Getting dresses up

A sly grin stretches across your face, even through the suffocating darkness of the blindfold. "How about that body paint you bought?" you challenge, a playful glint in your voice despite your predicament. The mere thought of her painted form plastered against her curves sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

Lulu lets out a peal of laughter, the sound tinkling like wind chimes in the tense silence of the room. "Oh, you sneaky little thing," she teases, her voice laced with amusement. "Much too elaborate for tonight, babe. But," she continues, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper right by your ear, "pinky promise, I'll break it out for lunch tomorrow." Her words hold a hidden meaning, a secret you can't quite grasp yet, but the promise of something exciting in the near future is enough to spark a flicker of warmth in your chest.

Placing your banter aside, you turn your attention back to the game at hand. "Alright then," you say, a hint of authority mixed with frustration coloring your voice, "how about that black dress with the crazy side cutouts? Remember the one that practically leaves nothing to the imagination?"

A low whistle escapes Lulu's lips. "Excellent choice, my love," she purrs, her voice dripping with satisfaction. You can practically hear the soft sigh escape her lips as she pulls the dress from the closet.

The next few moments are a delicious **** for you. Lulu describes, in excruciating detail, the process of putting on the dress. "First things first," she announces, the fabric rustling as she holds it up. "This little black number is a bit tighter than usual, like a second skin begging to be caressed." You hear the soft thud of the dress hitting the floor as she steps into it, the fabric clinging to her curves with a satisfying hiss.

She slips her arms through the sleeve cutouts, then comes the real challenge. "Squeezing it over my chest," she explains, her voice strained slightly with effort, "is a bit of a wrestling match. It hugs everything a little too tightly, you know?" You imagine her pressed breasts straining against the fabric, the outline of their shape a tantalizing memory in your mind's eye.

"Luckily," she sighs dramatically, a hint of relief in her voice, "that's the only real obstacle. Thanks to those side cutouts, there's not much else to get hung up on." She lets out a playful laugh, the sound laced with a hint of mischief.

She trails a hand slowly down the side of the dress, right where the cutout begins. "See these?" she asks, her voice a husky whisper. "These daring little slices start right here, practically grazing the underside of my breasts." You can practically feel the phantom touch of her fingers against your heated skin.

"They plunge down almost to my hips," she continues, her voice dropping to a breathy murmur as she runs her hand down the length of the cutout, brushing lightly over the soft skin of her bare abdomen. "Barely a sliver of fabric separates me from...well, let's just say you'd get a full view of the goods if the wind decided to play a little trick." She lets out a playful giggle, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"And the fabric?" she asks, her voice laced with amusement. "It's like a whisper, darling. Thin enough that under the right light, you could see everything I have on underneath, or rather, don't have on underneath." She pauses, letting the weight of her words hang heavy in the air.

A beat of silence stretches between you, thick with anticipation. Then, Lulu slowly circles a hand over the fullness of her breast, the sound of fabric brushing against skin sending a jolt through you. "Especially up here," she whispers, her voice husky with desire. "Just a hint of what lies beneath this flimsy barrier."

"Now comes the tricky part," she sighs dramatically. You hear the rustle of fabric again as she bends down to put on her shoes. "Sitting down is a whole other adventure, babe," she warns with a laugh. "One wrong move and...well, let's just say you might get a flash of something a little more personal than you bargained for."

She stands back up, a slow, deliberate sway sending the dress rippling around her curves. "And walking?" she asks, her voice laced with amusement. "Don't even get me started. Imagine a little flash of skin here, a tantalizing glimpse there. Enough to keep your imagination running wild, wouldn't you say?" All the questions are taunting your blindfolded eyes.

She sways her hips ever so slightly, and you imagine the cool air brushing against your heated skin – a tantalizing reminder of the forbidden view just inches away. The frustration of your situation intensifies, your mind a kaleidoscope of vivid images fueled by her words.

"And then there's the constant risk," she continues, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "One wrong move, a gust of wind, even a misplaced hand," she trails her fingers suggestively down her hip, skimming the edge of the cutout, "and well, let's just say this little black dress has a mind of its own. A flash of bare skin, a glimpse of something unexpected...enough to leave you breathless."

A shiver runs down your spine as you imagine the scenario she paints. The precariousness of the situation adds a delicious edge to the already charged atmosphere.

"So, what do you think, babe?" she asks, her voice a playful challenge. "Does this little number live up to its reputation?" You can practically hear the smirk in her voice.

The silence stretches for a moment, thick with unspoken desire. Your mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions – frustration at your situation, arousal fueled by her descriptions, and a **** yearning to see her in this tantalizing outfit.

Finally, you **** a breath through your clenched teeth, the sound a ragged sigh. "It sounds...distractingly perfect," you admit through gritted teeth, the frustration and desire warring in your voice. "I can't wait to actually see you in it," you confess, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. The frustration melts away, replaced by a raw hunger.

Lulu throws her head back and laughs, the sound tinkling like wind chimes. "Oh, we'll see," she teases, the playful uncertainty in her voice only heightening the anticipation. "Now, the question remains," she continues, her voice dropping to a husky murmur, "underwear or no underwear? The choice, my love, is entirely yours."