I’d always worn the same tracksuit bottoms and the same red, baggy top for the exercise class but as time passed and I felt more and more frustrated I came up with a plan to get Dean to proposition me. Other members of the dance class had sexy workout-wear down pat. I was sure I could find something to show off my ample roundness and as Dean always stood directly behind me, I could let my shapely arse do the seducing.
I bought shorts. Not teeny-tiny ones--dear God no, they’d ride up into my bum crack and me tugging the disappearing material back out would not be the way to seduce anyone. No, they were long enough to cover almost to my knee but tight enough to show off my butt when I bent down. I even invested in a slightly tighter t-shirt, one with a v-neck that I hoped Dean might look into when we had our dance interval chats.
I was all ready for him that night. I shaved my legs, since so much of them would be on show and I washed my hair before I went so at least it would start off looking sleek and sexy, held up high on the back of my head in a ponytail to keep it off the back of my neck. I slipped into red, seductive lace knickers and I was all ready for Operation Seduction.
“New workout clothes?” Dean asked when he arrived. He sat next to me and put his water bottle on the windowsill next to mine.
“Yeah, now the summer’s coming I thought I’d go for something a bit lighter, you know.”
Dean nodded. He always wore shorts and a vest t-shirt, no matter the weather, although he would come in with a hooded top on and strip it off before the lesson started. It was the Diet Coke moment of the night, you could hear a pin drop when he did it.
“And you’ll give all the blokes on the bus a thrill by showing off your sexy legs, so everyone wins.”
“Yeah,” I replied, “though to be honest, I might wear some pants over them next week, some of the men leering were old enough to be my granddad.”
“Ew.” He made sympathetic faces to go along with the noises. “Well as long as you get them out for Zumba, it’s all good.”
I didn’t know if he just meant that from a me not overheating perspective or for his own voyeuristic pleasure, but I took it as a good sign. Dean whipped off his dark blue hoodie and I watched intently, getting a sneak peek at the fuzz of dark hair around his navel as his t-shirt raised up too. I wanted to feel those hairs tickling against my stomach but before my thoughts could become any more lewd the call to Zumba was announced.
“Are you ready ladies?” Tina shouted.
“And Dean.” We all echoed together. It was a long standing joke after the first week when Tina had to apologise half way through for calling him a lady. Every Monday, every class, Dean took it with an affable smile. What a gentleman.
I was sure he wasn’t so gentlemanly in bed, though.
It was strange dancing in my new clothes, they pulled in when I least expected them to. I was far more aware of my breasts as my t-shirt stretched with my movements and when I reached up a little band of flesh was revealed to the cool air, chilling me. I wondered if Dean had noticed and my cheeks glowed red after far fewer songs than usual.
It was in one of the fast numbers where things started to feel weird. One of the moves involved squatting. Now squatting wasn’t bad if I did it slowly, I could hitch the material at the front of my shorts to loosen things off. But the squats in a particular song were rapid and between other moves so I didn’t have time to alter myself. My buttocks were cupped firmly, the crotch dug into parts I rather they didn’t and by the midpoint I had sworn never to wear the bastard things again. I didn’t care that Dean was getting a good eyeful of my bum, there was too much chafing for me to feel sexy.
Then it happened, that moment that all of us dread. I squatted, maybe I pushed it a bit lower than the rest or maybe the poor stitching just couldn’t take any more but either way I heard a disconcerting rip followed by gasps and giggles from all around me. The damn shorts had split showing off the bright red knickers I had on beneath.
I quickly straightened and stood still. I reached round behind myself and surreptitiously checked out the damage. Yep, the seam had blown from top to bottom, I was completely undone. I had nothing with me to cover up with either. The hot day meant I hadn’t thought to put on a coat before leaving. How the hell was I going to make it home with a big rip down the back of my pants? I wish I’d thought of that earlier, my mum always said I should plan and prepare for all eventualities.
Dean sprinted past me and I wondered what was going on, as the song hadn’t finished. I smiled at Tina who flashed me a sympathetic look, although I had heard her laugh into the microphone a minute earlier, so maybe she was feeling a bit sheepish. There was a low murmur of conversation around me as the song continued and the class moved in unison, but many of them whispered to their friends about the tragedy of the poor woman on the front row.
I was seconds away from running out in sheer panic when Dean ran past me again. He came up close behind me and draped something over my backside. I moved my hands away and he embraced me from behind to push the arms of his hoodie around me.
“This will cover your blushes,” he whispered. His breath tickled my ear.
I pulled the arms of the top around my waist and tied them in a knot. He stepped back and I looked over my shoulder. I smiled and mouthed a thank you. He grinned back before resuming the dance.
I continued too. It felt a little funny. The split material rubbed against me as I danced and the hole extended further. I just hoped it wouldn’t run all the way round to the front. Then I would be in trouble.
“Thanks for that,” I said to Dean after I swigged back my water. “You’re a life saver.”
“No worries,” he responded with a smile. “As much as I appreciated the view, I knew it must have been mortifying for you. I’m glad I could help.”
“Will I be okay to take this home with me, I mean, I don’t want to get on the bus with split shorts.”
