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I took a step back toward the car and undid the top button of my dress. Jim, wearing only his jeans, took a step toward me. I walked back again and undid two or three more buttons so that my flesh was exposed to the navel. Jim took two steps toward me, unfastened the rest of the buttons, and slid my dress over my shoulders. He looked like he didn't know what to do with it for a moment, and then hung it over one of the abandoned gas pumps.

So. I was standing in the open countryside, almost naked. I looked down at what I had on: a pink bra that was pretty and girly but the safety pin holding one of the straps together rather detracted from its sex appeal. Besides that I wore a pair of Paul's boxers and battered old baseball shoes. It was hardly a full-on burlesque outfit, but I had never felt hornier. And as I felt the stiffening in the groin that was now being pressed against my hips, I saw that my outfit was having a pretty strong effect on Jim, too.

"Wait there," I said to Jim, not wanting him to get too horny, too soon. I knew that young men didn't always last the distance, and I wanted to ride his cock for a long time. I took another step back so that my calves were touching the bumper of our car. I kicked off one shoe, then the other, letting the old sneakers land a few feet away. Jim watched as enthralled as if I'd been sliding stilettos off while dancing around a pole. Removing my bra, I unfastened the catch, slipping the straps off my shoulders but leaving my breasts covered until the very last minute. I threw the bra behind me and heard a soft thud as it landed on the roof of the car. Jim watched my breasts, fascinated by them as that fat young dick bulged so hard in his jeans that it must have been agony for him not to touch himself.

I licked one finger, then another, pinched each of my nipples, rubbed the skin around them, took a nipple between each thumb and forefinger and pulled my tits out toward Jim as far as they would go before it started to hurt a little. That tiny bit of discomfort felt good, so I pulled them a little bit farther. Then I released my right breast, which slapped down against my rib cage in a pendulous teardrop. Jim whimpered.

"Well, Jim," I said, surprised by how breathy my voice was. "I bet you haven't seen titties like these before. Do you like what you see?"

Jim nodded, and I released my left breast so that it fell level with my right. Then I squeezed my arms together, pressing my tits close, enjoying how it felt to be so in control.

All I had on now was Paul's old boxer shorts. I knew that he wanted to play the voyeur, that he didn't want me to pay too much attention to him, but I had to include him for a while. I turned my head to the right to see Paul's dick straining against the material of his old beach shorts. He had that look on his face that he got when talking about this fantasy-only it was a million times more intense now that he was actually seeing it unfold before his eyes.

"You. Get your dick out," I told him. "I want to watch you touch yourself."

Paul undid the buttons of his shorts and lowered them so that they stayed around his hips. That familiar prick of his was rock-hard and bigger than I'd seen it in years. His obvious arousal increased my own.

"Okay, Jim," I said, refocusing on the student. "You can step a little closer now."

Jim leaped toward me so that our topless bodies were pressed together. We didn't kiss-it was enough to feel the length of his flesh against mine. I felt my nipples harden as they rubbed against the warm, smooth skin of his torso. He was surprisingly hairless, a thrilling contrast to Paul's hairy, masculine trunk. He wrapped his arms around me, trailed his fingers up and down my back, but I didn't want these soft caresses; I wanted to be ravished, devoured, fucked.

"Oh, Jim," I said in that new voice I seemed to have borrowed for the afternoon from a porn star. "Can't you help me out of these wet clothes?" And I wasn't exaggerating; those boxers were absolutely dripping with my juices. Jim dropped to his knees obediently and used his nimble young fingers to peel the cotton away from my skin. Even my bush was damp with my own pussy liquor. Then he pressed his face between my legs and inhaled deeply. His nose touched the tip of my clitoris, which made me gush a little more. Not moving his face, he slowly eased the shorts down my legs, and I lifted first one leg, then the other, and stepped elegantly out of my underwear.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of flesh, and I knew that it was Paul getting hard and horny. I didn't want to make eye contact because if I looked at him too often, it would have burst the fantasy bubble where Paul is a voyeur, watching in secret. But I knew it was happening, knew he was watching, and that was turn-on enough for me.