I’m writing a new short story based upon what happened to me recently in real life. I flat-out couldn’t believe what I was seeing, so I felt the need to share it with an entire Internet full of my closest friends. Basically, a model-hot woman attended a funeral wearing a shirt for a dress.
I am going to release the completed story for free on the usual sites (click ‘My Writings’ once I post that it’s been released) and for those who prefer to get everything in a Kindle eBook, I’ll add it as an extra feature to Cupid’s Armorer.
She Only Wore a Shirt to the Funeral
Note: Everything up until “My prayers weren’t answered” actually happened. I couldn’t wait to get home and write a story about what could’ve been.
Today, I just got back from attending an ex-girlfriend’s father’s funeral. He had lived a full life, and as a Catholic he’d had a large family. Most of the women in his family were smoking hot, and there were several there in their 20s and 30s. He was German, and Hitler would have been proud of the dozen or so intensely fuckable blondes at the funeral. Some of them were related to him, others weren’t, but each and every one of them caught my attention. While all of them were attractive, none of them made as much of an impression as Jane.
When I first saw her, I was seated next to my friend Fred in a pew near the back of the church. The pew in front of us had a few folks in it, but they were leaving one person’s worth of space for someone who hadn’t arrived yet. And then Jane showed up. She was another smoking hot Teutonic blonde, probably right around 30 years old, with what was either perfect light yellow blonde hair or an amazingly good dye job. Her hair was mostly straight, with a little bit of wave, and it came down to just below her collarbone. She had a slight frame, and what looked like a natural light tan acquired from laying out on the beach. My eyes first noticed that she wore a relatively conservative dress, buttoned up to the neckline, with buttons which stretched down and down. My eyes followed the line of buttons until they stopped – but the seam between the sides didn’t stop. With a shock, I realized that her “dress” was nothing more than an extra-long button-up shirt, which was meant to be worn with a skirt or pants. It could’ve been modest with leggings or yoga pants, but her long, slender legs stuck out the bottom sexily. She looked like she was dressed for the bedroom, not for a funeral. She’d chosen to come to the funeral wearing no more than a shirt – and as she sat down, I caught a flash of black panties. My eyes went wide in disbelief as she sat down, the slits up the side revealing an amazing amount of her legs. I’m not sure if she noticed me noticing it, but even as the priest went to the altar in front of the congregation, I couldn’t get it out of my head. Moments later, the actual funeral mass began.
Halfway through the service, Jane stood up and edged her way out of the pew, towards the aisle. I couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of my eye as the hem of her shirt rode up a little, exposing just a glimpse of the bottom of her perfectly-formed ass. Her slender legs worked like a perfectly-tuned set of scissors as she turned and walked towards the back of the church. It a tremendous effort of will not to look at her ass as she walked away. If I were a Catholic, I’d already be thinking about scheduling my next confession.
The funeral continued, and Jane never did come back. The mass finished after about a half hour, in a cloud of incense. Moments later, the congregation stood up to leave the church and file out of the exit. It was then that I noticed, for the first time, that there was a ‘cry room’ at the back of the church, behind glass so that those inside could see and hear the service, but screaming children wouldn’t be heard by the parishioners.
My attention was instantly drawn to the left side of the first pew in the cry room. I spotted Jane again, who was still wearing a shirt for a dress, and she had a small blonde boy in her lap. Her attention was distracted a little, and she didn’t seem to notice that her legs were spread a bit. I tried not to be too obvious, but there was absolutely no way I could take my eyes off of her. My eyes were suddenly microscopes, trailing their way up her perfectly sculpted calves, past the dimples of her knees, and then tracing farther and farther up her inner thighs. My heart skipped a beat as I realized that I was looking at her panties, not just shadows. My cock stiffened instantly, and I prayed silently that she didn’t notice me noticing.
Nope, my prayers weren’t answered. I looked up farther and caught her brilliant blue eyes fixed on mine, with a knowing smirk adorning her lips. She brought her hand up and waved at me, winking seductively. Holy damn, she was hot. I’m more of a boob man than anything else, but this woman had legs to kill for.
The congregation started moving again, and part of me was reluctant to walk away. But I did so, giving her only a smile in return as I walked away.
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