I usually just walk to the head store and back, but every now and then I explore the neighborhood. It's just a normal suburb, so I don't find much out of the ordinary, but I still come across a couple of places I normally wouldn't have known about otherwise: local food joints, ugly houses, wall graffiti, etc.
The only problem was the heat. Summer's on Long Island can be a real bitch sometimes. With temperatures in the nineties, it can be too hot to wear my usual getup without drenching myself in sweat. Thankfully, that job at the clothes store gave me an employee discount. One shopping spree later, I was the proud owner of an assortment of light, airy outfits.
And you know what? They were all comfortable as fuck! Like before, I couldn't stand outside for two minutes without having to wipe my brow, even in only eighty-degree weather. But now, I can just throw on a sundress and go a whole half-hour of walking around without a drop of sweat. I can actually tolerate summer weather for once. Yeah, I know dresses aren't usually part of my aesthetic, but if dressing like an actual girl for once means keeping cool, then I couldn't care less.
In fact, they're actually more helpful than you'd think. Take for example this one instance: I was out on a walk and Pat happened to join me. About ten minutes after leaving my house, he brought up the topic of my attire.
"It's kind of weird seeing you in a sundress."
I cocked my head, "What do you mean?"
"It's just that I'm used to seeing you in jeans all the time. I didn't know you even wore dresses."
"Well, it's way too hot for jeans now. I need something that gives me room to breathe."
"Yeah, that's fair," he shrugged, "It's too warm for me to wear my hoodies, too."
As he said this, a gust of wind brushed upon my legs and crawled up my dress. It wasn’t enough to lift it, but it was noticeable enough to feel how good it felt against the insides of my thighs, subliminally planting a devilish idea in my head.
"Plus, dresses have certain advantages that jeans don't." I hinted.
Now it was his turn to cock his head, "What type of advantages?"
"Well, they're easier to move around in, too," I stated, "Here, watch!"
I took the handbag hanging from off my shoulder and pointed to it in my hand, making sure his eyes were on it. Having gotten his attention, I tossed the bag right over my shoulder, landing with a thunk on the sidewalk a few feet away.
“See, skinny jeans can be really constrictive and make it hard to move,” I mentioned as I sauntered my way over to the purse, “Like right now, if I were to bend over to pick up my bag in jeans, I might rip the seat of them, but in a sundress…”
Before I finished my sentence, I bent down to pick up my purse. Simultaneously, I lifted my tail, pulling the hem of my dress upward, and looked back to see Pat’s reaction.
“Oh my God!” he squawked, putting his hands over his beak.
Normally, I wear underwear whenever I wear jeans. However, ever since I began wearing less restrictive clothing, I found myself going commando more often than not. Maybe it's the pervert in me that hopes a particularly strong breeze will lift my dress up and expose myself outside, or maybe I've just gotten lazy when it comes to getting dressed. Regardless of my reasoning, Pat was now getting an eyeful of my uncovered pussy and asshole.
He looked around, probably to make sure nobody else could see under my dress. He was always protective of me whenever I felt audacious. However, after scanning the area, he went right back to ogling my privates.
"You're crazy, you know that?" he questioned.
Harsh as it may have sounded, that was just his way of saying he liked what he saw. I wiggled my hips as he continued to stare, eliciting a chortle out of him. Unexpectedly, he took a few steps towards me and I felt the familiar feeling of his hands against my rump.
"You know, the longer you keep this up, the more likely we'll probably get in trouble," Pat said as his talon-like fingers squeezed my bottom, "After all, there's people everywhere, but then again, I’m willing to bet you don't mind."
Suddenly, he raised his hand high and down it swung...
**SMACK**
…Hitting me square on my right cheek.
"Mmmph!" I gasped, doing my best to hold the moan.
His hand continued to tease me, squeezing my reddened cheek. Maneuvering across my bottom, he moved his thumb to my lips, spreading them open.
"Wow," he marveled, "you're already so wet."
Now he was the one teasing me. Goodness, I knew playing coy with him out in public would be a risk, but I never expected him to be just as daring, molesting me right here on the sidewalk where anybody could see. I didn't know what he was going to do next, but I could imagine the possibilities. I closed my eyes and welcomed whatever may come.
"All right, we should probably head back now."
Wait, what!?
"People are starting to stare," the parrot said, releasing his grasp on my rear end, "I think they know something funky is happening and I am not letting you get arrested."
Opening my eyes and looking forward, I noticed a few bystanders in the distance, staring at us from afar.
"Oh…" I muttered, finally grabbing my handbag and straightening myself. I patted down my dress as well, making sure my wet folds weren’t showing.
"Well," I sighed, my body still in heat, "it was fun while it lasted."
"Don't worry," Pat said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, "we can pick up where we left off once we get home."
Oh, Pat. You and your common sense. I guess it’s like that old rock song: “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you find you get what you need.” And as much as I wanted him to fuck my brains out, right here and now with everyone watching, he knew I needed to wait until I got home before fucking my brains out.
“Yeah,” I responded, laying my head on his shoulder, “I would like that.”
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So
\n\t\t\t\t\tfoxovh held his very first YCH, and when I saw the pose, I immediately thought of Perci. So I bid for it... several times actually... but it paid off because now I have this amazing commission.Be sure you give the original a like over here.
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