Road Trip 9

I gave Anna some time to recover from the wardrobe crisis she had just experienced, using the opportunity to swim a few more laps in the lake. When I walked back into the RV, it was almost midday. 

I found Anna on her bed, wearing her thickest pajamas, buried underneath the blanket so that only her arms visible, reading her book with a deep concentration —or at least, that was what she wanted me to believe. From the way her eyes were stuck unmoving, it wasn’t hard to guess her real objective. 

“Do you want to talk?” I offered. 

“No,” she immediately answered, abandoning the slightest pretense of normalcy as she buried her face in her hands. 

I sat on the couch she was using as a bed, and put my hand on her shoulder. Despite my expectations, she didn’t flinch away from my touch, rather, she leaned against my chest, which was a bonus. “Do you need to talk?” I asked. 

After a minute of deafening silence, she whispered. “Maybe.” 

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “Tell me what is bothering you.” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” she whispered in despair. 

“Not particularly, no,” I said, carefully keeping my tone gentle. “Why don’t you tell me exactly why are you feeling distraught.” 

“I’m humiliated,” she cried, as her arms tightened around me. 

“Why? Just because of your little wardrobe malfunction?” I asked, which made her arms tighten around me desperately, which was more than sufficient as an answer. “You really don’t have anything to be ashamed of, you know that, right? You’re really beautiful,” I said. 

“W-what,” she stammered as she pulled back, but her blush was spectacular, a smile tugging on the edges of her lips through her depression. “T-this is not about that!” 

“Really?” I answered, glad that she was out of her funk. “Then why are you suddenly smiling?” 

“I’m not,” she immediately answered, but that made her even harder to maintain a sad expression. I looked at her with a bright smile, and she found herself nodding. “Well, maybe…” she murmured. 

“There’s no maybe,” I said. “You’re a beautiful woman, only obscured by the garbage you’re wearing. Why don’t you go and try some of the clothes we picked together. Trust me, you’ll feel much better.” 

“But … it feels weird,” she answered. 

“We have already talked about it. Hell, it’s the whole reason we went shopping, buying all those clothes. Do you really want to waste my efforts,” I said, acting like it was a chore to dress up a pretty girl that shared the same space with me for a month. “You should wear them, so that you can get used to them.” 

Under my sharp glare, I wasn’t surprised to see her nodding. She wasn’t the most headstrong girl I had convinced to undress, not by a long shot. 

“Perfect,” I said even as I reached her shopping bag, which was still not open, other than the swimsuit, like she was trying to reject their presence. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom, and I’ll pass you today’s clothing,” I said. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one to select?” she whispered, trying to resist my sudden overreach, but she wasn’t more successful than a butterfly caught in a tornado. 

“No,” I simply said, sharp and authoritative, even as I grabbed her arm and led her to the bathroom. “We’re trying to get you in the habit of dressing differently. If I let you choose, I doubt you will be wearing anything but the most boring pieces.” 

“But-” she tried to complain. 

“No buts,” I cut her off. “It’s the only way you can win against your shyness,” I suggested, preventing another remark by a sharp glare. 

“Okay,” she finally whispered as she slipped to the bathroom, waiting for my picks. \

I was tempted to dress her in the little black dress I had picked for a night at the club, unfortunately, it was too early for that. Instead, I browsed her bags, searching for the baby-blue lingerie set, only to remember she had been wearing them the last night as well, during her secret visit. 

I decided to push her limits, and instead grabbed the transparent red lingerie set I had picked for later adventures, willing to push her further. And while doing so, my eyes fell on the two skirts I had picked for her, one solidly in the miniskirt territory, the other even shorter, worthy to be called as a micro-skirt, enough to turn the simple act of sitting down into an erotic show no matter how careful was its wearer. I decided to pass her both, curious which one she would pick. 

The only weakness of the set was the black tank top she had purchased, but I decided to keep that in, mostly as an excuse. It would have been rather excessive if she wasn’t wearing at least one item from her own selection. 

“They are here,” I called, and her hand pushed out of the cracked door, unaware that she had given me a glimpse of her lingerie-clad body, which, unfortunately, was covered with one of her boring white sets. 

