She goes through the wedding with no panties on

Chloe settled into the chair beside Josh as the first speeches began, the dark green satin of her dress pooling lightly across her thighs. The seat was cool against the backs of her legs, and the absence of her panties registered immediately—every shift of fabric against bare skin a sharp reminder of what she had just handed over behind the hedge. She crossed her legs carefully, right over left, pressing her thighs together with deliberate pressure. The short hem rode up another inch; she smoothed it down with one hand while the other rested in her lap, gold clutch balanced across her knees like a shield.

Josh’s arm draped along the back of her chair, his fingers occasionally brushing the bare skin of her shoulder. The contact felt too intimate now, too close to the secret she carried between her legs. She kept her posture rigid, spine straight, knees locked. The cool evening air drifted under the tablecloth and licked against the smooth, uncovered folds of her pussy. She felt herself flush hotter at the sensation, a traitorous warmth blooming low in her belly even as shame tightened her chest.

“You okay?” Josh murmured, leaning in so his breath warmed her ear. “You’re sitting like you’re afraid the chair’s going to bite.”

Chloe forced a soft laugh and tipped her head toward him, long blonde waves sliding over one shoulder. “Just the dress. It’s a little shorter than I remembered. Don’t want to flash the whole wedding.”

He chuckled, low and affectionate, and gave her thigh a gentle squeeze just above the knee. His palm rested there for a moment, warm through the thin satin. Chloe’s breath caught. If his hand slid any higher… She shifted again, crossing her legs the other way with the same careful precision, making sure the hem stayed put. The movement made the bare lips between her thighs brush together, slick from the earlier adrenaline and the constant awareness of how exposed she was. She bit the inside of her cheek and stared straight ahead at the speaker, pretending to hang on every word.

The speeches dragged. Every time she adjusted her posture, the satin whispered against her skin and the cool air found her again. She kept her knees pressed tight, calves aligned, the pointed toes of her dark green pumps angled neatly under the table. Across the garden she caught a glimpse of Aaron near the edge of the crowd, still holding something crumpled in his fist. Their eyes met for half a second. He smiled—small, private, triumphant—and Chloe looked away so fast her gold hoop earrings swung.

When the dancing started, the string lights brightened and the band shifted into something slower, then livelier. Guests rose in pairs. Josh stood and offered his hand, eyes warm.

“Dance with me.”

Chloe hesitated only a fraction of a second before placing her fingers in his. She rose carefully, keeping her thighs close, one hand instinctively hovering near the hem of the dress as she straightened. The satin settled around her hips, the short skirt flaring just enough to remind her how little covered her. She felt the night air kiss the bare skin between her legs the moment she was upright, and a fresh wave of panic fluttered in her stomach.

Josh led her onto the temporary dance floor laid across the grass. His hand settled at the small of her back, the other holding hers. The first song was slow enough that she could keep her movements controlled. She stayed close to him, chest almost brushing his suit jacket, so that the dress had less chance to flare. Still, every turn made the hem swing. She danced extra carefully—smaller steps, tighter posture, hips moving only as much as the music absolutely required. The gold jewelry at her throat and wrists caught the lights with every restrained sway.

“You’re tense,” Josh said against her hair, voice soft. “Everything all right?”

“Just trying not to step on your toes in these heels,” she answered, managing another bright smile. Inside, her mind raced. If she spun too quickly, if a breeze caught the satin just right, if someone looked at the wrong angle while she was turning… The thought of her bare pussy on display under the short green dress made her cheeks burn. She kept her legs closer together than the rhythm wanted, thighs brushing with every step, the delicate friction a constant, humiliating reminder that nothing stood between her and the open air.

The tempo picked up. Couples around them laughed and spun more freely. Chloe matched Josh’s lead but held herself in check, every motion measured. When he guided her into a gentle under-arm turn, she executed it with minimal flare, one hand still ready to press the hem down if it rose too high. The satin brushed the tops of her thighs, cool and slippery. She felt herself growing slicker despite the worry—or because of it—the exposure itself feeding a confusing heat she hated.

Josh spun her again, slower this time, and pulled her back against his chest. His hand slid lower on her back, fingers splaying across the curve of her ass through the thin fabric. Chloe’s breath hitched. There was nothing underneath. If his palm drifted even an inch lower, if the dress rode up under his touch…

She pressed closer, using the proximity to keep the skirt controlled. Her bare mound brushed the front of his trousers for a fleeting second as they swayed. The contact sent a jolt through her. She bit her lip and forced her body to relax into the dance, smiling up at him as if nothing in the world were wrong.

“I love this dress on you,” Josh murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Makes me want to get you home early.”

Chloe’s laugh came out a little too breathy. “Behave. We’re in public.”

But the words only made her more aware of how public she truly was. Every careful step, every restrained sway, every time the hem fluttered against her bare thighs reminded her that one wrong move could turn the entire wedding into a spectacle. She danced with exaggerated care—smaller circles, tighter control, hips kept modest—while her mind stayed locked on the empty space where her panties should have been.

The song ended. Another began, slower again. Josh kept her close. Chloe rested her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the cool air still circulating under the short satin, feeling the soft press of her bare folds with every subtle shift of her weight. Across the garden, she knew Aaron was watching. She could almost feel the weight of his gaze, the knowledge that he held the warm black lace that had been between her legs only minutes earlier.

She opened her eyes, kept smiling, and continued to dance—extra carefully, every movement measured, every turn controlled—while the secret of her bare skin burned hotter with each passing second.