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Whenever I wear that little blue dress, I can’t explain why I do what I do

Rating: NNNNN


I’m in Montreal, walking home along a pedestrian thoroughfare called Prince Arthur. It has a bit of everything: hoity-toity restaurants, concert halls, tattoo parlours and tourist enclaves. It’s here that I have my most anonymous sexual encounter ever.

It’s summer. The night is warm and full of possibilities. A steel band plays in the park. I’m wearing my little blue mermaid dress, which always puts the devil in me.

I see a blond guy lurching along. He’s giving me the eye. I can tell that he’s a lot younger than me, barely 20 by the looks of him. What’s he doing checking me out?

My mermaid dress always has that certain effect on guys. But I once offered to lend it to my friend to see if it would work the same magic for her. She declined, saying, “It’s the legs, not the dress.”

I finally return his stare, and he gives me a little smile. In spite of myself I’m instantly charmed. Before this, I have usually preferred to stick with men my own age, assuming I’ll be more or less guaranteed a decent fuck. But this guy’s the one who teaches me that age and experience are two different things.

He comes over and says something, don’t ask me what. It occurs to me then that I’m being picked up. He isn’t my type at all: blond, pretty. But he is charming. He asks me if I’ll come with him to his friend’s party just around the corner.

He bangs on several doors and wakes up a poor old French woman before I figure out that he has no idea where the party is. Somebody told him it’s in a house beside the park.

I can tell he’s disappointed. I’m sure his plan was to drag me through the party to the nearest spare bedroom. We’re standing on the street, and it’s clear he’s waiting for me to make an offer. “My apartment’s around the corner,” I say. (When I tell this story to friends, they’re horrified. “You mean, you picked him up on the street and brought him home?” Technically, he picked me up, and I would have done him at the party (had there been a party).

In my place, before I can say, “Want a beer?” he has me bent over the sink with the mermaid dress up around my waist. He rubs my ass cheeks, then pulls my thong off and runs his finger between my ass cheeks and tickles my clit. He spins me around, and I can feel his hard cock as he slides one strap down my shoulder and pops a boob into his mouth. I go down on my knees and pull his cock out. It’s big and meaty and so hard. He moans as I take his cock in my mouth.

As I’m sucking him off, I think about all the sex I’ve had in my mermaid dress. Somehow it always stays on, even if it ends up in a knot around my waist. He comes in my mouth that first time, then we fuck over the sink and he comes on my boobs. Then we go into my bedroom and fuck standing up. The dress is still on, and yes, by this point it’s a belt.

Recently, I retired the dress to Goodwill as a public service. Next summer, I’ll keep an eye out for it. If I see a girl swaggering down the street in it with an “I just got boffed” grin on her face, I’ll know its charm still works.

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