“No.” He took a sip from his water bottle and my stomach churned. Was he really telling me I’d have to go home displaying my knickers to the world?
“You’re not going home on the bus, you don’t know what kind of perv might be on there. I’ll give you a lift.”
“Are you sure?” I let out a sigh of relief and tried to hold in my excitement. He was only giving me a lift home, it didn’t mean he’d want to come in and help me take care of business afterwards.
“Positive.” He pushed the top down on his bottle and slammed it down on the sill beside me.
“Thanks.” I took one last calming suck of water from my bottle then joined him back on the dance floor. I was definitely distracted for the last few routines. It was a combination of feeling the gap in my shorts as I moved and the anticipation of getting a lift home with Dean. The crotch of my knickers chafed against me, the damp cotton clung to my flesh as the stitching of my useless shorts rubbed up between my pussy lips. By the last song, the rip had extended right down the cleft of my buttocks, I could feel where the split stopped just at the bottom of my pussy. When I bent forward to stretch out my legs I imagined Dean behind me, clasping my waist and driving his cock into me. He’d only have to rip my knickers and he could do it.
“Are you ready?” he said afterwards.
I picked up my bag and my water bottle after slipping out of my dance shoes and into my trainers with as little movement as was possible. I didn’t want to rip the shorts any further.
“Yep,” I replied. “Thanks again for helping me out.”
“No worries.” He flashed me that heart melting smile once more. “I couldn’t resist saving the damsel in distress.”
“My hero.” I clasped my hands before me and fluttered my eyelashes dramatically. We laughed together and I almost forgot about the mortifying embarrassment of what had happened earlier. That was until I overheard a stinging comment.
“Well, that’s what you get for stuffing so much arse into such small shorts.”
The words were followed by a gale of titters and I felt tears prick at my eyes.
I love my curves, I’m not ashamed of them but it still upsets me when someone makes fun of me because of my shape. I am only human.
Dean put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me. I looked up and smiled, I knew he’d be able to see the tears glistening in my eyes.
“At least you’ve got some arse,” he said to me in a very loud stage whisper. “Some of the girls here just talk out of theirs.”
I chuckled and looked across at the gaggle of women who’d been so cruelly discussing my misfortune. Each one looked mortified.
“You should be ashamed.” He looked directly at the woman in the middle, the clear ring leader. She at least had the decency to look down at the tips of her expensive trainers.
“And the rest of you too.” None of them could meet his gaze. One lady stepped away from the others and looked at me.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I hope you’re all right.”
I nodded, I couldn’t say anything. I was very grateful for her stand on the matter. She grabbed her workout stuff and walked out of the door, not hesitating to look back on the group who still huddled together, looking to the woman in the middle to see what they should do next.
Dean kept his arm around me and we walked away, out of the hall and down the corridor.
“Some people are just plain nasty,” he said, squeezing me.
I shrugged gently, not wanting him to let go. I loved the feel of him so close to me. “I’m kinda used to it,” I sighed. “And I did kinda bring this down on myself.”
“No,” he said forcefully. “It’s not your fault, shoddy workmanship in the shorts and downright bitchiness from that woman, neither of them are your concern.”
“Thanks,” I smiled. “From me and my bum.”
“You’re welcome,” he squeezed me again. “Now let’s get you home.”
It was quite a challenge getting into his car without further embarrassing myself. I held the sweatshirt in place with one hand and balanced myself with the other. When I sat down I felt fairly comfortable and just hoped I was covered.
I gave Dean my address and we set off. It was strange, we chatted so freely in the lesson but in the car I didn’t know what to say. The silence was heavy, like an old itchy blanket, I wanted to remove it but I wasn’t sure how to manage it.
“You know, red is my favourite colour.” Dean grinned.
“Really?” I chuckled. “Well, you had a treat tonight then.”
“Were they red? I hadn’t noticed; I was too busy ogling your arse.”
“Cheeky!” I spluttered, my cheeks warming with embarrassment.
“Oh, yeah,” he moaned. I squealed and slapped his arm.
“My poor butt is feeling completely abused now.”
“Oh, I’ve not even started abusing it…yet.” He purred, keeping his eye firmly on the road ahead.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” I enquired.
“Both.”
We pulled up outside my house and I turned to face him properly.
“I’m ever so grateful to you for saving my blushes, do you want your top back now?”
“Nah, it’s okay, keep it until I next see you.”
“Are you sure?”
Dean nodded but at the same time his stomach growled loudly enough so I could hear it.
“Look, I’ve got some delicious Moroccan lamb soup ready to be heated up for my dinner in the house and there’s loads. Please come in and share a meal with me, it’s the least I can do to thank you.”
He paused for just a moment then replied with a hearty yes. I climbed out of the car without thinking about my arse. The split shorts became exposed at one point as I was scrabbling in my sports bag for the door keys, but I didn’t do anything about it.
I slotted my key in the door at the second attempt and took a deep calming breath before I turned it. Not a single man had crossed the threshold into my house in years, it was quite a significant moment, even if the guy was only coming in for something to eat.