“Pass me the pajamas,” I asked her, and she followed that before she could even consider the implications, losing another layer of protection. Of course, she could just leave the place in a bathrobe, but it was more about the mental impact than forcing her to change. 

Then, after a few seconds, a shocked gasp reached my ear. “Is there anything wrong?” I asked, faking concern. 

“Umm,” she murmured. “One of those items doesn’t look like something I had bought,” she said. 

“No worries. It was a gift to an ex-girlfriend, but we broke up before I could give it. They are brand-new,” I explained, despite being very much aware of her concern. “Now, change quickly, I want to see your bravery!” I added, cutting her argument beforehand. Now, she would either wear them, or admit that she was a coward. 

“O-okay,” she stammered. Another minute passed, then she spoke again. “T-there are two skirts,” she asked. 

“So that you can choose whichever you want,” I said. “The first one would look amazing on you, but if you think you can’t handle it, you can wear the second one,” I explained, once again using the same trick of limiting her responses. I didn’t expect her to wear the micro skirt, but without it, she wouldn’t have worn the miniskirt as well. 

“A-are you ready?” she stammered, almost five minutes later, while I waited for her, my cock rock hard in my swimsuit. 

“Let me take my heart medicine first,” I shouted, earning a hesitant giggle in return. Then, the door opened, and I thought that maybe I should have taken a pill to calm my heart. 

She was wearing the micro skirt, and she looked spectacular! The skirt was barely long enough to hide her underwear, and that was when she was standing perfectly straight. Wearing that skirt, every step would have been a challenge, and it was impossible for her to sit down. Her thick thighs were delicious to make my mouth water. 

And even better, the first two buttons of her black tank top were open, adding a nice cleavage to the mix. On another girl, it would have been a modest one, but with her spectacular tits pushing her top to the limit, the resulting cleavage was several times more spectacular, crowned by the ghost of her nipples, visible through her top, showing her own arousal.  

“How do I look?” she stammered, trying to stand straight, but her self-confidence was melting quickly without a response from me. I said nothing as I stood up, walking toward her slowly, each step making it harder for her to maintain her posture. “M-Michael,” she stammered.

I stayed silent until I grabbed her chin, and raised her head slightly until I was looking at her beautiful blue eyes. “You look spectacular,” I whispered. “You can win a fucking pageant.” 

“I don’t believe you,” she stammered, but the blooming smile on her face suggested that she was enjoying the compliment, regardless of the reason. 

“Maybe you’re right,” I said, which stole her smile right back, but I continued rapidly. “Nowadays, those pageants favor those boyish girls, tall but no curves anywhere. Unlike your beautiful body,” I explained, and her blush was back with a revenge, so much that her mind short-circuited. I used the opportunity to present my arm, and she hooked around, and I brought her outside. 

We barely took three steps outside when the wind pushed her skirt until it flew, revealing that she was wearing the transparent red lingerie I had bought for her, making my swimsuits very tight, and very uncomfortable.

She yelped as she pressed her free hand to control her skirt, with questionable success, but continued to walk along as I walked toward the nearby forest, looking for a shade. I started speaking when we were finally under the thick shadow of the forest. “The boys in the school would have gone crazy if they saw you like this,” I said. “I bet you would have received many more date requests if you had dressed in a way that would display her beautiful body, and ten times the kisses.” 

“Ten times zero is still zero,” she answered with a sudden push back. 

Once again, I grabbed her waist and made her turn until I was looking at her eyes, but this time, I kept my hands on her waist, like we were about to start a sensual dance. “And only if we were looking for another evidence why the teenage boys are morons,” I said, maintaining eye contact. “I can’t believe they missed this,” I said, even as I put my hand on her chin. 

“Well, they did!” she shouted, angry and defensive. 

“How about if we fix it,” I offered. 

“Fix it,” she stammered, her earlier anger evaporated. 

“Yes, fix it,” I said, slowly nearing her face as I used my hand on her chin to push her face up slightly, giving myself the perfect angle. “A wondrously beautiful girl like you, starting the college without a kiss, that’s a disgrace.” As I spoke, I closed in, and her lips parted, the moment getting charged. However, rather than stealing the kiss, I continued speaking. “Tell me what you want,” I whispered. 

