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Having fun in Daytona.

Lily you have exquisite breasts."

I felt my face blush. I listened to him pour compliments into my soul. It felt good. Damn, did it feel good! Mr. Hudson's words were warm and pleasant to my ears. Like fine expensive wool, his words wove around me like an old warm sweater shielding me from a cold Michigan winter.

I heard him say, "Place your bra on my desk, just above your panties."

Doing as I was told, I returned to the spot between the two chairs. I just stood there waiting for another order. It didn't take long and with the flick of his fingers I knew he want me to part my legs. My feet scuffed into the carpet and I moved my legs apart. I was nude, humiliated, and horny as hell.

My splay legs tumbled. I felt that tingling sensation between my legs I always get when my hormones are in turmoil. Shit, I felt my cunt weep small crystal drops of juice and they quietly flowed down my inner thigh to my knee. I closed my eyes, as I didn't want to see Mr. Hudson's reaction.

Suddenly, the phone rang and I must have jumped twenty feet into the air. I heard Mr. Hudson speak quietly into the phone, I couldn't hear what he was saying, then a smile leaked out at the corners of his mouth.

He put the phone down and the sound of Mr. Hudson's chair moving fill the office. He walked over to a large armoire that blended in so well with the surrounding d__cor, it was almost invisible-I never noticed it when I came into the office. He fidgeted with a small key he obtained from a pant's pocket. He turned the lock and pulled the double doors open. The hinges squeaked. Curious, I leaned over to my right, trying to sneak a peek at what was hiding inside the inconspicuous chest. I heard some papers rattling and within a minute he closed the doors, locked them, and returned to his desk. He pocketed the key. A small package was in his hands.

"Lily, I don't mind you wearing pantyhose, but what you had on were not at all becoming to you," he said as his fingers opened the package. I heard the sound of cellophane crinkle. He held his hand out. "Here, put these on."

He handed me a pair of thigh highs stockings. I cocked my head to one side. God only knew what else in that chest. The stockings were a transparent stone gray; the color was split between dusk and twilight, but quite sheer. I could tell they were expensive when I ran my fingers across them.

"One at time, and slowly, there's no need to rush this," he said.

Sitting on the chair that was open I slipped my toes inside a stocking and rolled the sheer nylon up my legs as slowly as I could, stopping every few inches to tug the material tight on my leg. I did the same with the other stocking and snapped the lace top against my skin.

Damn it, my pussy was just aching for attention, anyone's attention. I felt what seemed like long streamers of my pussy juice run down the inside of my leg damming up at the lace top of those stockings.

"Lily, are you wet?"

Shit, he noticed, too. I was shocked by his forthright question. I couldn't lie out of it. "Yes..."

He pushed himself from the back of his chair, raised a brow and asked, "Show me."

I hesitated for a few seconds and then as though I had no control over my hands, one hand moved down pass my waist, stopped for a second and then it slipped between my legs. I felt my warm slippery juice surround my fingers. My fingers were submerged in my own lust. I lingered there for a second or two and then pulled my hand out. I raised my hand about waist high, and moved my fingers back and forth across each other. They slid frictionless. My fingers glistened in the dim light of the room.

"Excellent! Put your heels on, then your shirt."

"My bra? Panties?" I asked with a slight begging tone thrown in for good measure. He didn't reply. The old bastard had me hot and he didn't do a damn thing but ask me to strip for him. I noticed another long rivulet of cunt juice as it twisted down my leg.

With his hands folded on his desk, his eyes watching my every move, his finger pointed at my skirt on the chair.

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