“So,” I announced when I was sure he had followed me in. “I’ll just go and get changed, then I can give your hoodie back and heat up the food—”
“Grace,” Dean interrupted me mid flow. I turned to look at him and found him just centimetres away. I didn’t get to answer him because before I could he forced his lips against mine and the rest of his body followed. I was stiff with shock at first then I blazed with arousal and pushed my curves against him wanting to feel all of him all at once.
I didn’t let a logical thought enter my mind, I just let the pent up sexual frustration go wild. I gripped his shoulders and pulled him tightly to me.
He slipped his big, strong hands around my waist then lower to squeeze at my hips. His fingers dipped under the heavy material of his own top to squeeze my buttocks. I could feel the heat of his fingers through my lace knickers. He ran his hands appreciatively over the ample curve of my butt and I moaned directly into his mouth. He darted his tongue between my lips and I engaged it with my own, twisting and turning and caressing in time with the throb and ache of my needs.
I was pliant, completely and utterly enthralled by him and each new movement. I was floating around in a sea of endorphins and hungrily eating up the heat of his body, the weight of it against mine. I only just registered Dean fumbling with the jumper around my waist. It was only when it fell around my feet and left my split shorts exposed that I really paid any attention.
“Turn around,” he said, levering his lips from mine. “Put your hands against the wall.”
I pulled back and let him move away from me even though I ached with the lack of his hard muscles pressing into my softly giving places. I stepped forward and pressed my hands out in surrender against the wall. It was hard and flat but not as hot and exciting as Dean’s body. I leant my breasts against its cool, unforgiving surface and waited.
My skin tingled, the blood that pumped around my body after the exertion of Zumba rushed all the quicker, excited by his kisses and caresses. My body was alive with need and it seemed to echo around me. I shifted uncomfortably. The mad rush of attraction wearing off a little as I stood exposed on my own. Just when the silence became too heavy to bear, I heard him moan deeply.
“Grace, you have the tastiest looking arse I’ve ever seen.” Dean growled from behind me. He took a few steps and suddenly I was aware of his substantial body, the tickle of his breath on my neck. “I love watching it every week as you dance. I imagine such dirty things Grace, and today, my wishes came true. I nearly came when your pants split and I saw the flash of red, racy lingerie beneath. I covered you up quickly only because I was jealous, I didn’t want anyone else to see. I want to see, to play with and feel your curves. Will you let me?”
I nodded silently, unable to force words from my dry throat. I felt objectified and I didn’t mind. I liked being the centre of his fantasies. Knowing that every week I ogled his sweat soaked pecs he was appreciating my gluteus maximus made me glow with excitement.
Dean skimmed his hands down my back to my hips and I felt the displacement of air as he dipped down behind me. I wondered what he was doing then his hands settled once again on my arse, massaging, making me very aware of how damp I was between my thighs. A second later I was exposed because he gathered up the lace of my knickers and ripped violently down. The delicate threads burst asunder and revealed my flesh to him. He held the sides of my ruined shorts apart along with the lace he’d just busted open. He stared at my buttocks. I couldn’t move. I felt I could hardly breathe, locked under the weight of his gaze and shocked by what he’d done.
When his lips touched my left buttock I jumped slightly. They’d cooled after our hot kiss but soon warmed against the heat of my flesh. He peppered kisses all over my exposed curves, slow and soft, longer and harder. He had me whimpering and pressing my bottom out for more and when he bit me I thought I was going to explode with joy.
As he kissed he let go of one side of the ratty material and moved the attention of his fingers to between my thi
ghs. He traced the split in my shorts which ran around the front. It was just the enforced crotch of my underwear that preserved what little modesty I had left.
I was both shocked and thrilled when I felt his tongue slip between my buttocks. I worried for all of a split second about how sweaty I might be after such an intense workout session, but when his searching tongue sunk deeper and caught the bottom of my puffed up lips I forgot to worry. Dean moved swiftly, prodding and poking while his fingers slipped to the bottom of my pants and with a sudden show of strength he ripped. The material gave and I felt cool air on my split, then his fingers and his mouth, vying to find purchase between my slippery lips.
I spread my thighs wide and pressed hard against the wall, holding on the best I could under his pleasurable assault. He pulled back for a moment and I re-grounded myself. I was about to suggest we moved somewhere more comfortable but before I could he was between my thighs again, sliding beneath me like a mechanic under a car. He grabbed my buttocks and buried his face into my wet cunt once again. His nose pushed against my clit as his tongue plunged deep inside me, scooping up my juice. He slurped and moaned rudely and my own yelps and groans of surprise blended beautifully with his muffled noise. I was shuddering and shaking, desperate for release. My nipples scraped against the confines of my sports bra and my cheek rubbed hard against the wall. None of these little irritations distracted me from the pleasure building where Dean’s mouth attached to my body. He was concentrating his efforts on my clit, his tongue wiggled from one side to the other, then up and down, tickling me in an most erotic way.
My orgasm boiled within me, it coalesced and pulled together under his ministrations, different to all those self-aroused climaxes brought on by my own fingers or my vibrator. I was bent to his will, I was taking the pleasure he gave me and I wanted so much more but I couldn’t hold on a second longer.
Sexy Just Walked Into Town Page 3
