasts at the place where the sweetheart neckline dipped to bare her cleavage. The dress’s hemline came nearly to her knees, but it was cut in such a way that when she sat down it would slide halfway up her thighs. Her shoes accentuated the curve of her toned calves and bared her feet, which did look good with their newly painted red nails. She couldn’t wait to let her shoe drop to the floor so she could run her toes along his thigh under the table.

At the restaurant, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked radiant—her hair was a wild mane of dark silk and her eyes glowed with her adoration—and she had turned a lot of heads, both male and female, when they had walked to their table. She quickly shed her wrap and leaned toward him, her arms on the table, so he could enjoy the sight of her full breasts spilling out of the bodice of her dress. She was feeling wild and daring, and she knew he was aroused at the sight of her.

Halfway through the meal, she excused herself and went to the ladies’ room. He watched her walk away with her elegant runway stroll, which had become second nature in her modeling days. He enjoyed seeing the admiring stares as she strode past jealous women and tried to ignore the glances sent in his direction. He delighted in the sway of her hips, the slight jiggle of her butt in the snug dress, and the strength and smoothness of her bare shoulders.

When she returned, she was flushed and a little breathless. As she leaned over to sit down, her dress fell open enough for him to get a delicious glimpse of her breasts. He felt like a kid going out with a girl for the first time. The thrill was the same, only this time he knew how the evening would end—in bed, tangled up with a warm, sweet, passionate woman who was all his own to enjoy as he liked and who would enjoy him in return.

“Open your hand.”

He did so, and she quickly put a damp clump of lacy fabric into it. It was, he realized with a shock, a diaphanous black thong. She had taken off her panties, and now he was holding them in the middle of a restaurant. Instinctively, he put them to his face and inhaled. The pungent mixture of expensive perfume and the dew of her arousal made him wild. His groin ached with his longing for her, and before he had a chance to recover his wits he felt her foot sliding up his leg until her toes were in his crotch, skillfully stroking the throbbing bulge in his pants.

Fumbling, he put her panties in the pocket of his blazer and looked at her with incredulity. “You wild, shameless girl. Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?”

“I know exactly what I’m doing to you because you’re doing the same thing to me. Now, drop your fork.”


“Drop your fork. And when you pick it up, look under the table.”

He dropped it, and when he leaned down to retrieve it, he lifted the edge of the linen tablecloth and looked under the table. She had slid her dress up her thighs until it was nearly at her waist and parted her legs so she could give him a good view of her vulva. He looked as long as he could, drinking in the sight of her pendulous outer lips, now swollen and slick with arousal. As he stared, her fingers came into view. Quickly, they slipped through the strip of hair on her Mound of Venus before sliding across her clitoris and between her labia to briefly fondle their inner counterparts.

“Maybe I’ll just put my plate on the floor and eat down there,” he said when he came back up to a sitting position. She laughed lewdly, a laugh she reserved for him. Any other man would have considered such a laugh, coming from such a beautiful and desirable woman, a blatant invitation. She had only flashed him for a few seconds, but it had seemed like an hour. The world had stopped rotating; only the two of them were there, and she was teasing him mercilessly in a public place where he could not respond.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” It was the server, a pretty young blonde in a short skirt and unbuttoned blouse who clearly wanted male attention and was disappointed that she wasn’t getting any from him. He did look fabulous in his blazer, and the crisp white shirt and smart silk tie gave him an air of sophistication that his wife found devastatingly attractive. She knew other women had the same reaction to him, and she felt privileged to be in the company of such a striking man.

“No, thank you. I think we’re ready for the check.” The girl slinked away to get it.

“What, darling? No dessert?”

“I’m looking at my dessert, and it’s going to take me all night to eat her.”

He helped her into her wrap, looking into her eyes with intense longing. The touch of his fingers on her shoulders made her shiver, and the smell of her hair made his heart race. He still found it incredible that this exquisite woman was his wife, and he thanked God for the blessing of loving her.

“I’m nude now, you know. Under my dress. I’m not wearing a bra, and I’ve unfortunately misplaced my panties, so all I’ve got on under here is…me. Oh, and my shoes. I’m still wearing them.”

“Both of them?”

She giggled at this, remembering how shocked he’d looked when she had begun to tease him with her toes. “Yes, I was able with some effort to recover the stray.”