“I want you to kiss me,” she whispered, her lips shining invitingly. She shivered, charged with electricity, racing down her spine. Her hands trembled, so she took a deep breath, trying to combat it, but it only made her cleavage enhance —and thanks to my angle, I received a perfect show, enough to catch a glimpse of her bra and its doomed struggle to keep her perky breasts in check. 

She closed her eyes instinctively as I closed in, then our lips touched. Her legs trembled, forcing me to hug her, to prevent her from collapsing halfway —not that it was a chore. 

The kiss was a passive affair, one I enjoyed the softness of her lips to my heart’s content while she tried to stand upright, like she was unable to believe what was happening was not a dream. A surprising variance from her forwardness during her night visits, but by no means unwelcome. 

She whimpered as I pulled back, only to avoid my eyes as I started speaking. “My hands are under your command,” I whispered. “You can drag them anywhere you want.” With that, I delved into her lips once more, enjoying their softness, though my tongue didn’t join the game. Not at first. 

For a while, she just stood passively, enjoying the kiss like she hadn’t heard it, disappointing me, but after a minute or so, I felt her gentle grip around my left wrist, dragging it to her legs, until it landed on the middle of her thigh. She whimpered as my fingers started to caress the great expanse of her thigh, which was mostly naked thanks to her almost nonexistent skirt. 

But the effect wasn’t as spectacular as when she dragged my right hand until it slipped inside her tank top, resting against the naked skin of her belly. A moan rippled off her lips, adding a delicious aroma to our kiss. Taking it as an invitation, I slipped my tongue inside her open mouth, and our tongues started swirling gently. 

I felt like pushing further when she dragged my left hand up until my pinkie was pushing against her skirt, just an inch away from her burning core, but I didn’t do so, not wanting to scare her off at such a critical point, especially when she was in the mood already. So, I continued to kiss her gently, no matter how much I was tempted to take her hard against a tree, until her cries scared every single bird nesting in the forest. 

Her body temperature climbed as her heart turned into a pile of embers, glowing with her passion. I kept my hand on the same height, but moved until I was massaging her inner thighs, and her legs parted, allowing me a great range of movement, close enough that I could feel the heat of her core. 

I was expecting it to be her limit, and when she pulled my right hand out of her tank top, I treated it as the confirmation. Then, she proved she wasn’t out of surprises by dragging my right hand under her skirt, directly on her plump ass. 

“Naughty,” I whispered into her ear, which would have made her run away in a panic if it wasn’t for my iron grip on her ass, enjoying the firmness of her flesh. It gave me the time I needed to slip my tongue back in her mouth, making her forget her concerns under the treatment of pleasure. Meanwhile, my fingers enjoyed the firmness of her ass, the transparent fabric of her underwear might as well not exist under my aggressive touch. 

She nibbled her lips nervously when I pulled out of the kiss, but kept mauling her ass mercilessly. “Do you want me to go further?” I whispered, and she nodded. “I need your words,” I said before leaving a kiss on her neck. 

“Y-yes,” she managed to whisper, her eyes closed as she leaned back, her legs widened further. 

That was all the invitation I required before letting my left hand take the last small step, and land over her panties. “Your panties are soaking wet,” I whispered. “You naughty girl.” 

The statement went through her like lightning, leaving her gasping her trembling —though it might be the effect of my fingers, teasing her soft flesh. She said nothing, no defense, no excuses, not that it helped with the evidence under my fingers, sopping wet. Her lust was thicker, almost palpable… I caressed her until she was about to explode…

Then, pulled back, and left her leaning against the tree, trying to recover, her eyes widened as she was suddenly deprived of arousal. “And that,” I whispered as I leaned just as I was about to kiss her once more, but didn’t do so, “was your first kiss. I hope you liked it.” 

“I … did,” she said, trembling, trying to understand what had just happened. 

“Excellent. Now, your next task is to wear those clothes until bedtime. And just to make sure you wouldn’t cheat, I’m going to keep an eye on you. Understood?” 

“Understood,” she whispered, failing to realize I just effectively prevented her from masturbating to steal the edge, unless she was confident enough to do so where she might be get caught. 

And I knew that she wasn’t… Not even close…