We had been married a few years, and our sex life was exciting, although unconventional, including as it did, threesomes, exhibitionism, and bondage games. All of which I loved.
We had gone away for a weekend at a romantic hotel right out in the countryside. Old style four-poster bed, oak beams in the dining rooms, Tudor façade to the outer building, all in acres of woodland and meadows.
As usual, Dave had packed my bags for me, leaving me just my toiletries and personal items to pack in a small bag. I enjoyed it, as I never knew until the moment arrived, what I would be wearing for dinner, or for going out in. We arrived at the hotel early Saturday afternoon, having stopped for lunch on the way.
For the journey, I was in a denim mini skirt, and vest, with heeled sandals. No underwear of course. Standing still, it looks quite respectable. Sitting in a sports car, with those seats that lean back, you show most of what you have got. Same with sitting on a bar stool, or going up a flight of stairs. In the car, Dave insisted on my undoing the top three buttons on my vest, leaving just the lowest button fastened.
After seeing me pull the hem of my skirt down half a dozen times in the first mile or two, he pulled into a safe parking area and clipped my elbows to catches he had fitted to my seat, so I looked completely normal but could no longer reach the hem of my skirt. Needless to say, it continued to ride up, and anyone passing us on that side, could see up the little skirt remaining and see I was not wearing anything under it. We got a lot of horn honking on the journey from very happy drivers who enjoyed the view.
Once we checked in, we were shown to our rooms, Dave insisting I led the way up the stairs naturally, giving him and the porter a nice view of my bare ass on the way up. Only one flight of stairs thankfully.
The room was gorgeous, large and well lit and dominated by a huge antique four-poster canopy bed. After a short walk in the extensive grounds, we dressed for dinner. Dave put my clothing out for me. A long, backless, halter-neck black cocktail dress, slit up one side almost to the waist, that molded itself to my figure, along with black suspender belt and stockings, with black high-heeled sandals. No underwear naturally. Once sitting, the dress fell away from my leg, displaying everything to above my stocking tops.
A nice meal, a bottle of wine, and lots of suggestive chat, and I was wet and horny by the time we returned to the room. As always, Dave had packed plenty of our toys, including cords and restraints. The bed was solidly made and soon it was ready for me.