They arrived at the theatre amid the pre-performance frenzy of attractive people in expensive clothes having cocktails and flaunting as much flesh and jewelry as they could before they went to their seats. Many of these patrons were here just to be seen, but our couple was here to enjoy the music and the heart-wrenching drama of Bizet’s “Carmen.” They loved the music—he could sing, or at least whistle, many passages by heart—and the lead in this performance was to be sung by a beautiful young soprano who was purported to be the “hottest Carmen in twenty years.” They took their seats and, as the house lights dimmed, he kissed her tenderly and reached for his wife’s hand, which lay in her lap.

Carmen was indeed a stunner, and her performance had the audience on its feet at least once in every act. Don Jose and Escamillo were also sung well, and the rousing choruses thrilled the audience as expected. But Carmen stole the show, as she was meant to do—with her singing, her conniving, her sultry sexuality (which was exploited by the costume designer who had dressed her in as little as the script and the management would allow), and her tragic independence. It was a memorable night, and when the couple left the theatre they were flushed with the pleasure of each other’s company as well as the marvelous music.

“How about coffee?” she suggested.

“What ever happened to dessert?”

“Coffee first?”

“Okay. Let’s go to Andre’s, shall we? But we may have to stand in line a while.”

She loved this intimate café near the theater, and they had spent many wonderful hours there in their dating days—drinking coffee or wine, eating soup and sandwiches and talking about what life would be like together. It was still one of their favorite haunts. Unfortunately, it was the favorite of many other opera-goers as well, and the line was long. It would be some time before they would be able to find a seat.

“Want to wait?” he asked her.

“Yes, but not here. Let’s go around the corner. Maybe there will be a breeze.” As they walked he ran his hand very slowly and deliberately across her butt in sight of anyone who might be looking, and knowing people had seen him do it made her crazy with longing. The fact that he would flaunt his desire for her thrilled her enormously.

It was a warm evening, and she didn’t need her wrap at all. She wondered why she’d brought it, and now she wanted to hang it in a tree and jump into his arms. In fact, that is what she did. As they went around the corner of the building, they entered a wide pedestrian area that was bordered by a brass railing overlooking the river. The lights of boats could be seen bobbing in the distance, but the night was dark and overcast, and there were few people in the park. The scent of gardenias was intoxicating, and he picked one from a bush they walked by and put it in her hair. She led them to the railing, away from the Victorian street lamp a few yards away, and hung her wrap on a low-hanging branch of an ornamental tree. Then, with her back to the river, she threw her arms around him and pressed her body against his.

He kissed her bare shoulders, and she shivered. Finding her mouth with his, he then kissed her long and hard, probing her mouth with his tongue until she sucked it hungrily. He thrust deeply in as she sucked, then pulled it nearly out in an oral parody of intercourse, and she could feel herself becoming aroused.

When they parted lips, he stepped back slightly and ran his fingertip ever so gently along her dress’s neckline. When he reached the pearls between her breasts, he rolled them between his fingers for a few minutes, letting his hand brush against her bosom as if by accident. He could see her breasts beginning to swell with her desire, and her nipples pressed eagerly against the silk brocade.

She pulled him to her again, and he once again let his hand go to her butt, sliding his middle finger into the deep cleft between her buttocks as much as the snug dress would allow him to.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” she whispered.

“Tell me.”

“Well, when you brushed my butt, you made me want to strip right there and screw you on the sidewalk. When you kissed my shoulders, I went weak in the knees. Then you ran your finger along the edge of my dress. Do you understand what was going on there?”

“You’ll have to explain it to me.”

“You were stroking my breasts—those are my breasts under that neckline, you know! And my nipples jumped to attention. Right now they’re on fire and I really need you to suck them and…” She kissed him again, devouring his mouth with her own, and pressed her body hard against his.

When they came apart, she cupped her hands under her breasts and lifted them, forcing them out of the low-cut bodice of her dress until the tops of her areolas were visible. He leaned over and flicked his tongue across the dark half-moons, each in turn. Then he kneaded her breasts, baring them completely, and kissed the hot flesh and sucked the dark nipples until they were as plump and firm as mulberries. She stifled a scream, and then, as another couple came to the railing to look at the river, she quickly covered herself until they turned and walked away.

