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(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by Ch...)

Rachel looks at you shocked. You know she hates Leon. He’s a bully who has it in for your girlfriend. You smile to yourself, sweet revenge for her fucking your best friend without permission.

“I can’t do it,” Rachel stammers in response.

“I didn’t hear a question in my statement,” you say, smiling at her discomfort. “Now if I was you I would get ready and I’ll drop you off.”

Within seconds of entering the shower Rachel’s phone pings with a text message. You open the message and read, “Slut, you better have no knickers on tonight. I want what you were going to give John or I will tell your boyfriend.”

You smile to yourself and put the phone down and walk away from it. Suddenly you have an idea and as you listen to the shower in the next room, you type, “I will do whatever you want and with whoever you want, please don’t tell him.” Smiling you put down the phone.

Rachel leaves the shower and dries herself. She goes to put on her jeans but you stop her and hand her a “dress” that you only ever use in your slut fantasies. It’s see-through from the top of the tits to the hem which finishes just below the crotch. At least with bra and knickers on it’s not obscene.

Rachel climbs into the car and you drive her to the Forresters Arms and park in the far corner. “It’s seven PM, I will pick you up at eleven. If you get away earlier or change locations let me know.”

Rachel gets out of the car and braces herself to walk into the pub in the see-through dress. As she walks off you call her back, “Oh, and Leon said no knickers, you better take them off.”

Rachel looks horrified at you. With knickers on the outfit was nearly pornographic — without them, she shivers, without them… gulp.

Without waiting for an answer you gently begin to tug at the knickers and they fall loosely to the floor. Once gathered up, you smile sweetly at your girlfriend and drive off.

When you get home you lie down on the couch in the kitchen, put your phone on the side and whip out your cock. You wait, wanking slowly as the minutes, then hours, go past.

At ten to eleven you leave to go back to the pub to pick up your girlfriend. Rachel has had no contact with you during this time. The pub car park looks deserted but as you open the car door Rachel stumbles towards you.

Her “dress” is up past her waist, her face and hair is matted and her bra has disappeared also. Rachel stands in front of you in all her glory, covered by a see-though dress and a bucket load of cum.

“Can we go home now?” she asks as she limps towards the passenger door.


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