“Rub my leg.” He reached down and did as she asked, letting his hand wander up the back of her thigh, enjoying the feel of its slim strength under the silk.

“No, go underneath my dress.” He started over, this time on her bare skin. She moaned, then gasped as the dress slid further up her thigh and his hand reached that “favorite place” she had mentioned on the phone—the place where her leg meets her butt. She lifted her leg and wrapped it around his. Her mouth sought his again, and she ground her pelvis against his thigh, using its hardness to coax herself to greater arousal.

He was groping her in earnest now, his hand gripping her butt and his middle finger tickling the edge of her vagina from behind. He was wild with passion and didn’t know if he could control himself if she started to cum. He wanted her so badly, wanted the feel and smell and taste of her body. Fumbling slightly in his excitement, he reached the tab of the zipper between her shoulder blades and pulled it down. As the back of her dress opened, he slipped his hand under it and stroked her skin now beaded with perspiration—her spine, the cleft between her buttocks, her back, her armpits and the bulge of her breasts. The dress slipped down in the front, but because it was against his body and she was oblivious to everything going on around her, she did nothing to cover her nudity. Her breasts were bared completely, hard-tipped and engorged, and he was overwhelmed by their perfection.

She was bucking against him now, her head thrown back and her eyes clenched shut with the intensity of her impending orgasm. Stretching his arm around her, he plunged his fingers deep into her vagina, which was slippery and hot and swollen. Seeking the small fleshy disk at the front of her vagina, he stroked it hard while she continued to grind her clitoris against his thigh. She was crying now, trying desperately not to scream, unable to control the spasms now wracking her body as the waves of pleasure crashed over her. He started to cry as well—with the exquisite joy of making this woman so happy, of giving her such supreme pleasure, and of seeing her marvelous body, nearly naked and glistening with sweat, offered to him so freely and eagerly.

He had to support her as they went to the car, then run back to retrieve the wrap they’d left in the tree. Her hair was disheveled, her dress somewhat askew—though zipped up now—and her knees were so weak she could hardly walk. Her face was streaked with tears, and her mascara had smeared, but she didn’t care. The elation she felt to be this man’s wife, to be his lover and companion, far outweighed any embarrassment she might have felt if anyone had seen her.

Once in the car, she immediately undid his pants and helped him to release his still-firm manhood. She leaned over and took him into her mouth, lovingly licking the glistening bead of lubrication from the tip and then licking him like a popsicle. When he was fully erect, she took his glans into her mouth and sucked hard, pumping his shaft vigorously until he came with a convulsion of joy, and she swallowed his hot love hungrily, adoringly, savoring his pungency and urgency as if it were a fine wine.

At home, after they had showered together and lay naked in each other’s arms on their satin sheets, he asked, “Darling, what did you like best about the opera?”

“Mmmm,” she responded with a lascivious sigh. “Oh, the last scene—the one at the railing. Especially when…the curtain came down.”

“I like your new dress, by the way.”


“Yeah. Black’s a good color for you.”

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7 replies
  1. ClimaXX says:

    I think I should just mention that my name is "Climaxx" and I nearly did just what my name says.. Had to keep my hands on the desk and not in my lap. What a beautiful and extremely sensual story. I just love BLACK.

  2. Rab Keth says:

    I'm not sure how I missed reading this one, but…DANG. By heaven that was hot. I've read so very many bits of erotica that involve attending an opera it makes me wonder how many people are there just to fulfill this sort of fantasy. 🙂 If I attended I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about doing exactly this with my Beloved. Looking in her closet I can see that she is in need of a little black dress…and a reason to wear one. 🙂

  3. PacMan says:

    I read this after waking up in the nude and my wife was already gone for the day. Let's just say it turned me on majorly. So many sexy moments: teasing herself during the day, taking panties off, the foot on his bulg, the dress coming off in public, the blow job finale. I enjoyed the alone time in bed and had such a powerful "climaxx" that I fell back asleep. Thank you for this very sexy story!

  4. ClimaXX says:

    I just read this story again and I must say that it is so well written. It is super erotic due to the slight secrecy that is kept all the time. I have read most of the MH stories, but I would rate this one as in my top 5.

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